Without Consequence Read online

  My mouth stayed in the polite smile as he spoke, my pen scribbling along the paper as quickly as possible. Looking at the order, I peered up, attempting not to piss him off by asking too many questions. “How would you like your eggs?”

  “Beaten,” he answered quickly.

  “With the four meat, you have one more side. You can have double hash, mushrooms, double beans, grits, a fruit plate, side salad or those potato cubes that don’t really have a name.” I tucked my hair behind my ears and smiled. I could see the silent challenge there. He was cool as a cucumber, but he was waiting for me to lose my patience – to be the one to throw the first punch, so to speak.

  “How about a trade off?”

  “What kind of trade off?” I asked, itching my eyebrow with the end of my pen thoughtlessly as I looked at the huge order on the pad.

  “The kind of trade off where I forego the mushrooms in exchange for you.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Drew

  “I...”

  My eyes narrowed as I watched her struggle to find the words she wanted to say. A giant fuck off was quite obviously sitting on the tip of her tongue, and the rapid fit of blinking she was doing was enough to tell me she didn't know how the hell to answer something which both of us knew made very little sense.

  I glanced at the guys around me, looking up through my brows and giving them a silent order to go along with whatever came out of my mouth next. Truth was, I didn't know what I was doing here anymore than she knew what to expect. She annoyed the living shit out of me, but I knew I had to find a way to deal with this without creating a scene. While Harry might have been confusing me with his new found bipolar moods, he was right about one thing: I'd always made it a rule to keep our business private. In public, we smiled. In the yard, we handled our own.

  Leaning back over the table, I glanced up at Ayda and dropped my voice to a level only we could hear.

  “I'm sure your boss could spare you for ten minutes while I eat, doll. Tell him this is health and safety training. A life or death kinda thing.”

  She stared blankly at me like she had no clue how to respond. Her mouth opened once, twice, then a third time before she clamped it back shut and looked over her shoulder at the man behind the counter. When her baby blues eventually turned back to face me, all she could do was push the nib of her pen further into her pad and stare.

  “By the time you get back with my order, my boys will have cleared the table and it will be just you, me and a mountain of meat to talk over. It's in your interests to make this happen, Ayda. Don't make me regret not ordering the mushrooms.”

  Her head lifted briefly, her eyes moving over her shoulder again. Whether she was looking for help or permission was anyone’s guess. “Okay, just let me get someone to cover my break. I’ll come back with your food.”

  I flashed her a smile and hid my surprise at how easily she'd done as she was told. “Good girl.”

  My body twisted back in my seat, choosing not to watch her walk away. This was all about power play now. Looking up at the guys around the table, I didn't need to tell them what to do. A quick nod over my shoulder and they knew the score. It only took a few seconds for them all to grab their drinks and slip away, but not without a few huffs and grumbles beforehand.

  I took a minute to gather myself together while I waited. My body shifted into the central seat as I leaned back, rolled my neck and pulled down on the edges of my leather cut. I was about to make sober conversation with the first person outside of the pack since I got out, and no fucker was going to know how uneasy that made me feel. All I had to do now was take a breath, keep my eyes on the table and wait. And when her feet approached several minutes later, and a plate of food was slowly pushed in front of me, I kept my chin low, casting her only the briefest of glances.

  “Take a seat,” I ordered quietly, grabbing the cutlery and pointing to the space directly opposite me.

  Her eyes widened for a moment before moving to the kitchen to make sure the rest of the orders came out in an orderly fashion. She then smoothed the back of the hideous brown dress against her legs and slid into the seat opposite me. “Okay, Mr. Tucker. You have my undivided attention. Now what?”

  “Now…” I waited, rolling the knife and fork around in my hands before eventually looking up at her. “I'm going to eat, and you're going to tell me everything you think I should know about Ayda Hanagan, big mouth extraordinaire.” My fork pushed into the first bit of meat I came to, my knife soon following it as I pretended to focus on my food.

  Ayda leaned forward, her elbows on the table as her hands clasped together in front of her. She studied me for a moment before dropping her eyes, obviously unsure how far she should go. “I’m not entirely sure I understand what you’re asking for. What does getting to know me have to do with repaying you for the wrong my brother did?”

  Raising my fork to my mouth, I let it hover just over my lips and narrowed my eyes. “I'm not sure I understand why you think you need to understand what's going on here. And I'm not sure you understand how to save your own neck when it's being held firmly against the chopping block.”

  The press of her lips and contemplative silence spoke more than words could have. She seemed to think about her options before sucking in a breath, her hands unclasping and landing palm down on the Formica table top, one finger tracing the wood grain. While there was so obviously fear there, she wore a look of something else, too. I couldn’t put my finger on it no matter how hard I tried.

  “I’m twenty-five, legal guardian to my fifteen-year-old brother–”

  Pushing the fork into my mouth, I waved my wrist around in the air and chewed down on my first bite of decent food in years, effectively cutting her off with nothing but the weak huff of a laugh that left my nostrils. My jaw rolled slowly as I watched her lips remain parted, her eyes unblinking. When I swallowed down, I leaned over my plate and half rolled my own back at her. “You're twenty-five years old, legal guardian to your brother, Tate Michael Hanagan, after your thirty-eight-year-old parents were tragically gunned down in a bank robbery gone wrong. Michael and Linda, if I remember correctly. The file looked a little hazy this morning. You were born in Memorial Hermann in Houston, Texas on April 10, 1989. Your parents moved to Babylon in 2001 and you went to Babylon High School, where you once tried out for a cheerleading squad and ended up with a broken ankle. Your medical records are otherwise clean and your criminal record is even cleaner. Up until a few nights ago, you had three jobs but it turns out twenty-five is too old for multitasking on roller skates these days. Shame. It’s obviously one of the reasons your ass is so good. Now you’ll probably have to take up yoga like the rest of the women in this town. Blonde hair, obviously. Blue eyes. Perfect. I'm guessing at a 32C rack and a size six shoe. I know all this shit already. Let's skip the formalities and get down to the good stuff. Who are you, Ayda?”

  Her eyes flashed, one palm rising to her forehead as she stared at me with stark panic. Her eyes flickered through several emotions before she shut them, effectively locking me out and keeping me from reading her. “If you already knew all that, why the hell did you ask? More to the point, why are you toying with me? I realize I’m doing the penance for my brother, but I wasn’t the one that broke into your tree house. I’m trying to do the best I can. Two of my jobs barely cover the mortgage and it’s a good month when we don’t eat ramen noodles every night. Is that what you want to hear, Drew Tucker? You want to rub my nose in how pathetic I am? Believe me, I already know.”

  “The last thing I want is to listen to a one person pity party, sweetheart. You think you're the only one around here struggling? Think again. This is just one man, sitting across from one woman, making conversation. You think you can get on board with that, or did you leave the last of your impeccable manners out on the lawn last night?” My hands got to work calmly, tearing into the food on my plate without much thought as I held her gaze and continued to eat.

  “You’re talking to me
about manners?”

  “Would you rather me talk about your tits?”

  “You’re a typical asshole, you know that?”

  “Thank you.”

  “That wasn’t a compliment.”

  “It is in my circle. Although, you should know, it's not nice to pigeonhole folks these days. We live in a PC world, apparently. Not all assholes are as assholey as this asshole.”

  For a moment, I thought she was going to laugh. Maybe she did, but rather than allowing me to see it, she dropped her forehead to the back of her hands. “All you really need to know about me is this. I love my brother. I will do anything for him, and stop at nothing to protect him. I don’t regret quitting college to bring him up, and though I miss my parents every single day, I have cherished every single moment I’ve had to be both his mother and his father. There’s nothing other than that.”

  I looked down at the pancakes on the side, slowly sliding my knife over to one before pressing the tip of it into the center and remaining still. “Favorite color?”

  “Green.”

  “Favorite day to clean at home?”

  “Sunday nights, so I can start the week fresh.”

  “Favorite type of music?”

  “Anything but rap, but I am partial to classic rock.”

  “Okay,” I nodded slowly, jabbing my tongue into the teeth at the back of my mouth in thought before flicking it around on the inside of my bottom lip. “A green apron on a Sunday night with some classic rock background music I can fix for you.” I looked up, reaching out for my coffee at the side and eyeing every reaction she had as I took a drink and landed it back on the table. “If you're willing to do anything for your brother, you can pay his debts off too by working for me. He broke my bed,” I lied, knowing she couldn't see shit of the deceit on my face because if there was one thing I knew I could fool anyone with, it was my poker face. “He broke through the window. There's some wood damage to the ledge and a crack in the glass. Safes aren't easy or cheap to replace either, and someone tried to gain access. Seeing as he was the only one there, I'm holding him responsible. Or rather, you.”

  There was a moment’s pause as she seemed to add up all of the damage in her head and when she finally looked up, I wasn’t sure if her smile was sarcastic or resigned. “Don’t tell me, you have one of those fancy Tempur-Pedic sleep number things that cost the same as a small mortgage?”

  “Probably best not to think about my bed too much or we will end up talking about your tits after all. Want some of my meat?” I asked, jabbing my fork into the last bit of sausage I had on my plate and holding it up to her with a smirk plastered on my face.

  Her eyes met mine, her body leaning forward as her lips closed around the tip of the sausage. She froze for a second, something that was clearly deliberate, before she bit down hard and smiled, her hand moving to cover her lips as she chewed. “Thank you. Be rude not to.”

  When my body moved forward and my hand flew out to grab a hold of her chin with as much subtle force as I could, I slowly pulled her back towards me and watched as her eyes popped and her mouth stilled. I don't know what forced me to do it, but even as she froze again beneath my touch, all I could think about was squeezing my fingers even tighter together and showing her how much power those tiny little muscles held in them. I wanted to feel her squirm. I wanted to shove, not just that sausage, further down her throat, but the whole fucking plate of food in front of me. My smile never dropped as I held her, and my arms never shook with the anger they felt deep inside. But my chin pushed out towards her as my eyes roamed every single fleck of skin on her face before eventually resting back on the blues of her eyes. “Careful, Ayda. I could make sure I have a lot more fun with you than I first intended.”

  Her voice was barely there when she responded. That one action had swept all of the confidence she’d been wearing away, and left in its place was the fear that I’d seen earlier. “I… I’m sorry. Anything you need. I’ll get my schedules from work and be there when you need me. I’m normally capable of keeping my mouth shut. Apparently lack of sleep makes me mouthy.”

  My fingers continued to press into the hollows of her cheeks, my voice dropping lower into a whisper. “Sunday nights, Monday mornings, Wednesdays and Fridays. I don't work to anyone else's schedule. You work to mine. You want me to leave you and your brother alone, you show up, do your work, then you go home. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. If not…”

  “But…” Whatever she’d been about to say seemed to disappear as her eyes met mine, and the words were replaced with a nod.

  That nod finally made me smile. Releasing her from my grip, I moved the palm of my hand to one side of her face before resting it against her cheek and tilting my head. “See? That wasn't so hard, was it? It's so much easier when you just agree. Saves us both time. Now…” Pulling my hand away, I slid back into my seat and picked up my cutlery again. “You can go. My food's getting cold and quite frankly, you're a distraction. Be at the MC hut on Sunday at five. I'll be waiting, and don't let that big mouth of yours get inside your brain and make you do anything stupid between now and then, Ayda.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Ayda

  My conversation with Tate had, inevitably, been postponed. The coach had demanded they all stay at school and work through the plays before the game. I should have known better than to expect anything from him on a Friday night. We lived in small town Texas. The whole place revolved around the team, the mood reflecting just how well the season was going. This year was, thankfully, a good year.

  Of course, I wasn’t complaining about the lack of time to talk. This was the kid’s meal ticket and like for most of the people in this town, the team came first. For the first time in a long time, I was getting to watch Tate play.

  I stood alone in the stands, barely able to compose myself every time he was on the field. It didn’t matter who was looking at me or what they were thinking because my sole focus was on jersey number ninety-nine. Tate was a natural. He dominated the place and made the other guys look like a peewee squad. His best friend, Rubin Walsh, was the quarterback and it was obvious that the two of them had played together since they’d met in the park all those years ago. Rubin was a little pervert, but knowing someone for fifteen years meant I could give him a hard time and not feel guilty about it.

  The excitement all around me as Rubin shouted out the plays went silent the second the ball was snapped. The defense from the other team were fast and smooth, but our boys were faster, and the handoff to Tate was so smooth that the other team missed it completely, allowing him to get a ten yard head start.

  “Go! Run, Tate!”

  Our side of the bleachers were on our feet, chants of Tate’s name coming hard and fast the closer he got to the end zone. The school colors were waved around with fierce intent like a sea of red and gold. The moment he crossed the line, a roar went up, the metal below us vibrating as we bounced around in excitement.

  When half time finally rolled around, I was breathless and ready to drop in my seat. Babylon High was up twenty-eight to seven.

  I’d forgotten how much I loved being here at these games, just watching. With the electricity in the air, the excitement and the unity of cheering for the same team, I felt like I was a part of something bigger, something good and bright. It was something I wanted to be a part of, rather than being included in.

  I didn’t have any money for a pennant with my brother’s number on it, and I sure as hell didn’t have money for food or soda, so I stayed where I was, taking in the good vibes around me, while trying my hardest not to think about the effort it was going to take to change my schedule. More to the point, trying my hardest not to panic about how I was going to pay the mortgage or bills when I was missing out on so many precious hours that I should have spent working, to repay a debt.

  I’d thought long and hard about how to break it to Tate, but I’d already seen the damage that had caused. I wasn’t going to risk him messing up again and doing something e
xponentially more stupid than he already had. Though, I wasn’t entirely convinced that was possible. Short of murder, there wasn’t much that could have landed us in more trouble.

  I was so lost in my own world, I barely noticed the crowd beginning to filter back in, but more to the point, I failed to notice that the seat next to me was taken by someone that was even more out of place than I was. I’m not sure what tipped me off to his arrival. Maybe it was the distinct smell of leather and engine grease that clung to him. Then again, it could have been the ominous air that seemed to surround him wherever he went. Either way, I knew, and the moment I did, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I felt every eye in my section of the bleachers turn to stare at me. This was probably unheard of. I wasn’t at many games, but even I knew no one in the MC had ever shown up to one, because if they had, it would have made headline news.

  Peering around me, I forced my hands under my thighs and kept my eyes trained on the empty field. I could already see people leaning in to gossip to one another in my peripheral vision. I would forever be known as the girl who’d brought the pack down on them.

  “Umm, I thought you said I’ll see you on Sunday?”

  “I needed more meat and heard this place sold good hot dogs,” he said smoothly, like it wasn’t anything unusual or out of place for him to be here. He didn't seem to even care that everyone around us was staring at him with wide eyes. “Anyone ever told you you’re kinda skinny?”

  “Not until now,” I said, pulling my hands from under my thighs and resting my elbows on my knees. “And I don’t think they stock a hundred and twenty pounds of amalgamated meat product, either, so you’re out of luck.”