Brutal Beast (Vicious Vipers MC Book 5) Page 2

  Was she single? I hadn’t seen a man around, but I also wasn’t interested in hooking up with a single mom. Last thing I needed was some teenage punk cock-blocking me from getting my dick wet.

  At least she’d brought the fucker back to life. I could live with that.

  I made a mental note to hit Devil up for info on the new renters—just in case the woman wanted my dick down her throat.

  Chapter Two

  Mila

  The house wasn’t much to speak of considering what we’d left behind, but it would do for the two of us. At least the rental came fully furnished since we’d left everything back home—including our identities.

  I peered at the new Massachusetts driver’s license that had been provided, hating the dark hair and name that wasn’t what I’d been given at birth. Michelle Evans. Who was she? A single mom new to town, a janitor at the small retirement community down the road.

  A woman I didn’t recognize.

  Tossing the license back onto the table in our small kitchen, I glanced around, any sense of hope or dreams I’d had as a younger woman with her future ahead of her smothered like burning flames from a bucket of cold water.

  There was no ignoring the how we’d ended up in New England, far from where I’d been born and raised my own son, but the why questions still rang between my ears.

  Why had I thought he would be a good dad for my boy?

  Why hadn’t I paid attention to the red flags those first couple of months?

  Why hadn’t I left at the first evidence he truly was a demon?

  Blowing a heavy breath through my lips, I got up, and shoved the license back in my purse along with the credit card that also showed my fake name.

  At least he wouldn’t find me.

  We could start over and live without fear. Devon, at fifteen, also had a different name and would start at a new high school in the fall. He would make new friends but would need to keep our lives on the west coast to himself. His longer blond locks had been buzzed clean off his head, changing his appearance as well.

  My little boy no longer looked like one, and while he’d yet to fill out like a man, he sported the beginnings of scruff on his jawline and chin. At least he hadn’t been plagued with acne like I had as a teenager.

  The sounds of a mower came to life through the flimsy screen, drawing me to the kitchen’s lone window above the sink that overlooked a small backyard. I leaned forward to better see the neighbor diagonally across from us, the rising sun starting to heat up the morning air again. The warming air caressed my face as I stared.

  Shirtless. Muscles for miles, shoulders broad and strong. Tattoos. A near-ginger and full beard. Hot as hell from what I could make out.

  He’d mowed about half of his backyard before taking off on a Harley the morning before. I’d been staring then, too, but once a motorcycle had roared to life and he drove out of his double garage, that same bucket of water smothered the heat that had flared to life inside me.

  I’d had my fill of bikers. Especially ones that wore cuts like my semi-neighbor. I knew too well what rockers were, what they meant. He’d driven past late the night before, too, but I’d hurried inside, not even wanting to be neighborly and turn to wave.

  Not checking him out covertly wasn’t an option, though. The sight of him drew me in like hot, sandy beaches to California girls. A woman could dream, right? Fantasize, at least.

  “Mom.”

  I spun from the window and smiled. “Yeah, baby?”

  Devon sauntered into the kitchen, tossing a football into the air, the loss of dirty blond curls still catching me off guard. “Whatcha looking at?”

  “Nothing.” I turned to focus on the pile of breakfast dishes in the sink. “Are you excited to start school?”

  “Nah.”

  “You’ll make new friends,” I told him while glancing over my shoulder.

  “Find other guys to watch football with.”

  “Maybe,” he muttered, tucking the ball under his arm and wrenching open the fridge door, “but they’ll all be Patriot’s fans. Fucking cheats.”

  “Devon.”

  “Sorry,” he muttered an apology over the curse I didn’t allow in the house and pulled out the milk. “The name’s Dillon, remember?”

  “Not at home, it’s not.” I frowned as he pulled a box of cereal from the cabinet. “You just ate breakfast.”

  “Yeah, but I’m starved again.”

  I shook my head and turned on the hot water. Teenage boys, I’d found, would eat a single mom out of house and home.

  Home.

  I swallowed against the sudden tightening in my throat. We no longer had a home. The rental we’d been tossed into didn’t have that sense of peace or comfort one should. More than anything, I wanted that for Devon to make our transition as easy as possible even though he seemed unfazed by the move except for having to relocate in Patriot’s Nation. Not that we’d had a say in the matter.

  The pre-season had kicked off two days earlier, and even though his adored Jet’s hadn’t been playing and his best friends weren’t with us, I’d gone all out with the wings, nachos, and chili. While he’d been vocal in his appreciation for what I’d done, he hadn’t been able to keep the sadness off his face.

  Devon crunched on cereal at the table behind me as the mower continued outside and I washed dishes.

  I allowed myself a moment to fantasize, placing myself and that hot neighbor in a fairy tale romance like the book I’d lost myself in the night before. Reading had become my escape, my neighbor became the man I imagined behind the author’s words.

  The hero.

  The knight in shining armor.

  The man who would love my son as much as I did.

  Letting out a heavy sigh, I rinsed the last plate and unplugged the sink to drain the dirty, sudsy water. Temptation to glance out the window rose, but I squashed it down, burying my need for physical touch. Affection. Someone telling me I had worth beyond being a mom.

  At least I had that, though. Devon was my life.

  I shut the kitchen window against the rising heat outside without looking at him, and forcing a smile, I dried my hands and turned to find my son pouring more milk over another pile of cereal. “I just bought that box yesterday.”

  “Should have gotten two of ‘em,” he said around a mouthful.

  I crossed my arms and leaned against the counter, my smile coming easier. My son, the love of my life, looked nothing like the loser sperm-donor I’d hooked up with at a bar sixteen years earlier. He’d been red-headed with light eyes, just how I liked my men. Gingers were my weakness, but as time wore on, I’d been pleased Devon looked like me with his blond hair and dark eyes.

  I did feel bad that Devon didn’t have a father figure growing up, so when I’d met my ex ten years earlier, I thought maybe he would be the one. The perfect man for me, the perfect father for Devon. Turned out that thinking was far from right.

  So damn far we had to uproot and start our lives over.

  “What are your plans for today?” I asked, ready to change my train of thought off the depression that clung to the back of my mind with cat-like claws, sharp and digging.

  “Dunno.” Devon slurped down the milk from his bowl. “Probably head outside before it gets too hot.”

  While he’d been outside quite a bit, checking out the neighborhood on his bike, I’d been staying inside mostly. After what we’d been through, I would have preferred keeping him on lock down, too, but I couldn’t do that to a teenage boy who loved to socialize, smile, and keep active.

  I’d been like that once upon a time, too.

  “You’ve been doing that every day,” I said with yet another feigned smile as my heart ached in my chest. “Sure there isn’t something else of interest drawing you out? Girl next door kinda thing?”

  “Pfft. Nah.” He stood, his lanky limbs unfolding, putting him at eye leve
l with me.

  While I stood at five-foot-seven and fuller all over than I’d have preferred, he was a bone rack, still in the middle of puberty that I hoped would eventually fill him in and give him more height like his biological father.

  He’d been a big man—again, how I liked them.

  “Boy next door?” I asked without a hint of judgement in my voice. God knew there wasn’t anything we hadn’t talked about before.

  “No, Mom. I told you I’m not into boys.”

  “It wouldn’t matter to me if you were,” I said with a smile, never being more serious in my life.

  His dark eyes shone with the grin lifting his lips. “I know. Got stuff to make your chocolate chip cookies?”

  Of course he’d go right back to food.

  “Yep.” I grabbed his cereal bowl and spoon off the table while he put away the milk.

  “You ought to take some to that guy mowing his lawn out back.”

  I jerked my head toward Devon, one eyebrow raised.

  Devon shrugged, his crooked smirk so damn adorable my heart melted. “Reverse welcome to the neighborhood kinda thing,” he explained, his dimple popping again as his eyes twinkled. “He’s a ginger.”

  I flicked water from the sink at him like one would to an annoying cat, and he flinched, laughing. “Hey! Nothing wrong with being neighborly.”

  Yeah, my mind had already gone way beyond that route even though I knew that’s not what Devon referred to. Getting close, though, meant letting down walls and being forced with the decision on whether or not I could trust a man again.

  For the sake of my son, I refused to do so. My heart would stay safer that way, too.

  “You make them, I’ll drop them off,” Devon said when I didn’t answer. “He’s got a Harley.”

  I carefully placed his clean bowl in the dish rack to my right. Devon had always been into motorcycles. My ex had bought him one the year before, promising to fix the old bike up with him. Empty promises had led to Devon learning to tinker on engines on his own. He’d gotten the old thing running, but that, too, had been left behind.

  Swallowing the thickness in my throat I’d become too damn familiar with the previous couple of months, I didn’t bother with a smile while turning to grip my son’s bony shoulders.

  Eyes, dark as mine peered at me, and it killed me I had to break his heart yet again.

  “You need to stay away from men like him,” I whispered, unable to force more strength to my vocal cords. “We ended up in this mess because I didn’t.”

  “Wasn’t your fault, Mom,” Devon said. “He was a fucking asshole, and until you knew that, we were in too deep.”

  Tears welled in my eyes, hazing my vision of my beautiful boy. I cupped his cheek, hating the hint of scruff beneath my palm. Choosing to ignore the curse I didn’t appreciate in my house, I forced that damn smile—for him.

  “Learn from my mistakes, Dev. Make better choices than I did.”

  “You didn’t know,” he insisted.

  “But I should have gotten you out of there at the first sign.”

  His smirk tilted and he gave me a quick, uncomfortable hug.

  “Ew.” I wrinkled my nose even while soaking in the tiniest bit of affection he offered. While we shared secrets without embarrassment, he wasn’t as huggy as he’d been as a younger boy. “You need a shower before heading out to see that neighborhood girl.”

  “Mom,” he groaned out, turning away, but I caught the pink in his cheeks.

  “And wear the shorts that don’t sag halfway down your ass!” I hollered at his retreating form while the football once more found itself tossed into the air. “Oh, and shut the windows and turn on the AC unit in the living room, will ya? It’s getting hot outside!”

  “Yeah!”

  Heaviness weighed on my shoulders as Devon disappeared around the corner. Letting him go, allowing him to make his own choices, good or bad, killed me. The not knowing of what danger lurked, of who might recognize us and tell the wrong person, kept me awake more often than not.

  A clunk, and the old AC window unit ground to life from the living room. Like the rest of the ranch house, it was a piece of shit but managed to keep the day time hours cooler than the sweltering August air outside. Day four of an unforeseeable ending forecasted heat wave—and I prayed like hell the damn thing wouldn’t shit the bed.

  Dark circles still clung beneath my eyes, I noted an hour later while peering in our lone bathroom’s medicine cabinet mirror. Shitty lighting didn’t help matters, but I couldn’t blame that for my sallow-looking complexion, either. Dark, tired eyes. Brows in desperate need of a wax job. Two stress pimples on my forehead—at least I had long, sweeping bangs to hide the damn things, even if they were a mousy, dark brown rather than the golden locks I preferred.

  Dev wasn’t the only one who needed a shower and shave. I’d gone a few days without a proper pampering, and even though I didn’t have a reason for doing so, I decided some self-care wouldn’t go to waste.

  At least I would feel better about myself.

  I plugged up the stained tub and creaked on the faucet to fill it to the brim. Not nearly as deep, nor did it have the jets of the one I’d left back at home—

  “That’s no longer home,” I whispered, needing to remind myself yet again. “This is the new reality, Michelle. Best deal with it.”

  Sliding into the hot water soothed my body, but not my mind.

  At least I had the neighbor to fantasize over.

  Come the following Monday, though, I would begin my new job as a janitor at the retirement home two blocks away. I had the marshal to thank for the thirty hours a week job that came with benefits. A much needed way to support us since I hadn’t been able to empty my ex’s safe like I’d planned to do before shit went down.

  We had left the west coast with what we wore and one backpack each. Lingering would have put our lives in even greater danger.

  “I’m heading out!” Devon hollered from somewhere in the house.

  “Don’t go too far and keep your cell on you!”

  His muttered, “Yeah, yeah,” reached my ears seconds before the door slammed shut behind him.

  Overwhelming need to get out of the tub and keep an eye on my son coursed through me, but the marshal overseeing us had told me no one had been hurt while under their protection.

  There could always be a first.

  I pushed the thought aside and went back to Mr. Ginger, the mighty fine beast of a neighbor I couldn’t keep from stirring my body to life.

  Chapter Three

  Vigil

  The fucking heat sucked donkey dick. I should have gotten my ass out of bed to finish the mowing a few hours earlier before the sun got too high. Damn ball of fire beat down on my head when I moved to the front yard, my chest and back already dripping sweat even though I’d taken a few water breaks while finishing up the backyard.

  Nothing worse than mowing. I’d gotten that chore shoved at me when Ricky and I had moved in with Auntie Jeanie, and I’d been doing it non-fucking stop ever since. I’d had about enough.

  I caught sight of someone in my periphery and turned to see who it was. The new punk neighbor with the hot mom. I cut the engine while telling myself I wasn’t interested.

  “Hey!” I called out as he peddled closer.

  His brow furrowed and shoulders tensed, but he braked, putting one foot onto the road in front of my house and nodded. Dark, wary eyes studied me, something I could appreciate in a soon-to-be man.

  I swiped my forearm across my sweaty forehead. “Interested in making a few bucks every week?”

  The wariness intensified, and he glanced beyond me at my house. “Well, sir, it depends on what it is.”

  Respectful—guess he wasn’t a punk after all. “Mowing my fucking yard. I’m too old for this shit.”

  He turned his focus back on my face. “Front and back?”
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  I had a huge fucking backyard. “Yeah. Once a week or more if it needs it. I’ll pay you fifty bucks, you use my mower, and I provide the gas. What do you say? Help an old bastard out?”

  He did a quick once-over me before turning his attention on the one garage door I’d left gaping open. “You got a Harley,” he said, nodding his chin toward my bike.

  “Yeah,” I answered even though he hadn’t asked a question.

  “You just ride it or tinker, too?”