The Rampage MC #2: Beard and Emily

Chapter 8 (Emily): Pure Ice

Beard, not knowing who was coming into my house, got up and stepped toward the door, his body between whoever was coming in and me. His hand hovered near the inside of his cut, and I knew why.

Mom and Dad stopped cold when they saw Beard in my house, standing there threateningly. Dad stepped in front of Mom, hands held out placatingly in front of him. Trying to show Beard he was no threat to him.

Spoiler alert: he wasn't in the least.

My father was tall, built along slight lines and had the delicate, slender hands you'd expect a surgeon to have. Beard was thick and muscular, and his body screamed power and danger. My dad's screamed don't hurt me! To put it in dog terms, Beard was a bullmastiff and my father was an Italian greyhound. Maybe even a chihuahua.

"You can have all the money we have on us. No argument, just leave quietly, no police," my father said, using what Mom and I called his bedside manner voice. Calm. Cool. Collected.

Oh, dear lord.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Beard snarled at my dad, which didn't do a lot to dispel my father's impression of Beard. Had I not been the size of a small country, I could have gotten off the couch faster, but at last I pushed myself to my feet and stepped in between Beard and my parents, ready for the introductions I had no desire whatsoever to make.

"Mom, Dad, this is Beard. Beard, these are my parents, Gilbert and Anne Montgomery."

Dad and Beard were locked in a staring contest as my father tried to puzzle out this man who only made sense in my living room as a robber. He could conceive of no other reason a man who looked like Beard would be in my house.

I watched as understanding dawned in his nimble mind and the confusion masking his face turned into a scowl.

"Beard, huh?" my dad wasn't impressed. "You don't have a real name?"

OK, granted, what I knew about MCs was minimal, but I knew that insulting someone's biker name wasn't a smart move.

"It's my road name," Beard said curtly, and at that point, Mom decided it would be good to jump in as she peeked out from behind Dad's back.

"Oh, like on Outlaw Chronicles!" Mom said, clutching Dad's arm as she named a biker reality show from years ago. "It's like Fabio is your road name, honey."

Oh, dear lord.

Then she stepped from behind my father and held out her hand to Beard, and I swear, she was entranced, but what woman with a pulse wouldn't be? Until he opened his mouth, anyway. I don't know if she'd put two and two together yet, but she'd decided the stranger was OK now that she knew Beard wasn't about to rob us.

"So nice to meet you," she said using her best hostess voice. "How do you know Emily Louise?"

"For god's sake, Anne, this is the boy that got her pregnant and wanted nothing to do with her or the babies."

My mouth dropped open. My father did not just call Beard a boy.

"But he's here now," Mom deflected, knowing Dad's temper and probably not liking the way Beard had stiffened at the term. "Let's all have breakfast together and we can get to know one another."

No, Mom. Just no.

"I don't sit down to eat with people who won't tell me their real names as opposed to their little gang names."

"Dad --"

"Are you planning to just put Beard on their birth certificates?"

"Dad --"