Page 38 of Praying for Thunder

“No.”

He leaned her head back, and sing-sung, “I think she is.”

“No.”

He leaned down to kiss her, then whispered, “You’re the only one I will be fucking. In that chair or anywhere.”

Her mouth parted. Her breathing heightened. “O-Oh.”

“Okay?”

She licked her lips. Breathlessly, she whispered, “Okay.”

Our new home smelled fresh. Clean. And the paint wasn’t marked up or mottled green. The walls were white with new wooden trim around the windows and doors. And?

“Two couches!” I ran and jumped on the black leather. “Wow!”

“My dude, you ain’t seen nothing yet. How about this?” Dio sat in an oversized chair, then pushed a button.

My jaw hit the ground as the chair started to lean back and act like a transformer. “Rrr-rrr?” It lifted his feet, right into the air. “How does it do that?”

Dio laughed, telling Ani, “The kid has literally grown up with every man’s favorite things, boobs, yet a recliner is what amazes him.”

A hopeful smile in place, Ani held out her arms. “Niño.”

I leaped from the couch and ran to her.

She held me tight. “Do you want to live here?”

Her speaking Spanish to me, outside the only home I’d known, was exciting. “It smells so good! Yes!”

Vrooommmmm came down the chair. “You’re speaking Spanish again.”

Anita questioned, “So?”

Not taking his eyes from her, he growled something I wouldn’t understand until I was older and with my own desires. Then he said, “Well, I’m guessing you asked Thunder what he thinks of it here. So, what did he say?”

She kissed my nose. “He said he likes it here.”

His stare was still locked on her as he grabbed a remote. “My dude, want a movie?”

“Rrr-rrr?” I wiggled to get out of Ani’s embrace. “Yes, sir!”

After being promised it was safe, I sat on a plush couch, remote in my hand, and so many snacks I couldn’t see my legs. So entertained, I didn’t ask why Dio was backing a smirking Anita into another room. Nor did I care when I heard the door lock. The TV was loud enough that I didn’t hear a single moan.

⚡⚡⚡

Royal Bastards’ presence continued to be a trigger for Anita. You could say bikes, in general, threw her into flight mode—something I wouldn’t understand until I was forced to live it myself. But these bikers understood that life sometimes bore cruel razor-sharp edges that sliced so deep the wounds couldn’t be seen. They understood her fear of bikers, yet hoped she would someday view this select group differently. Not that Dio’s President, Grims, wasn’t going to have his say.

After a serious adult conversation between Anita, Dio, and Grims, Anita finally revealed the name of the club she was running from: Fallen Gods.

From there, Bastards were sent to the mountains of North Carolina to spy and learn as much as they could about a motorcycle club they had never heard of.

It seemed a lot had transpired with the Fallen Gods while I was being raised elsewhere. The locals spoke of an internal war that had taken place within the club. Father and sons battled. Once the father was dead, the few that remained left town. They sold their land and were never heard from again.

This brought much relief to Diablo.

Anita was another story. After asking if the Fallen Gods’ club Sergeant at Arms had died, and being told he had, she got quiet for a few days. She even took those days off from work.