Brutal Beast (Vicious Vipers MC Book 5) Read online

  “We still on for Sunday?” I asked, returning my focus on Dillon and grabbing a cookie from beneath the wrap to shove in my mouth.

  “Yep.”

  “Damn, that’s good,” I said around my mouthful.

  He grinned, his eyes lighting up like a little kid. “Told ya.”

  “Sure it’s okay with your mom? I don’t want to impose.” I didn’t add in the obvious closed-off vibe I’d gotten from her seconds earlier.

  “It’s cool. She said I can mow for you, but wants to meet you before I can hang out and shit.”

  I nodded, chewing the second cookie I stuffed into my mouth. “I’d invite her over now, but I’m about to head to my club for the night.”

  “MC?”

  Studying his face didn’t reveal jack shit as he held my stare. “Vicious Vipers. Heard of them?”

  He finally glanced away. “No, sir.”

  Liar. “You tell your mom—what’s her name?”

  “Michelle.”

  “You tell her I’ll be over Sunday.”

  “Yes, sir.” Dillon turned and walked off.

  “Lawn is gonna need mowing Friday or Saturday,” I called after him, not wanting to do that shit even though the forecast said it’d be cooler by the weekend.

  He turned and walked backward, giving me a mock salute. “I’ll talk her into it.”

  Or, I could just take the plate I’d have emptied before morning back over the next day. Meet the wary mom, find out who’d actually moved into my neighborhood, and hopefully put her mind at ease.

  In the meantime, I planned to call Devil and see what he could dig up on the single mom and her lying son.

  ****

  I got news Ricky sobered up on Tuesday, but he skipped our weekly meeting on Wednesday. Add in the fact my tech nerd brother couldn’t find anything beyond a cable and electric bill under the name Michelle Evans, and aggravation ate at my stomach.

  Nothing, Devil had claimed. Not a damn thing, like she and her son Dillon didn’t exist at all. That told me one thing for certain. Michelle Evans wasn’t her real name, same as I’d suspected of the name her son had given me. The second thing I expected, she was on the run or had been placed in my neighborhood on purpose.

  But whose purpose?

  The FBI in order to get close to me and the Vipers, or for her own safety? The wariness from both Michelle and Dillon led me to believe the latter rather than an undercover operation. Being in my neighborhood put them under my protection, exactly as I’d told Dillon, so I wasn’t going to rest until I learned the truth.

  I waited until he mowed my front yard Friday morning before taking the plate back to his mom so I could get her alone. At least she’d agreed to let him mow without meeting me first.

  She cracked open the back door, face pale and dark eyes full of emotion—namely fear, solidifying my thoughts on her situation. She definitely wasn’t with the FBI. No one could fake that kind of wariness.

  My smile came easier, but also because she was so damn beautiful with lush dark hair and eyes the color of golden chestnuts. “Morning.”

  She glanced beyond me, definitely hearing my mower still running out front before opening the door a little wider. Turning her focus back on me, she eyed me like a skittish cat.

  I didn’t want to be a gentleman, but forced myself to keep my focus on her face rather than check her out.

  “Thanks for the cookies.” I handed her the plate, giving her a reason to let her white-knuckled grip on the door release. “Best I’ve had since my Auntie Jeanie’s.”

  Her lips quirked, and she rubbed her palms down her shorts before taking the plate without touching my fingers. “Glad you liked them. I’m Michelle. Dillon’s mom.” Her husky voice kicked me in the groin with a shot of pure, fucking lust.

  She didn’t offer her hand, so I didn’t either. “Vigil.”

  “Thanks for giving him a job.”

  I shrugged, studying her face with the color returning to pinken her cheeks. The wariness in her eyes remained even as her gaze flitted down over my chest really quick. “He’s a good kid. Hope you don’t mind I invited him to make himself at home with my weights and shit in the garage. Figured he could use a friend.”

  Michelle studied me, her dark eyes intent, her full lips pressed into a flat line. I didn’t move under her scrutiny, letting her see whatever she wished. I wasn’t ashamed of what—who—I was. If she had something against bikers or big fuckers like me, that was her problem, not mine.

  “He is a good kid,” she finally said, her voice still low and sexy as fuck, “but I don’t want him getting caught up in the wrong crowd.”

  My turn to study her even though I knew exactly what her words meant. She definitely had a thing against bikers, no doubt. “I might be a biker,” I said, “but we don’t deal drugs. I don’t even allow my brothers to do drugs beyond smoking a bit of pot.”

  “Your brothers.”

  Not a question, but I felt the need to answer, let her know exactly who lived behind her. “I’m the president of the Viper’s Boston chapter.”

  Her face paled again, and she swallowed. “You’re the leader of a biker gang.”

  “I am.”

  “You’re exactly the type of crowd I don’t want my son getting caught up in,” she snipped, her eyes taking on a glint that swelled my dick. Fuck, did I like my women snippy and wild.

  “I’m also exactly the type of man who can help the kid out,” I argued, bringing a flush to her cheeks that stiffened me to the point of discomfort. “He wants to get stronger. Learn how to protect himself. He also needs someone he can turn to if shit goes bad like he seems to think it might at the new school.” I considered the dipshit punks I knew who supposedly ran the high school’s pecking order and thought that Dillon might have to put up with that exact shit until he found his place.

  Michelle glared up at me, and goddamn did I like the pissed look on her face. Tense silence grew between us, but I let her have the time to war out whatever went on inside her head. Her lush, dark hair hung around her shoulders in gentle waves, falling over more than a handful of tits. The t-shirt covering her upper body hid whatever figure lay beneath those tits, but the thighs below her shorts and curvy calves told me all I needed to.

  Michelle Evans was all woman, the kind a man with my size could enjoy without restraint. The memory of her round ass had me biting back a groan, and I dragged my focus back to her face without realizing I’d been checking her out.

  “Are you done?” she asked, that snippy tone sending a rush through me. Nothing better than a wildcat.

  “Unless you’re offering to turn around and let me check out the backside, too.” Fire lit her eyes into obsidian as her lips pursed, and I chuckled. “You’re hot as fuck, Michelle. Can’t blame a man for noticing.”

  “You won’t talk about your club with my son,” she tossed out, choosing to ignore my compliments.

  I nodded, thankful she hadn’t told me to fuck off and leave them alone. “If that’s what you want.”

  “You won’t invite him to ride with you.”

  “I won’t.”

  Her chin tilted upward as she tried to peer down her nose at me even though I stood close to a foot taller than her. “No booze or drugs.”

  “Definitely not.”

  “And keep the cursing to a minimum.”

  I snorted. “Can’t promise you anything on that one, wildcat.”

  She glared, and my dick enjoyed every goddamn second of the tension between us. “No hitting on me.”

  One of my eyebrows raised on its own. “Not even a little?”

  “The last thing I want is to get involved with any man, let alone an outlaw biker.”

  “Who said anything about being an outlaw?” I shot back, crossing my arms, enjoying myself way too much.

  She glanced down at my straining pecs and jerked her focus back upward�
�she couldn’t hide the hint of interest in her eyes, though. “You’re a Viper which means you’re a one-percenter.”

  Michelle Evans knew what the average American didn’t. She’d just dropped a hint into her past Devil hadn’t been able to uncover.

  “Being a one-percenter doesn’t mean we hurt innocent people in any way,” I said, my own voice lowering.

  “It still means criminal activity.”

  “There’s a fine line between black and white,” I argued once more, keeping my tone level even though her judging me set me off in some way that I usually didn’t give a shit about. I wanted her to like me. Trust me. I told myself it was for her son’s sake and not my desire to strip her down to see what lay beneath her unflattering clothes.

  “There is a gray area,” she agreed, glancing behind me as my mower shut off. She let out a heavy exhale. “My son and his safety is all I’m interested in right now, Vigil.” Returning her focus to my face, she let me see some of her vulnerability in her dark eyes.

  “Understood.”

  Tight lipped, she nodded.

  “So, will you allow me to be his friend?” I asked, needing her permission since I expected Dillon wouldn’t listen anyway if she told him to stay away from me. The kid was definitely drawn to me enough to test her—and I actually liked the kid.

  “You’ve offered him too much to keep him away.”

  My turn to nod, letting her know we were on the same page thought-wise. I unfolded my arms, dropping them to my sides. “Wasn’t my intent when I first met him, but his interest in bikes and wanting to learn how to defend himself wasn’t something I could ignore since I got bullied as a kid. I can offer him that, Michelle, and even without getting him involved in my club, I’ve got the connections to help you keep him out of trouble.”

  But why the hell I wanted to, I had no fucking clue. I found myself rubbing my chest. Did I have a rash growing beneath my skin or something? Grimacing, I dropped my hand.

  Another prolonged silence rose between us while she warred, holding my stare with more balls than most men.

  “Are you coming over on Sunday to watch football with him?” she finally asked.

  “If the invitation is still good.”

  “At the first sign of trouble, you’re out of his life, neighbor or not.”

  “Deal.” I stuck out my hand.

  She eyed it for a few seconds before sliding her palm against mine.

  Instant lust shot to my dick, jerking my length in my jeans. Her grip was soft and warm. Feminine yet firm. I wondered what those fingers would feel like wrapped around my dick.

  “See you Sunday,” I said, releasing her hand and turning before she caught an eyeful of my hard-on. Sure, I wanted to bury my dick in her ass, but I found myself wanting to prove myself to her even more. I wanted her to look at me like Dillon did—with fucking awe and appreciation. I wanted her to trust me to not lead her son astray, for her to know I had his best interests in mind when offering to help the kid out.

  Why?

  I had no fucking clue, but I was going to roll with it. If nothing else, I could feel good about myself for looking after yet another family in my neighborhood.

  On a hunch, I texted Devil after Dillon took off for the day, letting him know Michelle Evans might have a connection to a one-percenter club.

  He gave me a thumbs up emoji and nothing else. The waiting fucking sucked.

  Chapter Six

  Mila

  Vigil had won my son over, heart and soul. He didn’t stop talking about him all week long. From Peashooter to speed bags and back again, Devon kept up a running infomercial for the man. He’d also called him my ginger twice more before I put a stop to it.

  Jaded through and through, I wouldn’t ever allow a man in my heart ever again. Couldn’t do so without trusting, something I knew I would never do.

  The biker next door might have won my son over, but he wouldn’t scale my walls—knight or no knight. I hated the fact that his true colors, pun definitely intended, would eventually shine through and Devon would end up crushed, but I couldn’t bring myself to prohibit him from seeing the first friend he’d made.

  School would begin in a matter of weeks, and he’d find new friends. I hoped Vigil would eventually take a back seat to those closer to Devon’s own age, ones going through the same stages in life, falling for the same teenage girls.

  A shudder rippled through me as I brushed my teeth while readying for bed Saturday night.

  Girls.

  I was thankful as hell he hadn’t been interested in them before we’d left home. The heartbreak of leaving a first love behind wouldn’t have crushed just him. I still would have made the same choices, though. I would have stood up for truth in exchange for leniency and safety for my son.

  The smaller window unit in the tiny master bedroom grumbled as much as the one in the living room, but at least it kept the temperature decent enough to sleep. The humidity had passed, but it was still too hot to sleep with the windows open. Not that I would, anyway. Fear kept them locked tight, same as the doors whenever we were inside.

  Hoping nightmares and worry wouldn’t plague me like usual, I crawled between the scratchy sheets, once more missing the satin I’d left behind.

  Fresh start, I told myself while closing my eyes. Complaining or lamenting what I’d given up wouldn’t gain me a damn thing.

  Vigil came to mind, same as he always did whenever I laid down and closed my eyes. Who was I kidding? He entered my brain a lot while they were open, too. The damn man in all his blue-gray eyed hotness annoyed the hell out of me by turning my body on the way he did.

  I liked them big. He certainly fit that bill.

  I liked them strong with a no-nonsense, no-bullshit attitude. I didn’t question that about Vigil either even though we’d only spoken that one time.

  I also liked them empathetic and protective. Vigil seemed to be both and much more, but I didn’t trust him to remain so.

  I’d known men like him before, and allowing myself to be vulnerable had only ended in heartache and pain.

  Vigil would be inside our walls the next day for the time of two football games. Nervousness ate at my stomach, and I tossed beneath the sheet, turning onto my back to stare at the dark ceiling.

  The image of him stayed fresh in my mind, though, warming my entire body from hair to toes, damn him.

  Frowning, I cursed his name a few times in my head while need dampened between my thighs and tightened my nipples. I refused to give into my baser instincts. I refused to touch myself while haunted by a man whose nature shouldn’t turn me on. I refused myself release even if he was hot as hell and checked off every damn box in my make-me-wet list.

  Nope.

  I flopped over, punched my pillow, and clamped my eyes shut.

  Tomorrow, I will ignore his body, his eyes, and the color of his hair. I will focus on Dev and making my son happy.

  That’s all that truly mattered.

  ****

  “Just because I’m allowing him over here doesn’t mean I fully approve,” I told Devon the next morning while he emptied yet another box of cereal into his bowl. “We left that behind us for a new start, and having Vigil as your friend isn’t new, Dev.”

  “He’s not an asshole,” Devon reminded me of what he’d first said about the man, frowning from across the table.

  “Maybe not, but I can’t do this again.”

  Devon rolled his eyes. “I’m not suggesting you sleep with the guy, Mom.”

  “Devon!”

  “What?” He shrugged. “He’s your type, but I want him as a friend. I need him, Mom. He’s going to let me use his gym. Teach me how to box so I can protect you if that asshole ever makes parole and comes after us.”

  Tears hazed my vision and clogged my throat. My little man wanting to be a big man too soon. Could I love him any more than I already did? Saying no s
eemed damn near impossible, even without his flashing his dimple at me. “At the first red flag, he’s out of your life. Understand? I made a horrible mistake once and I won’t do it again.”

  “He’s a good man. I know it. Give him a chance to prove it.”

  I didn’t respond. Devon knew how I felt about trusting anyone but him.