“Is that what you younger generation are calling it now?” Ron asked. “Sugar?” He turned to Mary Ann. “Are we going to have sugar later?”
“I put plenty of sugar in your wet-bottom shoofly pie, honey.”
Ron smiled. Marc made a face. And Leah groaned.
“At least that gives me hope,” Leah said under her breath.
Ron patted her hand. “Yep. If he’s anything like me he won’t have any problems in the future.”
“Christ,” Marc muttered, “Pop, the kids.”
“The kids, what? We’re talking about sugar and pie. Isn’t that what you’re talking about, too?”
“Whoa,” Leah whispered as she saw a big man with an extremely long beard making his way to an empty spot on the sidewalk. He was holding on to a blonde woman with one hand and a matching little girl with the other.
Marc turned his head in the direction Leah was staring to see the six-foot-three, two-hundred-something pound biker heading toward an empty spot not far from where his family sat.
“Dunn and I ran into him the other week in the empty lot where the old warehouse used to be,” Leah said.
“What was he doing there? The Blood Fury hasn’t owned that lot for a while now.”
“He was talking to that blonde. He said she had gotten lost and was only trying to help her. I didn’t think they knew each other, but apparently my instinct was wrong.”
Marc’s eyebrows rose. The PD dealt with Judge Scott and his cousin, Deacon, a lot since they owned Justice Bail Bonds on the other side of town. However, they both began to wear the Blood Fury MC’s colors last year when the MC was resurrected by the deceased former president’s son. Not one cop at Manning Grove PD was thrilled to hear or see that club be reborn since the Fury had caused a lot of problems prior to it imploding over twenty years ago.
Murder and mayhem had been their M.O.
“She doesn’t look so lost right now since she’s holding Judge’s hand. The little girl must be hers. She looks just like her.”
“First time I saw the girl,” his wife answered.
As Judge began to set up their folding chairs, the little girl spotted them and took off at a run, little bells jingling on her sneakers.
Both Judge and the mother screamed, “Daisy!” at the same time.
Daisy ran up to both of Marc’s sons and Oliver and yelled, “Hi!” at the top of her lungs and did a floppy side wave. “I’m Daisy!”
Austin and Jax both glanced up at Marc, unsure what to do.
Marc shook his head. At this rate, his sons would need help learning how to flirt with girls. He nudged his oldest. “Say hi back.”
Before any of the boys could say anything, Daisy announced, “I’m five. Will you be my friends? I don’t have any friends to play with yet.”
Leah shot Marc a look.
He took the reins since his sons apparently lost their tongues. He placed a hand on Austin’s shoulder just as Judge and the blonde reached them. “This is Austin. He’s six.” He put his other hand on Jax’s knit-cap covered head. “This is Jax. He’s four. That’s Oliver, he’s the same age as you.”
“Hi!” Greg bellowed, getting to his feet and coming to stand near Marc, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I’m Greg! I’ll... I’ll be your friend.”
Daisy dropped her head back and stared up at Greg. “Hi, Greg! How old are you?”
“I’m...” Greg tilted his head, and wrung his hands together as he tried to remember. “I’m...”
“Thirty-two,” Marc whispered to him.
“Thirty-two!” Greg echoed.
“Oh! You’re old!” Daisy said and stuck out her bottom lip in a dramatic pout.
“Daisy!” her mother scolded her.
“Well, he is, Momma!”
Greg laughed. “I’m old.”
“Hi, Greg,” the blonde greeted. “I’m Cassie. And Daisy is my daughter.”
“Hi, Cassie!” Greg greeted with a half-wave and a big smile. “You’re really pretty. You here to watch Max in the parade?”
“Thank you. I’m not sure who Max is?” Cassie asked, her brow lowered.
“Max is the Chief of Police around here,” Judge explained. His green eyes hit Marc’s and he jerked his chin up in greeting. “Marc.”
“Judge. Surprised to see you here.”
“Ain’t my thing, but Dutch is playin’ S—” He snapped his mouth shut and glanced at the kids. “Daisy wanted to sit on Santa’s lap, give him a list of demands, and also watch the parade.”
Marc nodded, glad the biker didn’t blow the secret that Dutch, the local garage owner, was playing Santa like he did every year, and that Santa wasn’t real. The kids didn’t know yet and he wasn’t sure if even Greg knew the truth.
Marc glanced down at Daisy who looked tiny standing in front of Judge, then up at Cassie. “New in town?”
“My sister and her husband live here. Daisy and I came right after Thanksgiving.”
“Staying?” Marc asked.
“I don’t know yet.”
Marc didn’t miss the look Judge gave her with that answer.
Leah spoke up. “I saw you that night in the empty lot. I was the pregnant one in uniform.”
Cassie turned to her. “Yes. The night I got... uh... lost.”
“Mmm hmm,” Leah answered. “Lost. You show her how to get around town, Judge?”
Judge’s lips twitched. “Yeah. She’s learnin’ her way.”
“How are things with the MC?” Marc asked. “Staying off that mountain?”
“Yeah, no more repos up there,” Judge said, his face unreadable and not because of the long, bushy beard covering it or the gray knit cap pulled low over his forehead. “Trip learned his lesson.”
That wasn’t what Marc meant, but he had made his unspoken point that he knew what happened last month up there between the Shirley Clan and the MC. He didn’t know all the details but he knew something went down.
But if it wasn’t for the MC, or the Shirleys, Levi wouldn’t have come into Matt and Carly’s life, so he wasn’t going to give Judge a lot of shit about it. Or even dig.
No one had come down that mountain to file a police report and he doubted they would. The
