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Reaching across the table to caress his jaw, I share a smile with the man who owns my heart. He looks at me with a wary gaze. Texas is finally behind us, yet he remains certain something bad will happen.
What Ghost, Hope, and I need is a long stretch of quiet. But that part also scares me. I don’t know how I’ll deal with living a hunt-free life. Will I be like a junkie who’s gone cold turkey?
With Hope’s imminent meltdown and Ghost’s wariness, I consider skipping the shooting range. Will hiding at home help Hope or just prolong the inevitable?
I decide to stick to my plans. Hope might need to melt down occasionally to get the fear and anger out of her system. I used to get tense when I went too long without a hunt. After I killed a piece of shit, I’d settle down for a while.
I soon arrive at the shooting range, where the other women members are already set up. The training area was top notch when I arrived, but the Born Villains invested more money to make it even more challenging. I figure I might become a trainer for the club now that my vigilante days are over.
Climbing off my motorcycle, I walk over to the other women who are mostly bullshitting rather than focused on target practice. Aqua is currently explaining about Jelly Bean’s false labor. I stand nearby, looking over my gun and fighting the baby fever raging inside me.
Soon, the topic changes to Ominous hooking up with one of the younger guys. Now, he’s following her around.
“I can’t deal with a stalker,” she says and grins at her daughter. “At least, not one I’m not allowed shoot.”
Dire suggests, “Be less awesome in bed.”
“If only I could,” Ominous replies with complete earnestness.
Dire rolls her eyes at her mother’s comment, while Rave and Riot clearly whisper about Ominous. Having nothing to contribute to the conversation, I remain silent. That’s how I’ve always been. Though I’ve warmed up over the last year, I’ll never be a chatty person.
The women stop talking about Ominous’s sex life long enough for Sister Sass to ask, “What are your thoughts on a hairless beaver?”
Frowning, I ask, “Are we speaking in biker code?”
“No, I’m wondering if I should wax my bang-hole.”
“Why?” Dire whines and adjusts the crotch of her jeans. “Have you officially damaged your brain-hole?”
Sister Sass shrugs and seems a little nervous to fess up. The others frown at her shyness.
“Jester wants to go down on me,” she announces like she’s admitting to a crime after an extended interrogation.
“He’s got solid technique,” Ominous says. “He rarely does it, so you know you’re special.”
“Why did he do you?”
“It was my birthday,” she says and shrugs. “It was twenty years ago.”
“So, his technique might not be great anymore,” Dire replies.
“I didn’t say great. I said solid,” Ominous clarifies. “And I would guess he might not be solid anymore. However, I bet he’ll bring his best work to winning over his much younger girlfriend.”
“If Jester isn’t great at oral, who is?” Rave asks. “Just curious.”
“Penthouse and Smoke are good. Blunt is very good. But Neon is the best at the Sanctuary. However, I never sampled your dad,” she tells Sister Sass. “Betty Boop nailed him down quick.”
“You poor thing,” Sister Sass replies. “I heard he’s spectacular.”
“Heard that, huh?”
“Well, I heardsomethingthrough a wall, so I might be mistaking what was happening.”
Everyone enjoys a good chuckle at the thought of Sister Sass listening to her parents porking back in the day.
“But what about the waxed beaver?” she asks when they stop laughing at her.
“No,” Dire insists. “Just no.”
