“Sure thing, brother. Everything okay in there?” He tries to look over my shoulder, knowing damn well there’s a woman in my room.
I’m sure word has already spread that she’s my mother. I can see questions swimming through his brain. Ones he won’t ask and shit I don’t have time to answer right now.
“Everything’s fine. Just get him,” I bark.
Eagle gives me a nod before stalking toward the common room, keeping all his questions to himself.
“Who’s Morris?” Ma asks, fidgeting with the hem of her dress near her knees.
“He’s the one who answered the door.”
“Oh,” she whispers, gazing down. “He seemed…nice. Is he your boss?”
“He’s the club’s VP.”
“So, I take it he’s kind of a big deal, then?”
I laugh softly, loving her naïveté about motorcycle clubs. “He is a big deal, but don’t ever tell him I said that.”
“Heard that shit. Never forgetting it,” Morris says as he comes through the doorway to my bedroom without even so much as a knock. “No taking it back.”
I sigh, growling under my breath. “Close the door,” I tell him as he stands there, his gaze moving from me to my mother.
He does as I ask without a smartass response before crossing his arms, looking mean as hell and curious as ever, leaning against the wall.
“Morris.” I wave my hand toward my mother, who’s still sitting on the bed and looking at him with the widest eyes. “This is my mother, Jessica.”
“Ma’am,” he says, unfolding those burly arms to rub the back of his neck. “Nice to formally meet you.”
“You too,” she whispers, the deer in headlights look still firmly planted on her face. “Sir.”
Morris’s lips twitch at that comment, and by the way he’s looking at Mom, I already want to claw his eyes out. “Morris, please.”
“Now that the introductions are out of the way, Morris, I need your help. She needs your help.”
“You know I always got your back, brother. Your mom’s too, for that matter.”
“I’m wanted by the cops,” she blurts out.
“Interesting,” he mumbles, moving toward her and then pacing between us. “Misdemeanor?”
“Felony,” she tells him.
His eyes widen, and then his face softens a second later. “That’s some pretty heavy shit for a little thing like you.”
She nods, watching him as he starts to pace. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
I stare at her, trying to hold back my laughter at her statement because grabbing a sledgehammer and using it on a man is no accident. My mom has always had the patience of a saint, but everybody has a breaking point, even her.
“Do you mind me asking what happened?” he says as he comes to a stop in front of her, ignoring me.
She nods. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
He bends forward and takes a knee a few feet away from her, studying her face. “How deep are you, sugar?”
“Sugar?” she whispers and blushes.
I roll my eyes and growl. Is he really hitting on my mother while I’m standing there watching? That shit is never going to happen as long as I’m still breathing.
Morris peers over his shoulder, drawing his bushy eyebrows down, telling me in his subtle way to calm my shit and keep my mouth shut.
I take a seat across the room as I let him continue, but in no way am I leaving. “Go on,” I tell him when he doesn’t give his attention back to her.
“Mr. Morris, I really didn’t mean to do it,” she whispers, propping her elbows on her knees and dropping her cheeks to her palms. “I’ve made a mess of everything.”
“We’ll clean it up. Tell me whatever you feel comfortable with, and I’ll find out the rest on my own,” he says softly, almost comforting her.
I knew he was the one to call in here. Morris is tough and can be the biggest asshole in the world, but I know women are his weakness. He shows as much with Gigi and Tamara. He loves those girls and makes sure no one lays a hand on them or gets out of line when they are around.
“I was seeing this guy.”
Morris grunts, probably thinking he knows where this is going, but he is about to be thrown for a big fucking loop. “Go on.”
“He hit me a few times…”
Morris’s back straightens as his body stiffens.
Hearing the words a second time doesn’t make it any easier for me either. The very thought of someone laying their hands on my mother…he’s going to wish for another blow from a sledgehammer instead of what I have planned for him.
“No man should ever hit a woman,” Morris tells her with his arm lying across his propped-up knee, staying relaxed and calm. “That’s unacceptable, Ms. Saint. Whatever you did, I’m sure you were one hundred percent justified.”
“I may have gone to the extreme.” She smiles softly.
“Sometimes the only way to fight violence is with violence. Did you shoot him?”
Mom shakes her head. “Oh God, no. I don’t even own a gun.”
That is something we are going to fix. I am going to buy her one and teach her how to shoot it. She needs protection, especially living alone. And if some asshole ever decides to lay his hands on her again, she can quickly put an end to it.
“Well.” He tilts his head, studying her. “I don’t see you packing that much of a punch.”
I lean forward, waiting for the moment she tells him what she did because I know he’s about to have his mind freaking blown.
“I used a sledgehammer on him.”
Morris rocks backward at that little revelation. “Well, shit, sugar. That takes some balls.” He laughs, and my mom’s serious face breaks for a moment.
“I didn’t know what else to do, but it wasn’t right of me.”
He touches her leg, and I force myself to stay seated. “I hope you broke more than a few bones,” he says, shaking his head. “The man deserved as much and worse.”
“There was so much blood,” she whispers. “I think there was definitely more than one bone broken.”
“Sounds like a damn good swing you have.” He laughs.
Mom laughs too. “It’ll be a long time before he can throw another right hook.”
Morris sobers, and the burn in my belly deepens, growing molten. “He punched you?”
Mom nods as her eyes drop down, and her smile dies. “First, he slapped me, but the next few times, it was a closed fist.”
Morris sucks in a breath as I shoot out of my chair, ready to find the guy and murder him on the spot. Don’t give two shits if I spend a lifetime behind bars; the asshole deserves a very slow and painful death.
“Sit,” Morris barks, talking to me but not glancing my way.
Mom’s eyes meet mine, and I can see the shame and sadness behind the blue. Something I’ve never seen grace her face in all my years of breathing.
“Ms. Saint, we’ll protect you, and we’ll handle the asshole and make sure you never have to worry about him or the cops again.”
“You are very kind,” she whispers. “This isn’t your problem, though. I made this mess. I should just turn myself in.”