Wasp

 

MILITARY VETERANS DON’T always have the best reputations. We swear, we drink, we fight, we fuck, and sometimes we lose our goddamn minds. Although I never saw direct combat, I had plenty of brothers who did, and they say the hardest part of war is coming home. That’s why Link’s father formed the Dead Presidents MC… to provide support and structure to servicemen who came home too changed to go back to their old life. Jake founded the club, but since he took the reins, Link has been working his ass off to expand his old man’s vision.

Link wants to remind society that despite our issues, we’re still the good guys.

Sometimes even we forget.

Our club often feeds the homeless and runs toy drives, but Link’s been searching for other shit we can do. Other ways to make a difference and give our members a way to atone for some of the fucked-up shit they had to do while in the service. His latest idea was an anti-bullying campaign that had me, Havoc, Sage, Spade, and Tap walking into Helping Hands, a low-income preschool located only blocks from the club. This was our third visit to the school in as many weeks, and I was surprisingly excited to see the kids again. Judging by the hurried steps of my brothers, they were, too.

When Link first told us about the job, I thought it would be easy. Coming from a big family, I had all kinds of experience with kids. Hell, I’d been roped into babysitting my younger cousins more times than I could count. But nothing had prepared me for the pint-sized thugs at Helping Hands. The first day, we’d strolled into the classroom thinking we were hot shit with our speeches and prepared demonstration, but those savage little assholes saw us coming.

They kept interrupting us with questions about guns, how many people we’d killed, and inappropriate (but funny) body part discussions. How the fuck were we supposed to handle their curiosity without traumatizing them? Training sure as hell hadn’t taught us that. Determined, we tried separating the kids into groups so we could divide and conquer, but they ended up dividing and conquering us.

The second session went better. We hit up the dollar store and brought cheap little toys that we used to bribe them into listening and participating. Worked on the greedy little bastards like a goddamn charm. Today, we planned to see if we could keep their attention while spacing out the rewards.

Sage, the club shrink, said it was kind of like training dogs with treats.

Havoc reached the door first. He took a deep breath and looked us over. “Everyone ready?”

We slid our game faces on, channeling the A-Team or some shit like that. He opened the door, and we entered as a unit. Wearing fatigues and combat boots, marching in line, we looked pretty damn impressive. Black, Hispanic, Asian, Mixed, White, Link had created some sort of all-race super team, insisting the kids would better relate to someone who looked like them.

That’s what he claimed, but I had my own suspicions about his presidential motivations. I wouldn’t put it past the fucker to snap some pictures and put us in a calendar, so he could sell it for a charity. Hell, I’d even given him the name for it… Hot Veteran Smorgasbord. In response, Link had kicked my ass out of his office.

Some people have no vision.

My team checked in at the front desk. Today’s receptionist was new; a mousy little woman wearing a conservative floral dress and glasses. She took one look at us and I swear, her glasses fogged up. Her cheeks turned bright red and she immediately held up the paper she was writing on and began fanning herself.

Yep, all the babes would pay for our calendar.

“Hi, um, you must be the Dead Presidents.” Her reading glasses slid down her nose as she checked us out over the top of the form, her gaze flickering around the group like she was trying to stare at us all.

Broads dug men in uniforms. My bike and cut got me laid plenty, but if I ever hit a dry spell, I knew I could don my fatigues and I’d be drowning in pussy. Of course, my current dry spell had nothing to do with the willingness of babes, and everything to do with a certain brown-eyed beauty who wouldn’t give me the time of day…

Spade stepped forward, beaming a wicked smile at the receptionist. The Copper Penny’s lead bouncer always went for mousy little librarian types. “Yes ma’am.”

He gave her a little wink and she about fainted.

“Uh… the, um, same room.” She swallowed. “As last time. Please s-s-sign in here. Do you need me to… uh… show you? The way, I mean?”

She was so worked up, she could barely speak. Walking with us would probably give her a heart attack. We all signed the visitor sheet.

“No, babe, we got it,” Spade answered, still grinning. “Thanks.”

“N-n-no problem.”

He cast her one more look over his shoulder as we rounded the corner. No doubt Spade would have her number before we left. Shaking his head and chuckling to himself, Havoc led us to the classroom of preschoolers who’d be entering kindergarten in the fall. We could hear the kids before we reached their door, and the sounds coming from that room made our footsteps falter.

Every single one of us had broken up our fair share of fights and dealt with veterans so far gone they didn’t even recognize us, but the door of that preschool classroom gave us pause. I took in the uncertain expressions of my brothers and let out a laugh, grabbing for the handle.

“Don’t be pussies; they’re just kids,” I said as I pushed through the door.

Shit was everywhere.

It looked like the kids had been in the middle of some art project when they’d gone mutinous. Papers, glue, and glitter covered the desktops and floor. Every single last kid was huddled under their desks, yelling “No!” on repeat from the top of their lungs, and the teacher—a new one I hadn’t seen before—had her hands over her ears and a look of terror on her face as she shuffled toward the door like she was preparing to escape or maybe call for back up.

No amount of military training could have prepared us for this shit.

The children were downright feral, some grinning from ear-to-ear in anticipation, while others wailed in terror and confusion. They just needed a pack leader to organize them for either fight or flight. It was one of the funniest things I’d ever seen. I clamped my mouth shut and backed into the hallway, trying not to laugh.

Havoc pushed past me and stomped into the room. Putting his whistle to his lips, he blew. The loud, shrill sound of the drill sergeant whistle worked like a power box, instantly flicking off the switch to their screams. Even the feral kids clamped their mouths closed and covered their ears. We’d learned about that little cheat while doing emergency research after our first visit to the school went FUBAR.

Once Havoc had their attention, he gave them a hard scowl. “Have you all lost your minds?” he asked.

Twenty-four sets of wide eyes watched him, still huddled under the tables.

“Get up and sit in your seats,” Havoc snapped. “You’re soldiers while we’re here, and soldiers don’t act out against their commanding officer.”

As the kids found their seats, the teacher lowered her hands and let out an audible sigh of relief. “Thank you. I’m so glad you’re here. I’m Ms. Theresa. I’m substituting for Ms. Amber. I usually work with the toddler group and I wasn’t expecting these kids to be so…” She glanced around. The kids were all sitting quietly, watching us. “Well, they seem to be under control now.”

“You can’t show any fear,” Sage said, giving her an encouraging smile. “They can smell it.”

She smiled back. “Thanks again. What do you need me to do while you’re here?”

“Sit down and relax,” Tap said, stepping forward to shake Ms. Theresa’s hand. “We’ll take it from here.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” she replied, heading to her desk.

“Now, y’all need to apologize to your teacher,” Havoc said.

The kids hesitated, and he widened his stance, crossing his arms as he stared them down.

“Sorry, Ms. Theresa,” they all said.

“Good. Thank you. Now who started this riot?”

I had to bite back another laugh. Riot? Sure, shit was out of control, but they were preschoolers. I’d done far worse to babysitters back in my day.

A sassy little girl with blonde pigtails stood and pointed to a dark-haired little boy named Trent. “He started it. He threw his project on the floor and started screaming.”

Trent was known to be a bit of a trouble maker, but he had a good sense of humor, and I felt like we’d bonded last week when he gave me a hug goodbye and told me he wanted to be a soldier someday, too.

“Trent?” I asked, frowning at him. “That true?”

Brow furrowed, he glared at the little blonde nark before slowly nodding at me.

“I’ll have the front desk call his mom,” Ms. Theresa said, picking up the phone on her desk.

“Come here, Trent. Let’s talk.” I gestured him to me.

He reluctantly stood and walked over. I pulled him aside to the corner of the classroom, so we could have a little chat while Havoc asked the rest of the class why they’d followed Trent’s example. Then Sage stepped in to talk about why soldiers needed to follow orders instead of going AWOL.

Squatting so I was eye-to-eye with Trent, I asked, “What’s going on, buddy?”

His frown only deepened. He crossed his arms and stared at the floor.

Like the four brothers with me, I’d gone through the training, so for the most part, I knew how to get kids to talk. I’d been working with Trent, and last week he’d started opening up to me. Planning to use what he’d told me to bring him around, I asked, “How are you gonna become a soldier and protect your mom if you’re not even man enough to come clean with me?”

Keeping his arms crossed, he glanced around the classroom, his eyes widening at the mess. “We have to clean everything?”

Realizing he’d taken ‘come clean’ literally, I chuckled. “Probably, but that’s not what I meant. Talk to me. Tell me what happened. Why did you freak out about this project?”

Hurt flashed in his eyes as he looked down again. “Ms. Theresa says we have to make Father’s Day cards.”

When he didn’t say more, I asked, “You don’t want to make one?”

He dropped his hands to his sides and kept his attention on the floor, hurt plainly written across his features. “My dad’s dead. He’s in a box in the ground, and Mom says he’s not coming back. We can’t even go see him. Why would I make him a card?”

Good question. And now the kid had me thinking about my own dad. He and I rarely saw eye-to-eye on anything, but I couldn’t imagine growing up without him. While Gramps had been my teacher, Dad had been my anchor. My moral compass. Hard telling how I would have turned out without his heavy-handed guidance.

“Do you have a grandpa or an uncle you could give it to?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No. It’s just me and mom.”

“I have a buddy who grew up with just his mom. Since his mom pulled double duty, he used to give her a Father’s Day card every year.”

“I don’t want to make mom a Father’s Day card. She’s not even a boy.” He looked up at me, and a hesitant smile ghosted his lips. “But you’re a boy. Can I make the card for you?”

What the fuck was I supposed to say to that? I didn’t want a Father’s Day card—fatherhood was nowhere on my radar, and the idea scared the shit out of me—but Trent was one cool kid, and he looked so goddamn hopeful I couldn’t possibly say no. “Yeah, buddy, you can make me one.”

His entire face lit up as he hurried back to his table. While I joined my brothers, speaking and answering questions, Trent cut, glued, and drew, barely paying attention to us. By the time we finished our lesson, he had a sparkling glue-covered mess of a card in his little hands and a big smile stretched across his face. I went right over to check out his work, but before I made it to him, the classroom door opened and Carly, the hot little bartender from the Copper Penny, marched in looking like she was about to spit fire.

Her hair was up in a messy bun, and she wore a sleeveless white summer dress that showed off her sexy curves and stopped just above her knees. Paired with her signature red cowboy boots, she had that whole girl next door inviting you in for a cool glass of lemonade and a hot fuck look down to a goddamn science. I hadn’t even known that look existed before I met Carly, but now it was my favorite.

Carly scowled as she took in the messy room before homing in on Trent and making a beeline for the kid. “Seriously, Trent?” she asked as she approached. “What were you thinking? I had to take off work to come and deal with this. Now I’m in trouble with my boss. This is the third time this month. You promised you’d be good today.”

Trent dropped his gaze, fiddling with the card in his hands. “I tried, Mom. But Ms. Theresa wouldn’t listen.”

“You’re the kid and she’s the teacher. You’re supposed to listen. Now, hand me your stuff and get this mess cleaned up so we can go.”

He looked at the card then glanced at me. “But it’s not for you. It’s for Wasp.”

Carly had been so focused on her child, she hadn’t even seen me until that moment. Or maybe she didn’t recognize me since I was wearing cammies and not my usual T-shirt, cut, and jeans. Her gaze landed on my boots and roamed up my body, eyes widening with recognition when she reached my face.

“Wasp?” she asked, looking from me to Trent. “Why is my kid giving you a card?” She intercepted it and scanned the front, her eyes hardening as her brows crept up her forehead. “A Father’s Day card? How do you even…? Why…? Is this…?” She was so shocked she couldn’t seem to get out a sentence.

“Hey Carly,” Spade said, joining us. “Good to see you. What are you doing here?”

Her shocked gaze took him in. “Spade? My son goes to school here. What are you guys…” She glanced back at me, then at Tap, Havoc, and Sage. Understanding flooded her eyes. “Wait. You’re the soldiers he’s been talking about?”

Trent was talking about us? That was kind of cool. I nodded.

“I didn’t see that one coming,” Carly said on a breath.

“What?” I asked, feeling a little offended. “Bikers can’t volunteer to help kids?”

Ignoring me, she turned back to Trent. “Start cleaning up this mess so we can go.”

“But Mom, I—”

“Don’t ‘but Mom’ me. You broke your promise, and now I’m missing work.”

He started to argue again, but she leveled that no-bullshit look at him until his shoulders dropped and he got down on the floor and started doing what he was told.

Carly turned back to me. “Can I talk to you? In the hall?”

“Sure.”

I followed her out of the classroom. With her hair up like that, I had a great view of the sexy lines of her neck and was trying to decide which spot I’d kiss first if she ever gave me the chance. Her shoulders tensed, making her look like a rubber band stretched too tight and about to snap. Knowing I had to diffuse the situation, I stopped fantasizing about licking her neck and asked, “Is this where you ask for my number?”

She gave me a tight, forced smile. “No, Romeo. This is where I ask you to leave my kid alone. He’s been through enough and doesn’t need the confusion of…” She pointed at the card. “Whatever this is. I mean it’s great of you guys to come in and hang out with the kids, but a Father’s Day card? That’s a little over-the-top, don’t you think?”

Surprised and stung by her tone, I defended myself. “He asked if he could make it for me. What was I supposed to say? No?”

She stared at me, some of the fire going out of her eyes only to be replaced with worry and exhaustion. Looking at the door to the classroom, she shook her head. “I can’t believe he started a riot over making a card. A Father’s Day card that he then gave to a stranger he expects to protect him.”

“To protect him?” My ears perked up at that. “Last week he said he wanted to protect you. Are the two of you in trouble, Carly?”

Her head whipped around, and she stared at me like she’d forgotten I was even there. “No. Sorry. Here.” She gave me the card. “He apparently wants you to have that. I... I’m gonna go help him so we can get out of here.”

She was lying. Before I could call her on it, she hurried back into the classroom and got busy helping Trent clean up.

“You ready to head out?” Havoc asked, intercepting me as I tried to follow her. Our time was over, and I needed to get back to the shop. Besides, I had a feeling Carly wouldn’t tell me shit until she was good and ready to. First, I’d have to prove to her that I was worth talking to.

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here. Thanks for the card, Trent,” I said, waving at him.

He beamed me a smile and his mom frowned, looking concerned.

On the way out to my bike, curiosity ate away at me. Something was going on with those two, and I needed to figure out what, because I was now officially interested in far more than Carly’s number.