Heroes Of The Dixie Wardens MC: Life To My Flight Part 22

He had curly, baby fine blonde hair, two different colored eyes, one green and one blue, and a killer smile.

However, I knew as soon as he'd looked at me that there was more than what met the eye.

I could tell with just one look that Trance and Viddy were in love. Trance only had eyes for Viddy; just being around them made me feel like I was a voyeur.

They instinctively knew where the other was, even without glancing over at each other.

Radar had stuck to Viddy's side like glue for the last twenty minutes we'd been here.

"That's 'cause you can't see," Adeline, Viddy's twin sister, said.

It was most obvious that the two of them were twins. It'd saddened me to hear that Viddy had limited eyesight; however, from what I could tell, she'd dealt with it just fine.

"Be nice, and don't start," a deep, rumbled command came from behind us.

That would be Kettle.

He was large.

In fact, I would even go as far as saying he was ma.s.sive.

Tall, with dark brown hair and nearly translucent, pale blue eyes, he was hypnotic.

He could easily compete in the looks department with Trance.

No one held a candle to Cleo, though.

"Make me," Adeline retorted.

I giggled as Kettle's eyes narrowed on his wife.

"Really?" Kettle asked with a tilt of his head.

"Uh, no?" Adeline back tracked.

He rolled his eyes and turned, but left with a parting shot. "I didn't think so."

When would men ever learn?

She started tiptoeing in his direction, coming to a stop about three feet away from him before launching herself at his back and reaching her arms over his shoulders to start digging her fingers into his armpits.

"Ack!" He roared.

Adeline held onto Kettle like a monkey while the man started doing everything in his power to get her off without actually using force.

"They're not always this weird," Cleo said as he locked an arm around my neck and pulled me into his chest.

"Sure they aren't," I teased good-naturedly.

I liked that he had friends that could be silly.

I was practically annoying when I was in 'one of those moods,' as my dad used to call it.

A wave of sadness. .h.i.t me as I remembered how I used to go into those hyperactive times, and then my dad would take me out to burn off the energy.

He was a gun smith.

Which was why I smiled slyly when Cleo had patiently showed me how to use a shotgun a little over a half hour ago.

Cleo knew my dad had been a gun smith.

Just who did he think helped test those guns out before my dad sold them?

They may have died ten years ago, but shooting was kind of like riding a bike.

You never forgot.

"Okay, what are we doing?" I asked after a few more minutes of the impromptu WWF show going on in front of me.

Cleo grinned at me. "Can you pull that lever back?"

I looked where he was pointing at the skeet thrower and blinked. "Well yeah, but I thought I was going to shoot?"

"Well, really we just brought y'all along so you wouldn't feel lonely. Now y'all have each other to talk to while we shoot, but it'd be nice if one of you would load the skeet and pull for us," he said slowly.

I looked over at the two women with me, and they hid knowing smiles.

"So...you wanted me to come along with you so you could shoot with these two. Not for me to do it with you, do I have that correct?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yep."

I inhaled slowly. "What if I wanted to shoot?"

"Can you shoot?" He asked in return.

I nodded.

"You can shoot...this?" He asked as he held up the shotgun for my inspection.

"Yep," I agreed.

"And just who taught you that?" He asked suspiciously.

I wanted to smile, I really did, but I managed to hold it in check just for him.

"Show me what you got," he said tauntingly.

So I did.

Sucker.

I took the shotgun out of Cleo's hand and inspected it.

Loaded.

One in the chamber.

Pump.

Four sh.e.l.ls total.

Lining my toes up at the edge of the concrete I looked back at him and said, "Pull."

Whomever was behind me pulled, and an orange disc the size of a small plate launched into the sky in front of me.

Lifting the gun up quickly, I placed the stock of the gun in the crease of my shoulder, laid my cheek against the stock, and looked down the barrel at the sites.

Less than two seconds later, I fired, and the orange disk exploded into a million tiny pieces.

"f.u.c.k me," multiple someone's said from behind me.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," Cleo said as he stepped up next to me. "Load two."

"Pull," I said.

Boom.

Boom.

Two clay discs shattered.

"Hot d.a.m.n, it's a match made in heaven," Trance drawled.

I giggled, and had a blast.

It felt good to be a part of them.

Used to be, I was on the outside looking in. Now, however, I was there with them. A part of them.

So this was what happy felt like.

Chapter 13.

Do I want my own bike? Why would I need one? I have my own biker!

-Text from Rue to Cody Rue I blinked my eyes open and looked at the clock.

4:37 A.M.

What. The. f.u.c.k?

Sliding out of my nice warm bed, I walked half awake, half asleep, to the front door, wondering who in the world would be knocking on my apartment door at this hour.

We'd gotten home from the day...and night, of fun, and I'd collapsed into the bed, not even taking the time to say goodbye to Cleo.

Had he forgotten something?

No, I decided.

He'd have just broken in like he usually did.

So who was at my door?

I turned the corner into the living room and squeaked when I saw a shadow blocking out the security light through my front window.

Walking to my door, I unlocked the deadbolt, twisted lock on the doork.n.o.b, and then cursed when I forgot to unarm the system.

Quickly punching in the b.u.t.tons that shut the system down, I turned back around to see the door slam open and stop when it caught the chain on the door that I'd yet to unlock.

It saved my life.

A couple months ago when I'd made the move, I'd thought the extra heavy door was ridiculous.

Nonetheless, I'd remembered what Cleo had told me about having a good door, and a chain that could withstand hundreds of pounds of force, and I'd felt secure.

Now, I was thanking sweet baby Jesus that I'd listened.

"Open the door, b.i.t.c.h," a man's rough voice hissed.

I blinked and backed away from the door.

The man's hands went inside the crack and started grappling for the chain at the top of the door.

Not knowing what the h.e.l.l to do, but knowing I had to do something, I did what any sane woman would do. Something I knew wouldn't feel too good for the occupant of that arm.

Using my body, I ran and slammed into the door with all the force my body could muster, without breaking myself in the process.

I hit hard, and I head the audible snap of the radius and the ulna breaking in the man's arm.

Bile rushed up my throat, but I tamped it down as my flight or fight response started to really kick in.