Bosco Read online

  A mass of golden tinted brown curls sits tangled around her head, and her chubby cheeks are still pink from her nap. With tear stains on her face, Amelia rubs the sleep from her eyes and sits up from her tiny bed.

  My girl wakes up hard every time—cranky, confused, and whiney, just like her dad used to. So much about her reminds me of him. Somehow, without ever even meeting the man that loved her more than life, she’s a miniature version of him, both the good and the bad.

  I see him in her chocolate brown eyes that are identical to the ones I’d gotten lost in when we first fell in love. I see him when she’s frustrated, and that little lip of hers curls just like her daddy’s used to do. I even see him when she laughs, her eyes crinkling in the corners the same way his did when he was alive.

  Reaching down, I scoop her into my arms and pull her to my chest. Heat rolls off of her in waves, and her head drops onto my shoulder as I press my lips to her forehead. She’s burning hot, and if the wetness from her back that’s seeping through the sleeve of my sweater is any indication, she’s wet the bed, despite having been potty-trained over the last three months.

  “Oh, baby,” I soothe as she continues to whimper, her face buried in the crook of my neck. “You’re burning up.” Fumbling around in the top drawer of her dresser, I pull out a digital thermometer. Pressing the button, I wait for the screen on it to light up but nothing happens. Frustration and defeat hammer at my thoughts as I bite back a groan and toss the worthless piece of plastic back into the drawer. I don’t have spare batteries for it, and I don’t have another one.

  “Come on, baby,” I coo, cuddling my girl closer. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  Bosco

  I can hear Millie crying from outside as I walk up the steps to the rundown little house Sarah lives in. Knocking on the door, I wait and listen for the sounds of Sarah’s feet approaching, but all I hear is more crying. After knocking again and still no answer, I turn the knob and find the door unlocked. Glad to be able to go inside, I ward off the annoyance that she still hasn’t learned to lock the front door as I push it open.

  “Hello?” I call out, wiping my boots off on the mat.

  “We’re up here!”

  I follow the sound of Sarah’s voice and Millie’s ragged cries up the narrow stairs and into the explosion of pink that is Millie’s bedroom. The little girl’s cheeks are stark red, but the rest of her skin is pale as she cries in her mother’s arms.

  “Everything okay?” I ask Sarah, moving forward and taking the toddler from her.

  Sarah shakes her head and steps away, scrubbing her hands over her face as Millie wraps her little arms around my neck and burrows into me. Heat rolls off of her as she presses her tiny body to mine. “No. She’s obviously running a fever. I’m out of Tylenol, the thermometer is dead, and I’m a failure as a mother.”

  “Don’t say that shit,” I say softly to her as I cup the back of Millie’s head, holding her tight to my chest, as if that will shield her from her mother’s self-deprecation. I turn my attention to the burning bundle in my arms. “You sick, Tink?” I ask, using the name I’d given her just a few minutes after her birth. She’d been so tiny; I’d thought I was going to break her. Millie’s shoulders shudder as she settles into me, her tears quieting. “Bosco’s gonna take care of you and Mommy, okay?”

  Millie sniffles, and I watch as Sarah goes about cleaning up the wet bedsheets. She looks tired and flustered, though still gorgeous. Before she had given birth to Millie, I’d never really appreciated just how hard being a single mom was. Sarah works her ass off to give her girl the best life she can, but it wears on her. I worry about how little time she actually takes for herself. Nobody can do a job twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week without a break here and there.

  “I’m going to give her a quick bath,” Sarah announces, carefully attempting to pull Millie from my arms. She burrows into me with so much force, I have to pry her off.

  “It’s okay, Tink. Momma’s gonna get you all cleaned up and Bosco’s gonna run to the store and get you some medicine, okay?”

  Millie sniffles and lets go, then wipes her nose on Sarah’s shirt, but her tears are slowing. Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath. Sarah looks exhausted. Her hair is a mess; her cheeks look sallow, and the dark circles under her large brown eyes tell the tale of her lack of sleep. “You don’t have to do this, Bosco,” she whispers, her mouth tight with defeat.

  I arch a brow and place my finger under her chin, tilting her face until our eyes meet. “You think I don’t know that?” Sarah’s gaze flies to my lips and back up again, her cheeks heating. “I’ll do it because I want to. Because I want Millie to feel better and because you look dead on your feet, and that shit ain’t cool with me.” I lean in closer and press a kiss to Millie’s head, doing my best to ignore the scent of Sarah’s hair. “Get our girl here cleaned up and I’ll be back in a few.”

  I leave before she can say anything more, or before I can do something stupid, like take her face in my hands and kiss her until neither of us can breathe. I’ve been helping Sarah out in any way I can since the day Mouse was killed. That whole situation and the reality of a life in the club had shaken me to my very core. I’d been a prospect at the time and still learning the ropes, but I’d seen the way they’d rallied around Sarah, despite her anger and grief. They’d made sure she wanted for nothing, and that’s when I realized I’d never find a stronger family than this club.

  Sarah and Millie’s well-being had been a duty, and it hadn’t taken long for my feeling to become complicated. I’ve come to love these two ladies, so even now that I’m a member, I do what I can to take care of them. I do what I can to be near them—near her. Sarah’s stubborn, though. She refuses to accept help willingly. She’s determined to do shit on her own, which would be an admirable quality if it weren’t so goddamn annoying.

  The Sarah I see in the pictures scattered about her home is long gone; she looks so happy in all of them. Carefree. When Mouse was alive, Sarah was always laughing. She’d had a fantastic laugh. She’d throw her head back, her long dark hair falling low on her back, and she’d just let it all out. She laughed with everything she had in her. I haven’t seen that Sarah in a very long time.

  As I drive away from her house, I make a decision. Like it or not, Sarah is finally going to let me in. She’s going to let me fucking help her and I’m going to do everything in my power to give Millie the Sarah her daddy fell in love with.

  Sarah

  “There ya go, baby,” I whisper softly as Millie sucks on the plastic syringe full of Tylenol. She’s so lethargic and clingy, and there’s nothing I hate more than to see my baby not feeling well.

  Bosco finishes rustling around in the kitchen, putting the rest of his purchases away, and walks into the living room. “She take it?” I nod and settle back on the couch, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

  “That’s my girl,” he says, plopping down beside me and gently rubbing her back. When his eyes meet mine, his face is serious. “You wanna tell me why when I tried to call you from the store, I got a recording that your phone’s no longer in service?”

  My teeth sink into my lip as I look away, unable to meet his gaze. Part of me feels lightheaded just being this close to him. Bosco and I have never crossed the line from friendship to sexual, but as time goes on, my attraction to him keeps growing.

  The other part of me is humiliated. I’m a grown woman and a mother to a young child, and I can’t even manage to maintain a goddamn phone bill. “Long story,” I mumble, my lips buried in Millie’s hair, causing my words to sound distorted.

  Bosco leans back and plops his socked feet up on the coffee table. “I’m not going anywhere. Try me.”

  Taking a deep breath, I lift my head and turn to face him, forcing my gaze to stay locked on his handsome face. “I just haven’t had the money to pay it,” I admit. “But, it’s okay. We’re okay. We have a roof over our heads and food in the fridge. We’ll be fine
.”

  Bosco holds my gaze, his features open and without judgement. That’s one thing I can always count on with him; he never judges me for my fuck-ups. He just listens and offers his advice.

  “Babe, if you’ve been having issues with money, you need to take it to the club,” he says.

  The club. Always that damn club. Mouse was the same way. He lived and breathed the Kings of Korruption. He thought they were the best thing in the fucking world, but it’s because of the club that he isn’t breathing anymore at all.

  Bosco’s the same way in thinking they can fix anything. I can’t look at him without remembering that he is that club. He’s not just some hot guy that comes around to check on us from time to time—he’s a King.

  “I said we’ll be fine.” I can’t help the scowl that’s creeped onto my face, but I don’t bother to hide it.

  “Sarah.” He leans forward and places a hand on my knee. The heat from his touch washes over me; my conflicting emotions threaten to swallow me whole. “It doesn’t have to be this hard. The club is here for you.” His hand comes up, doing that sexy finger thing to lift my chin, capturing my eyes with his. “I’m here for you.”

  I swallow as a tear escapes, slowly trailing down my cheek. Every ounce of my pain and embarrassment is reflected in that tear. Bosco’s finger comes up and gently wipes it from my skin. “Where’s your bill, babe?”

  “No—”

  “I said, where’s your bill?” His jaw is set in a hard line, his eyes narrowed, daring me to argue.

  My cheeks burn as shame washes over me in one giant wave. “In the kitchen, on the table.”

  Bosco is up and off the couch before I even finish speaking. His hand comes to the top of my head and he applies a little pressure to tilt it back, his gaze holding mine captive. “You don’t have to keep doing this shit alone, Sarah. I won’t let you.”

  I curl into a now sleeping Millie as he walks into the adjoining kitchen. I can just see his back as he rifles through the stack of envelopes on my table, and finally finds the one with the phone company’s logo inked on the front. I watch as he takes out his phone, touches the screen and brings it to his ear.

  “Hello, Dianna,” he says into it, his voice soft as silk. “I’m calling on behalf of my friend, Sarah Lopez.” He’s silent for a moment. “I’m aware of that, yes. I can put her on the phone if that’ll help.”

  He turns and looks over his shoulder at me, his lips tipping up on one side. “No, no, I don’t want any info on her account. I just want to pay her bill so she can get her phone back up and running as soon as possible.” Silence, then, “Awe, Dianna, you’re a sweetheart. Your husband’s a lucky man.”

  Wow. What a load of crap. His false flirting is so blatantly obvious. Rolling my eyes, I listen from my place on the couch as Bosco chuckles and sweet talks the woman on the other end of the call. The man has always had a way with the ladies, though I’ve rarely seen him use that magnetism at random.

  Bosco, for all intents and purposes, is a straight shooter. He calls them like he sees them, and he doesn’t play around when it comes to matters of the heart, or the libido for that matter. I know he’s not exactly a monk, but I’ve always kind of been surprised by his respect and empathy for the opposite sex. Maybe that’s why listening to him flirt with Dianna has my jaw clenching so hard, I fear I might chip a tooth.

  “All right, gorgeous. You have yourself a good day, okay?” He chuckles again. “You too. Bye.”

  The smile on his face when he turns around is one he’d had while speaking on the phone, but as he throws his hands wide, it grows to a full-on grin. “Your phone will be back on within the hour. She waved the reconnection fee and any late charges too, since the balance was just paid in full.”

  Swallowing down yet another lump in my throat, I force a smile. “Thank you, Bosco. I’ll pay you back as soon as I get a little money.”

  His giant hand comes up and gives a dismissive wave as he turns and walks back into the kitchen. From over his shoulder, he calls out, “Now let’s talk about all these other bills. We need to make a plan.”

  Bosco

  By the time I leave Sarah’s place, Millie is sound asleep and her fever’s broken. I hate seeing the little munchkin sick, but I hate seeing Sarah stressed out even more. I knew she struggled financially, but until sitting down with her today and going over her overdue bills, I’d had no idea just how much she struggled.

  Walking into the clubhouse, I don’t even pause to shoot the shit with the guys. Ryker, the club’s president, is standing by the bar talking to Jase, his best friend and vice president. “Ryker, mind if I have a word?”

  Ryker’s dark brow lifts as he watches me approach. “This club business or personal?”

  “Both.” I stand before him, fists clenched tightly at my sides. I don’t often have one-on-ones with the prez, and I don’t really know that it’s my business to lay all of Sarah’s shit out for him to deal with, but one thing I do know is that Ryker is good people. He would want to know that Sarah is struggling, and he would want to help.

  “In my office,” he says, snagging his beer off the bar top. I follow him out of the club’s common room and down the hall to the office that has housed the King’s president since the club started back in the early seventies.

  Ryker walks around the massive mahogany desk and plops down in the large computer chair behind it. He takes a swig of his beer and motions for me to take a seat.

  My stomach is tense as I sit in the chair across from him, knowing even as I open my mouth that Sarah’s going to be pissed at me for talking to Ryker. She’s so goddamn stubborn and independent. Neither one of those are bad things to be, especially as a single mother, but this time, it’s not just her it’s affecting.

  “What’s goin’ on?”

  I pull in a breath, reassuring myself for the millionth time that this is the right thing to do. “Sarah needs help. She’s struggling to pay her bills. Today I had to pay her phone bill so they’d reconnect it, and her electric bill because they were about to shut it off.”

  “Jesus,” Ryker mutters. He leans back in his chair, his tattooed arms coming up to cross his chest. “Any idea how long this has been goin’ on?”

  I pull in a deep breath through my nose and splay my hands wide. “No clue. She didn’t even want me paying the bills I did pay. After she got Millie off to bed, we talked about her finances and all she’d really say is that she needs another job. She doesn’t make enough to cover everything that needs covering.”

  Ryker is silent, his teeth chewing on his bottom lip as he considers what I’ve told him. After what feels like an eternity, he sits up in his chair and opens a drawer in his desk. I watch as he pulls out a silver painted lock box and opens the lid.

  “I’m gonna need to think on this a bit.” Pulling out a stack of bills, he turns his gaze to me. “Her old man was a member of this club, and that makes her family whether she likes it or not. You give her this money to tide her over for now. She’ll argue with you, but tell her to suck it up. We take care of our own.”

  Leaning forward, I take the cash from his hand. “She’s not going to take this without a fight.”

  Ryker smirks. “I know. That’s your problem. As for how we’re going to help her get more money comin’ in, I’ll figure somethin’ out.” He stands from his desk and comes around to my side. His meaty hand comes down, clamping onto my shoulder. “Don’t let her give you any shit over this, either. Though, I suspect you won’t mind the challenge.”

  Tilting my head to the side, I look up at him from beneath my brows. “It’s not like that, man.”

  He gives my shoulder a couple of pats. “Nah, I know. But I think you wish it was.”

  Fucking Ryker. The more I get to know him, the more I see why he’s the perfect president for this club. Not a whole lot escapes his notice. He knows his men, and he’s always watching. He knows things about his guys that they haven’t even realized about themselves yet.

  I
don’t even bother trying to argue with him, because he’s right. I hate that he’s right, but it doesn’t make it any less true. I never wanted to be into my buddy’s ol’ lady. It doesn’t matter that he’s dead; she still belongs to him. Her heart still belongs to him. That much is obvious in everything she says and does.

  Sarah’s home is littered with pictures of her and Mouse. Millie hasn’t had one single day of life where her momma hasn’t told her of how much her daddy loved her. On the few occasions I’ve felt connected to Sarah on any level other than friendship, she’s always been quick to shut that down with a mention of Mouse and the love they’d shared.

  I don’t expect Sarah to stop loving Mouse and turn to me. Hell, I don’t want her to. I just want Sarah to be happy. I want her daughter to have the best life any little girl could ask for. And as much as I hate to admit it, I’d love to be the one to give them that, but it’s not my place. Sarah loves Mouse and I’m not him. Until Sarah’s okay with that, I can’t be the one for her.

  Besides, I have my own shit to deal with. Accepting that I have feelings for a woman that’ll never return them goes against everything I’ve been working toward. Sarah and Millie will get the best of everything, and I’ll do whatever I can to make that happen. As for my too-friendly-for-comfort feelings for Sarah, those will eventually go away. There’s no other option.

  Sarah

  “How far in advance do you get your schedule from your other job?”

  I can tell just from the tone of his voice that it’s not going to happen. The first interview had gone well; my references had all given glowing reports about me. But now, with this second interview, it’s all going to hell, and fast.

  “I get a schedule every second Tuesday that starts the following Monday.”

  The interviewer purses his lips and keeps his eyes locked on me, studying me as if he doesn’t much like what he sees. “And you say that’s a full-time job?”