I gently lean down and grab the container from the floor. “It’s okay, baby. It was just an accident.” I scoop her into my arms and place her on the kitchen counter. “Want to help me see how many undamaged eggs we have left?” I tickle her stomach, which makes her laugh.
I hate that her first instinct is to apologize and cry after a mistake. It would seem that Craig’s mental abuse is affecting our child now, too. I won’t stand for this any longer. Something has to change.
Charlie wipes her eyes with the paper towel I hand her, and I open the carton of eggs. Just doing a quick glance, I see that five of the twelve eggs have been cracked. But they are still salvageable.
“Are they all broke, Mommy?”
I look at her sad face and almost tear up. How can she be so heartbroken over some cracked eggs? It’s like her little accident was the absolute end of the world. I smile at her and shake my head. “No way! There are only a few cracked, and we can still get the insides out.”
I reach in and grab the first cracked egg, show her how we can still crack it open, and pour the egg into the waiting bowl. I grab another one and hold it out for her. “Do you want to help me crack some?”
At first, she shakes her head. “No, thank you. I don’t want to ruin anything else.”
My fucking heart!“Sweet girl. You didn’t ruin anything. I promise. Come on, I can’t crack all these eggs by myself. I really need your help.” I hold her hand and place the egg into her palm. “Show Momma how good you are at cracking eggs.”
She stares at the bowl for a long moment before hitting the egg on the side and opening it up. A couple of pieces of shell go in with it, and once she is done, I take the empty egg and throw it in the trash. “Okay. Do you see those little white things in the bowl?”
She nods. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. “Enough of that. You have nothing to apologize for. Here, let me show you how to get them out.” I grab the fork from the drawer behind me and gently sift out one of the shells. “Now you try.” I hand her the fork.
She does such a good job at pulling the shell out that, once she places it in my palm, I reach in and give her a big hug. “You did so great!”
The rest of the morning is spent laughing and mixing up the batter. When Craig walks through the front door, we both have the mix on our noses.
Why is he home from work? I quickly glance around the kitchen at the mess we have made and cringe. He is going to be pissed.
Chapter 6
Hunter
The ride down to Dallas was uneventful. In fact, it was so empty on the roads that I got here in record time. I would have arrived quicker if I didn’t have to stop for gas because Viper’s tank was riding on fumes.
My back aches from the rough ride. This damn Harley is such a piece of shit; I’m surprised it even got me back to the clubhouse. Viper is lucky I consider him a ride or die brother because Iwould have kicked him to the curb a long ass time ago. He can be such an imbecile sometimes.
Honestly, how Viper has survived this long is beyond me. His bike is falling apart at this point; I am going to have to light a fire under his ass to do some work on this poor ride.
It is now seven in the morning as I travel down the gravel driveway to the clubhouse. Two of our prospects—not yet initiated members, stand out front, keeping guard. They both just joined a month ago and have a full year before they will be full members if they last that long. We use them to do the dirty jobs such as standing guard in random places, or keeping an eye on certain places if we don’t feel like it. Their entire existence is to prove to us that they want to be apart of the club by any means necessary and that means proving your loyalty.
There is not a lot of action out this way, but we are always prepared if another club wants to pick a fight. Or start a war. The Blue Devil’s have been making themselves known here lately, so it is just a matter of time before we will be seeing them.
I park Viper’s bike under the overhang and grab the drugs from the back. I will have to add the gas money to the never-ending tab I have on him. He still owes me from the time he ruined my vest. I think back to the day he got so drunk that he poured his beer all over me. My vest stunk of it for days, no matter how many times I washed it. I ended up having to just replace the damn thing and call it a day.
When I walk toward the door, the prospect on the left makes eye contact and starts a conversation. “Have a nice ride?”
I know he is just trying to get in good with the club and be nice, but, can’t he tell that I look like hell and am probably a grumpy fucker? I need a fucking nap. I run my hand through my hair and give him a grim look. “I don’t know if you’re fucking blind or something, but the patch on my vest and the patch on yours means that you speak when you are fucking spoken to. And I don’t remember saying a goddamn word to you, prospect.”
He quickly stands up straighter and looks out into the lot as I walk past him through the front door.
Xavier sits with a smirk on his face, sipping a cup of coffee at the bar when I close the door behind me. I raise my brow. “What’s so funny?”
“Did you really have to be so mean to the poor kid this early in the morning?” He sets his cup down on the bar.
I take a seat next to him on one of the stools and tilt my head. “Do I look like I want to have a friendly fucking conversation this early in the morning?”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “No, you look like hell, if I’m being honest.”
I roll my eyes. “That is because someone I know forced me to ride through the night to get here when all I wanted to do was take a damn nap.”
