The Night Horde SoCal: Fire And Dark Part 17

Even though she'd gone for him, the speed they were moving now freaked her out a little. Everything about him, at first glance, even second glance, read shallow and lighthearted. He should have been the perfect f.u.c.k buddy-volcanic s.e.x and nothing else. But almost from the first, she'd felt that there was much more to him than met the eye, and that...essence...she couldn't see had captivated her. Now she was learning that that core of his self was steady and serious-and not buried as deeply as she'd thought.

Bibi poured Welch's grape juice into a wine gla.s.s and handed it to Faith, who was apparently not drinking. Faith answered the question Pilar had asked. "Everything's about done. We usually eat a little earlier."

She'd just come off a thirty-six-had come straight here, in fact. "Sorry about that."

As Faith said, "No, no," Bibi waved her apology off. "Please. You were workin'-and important work. We're happy to wait a little to have you with us." She checked the range. "Green beans are about done. Would you mind settin' the table? Everythin's stacked on it already."

"Not at all." Pilar felt stilted and strangely defensive. She was not good at this meet-the-family stuff.

When she'd been a little girl, family of one sort or another had been everywhere. There was always a party, always a dinner, at their apartment or their grandmother's, or that of one of the a.s.sa.s.sins-they'd been a highly social crowd. The birthday party at which her father had been shot down had been boisterous. Her memory of that day was nothing more than a few faded, random images, but every one of them was full of people: kids clamoring under a pink piata shaped like a puppy; a crowd watching her father sit her astride the Barbie two-wheeler that had been her best present.

People shouting and running out of the yard. Her abuela grabbing her up and running into the house. She never saw her father again.

After that, life had quickly picked up where it had left off, the only change the man who sat at their table in the morning. She'd had friends, family. Lots of people she called Tia and Tio. But when Renata had moved them away, it all stopped. From the time she was twelve, birthdays were celebrated at home, with just Hugo and Nana. There had been no more parties. There had been few friends. And certainly no expensive quinciera when she turned fifteen. Nana had circled the wagons.

She hadn't missed any of that, not really. Her attention had been on Hugo and on helping her grandmother. Hugo had missed it much more and found ways to seek out the social interaction he'd needed, but Pilar had been content, or at least resigned, to be the responsible one.

But she didn't know how to stand in a kitchen with women and socialize. She'd actually been thrilled to get the job of setting the table, because it gave her something to do. She drank down her whole gla.s.s of wine and hurried in the direction she'd been pointed.

She could only imagine what the talk about her would be later tonight: Wow, Connor really picked a winner there. Real charmer, that one.

She was not good at this stuff.

Once everyone was around the table, it got easier. This kind of conversation-around a big, full table-she was used to. And these were not formal people. Hoosier had dropped a big plate of steaks in the middle of the table. There were twice-baked potatoes and a green bean ca.s.serole, a big basket of rolls, and corn on the cob. It was a redneck feast.

She laughed to herself as she watched the men reaching across the table to grab food. Connor, the tray of potatoes in one hand, lifted an eyebrow at her. "What's funny?"

Not about to say out loud what she'd been thinking, she shook her head. "Nothing. I'm just enjoying myself." And that was almost true now.

Tucker was at the table with them, and Demon made him a plate, cutting the portions into small bits. Rather than eat, though, Tucker drove his roll around his plate, making engine sounds.

Demon took the roll out of his hand and set it next to his own plate. "C'mon, Motor Man. Don't play with food. Eat your meat."

"How can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat?" Connor said, smirking.

Tucker stopped trying to get his roll and stared across the table at Connor. "Pudding? I want pudding!"

"a.s.shole," Faith muttered at Connor's side.

"Sorry, Bambi." He didn't look the least bit sorry.

"Double a.s.shole." She looked at her son. "There's no pudding, Tuck. Granny made cookies. We have cookies for dessert."

"I want pudding with Unca Con!" Just then, the baby, Lana, still in her swing, started to cry, and Tucker's budding tantrum was averted when his head spun around in the direction of his sister. "Uh-oh, Mommy. Lala needs a b.o.o.b."

Everybody laughed-Pilar loudest, probably because she was the only one who'd been surprised by that. Tucker grinned, looking proud and a little confused. Then, at another cry from his sister, he scowled. "Mommy!"

"Thanks, buddy. I'm on it." Faith set her napkin on the table and went to her daughter. While she was gone, everybody went back to filling their plates. Demon got Tucker to take a bite of steak.

Around a mouthful of steak, Hoosier asked Pilar, "Connor says you were working a thirty-six-hour s.h.i.+ft today. That's a long stretch. How's it work?"

Before she could answer, Faith returned with Lana and opened her s.h.i.+rt at the table, setting the baby to nurse. Pilar saw Demon give Connor a pointed stare and then, when Connor shrugged and put a forkful of steak in his mouth, Demon stabbed at his dinner. Hoosier made note of Faith, too, his eyes sliding in that direction and then skittering away. He shook a little and then refocused on Pilar.

She laughed again. Men.

They did community outreach at the station, so she had pat answers to pretty much everything any regular person ever thought to ask about firefighting. "It's not thirty-six hours of nonstop work. We do a lot more than go out on calls. We maintain the barn and the equipment, do public service and community outreach, training, fitness. But we also bunk during that time, unless we have a busy watch. We eat meals, have rest periods. This watch was pretty quiet. We worked a school fair yesterday. And we only had three calls, all of them pretty low-key. So we got our eight in the bunks."

"You ever been on a fire a whole s.h.i.+ft?"

Pilar chewed and swallowed before she answered that one. The food was really good. She took a drink of wine-not that good, but okay. "Yeah. Wildfires. The Forest Service leads those, but we can get called in on all-unit calls, and then you're there until it's contained. Five minute breaks every four hours."

"Jesus," Faith said, sounding a little bit in awe.

"Fire moves fast."

"It's a bada.s.s job." Demon smiled at her, and she smiled back.

Pilar thought so, too. But she knew it was rude to say so, at least in this company. So she smiled and said, "It's not boring, that's for sure."

The conversation moved on from her, but with that little interview and the familiar chaos that had preceded it, Pilar had found the rhythm with Connor's family. No longer feeling defensive or stilted, she asked questions of her own. It was a good night.

By the time she and Connor left, Pilar had learned that Faith was an artist-and also a pretty cool chick. She'd learned that Faith and Demon lived not far at all from Joshua Tree, which was also Demon's favorite spot in the world, and that they had a big property with a menagerie of orphaned animals.

She got invited to see said menagerie and accepted the invitation.

She'd seen that Hoosier and Bibi still had mad, NC-17 love for each other, after more than forty years together, and seeing that gave her some insight into Connor's initial reluctance to commit and new enthusiasm for it. His parents had taught him how to love, and he was holding out for what they had.

That had been a heady realization.

She'd learned that Connor was a mama's boy, but in the totally hot way of loving and respecting the good woman who raised him, not in the creepy way where she still did his laundry.

The club girls did his laundry. The whole 'club girl' thing was a little squicky, to be honest.

As they stood at his big bike, strapping on their helmets, he leaned down and kissed her. "Thank you."

"What for?"

He stopped and frowned a little. "I don't know. I just...it was good to have you here. And I feel grateful, I guess."

She grinned and grabbed hold of his kutte, giving it a shake. "That's weird."

"Yeah," he laughed, "it is." He kissed her again. "Let's go f.u.c.k."

Three nights later, the night before her platoon was scheduled for their next watch, Pilar sat at The Deck. Her firefighter buddies and Connor's biker 'brothers' were sitting with her, together for the first time, having shoved a bunch of tables into a group. The joint was hopping; it was time for Karaoke Idol. Trick had told everybody in the Horde about her bet with Connor and that she had won, and now there were eight mostly large men in leather sitting with her, drinking and being rowdy.

She hadn't told Moore and the others, but she hadn't dodged the question about where she'd be tonight, so her usual suspects were all accounted for, too. When Connor had swallowed down a pint of beer, kissed her, grabbed a backpack from under the table, and headed behind the stage to the crows and hoots of his brothers, only then had her crew put it all together.

It was safe to say that their misshapen collection of tables was the rowdiest area in a rowdy bar.

Pilar didn't know what he was planning to sing or why he'd needed a backpack-or even where it had come from; they'd ridden here together on his Harley, and he hadn't had it then. She expected him to get up on stage and mutter into the microphone for a few minutes and try to act like he just didn't give a f.u.c.k-she knew what the macho cover for embarra.s.sment looked like. She'd had a few twinges of guilt to be causing that embarra.s.sment.

But then she'd remember what his terms had been for her side of the bet, and the guilt died off.

This was Karaoke Idol, so it wasn't just random drunks wandering over to the signup sheet. People had had to register ahead of time. A lot of them rehea.r.s.ed and had little stage shows. The grand prize was only a hundred-dollar gift card to Blue Sky, but some people took this straight-up seriously.

Connor wasn't first up. Four people went before him, two of whom, both young women, obviously thought they were the s.h.i.+t, because they really belted it out like pop divas-not nearly as well, but they gave it their all. Then there was a singer-songwriter type guy who did an ancient Harry Chapin song. And then a lithe, strikingly beautiful Latina around Pilar's age got up and did an old Selena song about lost love.

Everybody at their table got quiet. She was great. Like, amazing. The kind of voice that gave you gooseb.u.mps. When she was finished, there were a few seconds of heavy silence. And then the audience erupted. Connor's brothers pounded their fists on the table.

All of them but Trick, who was just sitting there, watching the singer take her bow. Pilar took a second and watched him watch her. She couldn't really tell if he was entranced or just didn't want to partic.i.p.ate in the riot around him. He was hard to read.

At her other side, barely audible in the din, Moore said, "d.a.m.n. d.a.m.n." Pilar turned and saw that he, too, was quietly watching her.

She laughed. It was definitely interest she was reading on Moore. If Trick was interested, too, then her poor friend could possibly end up facing another Horde man in the ring.

Men. She loved 'em, but they were so predictable.

Speaking of which, it was Connor's turn. The stage went dark, and then the guitar intro from "Sweet Child O' Mine" started playing.

"No way." He was going to do Guns N' Roses? Connor, with his raspy baritone, was going to sing Axl Rose? Oh, G.o.d, this was going to be excruciating.

Moore leaned back and put his hands on the back of his head. "Is this him? Oh, this is going to be excellent."

"Be nice, pendejo."

The stage light came up and...f.u.c.k, no. No way.

Connor was wearing a long blond wig with a red bandana wrapped around it. And-and-was he wearing chaps? Yes, he was. Pilar put her face in her hands. She couldn't watch this.

Trick leaned over and grabbed her arm. "Sack up, Cordero. You need to see this."

Just as she dropped her hands, he started singing. And...d.a.m.n-he was good. He had a decent low falsetto.

And the best part of the whole deal: he had completely owned the Axl impression. Working the mic, he swiveled and rocked his hips, flipped his fake, blond tresses, bounced and gyrated.

Connor didn't remotely resemble Axl Rose. He was brawny and bearded. But he could move, and he was working it, and the effect was both hilarious and impressive.

The crowd was eating it up. Even Moore was clapping.

When Slash's guitar solo started, Connor danced around the stage. Then-spontaneously, as far as Pilar could tell-Trick jumped up and went to the stage. He hopped on and started doing air guitar. Connor turned and grinned at him, and they started working it together.

Sherlock went up next. And then another whom Pilar had only just met: Jesse. Four Horde men. Four scary outlaw bikers, up on a karaoke stage, singing and being a mostly terrible air cover band for Guns N' Roses.

Connor hit the last note on his knees, leaning back and singing to the ceiling.

It was f.u.c.king sublime.

When the song was over, there was no heavy pause in the crowd. People had been cheering while he sang, and they just kept it up. Pilar realized that he could win the thing.

His 'band mates' jumped down and came right back to the table, but Connor went behind the stage-for his bag, she a.s.sumed. Trick returned to his seat, leaving Connor's empty between them. "What'd you think?"

"Holy s.h.i.+t! It was good! He was good! You guys sucked, but he was good!"

Connor's friend laughed. "Yeah, he was. That boy is not shy. He wouldn't've chosen to do it, but he wasn't going to half-a.s.s it. That's why I knew it was a great bet. Connor doesn't do anything half-a.s.sed. Or halfway."

Still grinning stupidly, Pilar nodded. She was learning that that was true.

He came around the stage, looking like himself again-his kutte on, the chaps, bandana, and wig gone. Without planning it or completely knowing it, Pilar jumped up and went to him. There must have been a look on her face, because his expression went from momentarily leery to just plain happy. He dropped his pack and opened his arms, and they hugged right there in front of the stage. He bent down and kissed her hard.

That got anther round of cheers from their friends-and, by the sound of it, the rest of the crowd.

She looked up at his grinning, gorgeous face. "Oh, my f.u.c.king G.o.d, that was fantastic! I am going to f.u.c.k you so hard tonight!"

Shaking his head, he bent to her ear. "No, baby. I'm gonna f.u.c.k you."

Her muscles twitched, and her heart raced. "Can we just get out of here now, then?"

"What? And miss the awards? No, you got me up there, now you gotta wait to see it play all the way out." He ran his tongue lightly over her ear. "But if you want, I'll finger you at the table."

Not in front of her friends and his. Besides, she was wearing jeans, and she didn't even want to contemplate how he thought he'd get that done. She was getting the impression that his kink was public s.e.x, but she needed to work up to that. Since he hadn't asked outright, she figured she had some time to do so. She shook her head.

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. "Too bad. You'll just have to wait until the end. Because I'm gonna win this f.u.c.ker, and I want to be here for that."

"Gift card to Blue Sky? You don't even like Blue Sky."

"There's a trophy. I'm going to make you keep it at your place. So you can see every day that I still owned you in the end."

"If you win."

He c.o.c.ked his eyebrow at her. Laughing, she grabbed his hand, and they went back to their tables, where Connor got himself a hero's welcome from bikers and firefighters alike.

It turned out that Connor was disqualified because he'd only signed himself up, and when the other Horde got onstage, that broke some rule of the compet.i.tion. The Latina with the beautiful voice, Juliana something-or-other, won. Pilar thought she probably would have won anyway, but Connor's confidence and enthusiasm was...alluring.

When he was in, he was indeed all in.

Now he was in her bedroom, and he had her up against the wall. On the ride back-he'd left the backpack with Trick-she'd felt him up as much as she could, and they'd started tearing at each other's clothes before she'd had her front door unlocked, then they'd wrestled their way back to her bedroom. He must have been tweaking on the adrenaline from being on stage or something, because he was fiercer and more demanding than ever.

She loved the feeling of his rough body against hers, the way the hair on his chest rasped against her nipples, the way his callused hands left traces of sensation behind as he caressed her, the way his strength dwarfed her own. There was nothing in the world hotter than wrestling around with this guy until he just overwhelmed her and took over.

He'd had to work to get her here, but now had her hands pinned together to the wall, one of his hands holding them firmly, while his other wandered brusquely all over her skin-her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her belly, her hips and a.s.s, between her legs-and his mouth and tongue claimed hers.

She bit his lip and bucked, shoving him off of her. He wasn't even surprised, not anymore. Now, his reaction was a grunt and a sneer, and then he flipped her to face the wall, and he pinned her again. His huge c.o.c.k dug into her a.s.s and lower back, rock hard and insistent.