Incandescent (2 page)

Considering both boys have never been in trouble for fighting, I thought I would give them a chance to sort it out here before taking it to Principal Wilson. That guy is a real schmuck, no doubt suspending them on their first offense. Yes, Z was defending himself, but Tommy is the one with a swollen eye. Sending them home for three days off won’t fix the problem.

Mr. Knight scoffs and then shakes his head, clearly not happy with the punishment. He looks over to his son, giving him a wink before turning back to me. His blatant disregard for the rules don’t surprise me, and I can’t help but call him on it.

“I hope from that wink, Mr. Knight, you're not condoning this behavior?” I challenge, cutting him off before he can begin to argue my decision.

“Listen, Mrs. —”

“Miss Turner,” I correct him the same way he did me.

“Miss Turner.” His deep, gravelly voice exaggerates the Miss and I hold back the need to roll my eyes at his insinuation.

“No, I don’t condone violence. I will, however, be proud of my son if he stands up for someone who can’t stand up for themselves.”

“He gave another student a black eye,” I shoot back. “Not to mention disrupted my class.”

Pulling two eleven-year-old boys apart in the middle of the classroom is harder than most would think. For one, they’re almost the same size as me. My five-foot-two frame is no match for two angry boys when they nearly put me on my ass.

“So? He was defending the girl and defending himself. I would have done the same,” Mr. Knight continues to disagree with me. His anger confuses me a little. What does he expect me to say? Sure, it’s fine your son clocked another student and left him with a swollen eye?

“Yes, I don’t doubt that. However, the school board doesn’t see it that way. Using violence against each other gets us nowhere.” I stop myself from saying our school rules are probably different to the rules he follows.

I stand from my chair, trying to end the conversation before I come to blows with him. Something inside of me wants to argue with him, my quick temper often getting me in trouble, but this is more. The thought of pushing him sends a tingle down my spine. I need to stop this. I force myself not to engage with him anymore; the rules are simple, there’s no point arguing. He obviously lives by his own set of rules. Unfortunately for his son, he must abide by the school’s.

“My son has a right to defend himself. Where were you when all this was happening?” He stands, clearly not done with this battle, now questioning me.

“I was dealing with another student.” I find myself on the defensive. “These boys are eleven years old, Mr. Knight. Old enough to be trusted and know violence is no way to handle things. Using your fists does not make you a man. He should have walked away and come and told me,” I tell him, feeling small again under his height and gaze.

He laughs out loud, his eyes flashing with annoyance, evidently not agreeing with me. “Lady, you got no idea what makes a man. Someone puts his hands on me, I sure as hell will respond the same way.”

Knowing I’m not going to get anywhere with this infuriating man, I straighten out my hand to shake his, ready to be out of his presence. My behavior is irrational I know. I’ve gone from feeling a spark to wanting to slap him for arguing with me.

“My decision is final, Mr. Knight. The boys will start their detention tomorrow. I hope I don’t have to take this further next time,” I say, hoping I don’t have to see him again. Something about him gets me riled up. Sure he’s hot, but his arrogant attitude is starting to annoy me. He stands quietly for a moment, not moving, not speaking, his eyes silently assessing me. The tension in the air is electrifying around us. I begin to feel a little uncomfortable with my hand outstretched before he takes it, the heat of his grip wrapping around mine.

“Well, Mrs. —”

“Miss,” I snap at him this time and wince at my tone.

“Yes, of course.” He smiles, like he wanted to hear it again. I try to pull my hand back but he tightens, pulling me forward, my free hand going to my desk as his thumb strokes the inside of my palm. The intimate move is not lost on me.
Oh, God, I’m bipolar, now I want to keep my hand here.

“Thank you for your time, Miss Turner.” He leans in close, the warmth of his breath just skimming the side of my ear before he lets go and moves back. I steady myself, unbalanced by the loss.
What the hell was that?

Reaching out, he clicks his fingers to get Zayden’s attention. “Come on, Z,” he says, waiting for him to stand. He then follows him out the door without a backward glance.

Following Mr. Knight’s lead, Mr. Hill stands, his expression now somber. For a moment I forgot he was still here, lost in the impulse that was that man.

“Thank you for your time, Miss Turner. I’ll have a word with Tommy about what he thinks he heard.” He nods, not giving me his eyes. At least he has the good sense to look embarrassed.

Grabbing Tommy’s bag, he wishes me a good evening and then turns and leaves, Tommy following close behind.

Falling back into my chair, I let out a shaky breath, glad that it’s over. I can’t believe I let Zayden’s dad get to me like that. No man has ever instilled lust and anger just by looking at me. His presence screams confidence and testosterone, right down to the way he ran his eyes over me. I know he probably acts like that toward all women, yet the thought that he felt it too excites me.

It takes me a few minutes to calm my breathing and stop all lustful thoughts of Mr. Knight before I can even begin to pack up and gather my belongings. Shutting down the lights for the day, I lock up the room and walk down the hall to the teachers’ lounge. I’m stopped in my tracks when I look up ahead. Standing by the lockers, I observe Mr. Knight kneeling in front of Z. His hand outstretched, around his neck, their heads leaning into each other, talking quietly. Zayden nods and smiles before his dad leans in further and kisses the top of his hair. The sight of this man being fatherly stirs something in me, more than his touch did. He exudes this type of power over people with his presence, but watching him talk with his son makes him vulnerable. I have no right thinking of him like that. The man is off limits, not to mention a walking smartass, but standing there at a distance, I can see how much he loves his son. The affection in his eyes leaves me with a sense of longing.
I want that.

Shaking off the thought I turn into the teachers’ lounge, impatient to get home to a glass of wine, thus cutting all thoughts of one Mr. Knight, aka arrogant ass, aka sexy hot biker.

Nix

P
ulling up to the town square, I cut the roar of my engine and wait for the rest of the boys to pull up. The yearly fair in Rushford is in full swing and I’m regretting signing us up to hold a stall. Brooks’ old lady, Kelly, is on the town’s organizing committee and suggested we get more involved in the community. I don’t know how much more involved we can be; the club’s by-laws allow us to do a few charity runs a year that we already use to give back to the town. This new idea they’ve come up with should pull in enough dough to help pay for the new town library opening in a few weeks.

Beau, the club’s VP, pulls up beside me, shutting down his bike. The women organizing this gig stand around checking us out. It always happens at these types of events, something about the leather and bikes have the women falling over themselves to get a ride.

Beau already has eyes for a pretty blonde standing to the right and I don’t doubt he’ll have her in his bed tonight. He always has women crawling all over him, carrying on about how much they love his long hair. Fucked if I know what they see in it, but who the hell knows when it comes to women. As President of Knights Rebels, my title alone has most of the women fighting with each other to get me off. I tend to stay away from easy. Easy pussy is just that. Easy. I love the chase. My thoughts go straight to last week when Z’s teacher had my cock twitching; now that woman ain’t like the ones lining up today.

Just thinking about her has the blood rushing to my cock. That smart little mouth on her, the way she stood up to me had me itching to hike up that pencil skirt she was wearing and bend her over the desk, bury myself deep in her and make her call out my name as I smacked her pert ass.
Fuck, I’ve got to stop thinking about her.

Since I left the school, I haven’t been able to get her off my mind. Her long, dark hair pulled away from her face just begged me to tug on it and take her mouth. Her legs were surprisingly long for someone so short and those fuck-me shoes she wore, don’t even get me started. I had no idea that Z’s teacher was sexy as fuck. Even her fiery temper had me squirming in the small fucking chair I sat in. There’s nothing better than a woman who can give just as good as she gets, and pushing her last week proved she’s that type of woman. The fire in her eyes, the way she had held her own, my cock was practically begging me to fuck her. I know I shouldn’t have pushed her. Hell, I agreed with her to some point. Z's behavior lately is concerning me, but sitting in that room, with the little fucker and his dad throwing off his attitude just pissed me off. The MC has been through a lot the last few years getting the club clean, and while the majority of the town respect what we’ve accomplished, there are still a few who think we’re no better than the men who started the club.

Miss Turner was different. I saw a flash of something in her eyes when I caught her watching me come in but she hid it as soon as I started to push. I know thinking of her is a waste of my time; sweet pussy like hers doesn’t go for a man like me, and while I like a game of cat and mouse, a woman like her? That’s one game I’ll never win.

Getting off my bike, I watch as the rest of the Knights Rebels pull in next to us, backing their Harleys in a perfect straight line. Our club has been running since 1969 when my dad, Red Knight, founded the Originals with Beau’s dad as his VP. He would tell the tale of how he grew up with the dream of having his own place to call home. He craved the brotherhood of a club, the camaraderie with like-minded people and the principle of freedom.

For me growing up in the clubhouse, the brothers were more like fathers, everyone looking out for each other as their own. Over the years, my pops lost his way and the club’s beliefs changed. Power and greed became the driving force behind them turning outlaw.

These days, the club runs in a different direction, trying to keep our noses clean. Sometimes we find ourselves cleaning up other people’s messes, but the day-to-day running, we stay legit.

It was one of the first things I did when I stepped up as Prez. It was never my intention to patch in and take over from Dad. I loved the club, love the brothers, but for a long time I didn’t know if that life was what I wanted. Earning a living the way they did never sat well with me. I was torn; enlisting to serve my country was something I could see myself doing, running drugs was not.

My decision was made easy when a few weeks before my eighteenth birthday, life changed. Shit went down with a rival club, my mom becoming a victim in their war.

I never thought I would say it, but I hated my father for what his club brought to our family. The pain of losing a wife was too much for the old man. He was in a bad way, worse than me, and the club suffered for it. I stayed, wanting to seek revenge on those who destroyed our life. I was reckless, too far-gone. All I saw was blood. I wanted to make those fuckers pay.

Nothing was the same after that. After going down the path of anger and seeking revenge, I soon realized it wasn’t who I was. The club retaliated and we got our vengeance, but it didn’t take away the hurt or the pain that I was left with. Everything that I was searching for was for nothing. Losing my mom was for nothing. Patching-in and choosing this path didn’t bring her back.

When I finally accepted that I had chosen this path, I slowly started to put my life back together. Too much blood had been spilled and most of the brothers felt the same way. The idea of changing and creating something strong encouraged me to step up, to embrace something that my father originally started. I did my time and worked my way up, doing a lot of shit I wish I didn’t have to, but I pushed through, earning my position so when the time came, I could step in and take the club back to where it belonged. Cleaning up the mess wasn’t something that happened overnight; that shit took time. A lot of allegiances were tested, leaving us vulnerable and open to attacks. Times were tough but we pushed through, coming out better on the other side.

“Dad!” Z calls out as he makes his way over to me. I watch his mom trailing behind in barely-there shorts and a tank that shows she isn’t wearing a bra. Lately she’s been dressing more like the young teenager I met, rather than the thirty-seven-year-old mother she is. I have to wonder why she feels the need to dress like trash.

“Hey, bud, how you doin’?” I ask as he climbs up on my bike.

“Good, I’ve got my tickets ready to go on some rides,” he says excitedly.

“Hey, Nix.” Addison smiles her fake smile, pushing up against me. Taking a step back from her, I ignore her attention and speak to Z.

“Go help Kelly set up with Beau and Brooks and I’ll give you a few dollars for some extra rides,” I tell him, scruffing his hair.

“Awesome!” he shouts, getting off the bike to follow Beau to the stall.

“You talk to Z about his weeklong detention?” I look back over at my ex-wife. Addison and I do the joint custody thing. Z stays with his mom four nights then back at mine for four nights. I hate not having him with me all the time, but I know kids need to have their moms in their lives. Even if she isn’t the best.

Addison pouts her lips, pissed I’m not giving her the attention she wants. I don’t know why she pulls this act; it sure as shit isn’t going to work on me after the fucked-up bullshit she pulled on me last week. Ringing me ten minutes after the scheduled meeting with the school and telling me she was tied up getting her nails done. Luckily I was in town and made the five-minute drive. Now I’m left annoyed at my encounter with Z’s teacher and the unwanted thoughts of the sexy woman.