Page 41 of Lick

This is the shit that I don’t give a fuck about. It’s like female drama that has no place in my life. But I get where Sin’s coming from. I know where his head is when it comes to Savannah and his daughter. From the moment, he drove her car into Fury territory he’s had one mission, to protect her.

Scanning the room, I watch the different men around the table. I wonder if any of these fuckers would be defending Bubba if he pulled that shit with their women? Would I be quick to forgive him if I were in Sin’s shoes?

Nah, I’d probably slit that fucker’s throat.

Jenni called Maggie to set up a meeting. We’re supposed to be starting the paperwork process and the background checks. It’s not for sure that I’ll even get the kids. I have no paper to back up who I am. I don’t believe in making payments on shit. Everything I have, I paid cash. The juvie stints are sealed, and I’ve been lucky as fuck that I haven’t been picked up as an adult. The old timers always talk about how the new generation is too clean for this lifestyle, but we’re just fucking smart. We know how to get away with shit, and the fact that we’re more above the law instead of below it helps. I’m not sure what the fuck we’d be doing if Cut had decided to keep the MC the way it was when his father ran it. I rub my hand over my smooth head.

“Why do you shave your head?” Jenni asks from the driver’s seat. “Like ‘Bic it clean’ as you do? I can tell you’re not truly bald. You don’t have a receding hairline. It’s just a waste.”

She insisted on driving today. I don’t know why I fucking agreed. My knees are in my fucking chest because of the size of her compact. It’s fine for her five foot nothing frame, but I’m a grown ass man riding around in a fucking clown car.

“This car shit has got to change,” I tell her.

She turns her head to me. Her eyes are fucking sparkling with laughter, which fuels my fire.

“I’m serious, Cunt Chops.”

Her head snaps my direction. “What the what! You did not just call me that.”

I shrug. “What? I’m trying out new nicknames.”

“Do not ever call me that again. I’d rather you stick to sugar tits.”

I throw my head back and laugh. “I knew you’d see things my way.”

“You’re not getting out of answering my question by trying to distract me with your crudeness. I know you, Tylan McCoy. Don’t you play your games with me.”

“Boy, you’ve got a real mom voice going there, Sugar Lips.”

She shrugs. “I’m practicing.”

This hits me the wrong way, and my playful mood turns sour. Looking out the window, I try to rein the anger in. I try to focus on the good of what we’re trying to do here, and I remind myself that I’m not only doing this for those kids, but I’m doing it to make sure she isn’t being sucked into this lifestyle.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice is full of remorse. I know she didn’t mean anything by it.

I turn my gaze to her. “You wanna know why I shave my head? I’ll tell you, but you aren’t gonna like it.”

“It won’t change anything, you know? If you do decide to tell me the details of your past and not gloss over them, it won’t change how I see you.”

“And how do you see me?”

“As one of the strongest people I know—ever known, really.”

Fuck me. I know she ain’t lying. Only truth flows from her lips, and I don’t know if how she sees me makes me angry or ecstatic.

“The man who abused me used to grab me by my hair. It was his way of controlling me. Like my hair was his handle.”

“I’m in the mood, boy.”

The sound of Teddy’s voice and what he’s implying sends chills up my spine. I close my eyes, hoping that I’m just imagining him behind me. Once I feel his hand on my shoulder, I take off down the hall, but he grabs the back of my hair, pulling me back against his chest, his hard dick poking me in the back.

I’m not strong enough to get away. I’m never strong enough.

“Be a good boy, Tylan.” He tugs at my hair as he pushes me down the hall. My arms shoot out, trying to block entrance into my room, but with a shove in my back with his free hand, I stumble into the room as he lets go of my hair.

“You know the routine.”

He pulls his shirt over his head. His chest is riddled with bruises and scars, and I wonder if other kids put them there as they struggled against him. I take a step to go around him, but he reaches for my hair again. It rips from its roots, stinging my head. Tears spring to my eyes. He pulls me to him, the stench of his breath hitting my face.