Free Unruly by Ronnie Douglas Page B

already.
    After they disconnected, Alamo grabbed his jacket and helmet and headed off to his torture. Having Ellen on his bike again, knowing the whole time that she was off-limits, sounded like a fresh ring of hell.
    He pulled up outside her house.
    It wasn’t Ellen who walked out the door, though. An older woman, presumably Ellen’s mother, stepped out. She was beautiful in that way that only strong women can be. Attitude radiated out from every hard-edged muscle, and she wasn’t the least bit subtle about her sexuality: jeans that were all but painted on, a halter-type top, and bright-red toenails all screamed “Look at me!” Unlike Ellen, she was rail thin. She had curves, but not the way Ellen did. Her mother looked like life had carved away anything that might be mistaken for softness.
    She paused on the porch, lifted a cigarette to her lips, and looked at him.
    Alamo tensed a little, realizing that his assessment had been noted and filed. She wasn’t smiling, but she didn’t look angry, either. In the custom of so many women, she was weighing and measuring him, deciding if he had worth or was useless.
    She didn’t light her cigarette. Instead, she descended the stairs and walked out to the street where he was.
    â€œYou’re the new Wolf,” she said by way of greeting. Her entire attitude was one of confidence, as if she were the old lady of one of the oldest club members. If he’d heard right, she very well might’ve been, except that he’d died years ago. She wasn’t wearing a vest like most of the old ladies, but she had the attitude that made quite clear that she deserved—and expected—respect.
    â€œYes, ma’am,” he said. “Alejandro Díaz. Most folks call me Alamo.”
    â€œMiss Bitty,” she said as she peered up at him. “You’re not all white. Most of the Wolves here are. I got no issue with you, but some folks will.”
    He grinned. “Ellen gets her subtlety from you, then.”
    Miss Bitty looked him up and down. “I got no problem with your skin—the color or the muscles it’s covering up. You’re easy on the eyes, Alejandro. You’re okay in a scuffle?”
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    â€œIf you’re spending time with Ellen, you keep her safe. I find that she gets hurt on your watch, and I’ll be making a call to Echo. Understand?”
    He met Miss Bitty’s fierce gaze and said, “I have a sister. I raised her most of our life. I understand completely.”
    Miss Bitty stared back at him, studying him as if she was a juror holding his fate in her hands. He wanted to tell her this wasn’t a date, but for a moment he wanted her to give her approval more. Logic won over impulse, and he said, “I’m just here as a friend. Ellen wanted a lift.”
    â€œDash know you’re here?”
    Alamo shook his head. Miss Bitty didn’t mince words at all. “Killer does. I have his permission to be here as Ellen’s friend .”
    â€œHe’s a good boy.” Miss Bitty glanced back at the house. Then as abruptly as all the rest of her remarks, she said, “Ellen’s singing is all from her daddy. Hell of a voice my Roger had. Ellie’s better, though she won’t do squat with it.”
    â€œI got my never-fading tan from some guy my mother slept with, and my hatred of drugs from the way she couldn’t keep quit of them.” Alamo met Miss Bitty’s gaze. “Anything else I can tell you?”
    She looked down, taking him in from boot to jacket before meeting his eyes again. “Already asked Echo about you, pup. You might be a friend; you might be something else. Right now, I have no trouble with you. You’re following club rules, and Echo speaks well of you. Killer does, too. Fact is that you took my Ellie to sing. Not just anyone could get her to do that.”
    He debated telling her that he was there to do the