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She glanced at Skye. “At the bigger events, they usually come in the kind of numbers where you notice the cut early on and can steer clear of them. They can be good guys, but that’s the problem. One moment, they’re bikers who love the life, just like you, sharing a beer. The next, that one-percenter side kicks in and you find yourself knee-deep in their bullshit.”
Skye had recovered her composure enough to have her phone recorder out, capturing their conversation on the screen for Tiger. He watched the words scroll, but didn’t smile. His expression was oddly blank.
“Your lady handled herself well,” Brian said carefully, gauging his mood the same way Skye was. “Why don’t you take her over to the playground, get an ice cream and cool off? They won’t pull any of that shit near the kids. Now that they’re on the cops’ radar, they’ll likely head on down the road.”
Tiger read his words. “We’ll see you back at the camp,” he said. His tone was flat, but the follow-up was sincere. “Thanks for the back-up. Both of you.”
Skye reinforced it with a nod. She had her hand on Tiger’s arm, and he shifted it to drop her hand into the clasp of his. She tightened her grip, tucking her phone away. He met her gaze. “Let’s go,” he said.
The place Brian had suggested was a park a few hundred yards away from the track, a place for kids bored by the races. There was also a soccer field, but today it was occupied by food and craft vendors. Earlier, when they’d arrived, Tiger had said they could stroll through them, if she was interested.
Unlike most other men, he hadn’t suggested she go do that on her own while he watched the race. Thinking of it, she realized Tiger had stayed pretty close at the rally events. Even when not right at her side, he’d been marking her whereabouts, as this incident proved.
For the most part, it was a friendly environment where help was as close as reaching for it. But he’d known the potential for a different element. She’d eventually give him hell for not giving her a heads up, because ignorance was the worst protection strategy there was. But that aside, Tiger had proven he could navigate a dangerous, tricky situation without one of his key senses. Since tension was thrumming through him like lightning, she wondered if he realized the significance of that.
She brought him to a stop by one of the playground benches. “You did good,” she typed. “You handled yourself really well. Thank you.”
His hand closed over hers on the phone, covering it, and squeezed hard. Anger flashed in his gaze, and something deeper. “That could have gone to shit,” he said. “You were right in the middle of it. I couldn’t…I didn’t know what he was saying…”
“And I couldn’t communicate with him.” She typed it, then put her free hand on his face. Used her lips to mouth the next words, emphatically.You. Kept. Me. Safe. Thank you.
As he stared down at her, she dipped her head, typed and held up the screen with an expectant look. “Now go buy me a damn Sno-Cone. Cherry-flavor.”
His jaw eased, his lips twitching. But instead of immediately obeying her, he pulled her into his arms and held her close. But they were okay. It was all right. Life went on, and getting bogged down in the drama meant missing better things.
She eased back, trying to give him that with her expression. He stroked her hair from her face. “I’m sorry, Mistress,” he said. “I forgot what a badass you are.”
She poked him in the chest, a don’t-you-forget-it move, but she couldn’t be less than honest with him, softening it with a smile that trembled on the edges. He cupped her face.
“You’re okay,” he echoed her own thoughts. “This is a good event. Something like that…it’s the exception here. Like Brian said, they’ll bug out soon. The cops will stick pretty close until they take off. This isn’t their usual scene.”
He bent and brushed her lips with his, then nipped the lower one. He rested his forehead on hers before drawing back. “One cherry Sno-Cone, coming up.”
They ate the frozen treat on a park bench while watching the kids play. The raspberry one he’d chosen turned his lips and tongue blue. Something he brought to mingle with the cherry red on hers, teasing. By the time they finished eating them, he’d eased her onto his lap, holding her there.
The intimacy was needed more than she wanted to admit, a way to lessen the anxiety and anger the near miss had caused. She suspected he felt the same. When they were done, he tossed their empty cone wrappers into a nearby can and then sat back, his arms clasped loosely around her. He had his palm against her hip, fingers resting on the top of her buttock as she kept her arm looped around his neck, playing with that thick wave of brown hair that went to a point at his nape.
“So what did Rock say that you refused to tell me? Was it about my mother?”
When he met her surprised gaze, he kept his tone mild, though the words weren’t. “I’m not a kid, Mistress. Don’t you ever fucking treat me like one. I assume you know better than most what that feels like.”
He was right. She did know. “Before I answer that,” she typed, “were you doing the same? Keeping an eye out for trouble and steering me clear of it?”
He lifted a shoulder, his dark blue eyes troubled. “I wanted you to enjoy the rally without giving you unnecessary crap to worry about. If I had known Rock and his crew were here, yeah, I would have steered you clear, but I’d sure as hell have told you why and let you know what cut to look for. Promise.”
She could take issue with him shielding her from any of it, but that was a conversation for another time. He was still waiting on her response. Reluctantly, she typed what Rock had said and showed him.
His gaze flickered and he looked away from the screen. “Yeah. I figured it was something like that.”
She lowered the phone and stayed still, letting him know if he wanted to talk about it, she’d listen.
He didn’t look like he did. A darkness gripped his expression, his gaze tracking the kids on the playground as if they were birds in a far distant sky. But then he spoke.
“My dad…he took us into the bedroom where he’d laid out her body. We’d just gotten home from school. I’d made an A on a history test, and I wanted to tell Mama about it, because she’d helped me study. I wasn’t good at any subject that didn’t involve an engine. He said, ‘Say goodbye to your mama. She didn't do right by me, but she was good to you boys. You’re old enough not to need a mama anymore, anyhow. It’s a father’s job to teach his son what a man is.’"
Tiger’s hand was a fist on Skye’s hip. His lip curled, but the blue eyes were glassy. “He shot her in the head. A quick kill. He loved her enough to make sure she never saw it coming. He told us that.”
Oh God…
