Hopelessly Devoted

Bink Cummings

Hopelessly Devoted

Bink Cummings

~~~

Copyright © 2017/2018 by: Bink Cummings

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

Proofreader/Editor- Mary Bevinger

Proofreader/Beta- Mary Meredith & Heather Hendrickson

Cover Artist- Bink Cummings

Photo provided from: BigStock

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Pregnant- ✔

Deaths - ✔

A Baby – ✔

Stress that could make even the strongest woman crack – ✔ ✔

A year ago if you told me I’d wind up where I am today, I’d have you committed for insanity. Now that I’ve opened Pandora’s Box and survived more than most have in their lifetime, Death has knocked on our doorstep and welcomed himself inside. Learning that life isn’t always fair comes at a price. The question is, how much do I have to pay before I get a real chance at happiness, or am I destined to be alone forever?

Warning: Proceed with caution. Contains adult sexual content, the excessive use of the F bomb, violence, and whatever else that makes it unsuitable for anyone under the age of 18.

Not a stand-alone, 3rd book in a Trilogy.

Must read Hopelessly Shattered & Hopeful Whispers previously.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Playlist

Note from Author

Ryker

Cuppin’ her belly, teeth grittin’, smoky eyes squintin’ in pain, Vanessa exhales heavily as another contraction takes its vicious toll. “We…must…get to the…fuck… hospital,” she pants, shufflin’ another tiny step closer to her car, wearin’ a pair of silver heels. You heard that right. Stripper, platform heels. She even put on her face. Didn’t wanna be fugly when our son comes into the world—her words, not mine. I cannot believe this is fuckin’ happenin’. How did I leave here hours ago to try and make it right with Kat… to this? It doesn’t make a goddamn lick of sense. But I can’t assume what’s happenin’ inside Vanessa’s body when I don’t have a vagina or human growin’ in my stomach. If these are Braxton Hicks contractions, I’ll leave that up to the doctor to decide. The sooner we get to the hospital, the quicker she’ll stop whinin’ like Peg Bundy on blow.

Pryin’ open her car door, I sweep my hand to the seat for her to settle her ass into. It’s not that hard. Ten steps and she’ll be sittin’ pretty. I gotta be honest, this isn’t how I wanted my day to go. It’s been… an explosion of pain blazes through my leg. What the hell? There’s a sudden flash of headlights from the right… then noise. So much noise. A blast of white slams into my face, throwin’ my head back, stealin’ my breath. My vision recedes to bleak nothingness. What’s goin’ on?! Where the hell am I?! Vanessa unleashes a blood curdling scream, but I can’t see her. I can’t see a damn thing! Inhaling sharply, the metallic stench of blood abrades my nostrils. The world slows, punctuated by the sharp, excruciating agony that throbs through every inch of flesh.

My finger twitches… I think.

What the fuck kinda voodoo shit is this?

A lethargic fog of blackness swirls inside my skull.

Is this what death feels like?

A shivery sensation flows down my arm. Is it really my arm? Or am I imagining all this?

Another involuntary twitch.

Why can’t I see a goddamn thing?

Where are my fuckin’ eyes? Open, you stubborn assholes.

I try to make them and… nothin’. Frustrated, a low growl rumbles in my chest, but stops short when a fresh wave of pain emanates there. Sonofabitch.

“Bro?” A rough heat envelops my twitching extremity, calmin’ it.

Wait… What the… Is that Kade?

Where’s Vanessa? Weren’t we in the car on the way to the hospital? This doesn’t make any sense.

“Bro?” Kade’s deep voice bounces around inside my cranium like a spastic ping pong ball. “Can you hear me? You’re movin’ your fingers.”

Hell, yes, I can hear you, dumbass.

I attempt to open my mouth to tell him where to shove his misplaced concern, only… nothin’ comes out. Fuck. Did my lips even part? What in the good goddamn is goin’ on? Why can’t I see? Why can’t I talk? Why do I hurt so much? And more importantly, where the hell is Kat?

Heavin’ an internal sigh, since my pathetic body can’t seem to get with the program, I focus all my energy where that heat wraps around my hand and force my fingers to move. It’s not much, but I know I’m successful when my brother gasps.

“Fuck. You can hear me.”

Bingo.

With some considerable effort on my part, another wave of inner strength sweeps down my arm and flips him off. Or tries to. Who the hell knows? Subsequently, an equally potent wave of fatigue follows, and my brain dims. Thoughts jumble. Cognition flickers.

Nope. You stupid, weak ass body better not give out on me now. Not when my brother’s here.

“Stop tryin’ to move, Ryker. Your blood pressure’s spiking,” Kade admonishes.

Right. You try layin’ here like a root vegetable and see if you can accept it.

I must expel some sort of noise when my brother adds, “Yeah. You heard me, you stubborn asshole, be still and listen.”

As if I got any other choice than to listen to Mr. Bossy Pants talk.

If my eyes could roll, I’d take a page right outta my Tiger’s book of Sexy as Sin Sarcasm, and roll these motherfuckers.

Kade continues, “I dunno how much of this you’re gonna remember. Guess I’ll tell ya again once your ass wakes up for good…I hate to be the bearer of bad news…but you got in a wreck with Vanessa. A rival club hit you. Flipped your car. Then one of those bastards shot you up. Your leg’s broke. You bled out. Flatlined twice. You’ve been in the hospital for six days.”

Jesus Christ!

My hand twitches again. Not on purpose. The pain intensifies—everywhere. Growin’ from a steady, yet manageable simmer to a raging boil. Fuckkk. Where’s the morphine button when you need it? Isn’t that somethin’ they do in the movies? Give you a button to lessen the damn pain. They better not have given me Tylenol for a broken leg. I’ll crack some skulls if they’re pussin’ out on the narcotics. This shit is… Fuck me sideways! A red-hot poker bulldozes its way through my arm.

I gasp loudly.

Kade pats my hand as if that’s gonna help a thing. “Calm down, fucker. You gotta keep your blood pressure in check. It’s not good for your heart. You went into cardiac arrest. I’m not gonna tell you another fuckin’ thing ‘til you get yourself under control.”

Easy for you to say, dipshit, you’re not lying here helpless as millions of tiny fire ants eat you alive, one tasty cell at a time. Is this the penance God’s making me pay for hurting Kat? Is this what I deserved all along? To drown in agony as the love of my life hates me? Don’t think I don’t know she feels that way. Don’t think I don’t realize that leavin’ her again without so much of a notice broke her in two. I know by not tellin’ her what was goin’ down that I demolished the bridge we were rebuilding to become us again. It’s a choice I had to make to keep her safe. I couldn’t tell her. Club business stays club business. No matter what. Even if that means I ruined the last chance I ever had to be with her. You do what you gotta do to keep the ones you love out of harm’s way, and I refuse to regret a second of it.

Wait…

Kade hasn’t mentioned anythin’ about Kat.

What if…

Centering myself, I pull in a deep lungful of air and release it slowly. Fuck the pain. I need to know where my Tiger is. And if Kade won’t give up the goods ‘til I get my blood pressure down, then I’m gonna force it back to normal. Mind over matter. I’ve got this.

The room falls silent. A constant heat touchin’ my hand strokes the underside of my wrist roughly. At least I think it’s my wrist. This sensory shit is screwin’ with my head. Pain’s no joke.

A tiny knock resonates from somewhere, then a woman’s voice I’ve never heard before speaks. “Everything alright in here?”

“He’s awake. Well, not awake, awake. ‘Cause he hasn’t opened his eyes or said anythin’. But he’s listenin’,” Kade replies.

“Sure. Right.” By the woman’s placating tone, you can tell she thinks he’s a little touched in the head. Fuck her. I’m right here.

“Believe what you want, lady. I don’t care. But he needs more painkillers,” Kade growls. “Now.”

Jesus, I would kiss his ugly mug right now if I could.

Exhalin’ heavily, I try to focus on them, not the fire ants from hell snacking on my innards.

“Sir…erm. I can’t do that without a doctor’s order.”

“Then get it.”

“Sir. We have him on a strict regimen.”

“Yes. A bullshit one. Can’t you tell his blood pressure’s high ‘cause he’s in pain? If my brother’s heart gives out ‘cause you’re negligent pricks, there ain’t nobody in the world gonna save you from me, sweetheart.”

There’s a horrified gasp that echoes, followed by a door slamming shut. Beside me, Kade groans, “Touchy bitches. I swear you’d think they’d never been threatened before.”

Humored by the jackass, I grin on the inside. Kade’s quite the asshole when he wants to be. It’s damn good to hear his voice.

He pats some part of my arm. “No worries, bro. She’s got five minutes to get you somethin’ better, or I’m callin’ Pops to bring the boys in. Trust me, they don’t want a hospital overrun by a bunch of pissed off bikers. And the cops ‘round here won’t do shit about it. If I had half a brain, I’d have made them take you to a better hospital. You deserve better care than what this Podunk piece of shit can give ya. But I guess they’re not so bad if they kept your ass alive long enough for Kat to kill ya all over again.” He snorts. “You’re in so much trouble.”

Kat, just the sound of her name eases something down deep in my soul, if I have one. I don’t care if she’s angry with me or not. I can live with that. If Kade says she wants to murder me, then that’s gotta mean she’s whole. And there’s nothin’ else I want in this world other than my woman to be okay, along with my precious girls. And no, I don’t mean Vanessa.

A door opens tearin’ me from my thoughts. The sound of squeaky shoes on a smooth floor draws closer.

“It’s about damn time. What took ya so long?” Kade scolds whoever’s here.

“Mr. Knox, you need to watch your snappy tone.” A totally different nurse returns with a whole lotta bark. “You may think you can boss Melinda around. But I will not be your whipping post. I know you’re concerned about your brother. That is why I’m here to give him another dose of medication to ease his pain. If he’s awake as you told Melinda he is, that’s not gonna last long once I push this into his IV. So you better say what you gotta say beforehand.”

“No need. Make him feel better.”

“Suit yourself.”

Fingers grasp my hand on one side as a different type of burning sensation flows into my opposite arm, rippin’ through the extremity with a vengeance. I gasp a noiseless breath, flexin’ my fingers a millisecond before a rich, liquid warmth washes over me, extinguishing the pain to nothin’ more than a whisper on the wind.

“Sleep tight, bro,” Kade says.

I will, brother. I will.

Kat

The past seven days have been utter hell. There’s no other way to describe it. None. And I’m not talking the normal kind of hell like when your kids get sick and throw up last night’s macaroni and cheese all over the carpet beside their beds. That happened. True story. The stench and slimy chunkiness was so revolting it’s something I’ll never forget. However, this kind of hell I’m living isn’t the kind an average person’s imagination could conjure on its own. Honestly, I’m not sure where to begin explaining. I mean, how does an average conversation include, “Did you know that when your friend and neighborhood badass, Rosie, slaughters ten plus men in your backyard, there’s a cleaning crew that comes out to…well… clean up the situation?” In other words, wrap bodies in plastic and shove them into the back of a nondescript van. I watched it happen with my own eyes. Didn’t think that was possible outside of the fictional world of John Wick. Apparently, the club subcontracts this type of job. Sheesh, you probably think I’m cray cray. Making this shit up. I wish I were.

A week ago my daughters and I were locked inside a safe room in Asshole’s cabin. It wasn’t until the next morning, after a fitful night of sleep that Rosie returned to give me the A-Okay to unlock the steel door that protected us from those who wished us harm. The girls were still out cold when I met my freshly showered friend wearing her signature black, outside the safe space. The basement was chilly, yet I didn’t miss the light metallic scent of blood that hung in the air, as it tangoed with the even stronger odor of lemon scented chemicals. Instantly, I knew something had happened, and it wasn’t good.

I gulped.

Taking my shaky hand in hers and giving it a tired squeeze, the ensuing mess of words to impart Rosie’s lips knocked my world topsy-turvy… “Car accident…Ryker’s in critical condition… Vanessa’s dead… The baby’s alive… The clubhouse was hit… Two people were shot, but fine… The cabin’s in need of repair... The suburban’s toast... We must go to the clubhouse for protection... There are dead men outside... Someone died in the pantry… Don’t tell the girls... Everything’s going to be okay,” were the broken fragments that soaked down to my marrow. I’m sure there was more she said. I couldn’t tell you what. Concern and this sick feeling of helplessness rotted my gut as I flipped on autopilot to save face.

Ryker couldn’t die on me now. Not after everything we’d been through.

The urge to cry was imminent, so I tamped it down the best I could.

To get the ball rolling, Roxie and Scarlett were woken up with a cheery rise and shine as Rosie got them a change of clothes from the disaster upstairs. Together, we covered their eyes and escorted them through the cabin to the front door, where my dad and Bear sat in a truck waiting for us, at the end of the driveway. Hugs were exchanged, loving words spoken as we met up. In the end, I stayed behind with Rosie to clean up our home, as my girls went off with their grandpas to a safer, less blood-soaked place. Unfortunately, since then, the rest of the week has been one constant nightmare after the next…

To keep from throwing you into a fit of depression, I’m gonna skim over the shit storm that’s brewing. No need for you to be flung into this mess any more than necessary…

Not wanting to stay at the clubhouse more than needed, I forced a construction crew comprised of club brothers to come fix the cabin. It’s our safe haven, and I’ll be damned if a bunch of gun-toting dickheads are gonna scare us away from our temporary home. One night at the clubhouse was enough to convince me it was not a place for my children. The pot smoking, the loud sex noises, and the abundance of alcohol is not the life I want to raise my girls around. Luckily, the cabin’s interior was left pretty much intact thanks to the bulletproof windows. The mudroom will never look the same, that part was gutted. The windows are being replaced. The bullet riddled exterior has been patched to keep the holes from being as noticeable. The new, steel enforced back and front doors should be installed any day now. Until then, we’ve got crap ones that my fat, pregnant ass could kick in without much effort.

Thankfully, we girls are still able to sleep in the cabin full time. Bear and Dad have been taking turns staying with us since Rosie disappeared the day after the accident. No note. No goodbye. Poof and she was gone, her room cleared out, bed neatly made. If I were on speaking terms with Dickcheese, I’d ask if he got a goodbye from her. But we’re not, so he can suck my big toe instead.

I know, I know, I bet you’re gasping right now wondering why Kade and I are fighting. Aren’t they best friends? Kade’s amazing... How could Kat ever be mad at such a beautiful man? He’s so sweet… he sends her adorable purple eggplant emoji’s… blah blah blah… I suppose this is the part I tell you that Kade might be a-m-a-z-i-n-g… ick… yuck… I think I puked in my mouth a little. However, before we get into detail as to why Mr. Dickcheesiness deserves to be melted by a blow torch, you have to know what I’m doing right this second...

Seated on a chair in the hospital waiting room, waiting for Rox and Scarlett to get out of school, and for Dad to drop them off here, I pull back the edge of the gray Moby Wrap secured around my body to peek at the tiny, dark-haired, five pound four ounce bundle sleeping with his cheek on my breast. His teeny fingers are balled into a fist as he attempts to suck that thing into his mouth, failing adorably. My heart beats a little faster, my insides warming as I run a finger through the angel’s downy soft hair. He might have been born in a car, cut from his mother’s womb, but he’s healthy in all ways. Sweet, calm, barely cries and sleeps a good three hours straight before needing to be fed again. He’s the reason I won’t speak to Kade.

The day of the baby boy’s birth, after I’d heard of his existence, I helped Rosie clean up the cabin for an hour or two as we awaited word about Ryker’s condition. He was in surgery for a long while. There was nothing I could do at the hospital but worry, so I focused my attention on something useful—putting shit back together. Time ticked by, so when Rosie got a call from Kade that the boy had been cleared with a clean bill of health, and Ryker was still not doing well, I decided to go to the hospital to see the child for the first time. Part of me expected to be angry or jealous that my ex had a son in the world. Something I could never give him. But the first time I saw the sleeping angel inside his plastic bassinet with a blue knitted hat on his head, I swear my insides filled with so much joy I thought I might burst.

Tapping on the glass window of the nursery to get the nurse’s attention as Rosie stood beside me, I pointed to the Knox bundle. The nurse gave me a once over, frowned, then spent the next however long contacting someone on the phone before exiting the nursery sans baby. I wasn’t pleased.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you cannot hold that baby unless you’re family and have permission from his parents.” I could tell by the nurse's foot to foot shifting that she was well aware of Vanessa’s death and Ryker’s unstable condition. Though she couldn’t disclose that with HIPAA laws preventing her.

Beside me, Rosie grumbled something under breath, arms folded defiantly across her chest, stance combative, as I turned on the charm. “I understand why you’re protective of him considering all that’s going on right now in our family. But that little boy is my children’s baby broth—”

“You don’t know that, Kat,” Kade boomed as he walked toward us in a pair of blue scrubs. He looked like hell and probably felt worse than he appeared. For a split second, I stepped forward, ready to throw my arms around his neck. To feel his warmth surround me. To know that he was okay and everything was gonna be alright. That we had each other no matter what. Dickcheese and Watermelon Tits against the world. Only, the next words to leave his lips severed every ounce of warmth and need I felt for him in an instant. “She’s not allowed to hold the baby,” he explained to the nurse coming to a stop a few feet away. “She ain’t his family. We don’t even know if that baby is my brother’s or not. Take care of him. Keep him alive. Sort shit out. But nobody’s allowed to hold him ‘til we know if he’s blood or not.”

Kade turned to me, eyes filled with unshed tears. “You’re not allowed to hold him. You’ll get too attached. He ain’t yours, Kat. The nurses will take care of him just fine. If Ryker dies, we’ll still get the paternity test, and if he’s blood, I’ll raise him myself. But if he ain’t, we gotta ship him off.”

I’m pretty sure my jaw hit the floor at the same time steam billowed from my ears, and an argument to rival all arguments arose. A light switch flipped inside my brain, and I lost my shit. Screaming at the top of my lungs, I laid him out for being an insensitive prick. Pretty sure I punched him a time or two. Denounced our friendship, and told him he was dead to me. Can’t say it was my finest moment. There were way too many emotions to deal with, and his assholishness merely broke the dam. Kade got a firsthand taste of Katrina Remington’s wrath.

Am I proud of myself? No. Did I make him cry? Maybe. Was I a jerk? Without a doubt. But he was just as bad. Just as vile. Just as insufferable. Saying the kid didn’t deserve the Knox name. That Vanessa, God rest her soul, was a slutbag, a whore, a disgusting piece of trash. That there needed to be a paternity test to prove to everyone he was right. That he’d always been right. That Ryker was stupid and shouldn’t have married that bitch to begin with. As I said, it was a knock-down, drag-out, fight. In the end, security was called, and we were escorted from the building to cool down. Which only added fuel to our out of control fire. We carried on and on, shouting in each other’s faces, spittle flying. I’d never been so wound up in my entire life. All I saw was red, red, and more red. What did Kade do? He wound me up tighter. Talked more shit. Told me he wished Rosie would’ve let the baby die. Do I regret standing up for that poor defenseless child? Nope. I don’t. Not one bit. How in the hell do you think I got my hands on the tiny bundle in the first place? It was all Bear’s doing. Twenty-four hours after our epic fight, the hospital signed the baby’s release papers and boom, he’s been in my care ever since. Yep, Kade, you can go eat a big bag of wrinkly dicks. I still won. That’s the beauty of next of kin. Since Vanessa had passed, Bear was the next in line to control his son’s medical decisions, including what happened with his newborn son. Damn, just thinking about that day has my blood pressure spiking. Fuck Kade and the purple dildo he rode in on. Needless to say, I haven’t spoken to that jerk since our fight. Nor do I plan to anytime soon. The only reason I’m sitting here in the hospital, to begin with, is because Ryker’s awake. Bear informed me this morning.

Let’s just hope another throw down doesn’t occur in Ryker’s room, because I’m gonna murder Kade with my bare hands if it does.

Ryker

Scrubbin’ both palms down my face, I swallow the thick lump in my throat. I can’t believe this is fuckin’ happening. I just… fuuuck. Vanessa’s dead, truly dead, and my beautiful, wonderful, unbelievably amazing Kat has been carin’ for a baby that we’re not even sure is mine. This can’t be real. God can’t hate me any more than he already does.

“You gotta get that baby away from her, man,” Kade presses, pacin’ from one wall to the other in my step down hospital room. They got me outta the ICU this morning. Which means I get to see my kids today. Younger children aren’t permitted to visit the ICU here. Not that I’d let that stop me from seein’ ‘em anyhow.

“Why?” I arch a brow.

“’Cause that kid ain’t yours, and she’s gonna get too attached.” His shoulders hunch as he strides with a purpose, chin on chest, hands down at his sides curled into fists.

Yeah, I’m not buyin’ it. There’s more to this story than that. He wouldn’t be on the verge of sweatin’ bullets if there wasn’t somethin’ else goin’ down. He’s hidin’ it from me.

“Bullshit. Spill it now, Kade. What the fuck’s goin’ on?” I might be in pain, the narcotics they’re givin’ me are toyin’ with my head, makin’ shit a little foggy. But I know my brother when he’s holdin’ back.

Fast walkin’ over to the couch where his crap’s at, Kade finds a small knife inside his duffle and starts runnin’ the thin blade up and down his forearm. He heaves a sigh of relief as if that piece of metal fixes everything. For him, it helps. I get it.

“Well?” I’m not lettin’ this go.

He won’t look at me as he scrubs the back of his neck like he’s guilty as fuck.

“What the hell did you do?” I grumble.

“Saved your life,” he snaps.

Yes, I know this and I’m never gonna be able to repay him for that gift. I would’ve done the exact same thing if roles were reversed. He knows it.

“And?” I dig a little harder as I readjust the pillow behind my head. It’s nice finally bein’ able to sit upright.

“Fuck! Get off my back already. You’ve been awake for what?” He glances at the clock on the wall next to the TV. “Six hours. And you’re already up my ass.”

Fine. If he wants to act infantile, then I’m gonna treat him that way. “Awe, you poor, poor baby, do you need a pacifier to go with that prissy bitch whine?”

“Fuck you.”

I snort, unamused. “Tell me.”

“Fine.” Kade throws his hands up in defeat. “Kat and I got into a huge argument, alright?” He sulks, taking a seat on the rockin’ chair in the corner. Christ, for being such a sadistic sonofabitch he sure has one helluva soft spot for my old lady.

“What’d you do?”

Head snappin’ up, he scowls at me, upper lip curled, eyes blazing. “Why do you assume it’s me who started it?”

“’Cause you wouldn’t be feelin’ like this if you didn’t do somethin’ wrong.”

“I didn’t do anythin’ wrong.”

“Right. So you’re nervous and over emotional for nothin’,” I deadpan.

“You almost died! Isn’t that understanding enough?”

“Nope. ‘Cause I ain’t dead. So tell me what happened.”

Slumpin’ back in the chair, gaze cast heavenward, Kade sighs. “I wouldn’t let her hold the baby. Told her that we needed to get a paternity test first. That she didn’t need to get too fuckin’ attached to someone who might not be blood. Plus a bunch of other mean shit that I shouldn’t have said. ‘Cause now she won’t talk to me.”

“You did not say that to her,” I growl, ready to bash in his skull.

“I did.”

“What the fuck’s wrong with you? You can’t talk to my pregnant woman like that.” What the hell was he thinking?

Shakin’ his head, Kade grips the arm of the chair like it’s a lifeline. “She was gonna fall in love with him, Ryker. What was I supposed to do? Tell her to hold him and fall in love with his cute, squishy face, then rip him from her arms when he turns out not to be yours? ‘Cause let’s face it, your wife was a club whore who got knocked up by someone in our club, and that doesn’t mean it was you. It could’ve been Hammer or any number of the brothers. There’s no reason you should be saddled with a baby that ain’t blood. Not when you’ve already got a pregnant woman and two daughters to take care of. Kat has gone through enough. Takin’ care of a newborn that ain’t blood, while about ready to pop herself ain’t somethin’ she should be dealin’ with.”

Dammit. He’s right. I hate to admit it, but he is.

“Then why didn’t you explain it to her that way? You’d still be talkin’ to her if ya had.” Kat’s understanding. She’d see his point. Not sayin’ she would’ve agreed or sided with him considering it’s a baby we’re talkin’ about here. But she wouldn’t have written him off.

“You don’t think I know that? I barely got a chance to tell her she couldn’t hold him before she went crazy. Started screamin’ at me. I’ve never seen her so angry, bro. Ever. And havin’ it directed at me, after the week we’ve all had, I just… well… I yelled back.”

Exhaling, Kade massages the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “We had to be escorted outside. Which made things worse. She almost kneed me in the nuts four times. Punched me in the chest twice. She was so pissed. Callin’ me selfish. Sayin’ I didn’t love her, and if I did, I wouldn’t do this. That the baby needed someone to hold him. To show him somebody cared. What did I do? I kept thinkin’ about her raisin’ a baby that ain’t hers. Takin’ care of somethin’ she shouldn’t have to. You and Ghost have put her through enough. All I’m tryin’ to do is shield her heart. I love her so fuckin’ much. All I wanna do is protect her and my nieces… Fuck.” Kade swipes a finger under his eyes, staring at the ceiling, swallowin’ hard to keep from burstin’ into tears.

What the hell am I supposed to say to that? Buck up? Stop bein’ a bitch? Nope. I can’t do any of that. This man kept my family safe alongside Rosie and saved my life, plus a baby’s. In my book, he’s a goddamn hero.

My tone goes soft to calm the war wagin’ in my brother’s head. “It’s gonna work itself out. Kat’s not gonna stay mad at you forever. You’re her best friend.”

“I hope so. Pops said she’s comin’ up to see you soon. So expect her to give me the cold shoulder. You need to worry about gettin’ better, not this. I’ll figure out a way to get back in Kat’s good graces. If you could do it after all the shit you’ve pulled, I’m sure it won’t take me long.” The bastard smirks, a flash of white teeth showin’. Sadly, I can’t argue his logic. I’ve done far worse to my love, and yet we’re still on speaking terms.

Dramatically layin’ a hand over my heart, I fake groan to lighten the mood. “You wound me.”

Kade chuckles. “You’re wounded enough, dumbass.”

That I am.

Starin’ down at my blanket covered legs, I sweep my gaze up to my bandaged arm. Three bullets went straight through my bicep. One nicked an artery. Another, the bone. The bullet they think ricocheted off the car into my good thigh, didn’t do much more than tear a hole through part of the meat makin’ me bleed like a stuck pig. The one in my shoulder they said also went clean through. All in all, I’m damn lucky to be alive. Not many people can say they survived bein’ shot five times, in a car wreck, lost so much blood they went into cardiac arrest twice and lived to tell the tale. Let’s just pray I survive seein’ Kat for the first time since everything happened. It could go either way. I’ve got one helluva feisty woman on my hands, and I wouldn’t trade her for anything in the world. Even if that means she wants my balls in a vice. For her, I’d consider it the highest honor.

Kat

“Can I see him again, Mom, before we go in?” Scarlett gushes right outside Ryker’s door. She’s talking about Mr. Sleepyhead who’s drooling all over my breast. The girls just got to the hospital. Not wanting to waste any time I ushered them to the second floor where Dad said Ryker’s now staying. My stomach’s in knots. Hands clammy. Seeing him awake for the first time since the accident is overwhelming. But I can’t tell Scarlett no about seeing her baby brother. Even if she doesn’t know they’re related. Not that that matters much to them. Each morning before the girls leave for school they help me feed him. Rox changed her first diaper yesterday. I might’ve bawled like a giant baby in the bathroom after they left for school because of it. We’ll blame it on pregnancy hormones. Sound good to you?

Drawing back the gray fabric I expose baby boy’s smooth cheek and fuzzy head of hair. Both of my daughters step forward, giant smiles lighting their faces as they watch him sleep soundly.

“Awe, he’s so cute, Mom,” Rox whispers, leaning in to kiss his head. Upon stimulation, he nuzzles deeper into my breast making an adorable noise. All three of us stare at him in rhapsody. He’s just… he fills my heart up so much. I never thought I could say that about a baby I didn’t birth. Every day when I hold him, I consider it a blessing that he’s alive, and that I’m the one to care for him. I wish I could say I don’t hog him, but I do. However, don’t you worry, Dad and Bear have both held him numerous times. Even though I can tell Bear’s more leery about cuddling with the newborn than my dad is—who’s gushing Grandpa Ghost, always bearing gifts from the moment he walks in the door. Bear reserves most of his affection for Scarlett and Rox. Part of me wonders if it’s a loyalty thing that holds him back. Like Kade’s discontent makes him pause? Or he’s waiting for Ryker’s blessing? Either way, I’ve made sure the little guy doesn’t go without lots of love, food, sleep, and a clean tushie.

“You wanna give him a kiss, too, Scarlett, before we go in?” I prompt. She nods happily before leaning in to drop a smooch. “Ready?” I add, patting both of their shoulders in support. Seeing Ryker alive and well is going to be a huge relief to all of us, as well as emotional. At least for me, it is. My nose is already starting to burn with the urge to cry, and I haven’t even seen him yet.

Keep it together, Kat.

“He might be sleeping when we go in. So be quiet. He needs his rest. Okay?” I need to quit talking and get this over with. Stop dawdling. Rip the proverbial Band-Aid off.

“Yes, Mom,” they reply in unison.

Here goes nothing.

Pushing the lever to Ryker’s door, I shoo the girls in first like a damn coward. Head tipped down, afraid to make direct eye contact with my… whoever he is to me, or his jackwagon brother, I shuffle my Chucks quietly into the space. The hairs on the back of my neck stand attention. Feeling multiple sets of eyes ghost across my skin, my hands begin to tremble. To keep them busy, I absentmindedly rub my belly. This is going to be more difficult than I thought.

Forcing myself to chill, I swallow my nerves down like a shot of whiskey.

There’s a gasp, and just as I dare to look up, Scarlett screeches an emotionally charged, “Daddy” as she and Rox throw themselves at an awake, teary-eyed Ryker, who’s staring right at me. His mouth drops open in surprise as he hugs our children despite the pain he must be experiencing.

Wait a second…

Daddy?

D-a-d-d-y… what the?!

How did they find out? Who told them?

Oh. My. Shiit… Th-this can’t be happening.

Tears prick the corners of my eyes.

Exhaling a shuddery breath, I massage my tongue against the roof of my mouth to do what… I… I don’t know. I’m… this…

Taking a step back, ready to bolt, my wide eyes soak in the space. One, one thousand; two, one thousand; three, one thousand. My heart pounds faster. I retreat another step, hand poised to yank the door open and go. To where, I don’t fuckin’ know.

As if I’m invisible, and my world hasn’t just disintegrated beneath my feet, Rox and Scarlett pepper warm kisses along Ryker’s cheeks from either side of the bed. His blue penetrating gaze still locked on me, he endeavors to return the sentiment by kissing them back in an adorable haphazard fashion. In my peripheral, a body moves, and I back up against the door, ass molded to the fake wood. Swiveling my attention away from Ryker’s hospital bed and our kids, I find Kade seated in a rocking chair in the corner, his tired eyes fixed on me. Not on my daughters who announced… that his brother’s their dad. Wowza… how’s this possible? Instead, Kade’s staring in my direction as if he expects me to do or say something. That’s impossible, when I’m at a loss for words.

A lone tear trickles down my cheek. I swipe it away with the back of my hand. Impulsively, I reposition one palm on the little guy to shield him from his vile uncle. A flashback of the day Kade and I fought burns through my mind, overriding the need to cry with the protective instinct of a mother bear ready to do battle for her cub. Narrowing my eyes in Kade’s direction, I dare him to say something. To be a dick. To fight me with his brother present. With my girls here. Only, his reaction is different than I expect. Instead, Kade expels a long sigh, scratching the three days worth of dark stubble on his face as if defeated. As if I won. Did I? Is the fight over? Did he back down? The Dickcheese I know doesn’t roll over so easily. It’s not in his blood.

“Baby.” Ryker’s choked, yet oh-so-sexy voice pierces through the room, drawing my attention to him lying on the hospital bed alive, and our children clinging to his side. Scarlett’s head rests on his pec, avoiding the bandages around his arm. The pure happiness radiating from her soft smile hits me smack dab in the chest, taking my breath away. On the opposite side rests my Rox, as she watches me with concern akin to her father’s, the skin crinkling between her pale brows. Somehow they found out. Those two, bright little girls who mean everything to me know that he’s their dad, and neither are upset that I didn’t tell them. I’ve pictured a version of this moment for years. Hoping he’d reappear again. That we’d be a family. Then one year melted into two, then three, until I wasn’t sure it’d ever happen. Yet, here we are. Frankly, I’m not entirely sure how to process all that’s happened. How can I? Shouldn’t I have known they knew it was him? Did I say something out of turn? Not that any of it matters now.

“Baby,” Ryker repeats like a soft caress floating over my skin, coaxing a fresh batch of goosebumps to the surface. Shivering despite my warmth, I relax my posture against the door, head tilted back, shoulders loose, as a wave of relief washes through me at the sound of his voice. A cadence I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear again.

“Tiger, please look at me.”

I’m not ready. Not yet. I need another minute. Possibly two.

Holding up a finger to inform Ryker I’m not ignoring him, I recollect my thoughts to get myself together for my three girls, him, and the little bundle sleeping on my breast. There’s no reason I can’t try to accept this at face value. Let the petty shit from the past lie. Vanessa’s dead. Our slate is wiped clean. We can return to being friends like we were doing before this all went to hell. We’ve endured enough. Today’s a new day. A chance for new beginnings. If this week has taught me anything, it’s that life is precious. One second it’s here. The next, you blink, and it’s gone. Time’s on no man’s side.

“Mom, are you okay?” Rox asks.

Reopening my eyes, and tipping my head down, I nod, trying my best to smile. It’s crooked and half-assed. “I’m fine, sweetheart.”

“Are you mad?” she hedges. Ryker hugs her a little tighter letting her know it’s gonna be alright.

“About?”

Rox chews her bottom lip. “Um…”

“Roxie found out about me bein’ her dad a while ago,” Ryker cuts in, taking the heat off my nervous Nellie. Not that she has anything to be worried about. I’m not angry. Shocked? Yes. Mad? Not at all.

I gentle my tone. “Were you afraid to tell me, Rox?”

“Yes. I didn’t want you to be angry that I found a picture of him at our old house under your bed… I promise I didn’t tell Scarlett until I thought he might…” Her face drains of color. “Die,” she whispers hoarsely, then buries her nose in his pec. Ryker holds on tight to both his kids, those beautiful blue eyes of his shining bright with tears. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows hard and closes his eyes for a brief moment to get his shit together. Following suit, I do the same to combat the burning sensation in my nostrils. Darn emotions.

Not wanting the girls to think I’m angry at them in any capacity, I clear the air. “Rox, I’m not mad at all. Just a little surprised. It’s okay you told your sister. I understand you needed someone to talk to. I wish you would’ve confided in me, too. I’m always here for you.”

Brushing a few stray blonde hairs off her face, cheek smashed to Ryker’s chest, Roxie replies, “I know. But you’ve been crying so much. And with you takin’ care of the baby, and doing all you’re doing, I didn’t want you to worry more.”

“Sweetheart, I’m a mom, I worry about everything.” Can I get an amen?

Arching a brow, faking a sly smile, I do what moms do to lessen the load on their children’s shoulders. “Did you know that moms worry so much that we count how many vegetables you’ve eaten each week, so we know you’ll grow big and strong?”

“You do?” Scarlett pipes up for once. For a minute there I thought she was living in her own little Scarlett shaped world full of unicorns, dads, rainbows, glitter nail polish, and babies, in no particular order.

“Yep. And I count how many juice boxes are left in the fridge every single day,” I emphasize, dropping my glasses down my nose with big round eyes for effect. If I run out, Scarlett and Bear will never let me live it down. A big man like that can put Juicy Juice away like a champ. When he’s around, I’m refilling our stock twice a week if not more. I blame it on their drinking competitions. Scarlett swears she’s gonna beat Papa one of these days. It hasn’t happened, yet. Give it a few more years.

“And how many pie slices there’s left,” Kade adds out of nowhere, shocking me to my core.

Where the hell did that come from?

Scarlett snorts a cute laugh. “That’s true, Uncle Kade, she does. She even hides the extra slices in the bottom of the fridge, so nobody touches them.”

Ryker grins knowingly.

Roxie nods in agreement.

I groan, bested.

Being the bigger person, at least in front of Rox and Scarlett, I turn toward Kade and make a silly face, doing jazz hands. “What-ever. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

My antics ignite a round of giggles from my kids, a chuckle from the sexiest man alive, and the most soft, half-cocked, heartwarming grin from my best friend. That I still want to throttle even if the desire isn’t quite as strong as it was an hour ago or a day before that.

Shaping a heart using his long fingers, Kade puts it over his sternum and lifts his chin at me in silent acknowledgment. Another sliver of resentment sloughs off, replaced by unconditional love for my Dickcheese, my best friend, my amigo. Message successfully delivered. Lordy, I sure do love this numbskull.

Throwing the sweet guy a bone, I return the exact same sentiment and chin lift. Surprised by my actions, I swear the poor guy sucks in the sharpest breath I’ve ever heard before covering his face with both hands. Uh… please tell me he isn’t crying or about to. That wasn’t my intention. Crap. Yep. His shoulders are shaking as a tiny hiccup echoes through the small space.

Glancing over at Ryker for help, he inclines his head in Kade’s direction as if saying, “Go on. Give the man a hug.”

Right. I can do this without bawling. I think. No, I can. I can do this. Yes.

Steeling my emotions, I approach Kade like you would a wounded animal—cautiously, and pry a palm from his face. Ignoring the wet streaks painting his cheeks, I ease him to his feet and pull him into my arms, careful not to crush little man in the process. Kade’s strong biceps wrap around my neck, head stuffed into the crook, hot breath steaming the skin there as I massage my hands up and down his spine in soothing strokes.

“I-I’m so sorry,” he sobs softly beneath my ear.

Sucking back my own tears, I peck the side of his jaw. “I know. Me, too.”

“Please don’t hate me.” Kade’s vulnerability guts me. This isn’t like him.

“I could never. Even if I wanna shove the largest eggplant up your ass sometimes for pissing me off, I still love you.”

Kade rewards me with a tiny chuckle, his tense muscles relaxing under my ministrations. “You had to go there, didn’t ya?”

“It got ya to laugh.”

He chuckles again. “You’re good at that.”

Dragging his lips across the shell of my ear, my cheek, Kade pulls back, and cups my face in his big mitts before leaning in to press a single kiss to my upturned nose. Our eyes meet. His rimmed in red, with dark half-moons hanging underneath, indicative of our shitty week full of stress and fitful nights of sleep. “You’re amazing, Kat. And I’m truly sorry for what went down the other day. It was uncalled for. I should’ve handled it differently.”

Laying my hand over his that’s cupping my jaw, I lean into his comforting touch, grinning up at him. “We’re both guilty parties, Kade. I forgive you.”

Kade brushes a thumb across my scarred cheek, his adoring gaze soaking up the contours of my face. “Promise me the next time we fight that we don’t let it fester. I was fuckin’ miserable without you talkin’ to me.”

“Deal.” Yanking my Dickcheese into another hug, we hold on to each other for ages, not wanting to let go, until a little someone makes a squeaking sound between us like he’s about to wake up. His legs shift inside the wrap, tiny toes pressing on my bump.

Upon hearing the noise, Kade makes a hasty retreat. “Whoa, we didn’t squish him, did we?”

For someone who isn’t fond of the baby, the worry etched across Kade’s face seems quite the opposite.

Stroking little man’s bottom as I peek inside the wrap to check on him, I shake my head to squash Kade’s concern. “No. He’s fine. I have a feeling he’s about to wake up. He’ll need a diaper change and a bottle soon.” My nose wrinkles, now remembering what I forgot to bring inside. “Which means we’ll have to leave. I left the diaper bag in the truck.”

The bald hottie lying in bed makes a disgruntled sound in the back of this throat.

“You drove separately? I thought Pops or Ghost was bringin’ ya?” Kade asks.

“No. I drove the pickup that Dad gave me to drive. He brought Scarlett and Rox to the hospital after school, so I didn’t have to make a special trip. I had to come into town anyhow to take the baby to the pediatrician for his first checkup.” Which went splendidly. He’s put on three ounces since birth. Dr. Huggins was impressed, considering most babies lose weight after they’re born. Both of my girls did. As an added bonus, meeting the new doctor, whom I adore to pieces, was the icing on the cake of my morning. I not only got a clean bill of health for Boy Knox, I also tied down a pediatrician for Baby Girl Knox. At least until we return to Indiana, whenever that might be.

“You went alone?” This comes from Ryker.

Turning around so I can see both men at the same time, I reply an even. “Yes.”

Apparently, this displeases them, if their matching scowls are any indication. It’s not like I had a choice. Bear was busy. Dad was grabbing the girls from school. Rosie left. Kade’s been here with Ryker since the accident. What was I supposed to do? Not go? Why? When I’m perfectly capable of driving a truck and taking a child to a doctor’s appointment. I’ve been doing it for years on my own.

Before either of them get a chance to scold me and my choices, I cut them off at the pass. They don’t want to argue with me on this. I’ll win. Mama Tiger always does. “I’m happy to report he’s healthy and growing like a weed.” Not that either of them gives a fuck.

“That’s not the point, Tiger,” Ryker grumbles.

“Then what is?” My attitude comes out in spades, hip cocked, lips pursed.

“You’re carryin’ my kid. ‘Bout ready to fu—freakin’ pop. Ghost should’ve gotten you a car to drive. Not a damn truck. You shouldn’t have to climb that high let alone carryin’ a car seat,” Ryker growls, pauses, then shifts his pissed off gaze to Kade. “What the hell were they thinkin’? Club shit hasn’t been fully handled, and now they’ve got my woman runnin’ around town without protection. In a truck, no less. With a goddamn baby in her belly and another in the backseat. If you don’t fuckin’ get them in line before I get outta here, I’m gonna kill ‘em when I do. Ya got me, brother?”

“Yep, I was thinkin’ the same thing.” Snatching his cut off the couch, Kade slips it on with a halo of ‘don’t fuck with me’ surrounding him. Sheesh, all this testosterone suffusing the air is stifling, and for what? Me riding in a truck with a baby. Damn alpha males and their misplaced macho bullshit. If I didn’t know this was coming from a good place, I’d consider it an insult.

Kade lifts his chin to my blonde angels. “Girls, why don’t you come with me for a bit. Give your mom and dad time to talk. Maybe we can grab somethin’ to eat in the cafeteria, and find the squirt’s diaper bag so your mom can feed him when he gets hungry. You game?”

Ryker

Kissin’ my baby girls goodbye, I watch as they hug my woman next before they leave with their uncle to munch in the cafeteria. Surprisingly enough, the food’s not half bad. The stuffed shells I had for lunch were better than expected. Kade’s been living off the grub for a week and hasn’t complained. Anything’s better than the sludge we grew up eatin’ at the clubhouse. Beans and rice all the damn time, along with canned applesauce. Disgusting as fuck. Oh, and that budget friendly mac ‘n’ cheese. Pops was too cheap for Kraft. The noodles were always either undercooked or over. The sauce too soupy or pasty. Kade and I used to sneak peanut butter sandwiches just so we didn’t have to eat whatever the brothers attempted to cook. For dessert, our asses ate cheap ice cream cones filled with store brand chocolate syrup. The same stuff we used to make chocolate milk. It didn’t taste like Hershey’s, but it’s not like we had a choice in the matter.

Pattin’ a spot on my bed for my little Tiger to come sit, I attempt to coax her over. I want her close enough to touch, smell, and maybe… if she’ll let me—taste. Not her pussy, ya dirty fucker, get your mind outta the gutter. I wanna taste her sinful mouth. The one that’s been tempting me since she walked through that door lookin’ sexy as fuck in her cute maternity leggings, Chucks, glasses, and white flowy top that’s covered with crisscross segments of gray fabric. She used to wrap our kids up in those contraptions to keep ‘em close to her breast. I’ve never been so turned on by anything in my life. Gorgeous. Simply goddamn gorgeous. I know it’s not the best time to get hard, but my dick doesn’t care. He’s too busy sniffin’ the air underneath this blanket for our woman’s sweet scent.

When Kat pauses too long contemplating if she should get close, by worryin’ her bottom lip between her teeth, I pat the spot again with my uninjured arm. “Baby, get your ass over here.”

The stubborn minx doesn’t budge, and my cock gets all the harder. Narcotics and pain can’t keep the good man down. Not when his drug of choice is standing in the same room. Fuck. I wonder if painkillers will take the edge off the massive case of blue balls she’s bound to give me.

Ignorin’ my request, Kat adjusts her ponytail over her shoulder and checks the bundle strapped to her chest. “We need to talk about him,” she says, starin’ at the kid, not me.

This is not the territory I wanted to cover so soon. Couldn’t she forget how much of a prick I am, cuddle on me some, give me a kiss or two, then go back to remembering how much shit I’ve done, and give me hell about the baby she’s holdin’? One kiss. That’s it. That’s all I want. All I’ve thought about since I woke up this mornin’, when Pops told Kade he’d try to get Katrina here today to see me with the girls.

Fuck it.

I’ve died twice and fought to stay alive for her. There’s nobody else I need to live for. Nobody, but her. When it comes to women, they love their kids the most in the world. For men, it’s our old ladies above all else. That part hasn’t changed since the moment I laid eyes on her when we were basically dumb kids playin’ house, havin’ babies, and lovin’ each other with everything we had before I messed us up. If I’m breathing on this earth because of my unconditional love for her, then I damn well better be man enough to say what needs to be said.

Exhaling a deep breath that aches all the way into my chest, I go for broke. “Kat… Tiger… I… Listen, I know we gotta figure shit out with the kid. But I need your mouth on mine in the next minute, or I’m climbin’ outta this fuckin’ bed to take it. It’s been a rough month. I know I put you through some shit with Vanessa and all that. You have every right to be pissed. But right now, for me, for… us, get your sexy ass over here and kiss the man who loves you, like you mean it… Please.” I’m not opposed to beggin’ if necessary.

“Eee, eh,” Kat squeaks, her cheeks flushing, lips partin’ in a way that tells me she wants it, too. She shifts on her feet, unsure.

I’ll be damned if my babe chickens out on me now. Not when I know she wants it. Bet her nipples are hard, thinkin’ of the plethora of naughty things I’d love to do to her body, too, but can’t.

Crookin’ a finger in the come-hither motion, I demand, “Now, babe. Right fuckin’ now. Stop overthinkin’. Lips on mine. You’ve got twenty seconds.”

Kat takes a tiny step in my direction that feels like a mile.

That’s it, sweetheart, take another step toward your man.

Overeager, my dick jumps, painting pre-cum along the underside of my unsexy hospital gown.

“Eighteen, seventeen, sixteen,” I count down to get her sexy ass in gear. “Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen—”

“Really, Ryker?” Kat smiles all teeth and beauty.

Damn, if that doesn’t take my breath away.

“Really, babe. I’m desperate here. Need some mouth-to-mouth. Yours on mine. Maybe some tongue action if you’re up for it. I brushed my teeth before you came.” Lifting both hands in front of me, I edge her forward with an exaggerated ‘gimmie gimmie’ gesture.

Red-faced, swollen lips slightly parted, Kat shuffles closer and closer, a tiny bit at a time, like I’m luring her forth ‘til I’ve got the fox standing beside my bed. Not givin’ two fucks how much this might hurt, I sit up further, reach out, gently wrap my palm around the base of her neck, and draw her mouth to mine. She gasps a tiny breath. Then it’s on. Lips molded to lips, I take what I want, not asking for permission. Hot and dirty I kiss my lady; flick her mouth with my tongue to gain entry, and delve into a luscious pool of slick heat, dueling for ownership. Groaning, I savor the sweet warmth seepin’ into me. The little moans emitting from her throat. The way she lays a tentative hand on my shoulder to steady herself. My dick throbs, wantin’ to throw her down and fuck her into the mattress. I shove that urge to the wayside and attack her lips, pourin’ infinite love into our connection, ‘til we’re both left a panting mess of unspent lust and hormones.

Drawin’ back to let Kat catch her breath, I bring her forehead to mine where we can just be. Skin on skin. Hearts pounding. Her vanilla, cinnamon scent wraps around me like a thick blanket of fuckin’ hotness, getting my cock all the harder. I ache for her. I’ve ached for Kat for years, and havin’ her within arm’s reach, I ache the most. Wanting more. Ready to put a ring on that finger if she’d let me. Undoubtedly my Tiger would tell me to shove that diamond up my ass. Though, I’d gladly do it with a smile on my face.

With Vanessa in my rearview. Her death, as bad as it sounds, a relief. It’s time for us to get the happily ever after Kat’s deserved for too many goddamn years. Sure, it might be too soon following Vanessa’s untimely demise for my old lady to accept my hand in marriage. For me, I’m ready today. I don’t feel any sense of loss from my ex’s death, not one bit. There was no love there. I only married her because she was pregnant, and I thought I was doin’ the right thing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a complete heartless prick. I don’t wish for anyone to go out the way she did. Then again, if she hadn’t died in the car that day, Big would’ve ordered a hit on her shortly after the baby was born. Either way, her time on earth was numbered. Instead, she became collateral damage to a club she thought cared for her. When in reality she was a means to an end. The damn fool couldn’t see that when she was rattin’ on me and my club behind our backs. And for that, she had to be put down one way or another. Maybe someday, when my blood’s not focused below the belt, I’ll tell ya about the fuckload of information Kade dropped on me today about Vanessa’s deception. It’s a doozy.

“Sit down, baby, before your legs give out.” Breaking our connection, I scoot over a smidge to give Kat plenty of space to take a load off. Thankfully, she does without puttin’ up a fight. For once.

One leg hooked on the bed, bent at the knee, foot danglin’ over the edge of the mattress, my woman turns to face me, her hands curving around our unborn daughter. Needing to touch her somehow, I rest a palm on her thigh. Drawin’ circles absentmindedly with a fingertip, I soak up her closeness like a sponge.

“Was that enough of a kiss for you?” She grins shyly, crimson burnin’ her cheeks.

Adorable. Completely adorable.

Tilting my head to the side, raisin’ a flirty brow, I lay it on thick to get my need for her across. “Sweetheart, whether you gave me one kiss, fifty, or a hundred, it’s never gonna be enough. Ever. But, that’ll do for now. Until you’re ready to kiss me some more.”

Kat’s breath hitches at my confession, but she schools her reaction quickly. “More, huh?”

“Yep. You know you like my tongue in your mouth, babe.” I wink, grinnin’ like the pussy whipped fool I am.

Taken aback by my response, she presses her lips together trying hard not to smile. Knowin’ I gotta dial it down a notch, so she doesn’t end up runnin’ outta the room from all the declarations of love I wanna throw at her, I change the subject by pointin’ to the wigglin’ bundle attached to her chest. We’ll get back to my flirtin’ later, since my dick also needs a reprieve. He’s cursin’ me to hell and back for not givin’ him the attention he needs. Down boy.

Drawing the wrap back, exposing a puff of the boy’s dark, almost black hair, Kat traces a finger down his tiny cheek. “He’s yours, Ryker. There’s no way you can deny him.”

Kat

It’s been many years, so I’m not sure Ryker even remembers, but this little one looks so much like his sisters when they were born, aside from the hair color. I know, I know, you’re probably thinking, “All babies look the same, Kat. You’re projecting.” But I’m not. His eyes are the exact same color as Ryker’s, Kade’s, Bear’s, Scarlett’s, and Roxie’s. That’s how I know with my whole heart that this baby’s his.

When Ryker doesn’t respond to my declaration, I push harder to make him see the light. “He has your eyes and chin.” Adjusting so he can get a good look at the baby’s full face, I notice the instant he sees the cleft. His eyes widen as if he didn’t expect that similarity.

Reaching in with a single finger he touches that unique spot then yanks away as if the infant burned him. I frown, and re-cover the sweet angel, shielding him from the narrow gaze of his confused father. A week old and he’s been dismissed more times than I care to count. All because they lack faith, or choose to deny the truth. No child deserves that.

“The chin doesn’t prove he’s mine, Kat,” Ryker argues, his finger lightly tracing lines on the top of my thigh.

Well. No. I suppose that’s true.

I shrug one shoulder. “Not completely, but he looks like our daughters did when they were born.”

“Most babies look alike, and our daughters have blonde hair.”

See, I knew he and everyone else would say that. However, with Vanessa and Ryker both having dark hair what else would this angel come out with? Blonde, like me? Hardly. This isn’t magic. It’s genetics.

“Why must you and Kade fight me on this?” I counter with a huff.

“Because, babe.”

That’s not good enough.

“That’s a mom answer. I think I deserve a little more than because. Don’t you?”

“Of course you do. I just… look… I know you’re attached to him. He’s a cute little guy. I can see why you would be. But I gotta get a paternity test done to show he’s mine before I’m gonna put my heart in it.”

“Because you don’t think he’s yours,” I add for him because we all know that’s the case. He can’t put his heart in when he doesn’t, in his heart, believe the baby’s blood is his. Just like Kade doesn’t, and from the way Bear’s been acting, he doesn’t either. What a crock of shit. All three of these sorry suckas are gonna feel terrible when a simple, albeit pointless DNA test proves them wrong. Look at his chin. His eyes. Hold him for a while. Then tell me he doesn’t feel like family.

Ryker scrubs a hand over his bald head, obviously not liking where this talk’s leading. “I don’t know either way. Fuck, babe, don’t get mad.”

“I’m not mad,” I intone, wanting to roll my eyes, slap him, make him see the light… something.

“You’re a horrible liar.”

He’s right, there’s no use in denying it. “Okay, fine. I’m upset. Everyone keeps blowing him off like he’s not a person, too. Well, he is. And his mother died. Your wife died. Does that mean nothing?”

Everyone keeps acting as if she doesn’t matter. Nobody has said squat about her, mourned her death—not a damn thing. Two days after her death I got a call from the coroner’s office asking what to do with the body. Me. The ex-girlfriend. How they got my new cell number, I don’t have a clue. Didn’t ask. What did I do? I called Dad, and he called somebody else, and somebody else contacted somebody else to find out she has family up in New York. I had no idea she didn’t have any here. I guess I just assumed she did. They cremated her remains per the family member’s instruction. I guess, because I didn’t speak to the family. And someone in the club is transferring her remains up there. That’s all I know. When I argued that they should probably keep some of the ashes for her son; you know, for when he grows up and wants to know more about his mom, because that’s what a decent person would do, they blew me off. Fucking assholes, the whole lot of ‘em. Now can you see why I said this week has been shit… shit… and more shit?

“You want the truth?” Ryker tests as if I’m gonna say no.

“Of course, I want the truth.”

“Alright. You want the truth, I’ll give it to you straight up. No bullshit.” He pauses a beat, scrubs a hand down his handsome, stubbly face, groans like this is the last type of conversation he wants to have, then pulls up his big boy panties and carries on. “I never loved Vanessa, Kat. Then I began to resent the hell outta her as time went on. Once she ratted out you and my club, I hated her guts. So her bein’ dead is no skin off my back. I’m glad she’s gone. One less thing for me to have to deal with.”

Wait… what the ever-lovin' fuck? How can he say that? No skin off his back? That’s cold, even for him. Who says that about someone they married? That woman, he cares nothing about, carried his son for almost nine months. Whether he believes this baby’s his or not. He is. Then she died the same damn day he was born. She wasn’t my favorite person in the world, but at least I have the decency to feel sorry for the poor soul. And even more so for her son, that’ll never get a chance to know her. It’s heartbreaking.

A fresh wave of anger boils my blood at his callousness, washing away the remnants of the life-altering kiss we shared moments ago. “You can’t be serious. His mother’s dead and you’re happy about it?”

Ryker scowls. “I didn’t say happy.”

Tossing both hands up, exasperated, I’m ready to beat his ass. “She was your wife.”

“Not the one I wanted,” he counters with no remorse.

Seriously? He’s going there?

“Yet, you married her anyway.”

“Because I was stupid.”

Oh, smart guy, he’s got a good answer for everything. Well la-de-freakin’-da.

Unable to sit a moment longer in fear I’ll break his nose with my fist, I slide off the mattress to my feet. Turning toward my… Asshole, I shake an enraged finger at him, my tone rising half a dozen octaves. “I… I can’t believe you don’t care she’s dead. She has a son she should be caring for.”

Ryker lifts his chin defiantly, returning a smug, “That would be better off raised by someone like you who’s a fine mother, than an attention whore like her.”

I know there’s a compliment nestled inside that statement somewhere, but I’m too peeved to give two shits.

“People change when they become mothers, Ryker. You don’t know what kind of mother she would’ve been,” I argue as the munchkin on my chest wakes with a start, thanks to my big mouth. Patting the sweetheart’s back, I sway my body side to side to try and lure him back to dreamland. Way to go, Kat, arguing in front of an infant. Not my finest moment.

Mr. I’ve-Got-An-Answer-For-Everything isn’t done. “No. You’re right. I don’t know what kinda mother she would’ve been. But that doesn’t change my opinion that he’d be better off in this world with a woman like you takin’ care of him. You have more love and compassion in your pinky than she did in her whole damn body. You might not like the way I feel, Kat. But you wanted the truth, so I’m layin’ it out for you. I dunno how many times I gotta tell you that you’re the only woman I’ve ever loved in my life. The only one that I’m ever gonna love. You’re it for me. Have always been it for me. I know this little boy means somethin’ to you. And if he turns out to be mine, he’ll mean somethin’ to me, too. Until then, like I said, I can’t put my heart in it.”

“Why can’t you forget the paternity test and put your heart in it now?” Dammit, why am I on the verge of crying? This baby is so easy to love. If they’d give him a chance. They’d see how amazing he is.

Ryker’s face softens as he offers me a sad smile. “Babe, do you honestly think it would be right for me to claim some kid simply because his mother’s dead?”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“’Cause he’s got a father that might not be me. I wouldn’t want someone robbin’ me of a chance to have my kid. What kinda man would I be if I selfishly kept him for myself without findin’ out the truth? Not only for my sake, but the boys’. He also deserves to know who his real dad is. I’m not sayin’ I would hate if it was me. I’m sayin’ I wanna know for sure, for everyone’s peace of mind.”

Son of an ugly monkey’s uncle, why does he have to make sense? Why can’t I stay mad at him? He’s right. I can’t believe I said that. But it’s true. He’s… right. Ugh! I don’t want for him to be right. It is selfish of me to want Ryker to keep the sweet angel without a blood test. I’m ashamed to admit I never thought about what another man might be missing out on, if he’s not Ryker’s. Even though, I’m positive he is. The chin seals the deal for me. It’s only a matter of time before I’ll be dancing circles around Kade and Ryker doin’ the ‘I told you so’ dance. Until then, I’ll care for the baby and let Ryker keep his distance without getting too upset about it.

Defeated by the craptastic week I’ve had, I perch myself back on the side of Ryker’s bed as the squirmy worm begins to make loud sucking noises trying to devour his tiny fist. Sideways glancing at my ex, I gesture to the kid. “You got a problem if I take him out?”

“Of course not. By all means.”

Not needing to be told twice, I reach one hand inside the wrap, get a safe hold on the cutie pie and extract him. Pushing my luck a little, I lay him on his back beside Ryker, so he can stretch a bit in his Superman footie pajamas, courtesy of Grandpa Ghost. Which he does as soon as he’s put down. Arms go out, legs stretch wide, he yawns the sweetest yawn. Then those baby blues pop right on open for his dad to see. What does Ryker do? He stares at him, mesmerized. Part of me wishes he’d touch him, or maybe have him hold his finger. That’s a pipe dream, I know. But ya can’t blame a girl for hoping.

As I rub the little guy’s tummy, his slender fingers go back to his mouth. Hopefully, Kade and the girls get back soon with his formula. He needs to eat, and I’m not producing milk yet to feed him. Trust me, I’ve tried pumping. Not much comes out. So he’s going to have to wait to get breast milk whenever daughter number three is born. I should have plenty to share with the both of them.

A comfortable silence descends upon the space as both of us focus our attention on the wide-awake infant. Ryker’s eyes swap to me every now and again before they resettle on the boy. Minutes tick by, and I find myself relaxing, the former tension bleeding from my muscles. It feels good to simply be in the same room with the two of them.

“Have you named him?” Ryker whispers tentatively.

Um… is this a trick question? Should I lie and say no? Probably not.

“In private, I have. But I dunno if he’ll be allowed to keep the name I gave him, so I’ve kept it between the two of us. He’s not gonna tell anybody. It’s our little secret,” I mumble the last part, smirking.

Ryker snickers. “You wanna let me in on your secret?”

Keeping up the silly secretiveness, I continue to whisper. “Can I trust you?”

“Always, babe.”

My heart thumps faster as his admission does mushy things to my insides. Nope, now’s not the time to swoon. Although, it’s not my fault Ryker still looks edible enough to eat after he almost died. Who in the hell goes from being in the ICU for days, lookin’ pale and half dead… to this? The dark scruff on his face is so deliciously overgrown I can’t help but wonder how it’d feel between my thighs. Yes, I’m that twisted in the head. When I should be asking how he’s feeling, I’m picturing his lips sucking my clit. Pathetic. Plus, the hair on his head is just starting to grow back in. Which shouldn’t be sexy, yet, is. The man has a cast on his leg for cryin’ out loud, and bandages all over the place, and I still wanna kiss those lips, straddle that trim waist, and ride him like a prized bull. Oh God… I can’t believe I just admitted that. Stop thinking, Kat. Stop your damn thinking. I’ve always known my attraction to Ryker was illogical. Picturing him naked as he sits in a hospital bed saying sweet things to me is bordering on disgraceful. Gah! I’ve gotta keep it together.

Ignoring my body’s reaction, I slip a finger in the baby’s hand. He wraps his fist around it in a strong grip. Avoiding eye contact with Ryker, I gather the courage to tell him what I’ve been calling his son when we’re alone. Let’s pray he doesn’t hate it, because I really want him to keep it.

“I…um…” Nervous beyond measure, I stop to clear the tickle in my throat. “I—I named him Walker.”

Before I can chance a sideways glance at Ryker’s reaction, a gruff burst of all-consuming laughter fills the air. What in the world? How’s his name funny? Am I missing something here? Eyeing my ex like he’s lost his damn mind, I watch him lose it. On and on he busts a gut, his face pinched, tears leaking down his mottled cheeks. He pauses a brief second to catch his breath before losing it all over again. Pressing my lips together I force myself not to smile or chuckle alongside the lunatic. Unfortunately, the way the laugh lines on his face crinkle, as he lights up a room with that deep, sexy melody, it’s difficult to remain impassive.

Holding his stomach, he gasps, “Oh. Oh. God. I. You gotta warn a man, babe. I. This hurts. Fuck!”

Crossing my arms over my ample chest, I rise both eyebrows to my hairline. “What’s so funny? Huh?”

The bastard downgrades to a chuckle. “You named him…” He chokes on a half-laugh. “Walker.”

Summoning my inner snob, I tip my perky nose toward the ceiling like a British aristocrat with a superiority complex. “So?”

I happen to think it’s a perfect name.

Ryker wipes the wetness from his face using the corner of his blanket. “You… you named him after your childhood crush.”

“I did not.” I lie.

“You so did. Crybaby Walker. Oh. My… Just when I think you can’t get any more fuckin’ cute, you go and name a kid that might be mine after a biker in a cheesy as fuck movie.”

Harrumphing, I wrinkle my upturned nose, displeased. “It’s a good name,” I grump.

“It’s perfect,” he agrees.

Wait. What? I wasn’t expecting that.

“It is?” I ask, disbelief hugging my words.

Ryker jerks a firm nod leaving no room for interpretation. “Hell yeah. You named Scarlett after Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind. Roxie after Roxie Hart from that old ass play you like. Now you’re gonna name him,” he juts his chin toward the infant, beaming fondly at me, “Walker, after fuckin’ Crybaby Walker.”

“Crybaby’s name is Wade Walker, I’ll have you know. And I like Walker not just because it’s from one of my favorite movies when I was a kid. I also love it, because… well…” Maybe I shouldn’t say. He’s only gonna make fun of me again.

“Go on, babe. Say it,” he urges with a grin.

Unsure, I nibble the corner of my lip. “I don’t think I should.”

“Come on.” He nudges my hip with his leg.

Expelling a long-suffering sigh, I concede. “Fiiine. My grandma and I used to watch Walker Texas Ranger when I was young. We always thought my dad sorta looked like he could be brothers with Chuck Norris. Of course, that was before his hair grew out and he got all those tattoos.”

Ryker taps his chin with two fingers, contemplating. “Hmmm, I guess I never thought about it before. But your dad does kinda look like Chuck Norris in the face and body. They don’t share the same hair color, though.”

Bobbing my head in agreement, I add, “And, Walker ends with k-e-r like Ryker does.”

Laying his hand atop mine that’s resting beside Walker on the mattress, Ryker squeezes my fingers gently beneath his. Meeting my gaze, he quirks a tender grin that ignites a kaleidoscope of dancing butterflies in my chest. “It’s a perfect name, babe. You did good.”

Pride swells.

Guess now’s not the time to mention I gave Walker the middle name Van in honor of his late mother. Walker Van Knox has a nice ring to it, don’t ya think?

Instead of trudging up more about Vanessa, knowing it’ll irritate Ryker, I stay the course. The one that flitters warmth throughout my middle.

Staring at our joined hands, I mumble, “Do you think he can keep that name if… you know…”

“If he’s mine? Of course, sweetheart, you can name him whatever you want. Just like our new baby girl. I don’t care what name’s they get as long as you’re happy with them.”

Sigh…

Why does he make it so hard to hate him? After all we’ve been through, I should despise the air he breathes. Yet, all I want is to love him with my entire being. Is that foolish? Yes. My brain knows it is. While my heart sings a beautiful song that calls to only one other heart in the galaxy—Ryker’s.

Another stretch of comfortable silence descends upon the room as we seem to get lost in our thoughts. Mine—of us, our children, Walker, and what this means for my future. Do I belong here? Could I belong here? Am I happy? Now that the girls know Ryker’s their dad, how does that change things? There’s so much to think about… to decide. And if I did wish to stay, would he want us to? Is that a long-term option? What about my home in Indiana? It seems as if my family moved across country overnight to settle in a place that feels more like home than ever before. Not because of the cabin, which is wonderful. But the people. Home is where the people you love are. And the majority of the ones I love are here. Strange isn’t it? You picture your life one way, only to be thrown in a different direction without any foresight.

Minutes tick by at a leisurely pace as Walker gets antsier for food. His fingers won’t cut it much longer. Reaching in the top of my shirt, straight into the left cup of my bra, I extract my phone with no shame. These leggings are pocketless, and I hadn’t planned on staying long enough to need a purse or diaper bag. I left those tucked under the seat in the pickup along with the keys. There’s a giant Sacred Sinner’s decal on the rear window of the truck, nobody would dare touch it, or so I’ve learned. Most tend to give it, and me, a wide berth. Not that anybody would want to steal a raggedy old Chevy anyhow. It’s a piece of shit.

Drawing up Kade’s name on my phone for the first time in almost a week, I type a quick message.

Could you please bring the diaper bag back soon? The baby is getting hungry.

Not awaiting his reply I tuck the phone back where it belongs. Then I glance up just in time to catch Ryker adjusting the blanket over his crotch, eyes glued to my boobs as he licks his lips hungrily. Whoa, buddy, what you doin’ there? Is that a banana under that blanket or are you just happy to see me? Dear Lord…Never mind. I don’t wanna know. Nope. I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole. He’s not doing anything with anything large, and hard, underneath that covering. Not at all. He’s merely a concerned citizen, wondering where I store my cell. That’s it. Nothing to see here people. Move along.

Roughly clearing my throat, pretending I didn’t notice that thing that didn’t happen, happened, I pose a simple question. “So when will you be com—going home?”

“This week sometime. Whenever the doc sets me free.” He’s so nonchalant it almost makes me forget… you know… the thing that has the pussycat in my pants ready to tango. That wanton bitch is constantly wanting to dance with her favorite partner.

That’s enough, Kat. Head out of the gutter, and in the game.

Fidgeting with my fingers in my lap, staring at them as my thumbs wrestle each other, I continue to make awkward small talk. “That’s… ah… good.”

He doesn’t have a boner. He doesn’t have a boner. He doesn’t have a boner.

“It’ll be nice to get back to the cabin. To spend time with you all.”

All. Minus Walker until the test confirms the truth.

“All. Uh huh,” I murmur.

“Jesus Christ, Kat, why are you actin’ so strange?”

I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole either.

Swallowing thickly, I shrug in response.

“Babe, did I do somethin’ wrong?”

Nope. For once you didn’t. Not at all. You just happen to have an erection because you were eyeing my breasts like you want them for dinner. You don’t believe Walker’s yours. And I’ve been a little needy lately—sexually speaking. Ha. As if I’d admit that to him, even though it happens toward the end of all my pregnancies—the urge to screw nonstop. Every small thing sets me ablaze. Pretty darn certain my panties are soaked from all the Ryker stimuli. The kiss we shared only has a small fraction to do with the… ya know… slippery when wet situation.

Not trusting my voice not to betray whatever jazzed thing I’m feeling down under, I shake my head to answer his question.

Ryker sighs like he doesn’t believe me. “Is this about the ba—Walker?”

Of all the times for my sex drive to rev to a hundred, it had to be here, right now. I hate my body sometimes. One boner and I’m salivating.

Oops, he was talking, wasn’t he?

When I don’t promptly respond, he adds, “Will it make ya feel any better if I call the nurses down to swab us for the DNA test right now?”

Why yes it would. Except I don’t want them getting a firsthand view of Ryker’s hardy eggplant show. Then again, sooner would be better.

Forcing the buzzing in my clit to the recesses of my mind, along with the tingling ache in my breasts, I put myself in check. Then shift on the mattress to meet Ryker’s concerned gaze.

“That would be really nice. No need to wait to find out,” I reply with a forced smile.

Ryker reaches over to brush a strand of blonde hair out of my face. The heat of his fingertip traces across my cheek. “My thoughts exactly, babe.”

Warmth and love bubbles in my gut at his sweetness.

“Maybe Kade and the girls will be back by then, so I can feed Walker. Then you should probably get some rest.”

Tipping his head back, sinking it into his pillow, Ryker expels a yawn. “That sounds perfect.”

Kat

He’s home. Home sweet home. Two days ago Ryker was out of the ICU and placed in a regular room. Now he’s resting on the couch in the cabin’s living room, wearing a pair of breakaway pants and a navy blue long sleeve t-shirt. Beside the sofa arm is this strange knee scooter thingy. It’s to aid his mobility since he can’t use crutches after being shot in the arm and shoulder. At least that’s what he said. We’ve been making small talk for the past twenty minutes never stopping to mention the pink elephant in the room—us and our living conditions. And since we’re alone alone, ya know, with the kids being in school and the baby asleep in the bedroom, it might be a good time to broach the subject. Then again, I’m not sure I want to have this conversation. It’ll make all this seem a bit too real. More so than before, when the club rivalry was an issue, and Ryker was leaving every day to stay with Vanessa. Now that she’s gone, there’s no club drama looming overhead, and our daughters know the truth, we’re in a different ballpark entirely. To be blunt, it’s scary as fuck. Change isn’t exactly easy. Not of this magnitude.

Sitting on what I’ve officially declared my chair, legs curled under me, plush blanket strewn across my lap, I stay the course, refusing to deviate from the path of nonsense until he decides to bring it up. “So your therapists will come three days a week?” Yes, this is our current topic. A real brain stimulator, can’t ya tell?

Lying on his back, one hand tucked behind his head, elbow out, Ryker nods. “I guess so. They said I can start rebuilding the strength back in my arm and shoulder a little at a time. Definitely won’t be doin’ pushups like before. At least not for a while.”

That sucks. I loved watching him and the girls together when he did pushups. All that sweat, flexing muscles, and oozing masculinity, was pure panty dropping porn. Such a shame he’ll have to work back up to that caliber.

“You’ll bounce back in no time,” I reassure, uncertain of how I’m supposed to respond.

“Has Ghost said anythin’ to you about the Suburban’s insurance money? The last I heard, Kade said they were workin’ on it,” Ryker swaps to another off the cuff topic.

That’s news to me. All I knew was the Suburban was totaled by gunfire. Some company came by and towed it away, along with Kade’s unrecognizable motorcycle. It’s been a whirlwind of construction crews coming and going this week, alongside a cleanup crew, a tow truck, and deliveries. I can barely keep up.

“Why would they talk to me about that?” I ask, confused.

“’Cause you’re not gonna drive that junker any fuckin’ more, that’s why. You shouldn’t have been drivin’ it to begin with. When Pops and Kade brought me home, I made sure to ream Pops good for handin’ ya the keys to that truck. Even if you weren’t carryin’ my kid, it still wouldn’t be a suitable ride for you. We’re gonna use the insurance money from the Suburban on whatever you wanna get that’s reliable.”

“Why would we do that? It’s not my truck. I didn’t pay for the Suburban.” Where’s all this we business coming from? We seem to be using it a lot. As if it’s second nature, an omen, or something.

“Doesn’t matter. This week we’re gonna check online to see what we can find. If you wanna car, I’m fine with that. If you wanna get another Suburban, we’ll make it work. With three kids, maybe four, you’re gonna need third-row seating. And we don’t do Fords in this family. So if you wanna get an SUV, we’re goin’ Chevy or GM.”

“If I get that then what are you gonna drive?” As far as I know, all he rides is his Harley.

“My bike or the piece of shit truck.”

“You don’t have anything else?”

“I guess I can see what settlement we’re gettin’ from Vanessa’s car insurance and from the sale of her trailer. I’ll buy myself somethin’ with that. If I can swing it, I’ll get a Tahoe this way we can have two third-row vehicles for the kids, their friends, and shit.” Ryker half-shrugs as if what he said isn’t a big deal. To me, it’s huge. He’s making long-term plans. Not until summer, when I’d planned on leaving plans. We’re talking future us plans.

Wait a minute. Vanessa’s stuff…

My nose wrinkles.

Perplexed, I hold my palm up. “Whoa, let’s take a step back. You’re pocketing the money from Vanessa’s trailer and car insurance?” That doesn’t seem right. Does it? He was her husband, so I suppose he’s entitled. Still… It feels wrong.

“Yes. I paid for the shit. It’s in my name.”

Oh. That makes sense. Perhaps he mentioned that to me before, but I don’t remember.

Satisfied by his answer, I pose the next question. “How do you propose we handle the girls now that they’re aware of who you are?” Yesterday, before bedtime, Roxie, still worried how I felt about her knowing Ryker’s her dad, decided to use me like a priest at a confessional. Evidently, my poor child needed to lift the burden of secrets that were weighing her down. From confessing when she told Ryker she knew who he was, to their secret father-daughter talks in the woods, it all erupted in one massive explosion of emotion. Needless to say, bedtime didn’t come until almost ten p.m. I was too busy reassuring both kids that it was okay they knew. That I wasn’t going to keep them from him. And that I loved them both dearly, no matter what happened in the future. Eventually, that seemed to satisfy their rambunctious minds enough to fall asleep. This morning, they were all smiles and bear hugs. Apparently, the talk worked wonders for Roxie’s conscience.

Stretching his casted leg out, Ryker readjusts its position on the couch arm. “How do you want to handle it?”

Didn’t I just ask that question?

“Umm… I asked you first.” Yep, I’ve officially downgraded to middle school responses. Next thing you know I’ll be yelling, ‘I’m rubber, you’re glue, whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you.’ Not that children say that anymore. I’ve never heard Roxie and Scarlett use that old school lingo. Maybe that language died with my generation. How sad. Now it’s all LOL, WTG, YOLO… aka please excuse me while I puke in my mouth. BTW, my generation created the infamous LOL. #WhatsUpNowBitches – See what I did there? ... Remind me never to do it again, or I might break out in hives.

Ryker arches a dark skeptical brow. “Babe, what I want doesn’t matter here. It’s about what you’re comfortable with.”

Awww… He can be so friggin sweet sometimes.

A happy flutter dances in my belly that has nothing to do with pregnancy.

Pressing my lips together I curb the urge to smile like a love-struck teen at a boy band concert. “I think…” Jesus, what the hell do I think? What do I want? Wracking my brain for a solution, I come up empty. My heart and mind are torn between what’s safe and what I desire.

“Let’s take this one step at a time, Kat. Can we agree that the girls callin’ me dad is acceptable?”

I nod. “Yes.”

It’ll be strange to hear at first, but I’m okay with that.

“I’ll help around the house with the girls the best I can. I’ll pull my own weight. So don’t you worry about havin’ to take care of me, too. You’ve got enough to handle. But, I gotta know, where am I gonna be sleepin’?”

“Where do you want to sleep?” I test.

“In bed with you.”

My heart leaps into my throat at the prospect.

I gulp it down.

“You do realize Walker’s in there in a bassinet. Why don’t I take the spare room so you can stay in your bedroom?”

Ryker’s eyes narrow, a furrow forming between his brows. “Hell fuckin’ no. If anyone’s takin’ the spare bed, it’s gonna be me.”

“But it’s your bedroom.”

“So? You think I’m gonna let my pregnant woman sleep in the spare room? No fuckin’ way. Our bed’s more comfortable, and there’s an attached bath. I don’t care if Walker’s in there. What do ya think is gonna happen when our daughter’s born? She’ll be sleepin’ in there, too. There’s no harm in us sharin’ the same bed, Kat. If you need help or go into labor, I’ll be right next to you. Rox and Scarlett already know I’m their dad so it shouldn’t be weird to have me in your bed.”

Why am I the only logical one in this conversation?

“But they might get the wrong idea. That their parents are getting back together. We don’t want to give them false hope. That’s not fair to them,” I illuminate.

Ryker scoffs. “False hope? What false hope? This is happenin’, Tiger. We’re happenin’. Vanessa’s outta the way, the club’s doin’ good, the cabin’s gettin’ repaired, and you’re havin’ my baby.”

He makes life sound so simple. It’s not.

Ryker seems to jump in feet first with every single decision, doesn’t he? With no desire to weigh the potential repercussions. Like how it might affect our children.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” I argue, not on board with his plan in the slightest. Does the prospect of sleeping in the same bed with Ryker make me giddy? Sorta… Okay. Yes. It does. I always loved sleeping next to him. But the fear of the unknown, and the logical part of myself can’t leap without looking. That’s not what sane adults do. At least not sane adults with three… no… four children, they have to consider.

Ryker’s persistent. “It means everything. I love you, and I’m pretty sure when I’m not fuckin’ up you love me, too. Maybe not as much as I love you, but I can work with that.”

Rolling my eyes, suppressing a flattered smile, I snort derisively. “You’re ridiculous.”

Growling under breath, the hand not tucked behind Ryker’s head flings heavenward. “I’m goddamn serious. You’re it. This is it. The planets have aligned. I’ve pulled my head outta my ass. There’s nothin’ holdin’ us back.”

“What about Indiana?” Betcha he didn’t think about that, now did he? This isn’t so cut and dry.

Not giving up without a fight, Ryker powers on, his gruff tone, toe-curling sexy yet merciless. “What the hell do ya mean? What about Indiana? There’s nothin’ tying you there. Your dad’s here. Your mom, as we both know, is too caught up in her new man to realize you’re gone. Your grandma will understand. Texas is as good of a place for you as any. You’ve got me, Kade, Pops, Ghost, and the protection of the club backin’ you here. When our daughter’s born, if you wanna get a job. Get a job. We’ll work it out. If you wanna do the stay at home mom thing, we can more than afford that lifestyle with the kinda money I make with the club.”

Club. Club. Club. Club… it all leads back to the club. Gah!

“See, that’s the problem…’the club.’ You chose them over me once before. How do I know that’s not gonna happen again? Plus, I have no idea what you even do for them. What does bein’ part of ‘the club’ entail?” Using quotes, I drive my dislike home. I can’t say I hate the Sacred Sinners. Big is their prez, and he’s always done right by me. And the Sacred Sisters are kind of amazing.

Not trying to sound like a broken record here… But, you can’t blame a girl for holding a tiny grudge when your children’s father abandons you for the club. Your dad fake dies and joins the club. In turn, leaving you fatherless for almost half your life. Then you get kidnapped, etcetera, etcetera, because of the club. If the club wasn’t forced into my life at a young age, half of this crap would’ve never happened. Then again, Rox, Scarlett, and my new baby girl wouldn’t be alive either. So the club’s not all bad. That’s why my grudge is tiny, while my apprehension’s great. Let’s just say they’ve yet to win me over.

“And you’re not gonna know what I do for them,” Ryker returns, his unbridled, no-nonsense tone demolishing any leeway I was willing to grant him for his club affiliation.

If he wants to be stubborn. I’ll show him stubborn.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I test, combing my fingers through my hair to keep calm. The last thing we need is me going off on him. I’m more sensible than that. At least, I’ll try to be. After the week I’ve had anything’s possible.

Lifting the hem of his shirt a smidge, Ryker scratches his stomach, giving me a peek at those yummy muscles. “It means I love you, but club biz is always gonna stay club biz. It’s as much for your protection as it is the club’s.”

“So you expect me to live here with a presumed criminal, on the whim that you’re not gonna choose the club over me. Even though you can’t tell me what you do to make the money I’m supposed to spend? You can’t be serious.” Well, so much for calm. I’m ready to chop the condescending asshole’s nuts off. Club biz is always gonna stay club biz… yadda, yadda, yadda… bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. That’s a cop-out if I ever did hear one. Rosie isn’t a member, and she’s in the know. Yet, I can push two, almost three kids outta my vag for the son of a chapter president and I’m not allowed to know how he makes money? I’m not asking for trade secrets here. I’m asking a typical first date question. What a crock of bullhonky.

“I’m dead serious. The club’s bigger than the two of us. It’s a massive family that spans the globe. Sure, I might’ve chosen wrong before for… Well, you know the reasons. But now I’ve got my shit together. There are no obstacles in our way.”

Is it wrong that all I hear are excuses wrapped in a pretty package? Maybe if I’d been born to this life, I would understand. But, I wasn’t, and I don’t.

Incapable of letting it go, I sling attitude instead. “Except the club. That’s a giant obstacle, if you ask me.”

The lines on his forehead deepen as he glowers in my direction, not understanding my logic at all. “Why? Because I won’t tell you what I do for the club?”

“Yes.”

“Jesus Christ, babe, you can’t… why do you care so much?”

“’Cause the money I live off of, I don’t want to be stained with the blood of others.”

Duh!

Common Sense for 100, Alex.

Ryker frowns, sadness seeping in, softening the lines around his eyes. “You think so little of us? Of your dad?”

My heart sinks. I hate a mopey Asshole. That’s worse than any other kind of Ryker.

Knocking the wind out of my sails, I tip my head back, staring at the hand-hewn beams on the ceiling as I expel a quiet sigh.

Way to make me feel like a big bag of poop, Ryker.

Frustrated by everything, I grip my hair and pull until the follicles ache. The sting centers me enough to clarify my issues. “He did fake his own death because he screwed over another club. Or did you forget that? The same club that kidnapped me, gave me this scar.” Driving my point home, I draw a finger down the raised line that’ll be there ‘til the day I die. “Then the same club tried to kill my family. And would’ve succeeded if Rosie hadn’t turned your woods into a motherfucking bloodbath, while you were off gallivanting with your wife, almost dying, and scaring the hell outta me. If that’s what I am to expect being associated with the Sacred Sinners, I think I’d rather die alone on a beach somewhere wondering what could’ve been. That sounds better than living a life of crime. Roxie and Scarlett deserve a normal life. Not safe rooms and bullet holes. They deserve real stability. Not the illusion of it.” There, I’ve said my peace. A mountain of tension lifts off my shoulders as I readjust on the chair.

Folding my hands in my lap, underneath my belly, I await his reply.

“Are you sayin’ I need to leave the club for us to be together? ‘Cause if you are, fine. I’ll call Pops right now and set that in motion.”

What?!

“You…You’d do that?” My mouth drops open, hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Yup, I’m in shock.

“For you and my girls? Fuck yeah. Do I want to? No. But if that’s what you want. I’ll do it. I’m in this. No turnin’ back. No half-assed bullshit. We’re gonna make this work one way or another.”

I…Wow…Umm… Yeah…I’m not sure what to say. He’s never given that option before. As flattered as I am, I could never live with myself if I took him away from his family. That’s never been my intention.

Staring blankly at the front door trying to process, I articulate a half-assed reply. “I… I can’t ask you to give it up for me.”

“Then don’t. Trust me, for once, even if I don’t deserve it.” Ryker’s sincerity wraps around me like a warm fuzzy blanket, instilling a sense of calm—rightness.

Slowly sweeping my gaze to him, Ryker’s intense, determined eyes lock on mine, holding them hostage. Throat gone dry, hands clammy, I swallow hard, and forge ahead to address what needs to be addressed regardless of the fact that I’ve been thrown for a loop. “You know we can’t live a life of bloodshed. It’s not fair to us.”

He scrubs his stalwart chin. “I’m not gonna lie and say club life is all rainbows and unicorns, babe. But it ain’t like you think it is. Bloodbaths never happen on our turf. Not like that. This would be a first. We protect our own. Over time, I think you could grow to love the life. I’m not foolish to think it’ll happen overnight. But I do think, once you truly lived it, you wouldn’t hate it so much. Rox and Scarlett will live a semi-normal life surrounded by a huge family of bikers. I’ll make damn sure of it. And so will Kade, Pops, and your dad. The worst of the worst is behind us.”

Is it truly that easy? I don’t think so. He seems to have a reasonable comeback for almost everything I’ve thrown at him. As if he’s thought this tête-à-tête out in great detail.

“How can you be sure about any of this? You can’t predict tomorrow any more than I can. What does living here look like for the girls and me?” I ask.

“Life here looks like it does now, post-mayhem. The girls go to school. We live together in this cabin day in day out. And if I have any say in the matter, your fine ass will sleep in the same bed as me. We both know where this relationship is headed. Can we predict what’ll happen six months from now? No. None of us can. But that doesn’t change anything. We’ve got kids together, Kat. We’re attracted to one another. We love each other. You’re here with me. There’s nothin’ holdin’ us back, but you. Am I gonna lie and say I’ve got this all figured out? Nope. ‘Cause I don’t. Am I gonna piss you off sometimes, and do stupid shit? Fuck yes, I am. That’s a guaran-damn-tee. No relationship is perfect. Not that I have much experience to go by. All I know is that I feel like I’ve loved you my whole life, and been waitin’ for the day to get it right. This is it. I can feel it in my bones. Come on, babe, just try it out. Take a leap of faith. We don’t gotta start nothin’ serious if you don’t want to.”

Tipping my head to the side, shaking it, I grin at the adorable yet insanely rational fool. “I’m pretty sure sleeping in the same bed constitutes as serious, Ryker.”

He shrugs. “Eh. Tomato, tomhato. I’ve seen all your bits. You’ve seen mine. It’d be a cryin’ shame if we didn’t keep showin’ ‘em to each other.” Ryker waggles his brows and offers me a lopsided smirk. He’s so handsome. So … mine, if I want him.

Giggling a little, I relish the adolescent rush of excitement that flows through my veins. Are we doing this? I think we might be.

“You’re nuts, and I’m even nutser for considering this a plan,” I jest.

Ryker lifts his shirt, exposing the bumps and ridges of all that hot maleness. My girly parts weep with joy at the sight. Rubbing the flat of his palm up and down those abs like a washboard, he winks. “Come on, babe. You sayin’ you don’t wanna keep seein’ all my bits? ‘Cause I damn well know I wanna see all yours.”

I flush, I don’t mean to, but I do nonetheless. Cheeks burning, I scrub them to hide the evidence which is pointless, because he’s too busy ogling me like he wants to see me naked here and now. The heat intensifies when he licks those sexy lips and adjusts the bulge in his pants.

Ugh! Not again.

There’s a knock at the back door.

Hallelujah!

Springing to my feet, I dash with pregnancy grace to the door to get away from him, before I make some very bad decisions that’d make my vagina pleased as punch. Now’s not the time for that. Not when we just turned a significant corner in our relationship, whatever that may be.

Unlocking the back door, I yank it open with gusto without thinking twice. Not smart on my part, but I’m too happy for the interruption to care. Unless there’s an ax murderer on the other side, then maybe I should’ve used my brains.

Thankfully, there’s not. It’s worse. Instead, here stands a stunning woman. One I’ve never seen before, wearing a pair of cut off jean shorts that show off her ass cheeks, and a red halter top with tits up to her throat. Her long, flowy, platinum blonde hair is dyed, according to her dark brown, perfectly arched eyebrows. Pink glittery gloss coats her pouty lips.

I must stand here gawking far too long, because she shoves a covered dish of some sort in my direction. On instinct, I take it, hugging it to my big belly. “Hi, is Ryker home? I heard he was released today, and I wanted to drop by.”

Right. Drop by. Wearing false eyelashes and enough makeup to be on a photoshoot.

My stomach plummets to my feet.

This is the type of woman Ryker’s used to being around. A woman like Vanessa. Sexy, available, and ready to drop to her knees and suck his dick. He is the son of the club president and a biker himself, I should’ve seen this coming from a mile away.

Not saying a word, I sidestep and sweep my hand to welcome her indoors. This is his house so I can’t turn her away. And his visitor brought… I glance down at the blue casserole dish full of fragrant pasta in hand as she saunters into the cabin, wearing a pair of shiny combat boots, her tiny butt cheeks jiggling with the exaggerated sway of her hips.

“Thanks,” she drawls over her shoulder, dismissing me.

Rude much?

Hunching my shoulders, feeling sick all of a sudden, I shut the door and waddle into the kitchen with the food. Setting it on the counter, I try to ignore the beautiful woman who’s seated next to Ryker on the couch, as my heart spasms erratically in my chest. He sat up at some point, and they’re talking. I can’t make out what they’re saying, nor do I want to. A pang of jealousy coils around my aching insides, stealing my breath away. I shove the useless feeling aside. He’s a grown man and will do what he wants. This is none of my business when we’re not even an official item yet. Aren’t we taking it slow? God, this is all so confusing.

Leaving the food lie, and rot for all I care, I quietly exit the kitchen to go check on Walker, to give me something to do. There’s a baby monitor in the living room. If he’d have woken up, I would’ve heard. As predicted he’s asleep when I enter the bedroom. Shutting off the monitor, I slip underneath the bed covers to rest my weary head on the soft pillow I bunch under my cheek. Is this what is to be expected when you’re with someone in the club? Women stopping by unannounced wearing next to nothing, ready to throw themselves at his feet now that his wife’s dead? Most of these chicks have no idea I exist. Not that that would stop them if they did. We’re not married. He hasn’t claimed me publicly. Isn’t that what bikers do? Vanessa wore a vest saying she was his property.

Blah.

I’m tired of thinking.

Curling into a ball on my side, blankets tucked underneath my chin, my eyes slide closed, suddenly exhausted.

One second I feel like we’re on the right path and all it takes is one young, footloose, and fancy-free woman in the cabin to plant seeds of doubt. Living here is going to be harder than I thought. For now, I’m gonna try to nap. My problems will still be here later. Hopefully, he won’t invite her to dinner.

Kat

Loading the dishwasher, relishing the peace and quiet, I reflect on the past two days since Ryker’s been home. It’s been, dare I say… enlightening. In one aspect it’s been fantastic, since he and the girls have basically been inseparable from the moment they walk through the door after school until bedtime. He helps them with their homework if needed. They curl on the couch together watching whatever shows the girls want to see. Roxie takes one side of him as Scarlett takes the other. It pulls at my friggin heartstrings to see them cozied up in their PJs with their dad. Not wanting to intrude, I keep my distance so they can enjoy him. Instead, I stay busy cooking dinner and making hot cocoa like any mother would. Sure, we eat supper together. But I can’t help but feel kinda slighted for not being invited into their three-person bubble. I know, I know, I’m being irrational. Jealousy isn’t becoming of a mother. Not when I haven’t acted as though I want to take part in their bonding time. Half of me wants to be included, while the other gets a deep sense of pleasure observing her family connect from a short distance.

Each night, Ryker and I tuck them in. Then I escape to the confines of the bedroom with Walker and my Kindle, while he watches grown-up shows in the living room, giving me space. Space that has grown exponentially since the blonde first showed up. That’s the negative part I was hinting to—a revolving door of women since he got home. If it’s not a club brother dropping by to check in. It’s scantily clad club chicks who treat me like a maid and steal all of Ryker’s alone time. We’ve literally had zero time to ourselves since the first lady showed up.

Yesterday, four women and two brothers came by, and that was before the girls got home. Dad, Kade, and Bear came after, so they could see everyone, and eat dinner with us. The strange thing is, it’s as if the women planned it this way. Because they’re never here at the same time. However, they all bring food, wear skin tight clothes over their impressive bodies, and drool all over my roommate as if he’s the best thing since sliced bread. Listen, don’t get me wrong, I realize he’s a catch in certain circles. And I know that if you took a poll, 90% of women would want to bone him. Ryker’s hotness transcends age, race, and culture. There’s no denying that. What has gotten to me is how welcoming he’s been with everyone. Each person gets his undivided attention. Including the chicks who make a point to touch him in ways that aren’t suitable for guys who claim they want to be in a relationship. I’m trying hard not to get angry, or be any more jealous than normal, by chalking it up to his near-death experience giving him a different perspective on life. It’s true that it alters a person. It did me. In the last week, I’ve realized that the past can’t be changed and the future is always uncertain. So you have to embrace what you have, and live each day like it’ll be your last. I think most people appreciate that philosophy, yet only a small portion choose to let it sink in.

Which brings me to today. An hour ago another female left. Thankfully, this one had the decency to be polite to me and didn’t paw Ryker like a cat scratching post. She too brought food. Honestly, after the first lady’s offerings, I stopped looking at what they cooked. Our refrigerator is officially overrun with colorful dishes. The food inside of them is going to eventually go to waste unless someone takes it to the clubhouse. Because I refuse to eat please-pick-me-as-your-next-wife food. Can you blame me? Would you eat I-wanna-have-your-babies casserole from some woman throwing herself at the guy you’ve been in love with for years? I’m not, on principle alone. Plus, the outlandish thought of them possibly finger banging themselves prior to cooking his meal, then mixing their essence in to add a fishy aftertaste, is enough to make me gag. That’s why the only person in this house who’s ingested any of the food is Ryker himself. I won’t even let the girls indulge for the same reasons. We’re on club chick strike.

Rinsing the last cereal bowl in the sink and placing it in the top rack of the dishwasher, I add a detergent pod and close the door. Pushing the start button, I smile, feeling accomplished now that the dishes are out of the way. Grabbing my Kindle off the counter, I decide it’s time to get some reading in before Ryker climbs out of the shower and little man wakes up. When the last woman was here, I fed, burped, and changed Walker. Food seems to affect him like it does other babies—makes him sleepy. Before I had a chance to change the cute onesie my dad brought him, he was out. Someday soon, I need to go shopping for some more clothes for him or order them online. Because all the outfits we’ve got are compliments of my dad. As is the bassinet, the baby bottles, monitor, blankets, and other odds and ends. He’s been a lifesaver.

Snatching the comfy blanket off the back of my chair, I shake it out in front of me, ready to dive headfirst into my latest binge series by Sara Ney, hilariously titled How to Date a Douchebag. They were a rec I got from a readers group I follow on Goodreads. And I have to say the first two books of the series have lived up to their hype. Part of me hoped I’d get some tips on how to deal with the current douchebag I live with. So far, I haven’t learned as much as I hoped, but the entertainment value is still gut-busting. Who knew wrestlers could be that yummy? Trust me on this, Google college wrestlers and I’m certain your jaw will hit the floor. You can see everything, if you catch my pervy drift.

Resting my e-reader on the chair arm, I brace my hand on the other for support as I cradle my belly for the pregnant lady descent. Falling into the chair is a no-no this far into my pregnancy, I don’t want to pee myself. It’s happened before. Not the full enchilada. A tiny tinkle, but it’s still embarrassing as hell when you’re a young-ish woman who shouldn’t have incontinence issues.

My butt hits the soft cushion with a creak.

There’s a rap, rap, rap at the back door.

Are you kidding me right now?

Sonofabitch.

Groaning my displeasure, I readjust my glasses on my nose, and heft my round body out of the chair. Taking my sweet ass time, I waddle to the rear door, annoyed by the impatient jerk on the other side as they continue to knock for a third time.

Irritated beyond rationale, I unlock the deadbolt with an aggressive snick and yank it open. “What?” I bark, faced with yet another trashy dressed woman. That’s it. I’ve had it up to here with these chicks coming into my house when I’m trying to live a normal flippin’ life. I don’t care if they’re worried about Ryker. They could call first, or something. Anything besides dropping by unannounced, thereby disrupting our lives. Not only is it rude. It’s disrespectful.

Taking a wobbly step back on her hooker heels to get some distance from me, at least the curvy brunette has the decency to look nervous. Poised on one of her upturned palms, as expected, is food. Except… Goddammit, it’s a pecan pie—my weakness.

Snatching the pie out of her hand, not caring one bit how rude I’m acting, I growl, “Ryker’s indisposed. Come back later. Thanks for the pie.”

Before the lady has a chance to speak I slam the door in her face, pivot on my heel, stomp into the kitchen, open the garbage can and throw the damn pie away. It kills me to see all that scrumptiousness go to waste, but I’m not eating vagina pie. And if I can’t eat the vagina pecan pie, nobody can.

Fueled by days of repressed anger, fists clenched at my sides, I exit the kitchen to head to the bedroom where Ryker is. He needs to know another one of his fan club was here.

Not wanting to wake Walker, I quietly approach the closed bathroom door. Just as I’m about to reach for the knob, it opens, revealing a half-naked beefcake. With a towel wrapped haphazardly around his waist, knee perched on the scooter, Ryker pauses at the sight of me, expression transforming from relaxed to concerned in an instant.

“What’s wrong, babe?” He wheels a step closer, reaching out to touch my face.

Dodging his advance, I scoot backward and shake a fist at him. “Another one of your… your… women were here to bring you food. This one brought a… a… motherfucking pecan pie!” I rage, forgetting about the sleeping baby.

Ryker holds up both hands in surrender as droplets of water trickle down the valleys of his muscled form. “Whoa, babe. Calm down. Did she say somethin’ mean to you?”

“No!”

The dickhead has the audacity to tip his head to the side and smirk as if I’m the cutest thing he’s ever seen, not someone who’s about to club him to death. Why I’m so angry, I dunno. All I know is that I am. Each muscle in my body’s strung tighter than a guitar string, ready to snap. Air’s pistoning from my lungs at an alarming rate. My leg twitches with pent-up aggression.

Taking a substantial step away from Ryker, I gain enough distance that I can’t leap and punch him in the face. Because that’s what I wanna do right this second. Clenching and unclenching the fists at my sides, I inhale a deep breath to calm myself, and nothing freaking happens. This isn’t like me. Christ, what if I do hurt him?

“Calm down, babe, and tell me what’s got you all riled up,” he soothes with a deep whiskey drawl, sounding sexier than normal.

“Shut up. Don’t use that voice.”

“What voice?” He does it again.

“Your panty wetting voice!”

He smirks like the deviant he is. “Am I making you wet?”

Sarcastic bastard.

“Shut the hell up. All I wanted to do is come in here and tell you—”

“That a club whore brought over a pie… excuse me, a pecan pie. What I don’t understand is why you’re so angry about it. That’s your favorite kind. If you want it, it’s yours,” he offers.

“I threw it in the trash.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“’Cause I’m not eating vagina pie.”

Ryker snorts. Blue eyes glittering in amusement. “What’s vagina pie, sweetheart?”

“It’s like vagina casserole, only it’s a pie.”

The smile he cracks is blinding and even more annoying. He’s loving this more than he should. I’m not trying to be cute. “You’ve lost me there, Tiger.”

Harrumphing, I tap my barefoot on the bear rug, not getting the desired noise. It’ll have to do. “It’s food that your lady friends bring over.”

“Right. I got that part. What I don’t understand is why you call it vagina pie.”

“Because.”

“That’s a non-answer. Give it to me straight, I can take it.”

Mother fluffin’ Christ, how can he be so calm? That too is infuriating.

“I know you can. You’re a badass biker with a big dick, who almost died, and for whatever god-awful reason is somewhat attracted to me,” I blurt, cheeks burning. Embarrassed by my outburst, I briefly look away. I cannot believe I said that.

“There’s no somewhat about it, Kat. You’re the only woman I’m attracted to. Period.”

“Doesn’t seem that way to me.”

Ryker quirks a sly grin. “Are you jealous?” This pleases him to no end.

“No. I’m not.” Liar, liar pants on fire.

“You’re full of it. I know better. Now tell me.”

Growling in my throat, I scowl at the impossible man who has my name tattooed right there on his thigh, and stitches all over the place. Shit. I’m a jerk. He should probably sit down before we continue whatever this is we’re doing.

Disregarding his demand, I point to the bed. “You need to sit down.”

Scratching the back of his smooth, bald head, he frowns. “Why?”

“Because you have a cast on your leg and you’ve gotta be in some sort of pain.”

Ryker nods once as if he agrees, then scooters to the bed, and carefully climbs on. Off falls the cotton towel, and I’m greeted with an ass cheek, and a peek of half-hard cock swinging as he gets in position. Maintaining an ounce of modesty, Ryker re-lays the towel over his private area, his bare bottom kissing the mattress, shoulders resting against the headboard.

Satisfied that he’s comfortable, I ignore the growing dampness of my panties and carry on. “You okay? Did you take your medicine?”

“Kat, you’ve asked me twice today if I’m takin’ my meds, and what did I tell you?”

I roll my eyes. “That you’ve got it handled.”

“Right. ‘Cause I’m a big boy.” Ryker pats his stomach. “Been takin’ care of myself for a long time. I don’t need you to mother me.”

“I’m not mothering you,” I dispute, hooking a hand on my hip.

“Yes. Ya are, babe. It’s sweet, really. But you’ve got enough on your plate.”

I wanna stomp and yell that you’re my family, and I take care of family. Only, I don’t. There’s no use. He’s right, I suppose.

“Okay. I’ll try to stop.” It’ll be hard. Taking care of people is sort of my thing. If he doesn’t take his meds as he should, I’ll start feeling guilty.

“Thank you. Now get back to this vagina pie thing and why you’re jealous.” He waves me forth with the jerk of his hand, a tiny smile playing on his full lips.

“I’m not jealous.”

“You are. It’s not a bad thing, babe. It means you care.”

“I’ve always cared.”

“I know. Even when I didn’t deserve it. You’re a good woman.”

My pride swells.

Head held high, I reply a haughty, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now… Vagina. Pie. Spill.”

Shrugging one shoulder, I feign nonchalance. “The vagina part is gross to admit. And stupid when you think about it. But I’m not eating anything those women have brought. Mainly because, well…” I’m jealous as all get out that they were getting all your attention when we were so close to having a normal adult conversation the other day, and starting something new, against my better judgment. That they’ve been pawing at you, when I can’t manage to get a hug. Even though we’ve been sleeping next to each other, I rattle off inside my head knowing I can never say it aloud. “I picture all these women who throw themselves at you fingering their lady parts, then putting the fluid inside the dishes before they bring them by,” I cringe.

Covering his mouth with his big mitt, Ryker’s entire body starts to quake with repressed laughter. His beautiful eyes crinkle around the edges as he conceals a broad smile. Then, as if he can’t withhold it any longer he belts a short guffaw followed by another. Soon, he’s freely laughing his sexy ass off. Shoulders bouncing, his face reddens, and eyes dampen at the edges as he loses it, not caring one iota that he’s, in a roundabout way, making fun of me. Not that it matters. Not when I get to watch a treat like this. He’s so handsome when he gets lost in the moment. The way his pecs and abs flex as amusement consumes him. The wrinkles on his forehead that form. I smile softly, soaking up the unfettered view regardless if it’s at my expense.

Praying the noise hasn’t jarred Walker awake, I peer inside his bassinet for confirmation. Yep, he’s as snug as a bug in a rug. Or, more specifically, he’s as snug as a baby swaddled in a blue and white gingham blanket as he sleeps on his back, arms fanned above his head. Dark wisps of his hair are sticking up every which way. I sigh longingly. He’s so sweet.

Minutes later Ryker calms himself enough to formulate a coherent response. “I… Wow… Tiger, that’s an interesting theory.” Using his thumb, he swipes the tears from the corner of his eyes and rubs the collective wetness on the sheets.

Another shrug is pulled from me as I massage the side of my belly where the active baby kicks. “Eh.”

“You know they’re harmless, don’t you?” he prompts.

“Them, or the food?”

“Both.”

“Wrong,” I blurt, shaking my head in mild disgust, lips thinned. “I don’t believe that. They came here lookin’ all sexified to try to get you to notice them. If they weren’t, they would’ve worn yoga pants and a hoodie like every other normal woman. Then, they rubbed up on you. That’s not harmless flirtation. That’s a woman tryin’ to get the attention of a guy they, at the very least, want to screw. Your wife’s dead. They think you need someone to console you in your time of need, and they want to be that person. It wouldn’t surprise me if they’re not making side bets to see who can score first.”

“You think so?” He slings attitude.

Suppressing an eye roll, I try to make him see reason. “What kind of world are you living in? You can’t be that dense. You know when women are throwing themselves at you.”

Leaning forward, Ryker scratches around the top edge of his cast, that the girls decorated with bright girly colors and glitter nail polish his first night home. “Duh, Tiger. I’m not stupid. I figured they were just bein’ nice. Club whores aren’t all bad. Most of the regulars do care about the club.”

“N-ice?” I mock.

“Yeah, nice. They weren’t pawin’ at my dick. And most of the time when they touched me they were wantin’ to see the stitches in my shoulder and arm.”

“You’re the wounded animal, Ryker, and they wanna pounce.”

“They can try all they want. It doesn’t mean shit to me.”

“How’s that possible? You’re not the least bit flattered or turned on? Come on, you’re a guy.” I’ve never met a man in my life who wouldn’t be thrilled to have women basically throwing themselves at his feet. Why does it matter if he was flattered? I dunno. It just does. I’ve put my heart on the line for him before and ended up regretting it later. The thought of being put through that kind of anguish again is crippling. For years, I wished he would return and beg for forgiveness. It didn’t happen that way. Life never does. But to watch sexy women fling themselves at him, and he doesn’t even have the balls to acknowledge their intentions, it aches in places I didn’t know existed. I’m never going to look like those chicks. Especially not after three kids. Sexy to me is a pencil skirt, blouse, and cute boots. This body is never going to resemble hotness to the Nth degree. I have curves on top of curves and an ass that just won’t quit. And I’m okay with that, but is Ryker, long-term? When in reality he can have any lady he wants.

“Who has a woman,” Ryker snarls, yanking me from my sullen thoughts, his upper lip curling back exposing a strip of white teeth.

“Not really. We haven’t… you know…” I sulk, shoulders slumping, suddenly feeling down and out—drained.

“No. I don’t know. Tell me.” Ryker’s tone simmers down, to match mine. As if he knows how I’m feeling without having to pry.

Head tipped to stare at my feet, hands clasped behind my back, I comb my toes through the bear fur. “We…we didn’t make anything official.”

“Maybe not. But in my heart and head, it’s been official since I saw you during Thanksgiving. I haven’t touched anyone since then, besides you. And some club whore stoppin’ by to shove her tits in my face isn’t gonna change that.”

“So you do agree they’re tryin’ to shove their tits in your face, after you just said you thought they were only droppin’ by to be nice,” I mutter, glancing up, knowing I’ve got him by the balls.

Ryker stabs two fingers in my direction, temper inflating. “You’re the one who said they wanna pounce, not me. Not once did any of them offer to suck me or ride my dick.”

Resuming my pose, I swish my right foot over the rug, suppressing the urge to look at my ex. He’s too attractive to stare at for too long if I don’t want my panties to burst into flames. “Nope. They coddled you instead. The rest is implied. I can’t believe you’re not able to see that,” I whisper.

“Maybe, because I’m not lookin’. Babe, as nice as some of their tits and asses were, they’re just that—tits and asses. I’m a guy. We notice things like that. Doesn’t mean it turns us on. It’s like it’s ingrained in our DNA or some shit. However, I have no desire to touch, fuck, or cuddle with any one of those broads. Them touching my arm, or askin’ how I’m doin’ is harmless.”

“You’re an idiot if you believe that.” All it would take is the snap of his fingers, and they’d be putty in his hands. That’s the effect he has on most women. And sometimes, even me.

“No, I’m really not. They weren’t flirtin’ with me like you think.”

“Riiight.”

“I’m fuckin’ serious. You wouldn’t stick around long enough to know.”

I swallow the emotional lump in my throat. “Because I’m not gonna sit and watch them flirt with you.” After everything we’ve been through, and the chats we had this week, it kills me to watch. There’s only so much I can take. I’m not a glutton for punishment. Nor am I going to wallow in self-pity. When life gives you lemons, you flip off the world, make a pitcher of margaritas, and burn your bra. Hopefully, sooner rather than later, this maudlin crap will pass, and I’ll be ready to do just that.

“Jesus, babe, I cannot believe we’re arguin’ about this. First, it’s the club you hate. Now a few club whores can’t bring food for us to eat without you gettin’ jealous. Women are gonna throw themselves at me, Kat. It’s gonna happen. You’re gonna have to trust me enough to know that I would never, ever, let anything go on with any of ‘em. I love you. Not them. I’m not askin’ for them to flirt, nor am I flirtin’ back.”

A tiny rosebud of hope blooms in my chest.

“But you won’t tell them to stop, either. Like you did with the doctor.” This is true, he can’t deny it.

“The doctor was disrespecting you.”

“And these women aren’t by coming into our—your home and touchin’ you?”

“No. They’re not,” he placates. “If they were rude, I would’ve kicked them out without thinkin’ twice. But most of them were here to genuinely ask if I was okay. And when I started tellin’ them about you and the girls, they weren’t assholes about it. They were nice. Even asked questions.”

My head snaps up, lips parted in surprise. “You talked about us?”

Ryker’s chest puffs up, a smirk hooking the corner of his mouth. “Fuck yeah, I did. My kids know who I am now. And we’re workin’ on bein’ together. Why wouldn’t I tell them?”

My fingertips tingle at his admission.

“So they know—”

“That you’re my old lady? Yeah.” He nods the affirmative a few times. “They all know. The whole fuckin’ club knows I’m with Ghost’s daughter. The guys who dropped by yesterday were givin’ me shit about it. Sayin’ I’d better not fuck up, or my pops and Ghost would be gunnin’ for me. Like I didn’t already know that.” Ryker rolls his eyes on the last part, smiling playfully at me, two fingers tapping out beats on his thigh.

Shifting from foot to foot, as a toasty yet exuberant feeling bubbles in my gut, I moisten my bottom lip with the sweep of my tongue. “I… I still can’t believe you talked to them about us.”

“Babe, I’m gonna talk about us to anyone who’s willin’ to listen. I’m proud as fuck to have you and my girls back in my life. A few club whores droppin’ food off and touchin’ my arm ain’t gonna change that. Either they respect that I got a woman, or they get the hell outta our house. Simple as that. What I don’t like is you gettin’ all jealous over stupid shit. There’s nothin’ to be jealous over. You own my dick, Tiger. Along with my heart and every other fuckin’ piece of me. I’m hopelessly devoted to only you… And, sweetheart, it wouldn’t surprise me if some of those chicks drop by a few more times with food. Next time, though, it wouldn’t hurt if you actually spoke to them instead of blowin’ ‘em off. I get that old ladies, and club whores don’t always mix. But that doesn’t have to be the case. Trust me, they can get plenty of biker dick from other club brothers. They don’t need to try and ride mine.”

You own my dick. Along with my heart and every other fuckin’ piece of me. I’m hopelessly devoted to only you. Oh… um… holy hot man gravy… wow… that’s… I’m feeling a bit pink and mushy. I nearly melt into a puddle of sparkly goo as my insides go bird flappy insane. So many sensations. So much… fluttery warmth. The maddening contradictions quicken my heart rate, and insight a riot between my rubbery legs. Squeezing my thighs together to suppress the growing war in my loins, a toe-curling shot of pleasure shoots up my spine, and down my fingertips where it stops to signal my brain. The urge to touch, to feel, to get off, is suddenly so overwhelming I have to reach out and catch myself on the mantel. A torrent of wetness soaks through the fabric of my comfy cottons and leggings. Any second now and I’ll combust. How this man can invoke such strong feelings from me is… intense.

Closing my eyes, I exhale a harsh breath to gather my wits. Talking about his dick shouldn’t do this to me. My clit shouldn’t be firing on all cylinders. But that… dick… and that… Mmm… fine ass.

I bite my bottom lip at the mere thought.

“Babe. Are you alright?” Ryker asks, raw concern lacing his words.

Nodding on repeat, I squeak an, “Umm-hmm.”

There’s a rustling of bedsheets and creaking of the mattress as Ryker readjusts. I’m too damn consumed right now to look. Inhaling and exhaling in a methodic pattern begins to lessen the ache between my thighs. My vice grip on the mantel loosens between each breath. There, not so bad. I can control this. Hormones don’t own me, I own the hormones. Suckas!

“Sweetheart, look at me,” Ryker coaxes in the gentlest tone.

Holding up my pointer finger, I signal for him to give me a moment. I’m almost regulated. See, I can do it. Mind over matter and all that horse doo doo.

Ryker clears his throat. “No. Babe. I need you to look now. Please.”

Fine. Since he asked nicely.

Rolling my shoulders, I blink a couple times to clear my vision, then lift my gaze.

Wha…

What…

What!?

“Wh—what are you doing?”

He’s lying flat on his back naked! N-a-k-e-d. Oh-my-aching-nipples-god. The towel’s gone. The blankets are bunched at the end of the bed, and his cock is… magnificent. Hard. So very hard. The tip’s glistening with a pearl of pre-cum. My mouth waters at the sight. Why’s he doing this to me? This isn’t fucking fair. If it wouldn’t make me look like a five-year-old having a temper tantrum, I’d stomp my foot right now, and whine about how unfair life is. Because I know for a fact he can’t have sex. I’ve read the doctors instructions. He has to wait six weeks for the wound on his thigh to heal well enough. Plus, there was a bunch of other reasons I skimmed over before tossing the paperwork on the counter with an exaggerated huff. Life truly isn’t fair. Not when you have a man with abs that fine, pecs sculpted by the God’s, and nipple rings that beckon for you to play. I fucking hate him and his sexy body. Damn him. I curse those V hips, that cute belly button, strong jaw, perfect lips, and those eyes. You might as well put me out of my misery now because this is pure torture.

Grinning like the devil himself, Ryker taps his lips with two fingers. “Come on up here, beautiful.”

“What? Why…why… would I do that?” I croak.

“So I can eat your pussy.”

Yikes.

Eat my… That sounds…wond—

Nope… Can’t do it.

A shiver passes through me as I shake my head. “That’s not possible,” I half-ass contend. Which sounds more like I’m trying to convince myself, not him.

First and foremost he almost died less than two weeks ago, and if that wasn’t an issue, dying again from suffocation by way of your baby’s mama is justification número dos. All of this, should not sit on all that. Death by pussy is not a good way to go. And I don’t give a hoot who says otherwise.

Undeterred, Ryker taps those fine lips a second time, eyes sparking with mischief. “I wanna lick your pussy. It’s possible. The doc said I can’t fuck. And I gotta agree with him. I’m sore all the damn time. But that ain’t gonna stop me from gettin’ you off.”

“I don’t wanna hurt… or… suffocate you.” I cringe.

Ryker snorts. “You’ve got nothin’ to worry about. Look at it this way, you’re doin’ me a favor. I’m hungry for some pussy, and you’re helpin’ a crippled man out.”

My eyes couldn’t roll any harder. “You’re not crippled, smart ass.”

“I am if that’s what gets your sexy ass up here to give me a taste. I’ve wanted to go down on you since I got home, but couldn’t think of a logistical way ‘til now. All you gotta do is straddle my face, hold the headboard for support, and let me feast for a while. Trust me, you’ll love it.”

“I… I can’t d d…do that,” I sputter, rechecking my grip on the mantle to make sure it’ll hold should my trembling legs give out. This isn’t right. All this dirty talk has my libido running rampant. I’m trying hard not to let it seep into my brain, but I’m bound to fail. He’s too tempting for words.

“Kat, I’m gonna count to five. If your pussy lips aren’t kissin’ mine, I’m climbin’ outta this bed, crawlin’ across the fuckin’ floor, and tonguin’ your slit regardless if it’s gonna hurt me or not. I wanna eat. Feed me.”

My stomach flip flops as a flood of wetness collects between the juncture of my thighs.

Sighing long and hard, my resistance fades. I glower at the stubborn jerk. “You can’t keep threatening me this way.”

“I will if it works.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“Then I’m gettin’ outta the bed to get what I want—you.”

The stern expression Ryker wears tells me everything I need to know. He’s not joking. And as much as I don’t want to give in to the bastard, I also kinda do. The deciding factor is his safety. If it takes me breaking out of my comfort zone to ‘feed him’ then I guess I’ll do it. Poor me. Has to get her pussy licked. Darn. Such a hassle. I just pray he doesn’t suffocate to death. That would be a crying shame.

Shaking out my legs to test their strength, I make sure they’re stable enough to release the fireplace mantel, before dipping my fingers into the top of my leggings. Refusing to overthink, I tug them down along with my panties in one fumbling, unsexy maneuver. Ryker sucks in a sharp breath as I expose my pale, freshly shaved legs. It might’ve taken me thirty minutes to get these smooth, along with my girl bits, but they’re done-ish. Kicking out of the garments, I stretch to my full height, which isn’t much. Instinctively, I cover my girl parts with folded hands and rock back on my heels. This is weird. I dunno if I can go through with it.

Ryker urges me forward with the crook of his finger. “Off with the shirt and bra.” He swipes his bottom lip with his tongue, leaving a sheen that I wanna taste.

This isn’t going to work.

I can’t take off the rest of my clothes.

It’s one thing to be naked when you’re not three weeks from your due date. This close and I’m the size of the Goodyear blimp. The stretch marks covering my stomach are deep purple. My breasts are swollen and leaky. Not exactly a turn on.

When I don’t move, the naughty glint in Ryker’s eyes softens around the edges, nibbling away at my hard outer shell that keeps me from throwing all caution to the wind. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart. You know I think you’re gorgeous. Seein’ you pregnant gets me so hard I could pound a dozen nails through a steel beam.”

Flattery shouldn’t get you everywhere, but it does. I take a tiny step closer.

He keeps going. “That’s it. I can’t wait to taste you.”

Another step.

“Tongue that sweet slit until you burst all over my face, screamin’ my name.”

Oh, Jesus. I blow out a shaky breath. If he keeps talking nasty like that, I’m gonna come before I ever get his tongue on me.

Another step.

Two more and I’ll be there.

Ryker tastes those lips again, his smoldering eyes burning a hole through me. “That’s it,” he husks, wrapping a fist around his erection, and giving it one hot, languid pull from root to tip. Arching his back, his eyelids slide closed, and he moans as if touching himself is the most pleasurable thing he’s ever felt. It’s so fucking hot to watch that I find myself slipping a finger through my soaked cleft to rub my clit. Clenching my molars together, I bite back a moan.

Ryker tugs again. Another even needier moan draws from his soul. His good leg bends at the knee, heel driving into the mattress, toes flexing, as he fucks his fist in slow, unhurried tugs. Watching him fall apart bit by bit, I remove the rest of my clothes, unable to tear my eyes away. Discarding my bra and shirt, I return my finger to my achy bits and draw pleasure from his. This is the sexiest thing I’ve done in my life… or one of them.

“Kat,” Ryker cries out, completely wrecked from touching himself. “I need you. I fuckin’ need you so bad, babe.” He flicks his pink tongue against his bottom lip, beckoning me to sit.

Tossing my insecurities aside, I carefully crawl onto the bed and straddle Ryker’s face. He adjusts me a little using one strong arm as he keeps the other hand wrapped around his member. Following his previous instructions, I curve both hands over the lip of the headboard and settle close to his lips.

Nuzzling his nose to my clit, Ryker presses a tender kiss to my entrance. Then another, which is followed by the poke of his tongue as if he’s sampling the vintage. He does it again, slipping inside a fraction and swirling. Expelling a shuddery breath, I nearly break apart at the glorious touch.

Yesss.

Moaning against my wet flesh, he continues to play with himself. The vibrations send rapturous pleasure through my already aching sex. Gripping the wooden bedframe harder, I toss my head back and part my lips, relishing the unfettered ecstasy.

That’s it.

This is…

Sweet Moses.

My thighs tremble, heat churning in my gut.

If he keeps this up, I’m gonna come all over his face.

Ryker

I’m losin’ my goddamn mind. Kat’s scent and sweet taste has corrupted me. The more I eat her pussy, the more I want. Like a starved animal, I quit sampling the goods and dive in. Ravaging her entrance, spearing it with my tongue like I would my throbbing cock, I eat my woman until I’ve got her trembling so violently I’m worried she may hurt herself. A heady moan rips from her throat, spurring me on as she grinds against my face—possessed.

Fuck yeah. That’s right, baby, ride my fuckin’ face and make it yours. Cum all over it. Make my skin burn and tongue cramp. I want it. I want it all so fuckin’ much. I love you. I love you more than life itself. Ride it, beautiful. That’s it.

Not giving two damns about my dick, I focus all energy on the love of my life and devour her cunt. Kat cries out, mumbling a string of incoherent words as she palms the top of my bald head, connecting. Happiness beyond my wildest imagination throbs alongside my heart. I’m gonna ruin her. I have to make her lose her mind like she has mine. I can’t be the only one who feels this.

Fuck, she’s incredible.

Reaching around with both hands, I palm her full tits. Kat wails a broken song, back arching, when I pluck her stiff nipples. Warm liquid drips down my fingertips makin’ my cock lurch. Needin’ more, I roll those marbles on repeat and draw her clit into my mouth.

“Oh… Oh God.” She thrashes, and the headboard creaks from the force of her grip. The hand on my head curls inward, nails digging into flesh. The sharp bite of pain yanks a hoarse moan from my throat, kickin’ my hunger up a notch.

That’s it, my little Tiger. Let it go. Make me bleed.

Knowin’ I can’t encourage her with words, I focus my energy on makin’ her shatter. Suckin’ her clit, I flick my tongue sharply over the bud, then draw our names across the sweet flesh. By the time I reach the end of Kat’s surname, her world unravels. Slamming her hips down so I can no longer move, a torrent of fluid drenches half my face as she screams, “Ryyyykker!”

Unlatching from her clit, to give it a moments rest, I slide back inside the warm hole my dick wants to take up residence in. Lapping her juices, not wanting them to go to waste, her pussy clenches and unclenches around my invading tongue as it rides the orgasmic surf to shore.

Damn, she tastes delicious.

My cock jerks a nod, slapping my belly in agreement, painting my skin with pre-cum.

Hunching forward, exhaling a shuddery groan, Kat trembles through a series of aftershocks as she extracts her claws from my skull. “F-fuck. I’m so sorry,” she bemoans, throat scratchy.

I wanna tell her it’s alright, that I don’t mind. Except my mouth is too preoccupied and I don’t plan on stopping my ministrations anytime soon. One orgasm down, another five or ten to go.

Kat

Floating outside my body, lethargy befalls my legs as I try to pull away from the talented mouth hell-bent on killing me. Another intense orgasm ebbs to nothingness, yet Ryker doesn’t release his ironclad hold on my thighs. Softly, he licks me clean with tiny flicks, followed by languid flat tongue passes that run from my clit to asshole. Where he stops to awaken the nerve endings. Ages ago I gave up on counting climaxes. If he keeps lavishing my backdoor, I’m gonna need to come again. I don’t want to. I’m so spent I can’t feel anything aside from the pulsing between my thighs and the mouth that consumes me there. It’s as if I’m nothing more than a pussy bent at the will of one sexy man, whenever he demands, by way of tongue, to detonate. He’s the match and I the dynamite.

Ryker groans his enjoyment as he circles my rosebud, urging it open.

Swallowing the saliva pooling in my mouth, I lick my lips to moisten them before rubbing them together to spread the wetness like a balm. Forehead resting on a pillow of arms that are propped against the headboard, my traitorous hips swivel counterclockwise to keep time with his probing.

“Christ, Ryker, I—I can’t take this anymore. Plllease stop,” I beg, tears forming at the corners of my eyes from overstimulation. I’m so tired, yet it all feels good. Too good.

Ryker growls like a savage and answers my plea by pushing his tongue into my sphincter. It shouldn’t ignite the flame of need in my belly or force a wanton moan from my throat, yet does. I fall victim to his assault. I the marionette and he my puppeteer. He yanks my strings, and I dance. In this case, my droopy eyes fall shut on their own accord, and I let the overwhelming heat of lust, love, and infinite ecstasy uncoil, then spread throughout my limbs like wildfire.

An orgasm builds in my ass as he kisses and fucks me there, delving deeper inside with each pass. The mounting pleasure flows forth to my pussy, where it awakens my clit. With a final flick of his tongue, I lose all sense of myself, as heat as hot as the sun flares. I cry out his name, unable to stop the madness. Muscles engage. I writhe. Moans pour freely. Ears ring. Heart thuds. The world ceases to exist for an endless moment.

Then it all floats back to the present in a grey-tinged fog.

No more. I’m done. Stick a fork in me.

Tapping Ryker’s sweat-slicked head, I pry one hand off my thigh, then the other, before dismounting his face and melting into a puddle of mush on the bed beside him. Ryker turns over and pecks my forehead down to my mouth, where he presses a sweet kiss that smells of me. It’s not a bad scent.

Knowing he didn’t get off, and I really want him to, I curl onto my side, lips still pressed to his, and fist his drenched cock.

Ryker shudders from toes to nose as I pump him from root to tip.

“F-f-uck, K-Kat.” He thrusts into my grip once, stills, then moans like a wrecked man against my lips as he breaks apart. Hot jets of cum spring from his slit, bathing my hand, him, and part of the bed. But I don’t let go. I stroke him faster, drawing out his orgasm until he too is writhing, begging me through broken cries to stop. Except, I heed his request and grant him mercy. I release my hold on him by gently laying his softening rod on his belly, before flopping onto my back.

Listing my head to the side, we meet each other’s hooded gaze. Our fingers fold together between us, resting on the dirty sheets. “I love you, Kat,” Ryker mutters.

“I love you, too,” I admit without hesitation, or any sense of worry about what’ll come next. I’m too tired to think about tomorrow.

It’s nappy time.

Kat

“Mom.” Someone nudges my arm. “Mom, wake up.”

Popping one eye open, I come face to face with a smiling Roxie. For a brief moment, I wonder where I am, and why she’s in here. Then a lightbulb clicks on, and I clumsily knife up in bed. Crap, I fell asleep after all those orgasms, and now my kids are home! Roxie’s in the bedroom, and I’m… I glance down at my state of complete undress. Shit. Shit. Double shit. Panic seizes me as I clutch at my chest, and glance over my shoulder to see Ryker dead to the world, lying on his back with his arms fanned above his head, much like Walker from earlier today. I heave a sigh of relief that there’s at least a scrap of sheet covering him from the waist down. Lord Almighty, that was a close one, I nearly had a freaking heart attack.

Pretending it isn’t a big deal that my daughter caught me naked in bed with her father, I slide off the mattress, and redress myself at a steady, unhurried pace. When on the inside, I’m dying a thousand deaths, about to puke my guts out, and my hands are shaking. Why didn’t we think to lock the damn door? This cannot happen again. Ever. It was too close of a call. If he didn’t look so damn sexy sleeping peacefully, with a small smile playing on his lips, I might actually punch Ryker in the junk for getting us into this mess in the first place. I didn’t ask to have my pussy licked. He demanded it—or else. Not that I’m complaining, exactly. It’s thirty percent my fault for agreeing to this madness. Shame hits me square in the chest as I turn back around to see Roxie now staring down at Walker in his bassinet.

Playing it cool, I approach her to check on them both. Walker’s wide awake. And by the slobbery state of his fists, he has been for a while. I nudge Rox’s shoulder with mine. “How was school?”

She shrugs. “Good.” Monosyllabic answers, that’s not good.

Is she pissed about what she saw? Hurt? It’s not unusual for her to see me nude. I’m not one to always cover up. Not when we live by the motto, ‘We’re all girls, we have the same parts.’ Granted, we’re not all the same. My breasts are way bigger, and I have hair downstairs whereas they’re both beginning to grow some. Ick. Why can’t they stay babies forever? Trust me, when you have to start buying training bras and deodorant for your kids, you wanna hop in a time machine and go back to yesteryear where puberty didn’t exist.

“Um, where’s Scarlett?” I ask, treading lightly just in case.

“She’s eating yogurt in the kitchen. I told her I’d wake you up.” She tickles little man’s belly. He squirms trying to eat his fingers. It’s time for me to make him a bottle and change his diaper.

“Hey you,” the hot man from the bed groans a tired yawn, stretching his arms above his head, abs flexing through the movement. He should put some clothes on before mine combust, and I have to ride his face again to get relief. Ryker doesn’t understand the holy terror he unleashed in me today. My solo O’s were getting the job done. Now that he’s given me a taste of filet mignon there’s no way I’m going back to hamburger.

“Hey, Dad.” Rox shuffles around Walker’s bed and goes to Ryker. Who’s got his arms spread wide for an obvious hug. Roxie lays her chest on his, and gets swallowed up in those arm muscles that encase her much smaller form. A swirl of potent joy churns in my gut at the sight.

He kisses her forehead, and I cringe, thinking about where that mouth has been. “How was school?” Ryker inquires.

Roxie chuckles a light happy sound. “Mom already asked me that.”

“And what did you say?”

“Good.”

“That’s it? It was good? Did Jamie ask for another pencil today?”

Who’s Jamie, and why haven’t I heard about him before?

Roxie shakes her head, nose nuzzling her dad’s pec like he’s a soft, cushy teddy bear. It’s heartwarming to witness. This is what I’ve always wanted for her. For them both. There’s only so much you can give your kids as their mother. This, right here, isn’t one of them.

“Good. That’s what I like to hear. Jamie needs to buy his own pencils and stop tryin’ to steal my daughters.”

“Dadddd,” Roxie drones.

Ryker smirks at Rox’s reaction and flashes me a wink. ‘I love you,’ he mouths, making me weak in the knees, stomach fluttery.

Should I mouth it back? Is that what I’m supposed to do? God, this is so foreign I’m not sure how to act.

Not wanting to leave him hanging, I return the same sentiment. His cheeks flush as a shy smile tugs at the edge of his lips. Just when I think Ryker can’t get any more attractive, he does. Being a good dad does wonders for his hot factor. Add the unexpected shyness, and I’m smitten.

Giving my daughter and her father some privacy to talk, I grab a diaper for Walker from underneath the bassinet and lift the squirmy worm from his bed. Holding him to my chest, I about face and waddle toward the hall.

“Kat,” Ryker calls, stopping me midstride.

I glance over my shoulder. “Yes?”

“Kade’s gonna pick me up in about an hour. We’ve got some club business to attend to tonight.”

Already? He got out of the hospital a few days ago. What would they need with him when we just got him back?

Swallowing down my argument like a hot branding iron, I give a firm nod, lips pursed.

“Kat?” Ryker prompts again.

“Yes?” I try hard not to snap and fail.

“I’ll be home in the morning.”

Great. Fabulous. Not only is he leaving, he’s staying out all night doing who knows what with his club brothers. And I know if I ask what he’s doing it’ll fall on deaf ears. Club business always stays club business… Please excuse me while I puke in my mouth.

“Yup,” I reply.

“Babe, don’t be like that.”

“Be like what?”

“Mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“We’ve been over this. I know you. You’re upset.”

So? Why does it matter what I think or how I feel? It doesn’t when it pertains to the club, he’s made that crystal clear. If he doesn’t quit, we, as a family, fall second in line. I get it. What I don’t understand is why my heart suddenly hurts so much. It’s not like he’s leaving us for good. He’s staying the night with my dad, Bear, and Kade, so it can’t be all bad. Tell my heart that, though, she’s cracking like Humpty Dumpty for no reason.

Refusing to have any more of this conversation with Roxie present, I ignore him and exit the bedroom with my current priority—Walker. This little one needs my attention, and I’m more than happy to give it.

Ryker

Sittin’ next to Kade in his pickup truck, I stare out the window, watchin’ the world fly by as we head to the clubhouse to handle business. We left the cabin less than ten minutes ago, and by the half-assed hug my old lady gave me, I can tell she’s put off by me leaving. Part of me is proud as fuck she doesn’t wanna see me go, while the other wants her to trust I’m not gonna fuck shit up.

Rubbin’ my palm down the supple leather of my cut, I send a silent thank you up to the Big Man for keepin’ it safe. I’d taken it off and threw it in the back of Vanessa’s car when I drove her to the hospital the day of the accident. One of the brothers found it underneath a seat, covered in debris. Kade cleaned it up. Now it looks as good as new. It’s a damn fine feelin’ wearin’ it for the first time since the crash. Seems fitting to have it on when I enter the clubhouse. If only I’d worn sweats instead of these holey fuckin’ jeans, that I had to cut in order to get my cast through the pant leg. The black Harley tee I donned covers enough of my arms, that most of the stitches aren’t visible. But I’m gonna be uncomfortable as fuck with this denim rubbin’ my leg all night.

“Watermelon Tits is pissed at you, ain’t she?” Kade asks outta nowhere, tappin’ his steering wheel to the beat of some twangy country song playing over the radio.

“Was it that obvious?” My bro might know Kat well, but he doesn’t have the kinda time invested that I do. They can be chummy best friends with all that mushy, braid my hair, paint my toes, kumbaya, BFF shit. Regardless, there’s a difference between friendship love, and the kinda love and devotion you have for a soulmate.

“Yeah, it was. She kept givin’ you the evil mom eye. That’s the one she usually reserves for me when she thinks I’m bein’ an asshole, or when I sneak the girls a second dessert. I swear, it’s as if she’s got eyes in the back of her head.”

“I know. She’s been givin’ me that look since I told her I was leavin’.” Which went worse than expected. If this situation could’ve waited, I would’ve blown it off for another week or two. As it is, it’s well overdue. Pops has been on my case since I left the hospital to come in and take care of business. I wanted a few days to settle in with my girls before I ran off for the night. He said no. That it was tonight, or he was pullin’ rank.

“Did you tell her why you had to go?” Kade prods.

“No. Why would I do that? It’s club business.” How would that look if I told her what’s goin’ down, when we just had that discussion about the club?

“Oh, I dunno, genius, ‘cause she’s your woman. Who almost lost you, and is also goin’ through a lot right now.”

“But, it’s club biz,” I reiterate, staring out the side window, wantin’ to punch him in the fuckin’ mouth for givin’ me hell. I’m trying to protect Kat, not involve her in more shit.

“You two talked about this, didn’t you?”

“The club? Yeah.” I shrug half-assed.

“And you still didn’t tell her what you were gonna do?”

He needs to get off my nutsack.

“No. Why the fuck would I? Spell it out for me, Kade, ‘cause she ain’t a brother.”

“But she’s your old lady, my best friend, and Ghost’s daughter. She’s got a fuckuva lot invested in this club. I think she might deserve to know that her man is gonna have more blood on his hands tonight.”

Scoffing, I shake my head in disgust. “You’re fuckin’ stupid.”

“Why? ‘Cause I want her to know we got justice for you?”

“Do you think Kat of all people is gonna be down with me killin’ in cold blood?”

“You did it to save her.”

One time, under special circumstances.

“That’s not the same thing,” I growl, tappin’ my finger on the windowpane, irritated as fuck. “Plus, she shouldn’t be an accessory to murder.”

“She already is. Or did you forget the dead men in your woods?”

“That was unavoidable.”

Kade snorts derisively. “Right. So it’s okay if she knows about those ‘cause it was unavoidable. But it’s not okay now? You make no goddamn sense.”

“Club biz, bro, we’ve gone over this.” That’s what’s been ingrained in us since infancy. What does he expect me to say? When the teachers in school would send the counselors to check on us, because we’d act up, or whatnot, they were constantly trying to pry. They didn’t like the club in this town back then. They wanted it gone. And to get Pops in trouble, they used us as pawns in their silly games. If we hadn’t learned to keep our traps shut then, our lives would be a helluva lot different now. My childhood wasn’t filled with hugs, kisses, and caviar dreams. Pops ran a fuckin’ motorcycle club. Hell, I saw my first set of bare, perky tits when I was in elementary school. My first gangbang, six months later. I lit up for the first time when I was ten. This isn’t a fairytale. Never was, and never will be. If that’s not reason enough not to include my old lady in this lifestyle, and what it entails, I dunno what is.

“I call bullshit,” Kade grits.

“Why? What the fuck is it any of your business how I handle my woman anyhow? Oh, that’s right, asshole, it’s not. Sorry, I don’t wanna tell her I’m about to bleed three men that almost killed me, and did kill Vanessa. She ain’t like us. That’s not gonna make her sleep peacefully tonight. It’ll make her feel guilty as fuck. Death isn’t a big deal to people like you, me, Pops, Ghost, any of the Sacred Sinners, or Rosie. It’s a huge deal to her. You know me, Kade, you know I won’t tell her stuff for her protection. Not ‘cause I don’t think she can mentally handle it. But because she shouldn’t have to carry that burden around.”

Kade groans his acquiescence. “Fine. I see your point. Your lady, your choice. Did you at least tell her about the party?”

“Nope.” I hold up my hand to stop the tirade I can tell he’s about to unleash. “She already has club whore jealousy issues. If she knew we were gonna have a massive party tonight, she’d be worried I was gonna fuck around on her.”

“Well, are you?”

I shoot Kade a scathing look, fistin’ my hands on top of my lap. “Did you seriously fuckin’ ask me that?”

“It’s a valid question. I love you, bro. But, no offense, I love her more.”

That makes two of us.

“No offense taken, fucker. And no, I’m not.”

“Did you bang that rat ass wife of yours, when you and the club left me in the dark about what was goin’ down?” Kade asks.

“No. I didn’t. And we did that—”

“’Cause I would’ve gutted that slut without thinkin’ twice.”

Right on the money. He knows himself as well as we do.

“Yes you would have, and that would’ve gotten us nowhere.”

“Doesn’t matter now. She’s dead, and their club is about to be wiped from the face of the earth.”

Hell yeah, it is.

“Did Pops tell you about Rosie?” Diverting the subject to something lighter than Kat is always best. Topics pertaining to her have a tendency to get us both riled the fuck up. She’s family. And we protect what’s ours, even if it’s from each other. I can’t fault Kade for stickin’ up for my woman. Even if it pisses me off.

Kade’s shoulders deflate as he grips the steering wheel firmly with both hands. “That she left ‘cause Big called on her to tie up loose ends? Yep, he told me. Fuckin’ sucks she left. Figured she might come back to check on Kat after she was finished.”

“Maybe she’s not finished,” I offer. It’s a valid point. Tracking people who are in hiding takes time.

“She is.” Kade’s crestfallen demeanor troubles me. I’m supposed to be the sullen sonofabitch. Not him.

“How do ya know?”

“’Cause it’s Rosie and she don’t waste time.”

I nod.

True.

Derailing the conversation to greener pastures that don’t include my woman or the one he’s lusting after, I ask about tonight’s party and what to expect. This perks Kade up. We fall into a comfortable banter the rest of the ride to the clubhouse, where shit’s about to get real.

Ryker

One arm hooked around my pops’ thick neck, I hop down one step at a time and use the handrail for extra stability. Gettin’ to the clubhouse basement is no joke. You gotta go through two steel doors and walk down a fair amount of stairs. If I wasn’t half crippled, I could descend without a problem.

Behind us, Kade carries my knee scooter, which has been a damn godsend. “You sure you’re up for this, brother?”

Grittin’ my teeth through the spike of pain enveloping my shoulder, I reply a curt nod. Pops helps me down yet another step as I grip the handrail ‘til my knuckles blanch. The slight jostle is enough to set my blood on fire. Fuck, I should’ve taken more painkillers before I left. A joint sounds pretty damn amazing right about now. If I still lit up, that is. This bein’ a better man shit is exhausting.

“It’s gotta be done,” Pops supplies in my stead.

“I know. But it didn’t have to be today,” Kade disputes, fuming on my behalf.

Another step down, only five more to go. If it weren’t too emasculating, I’d ask to be carried the rest of the way. Going up should be easier than this. I hope. If not, I’m sleepin’ down here tonight. Screw the party. Kade can bring me a cooler with some beer to tide me over.

“I’m not keepin’ three prisoners in my basement any longer than I have to. Not when the pigs have been sniffin’ around,” Pops grumbles. Any second and these two might be goin’ head to head. This is why Ghost should’ve come along. He can handle Pops way better than anyone else. One look from his VP and things are copacetic. Don’t ask me how it works, it just does.

Four steps left. Fuck! My teeth begin to ache from the pressure. Sweat beads on my bald head.

Kade rumbles an appalled sound in the back of his throat. “It’s not Ryker’s fault he almost died. You pushed the docs to release him before they wanted to. Now you’re forcin’ him to do this. He hasn’t even been home a week!”

Perfect, now Kade’s losin’ his cool and the only way to chill him out is with fuckin’, suckin’, a fresh kill, or his best friend. Since three of the four are out, looks like he’s gonna be gettin’ his hands dirty with me.

“Are you the prez, son?” Pops snarls.

Knowing his place, Kade keeps his trap shut and trails behind ‘til we hit the basement level. Then he skirts around us, sets my scooter down for me, and shoots me a look that says he’s got my back. Turning, Kade saunters up the dank hallway to our clubhouse cellblock. His boot heels scuff the floor with each echoed step. This place ain’t pretty. Nobody chills or lives down here. It’s a piece of shit. The cinder block walls, which used to be bright white, are now chipped and dirty. On the floor, there are tiny wet spots where water seeps through the cracked foundation. And it smells musty year round. As a kid, I was too freaked to scope this place out. They could film a horror movie down here—it’s that sinister.

Releasing Pops neck, I set my knee on the scooter and follow behind as he joins Kade.

The steel door of our first room is open when we arrive. Holy goddamn. Sonofabitch! The rancid stench of shit and piss that oozes into the hallway smacks me in the face like a two by four, making my eyes fuckin’ water. Pinching my nose to reduce exposure, I gag, swallow hard to keep from pukin’, then draw a fortifying breath through my mouth. It doesn’t help all that much. It’s so bad I can basically taste it, which is worse. Motherfucker! Has nobody been cleanin’ this man’s cage out? Isn’t that a prospect's job? Don’t we have at least one of those measly bastards?

Pops and Kade shoot me a questioning look, their faces about as green as I feel.

My stomach rolls into itself.

“Looks like someone decided to draw us a portrait with his shit.” Kade’s throat works as he talks funny, nose plugged.

“You decide what you wanna do with this one.” Pops juts his chin in the direction of the animal we’re about to put down.

Scootin’ forward, I peek inside the space. Sure enough, a naked man is lying on a cot, ankle cuffed and chained to the center of the floor. And, yes, he’s coated in fecal matter from toes to throat. How he can stand to bathe in his own excrement is beyond my comprehension. I’ve witnessed plenty of sick fucks get put to ground, but this would be a first that I’ve seen go out in such a fashion. Even the concrete floor is smeared with feces. On the wall above his bed, there’s a giant ‘fuck you’ spelled out. Underneath it, he drew a gun blowin’ someone’s head off. A six-year-old could draw better, but I think we get the gist. The spray of shit where the head exploded is enough visual for me.

“Did ya have fun playin’ in your butt mud?” I torment, tryin’ extra hard not to gag. He doesn’t get to see me weak. Usin’ this scooter is weakness enough.

“Fuck off!” The fat guy booms, shaking a piece of dark hair outta his toffee-colored eye with the twitch of his head.

“Didn’t wanna rub it in your beard?” How’d he manage not to get it on his face when there’s no runnin’ water to wash? These rooms aren’t anything more than a large box with an old cot, a drain in the floor, shackles, and a metal bucket. When we imprison someone down here, a prospect delivers bread and water twice a day to keep ‘em alive. There are no frills. This ain’t the fuckin’ Ritz.

“Eat shit and die!” he howls in response.

Oh, the irony.

“Don’t think I’ll be the one eatin’ shit, asswipe. You’re the one who wanted to make a mud pie.” Why I’m conversing with the dumbass, I ain’t gotta clue. Strangely enough, he’s not a threat. It doesn’t look like he’s about to try anything, not that he could get anywhere if he did. The chain doesn’t reach the door, and there’s nothin’ to throw besides the bucket he has tipped upside down next to the cot he’s restin’ on.

Side-eyeing Pops, I gesture to the putrid mess with a jerk of my elbow. I ain’t no fool, I’m not unpluggin’ my nose ‘til we close that door. “How did you not know about this?”

Glaring at the mess through tiny eye slits, Pops shakes his head in revulsion. “Fuck all was said to me. I don’t come down here. Ghost runs the crew who’s been deliverin’ supplies to the prisoners. This is the first I’ve seen any of ‘em since they were brought in bruised and bloody. Ghost hosed ‘em down with cold water and stripped ‘em of their clothes. That’s all I’ve heard.”

“Well, someone’s fucked up on their duty. ‘Cause no one shits this much in one day,” Kade throws in.

“No shit,” I deadpan, lookin’ at my brother who busts the fuck up at my lame attempt at a joke. Pops doesn’t find it quite as funny, but he grins wide enough you can see it through his beard.

“So, I ain’t touchin’ him, or I’ll be cleanin’ shit off my scooter for days. You think he knew nobody would want to torture a man covered in his own shit, and that’s why he did it? ‘Cause there ain’t no fuckin’ way I’d do that for any reason unless I was insane.”

“He was the one drivin’, so he had to know this was comin’,” Pops remarks.

“Then what do y’all wanna do? Kade, you wanna have fun with him?” I ask, hoping he says yes so I don’t have to.

“Do I wanna wade through man shit to kill the sick fuck?” Kade’s cheeks puff out, and he swallows hard on the verge of puking. Doubling over, holdin’ his stomach, gagging, he gets himself in check. A minute passes before Kade pushes off his knee with a hand to stand upright. His red-rimmed, watery eyes lock with mine. “I can’t do it. Unless we get a prospect down here to spray this clean, I’m not touchin’ anythin’ in that room.”

“Me neither,” Pops agrees, leanin’ against the hall wall.

Knowing time’s a-wastin', I roll forward until I’m fillin’ the doorway. Lifting the back of my cut, I extract my 9 mm Glock, aim with one arm, and squeeze the trigger once, twice, three times in succession. A bullet pierces the man’s thigh from the side. Another goes in his bicep and the third close to his hip. It’s enough damage to make him hurt, but not die fast, unless I nicked a major blood vessel. The wounds seep bright red as it takes a moment for the bastard to realize he’s been shot. Five seconds later and awareness finally washes over his face. Howling in agony, he knifes up in bed. Covering the wound on his hip and thigh, he tries to staunch the bleeding. By doin’ so he contaminates his injuries with shit. In a day, two at most, he’ll be dead by fecal bacteria entering his bloodstream. It’s a shitty way to die, but none of us are gonna enter that nasty room to get the job done. A prospect can deal with his lifeless body and clean up the mess once he croaks. Then to the burn pile he goes.

“Have fun dyin’, bitch,” I hiss, roll back a ways, and slam the door shut before he can get a word in edgewise.

Returning my gun to its place, we all breathe a sigh of relief as the stench in the hallway recedes significantly.

Pops jerks a thumb in the direction we just came. “I’m out. You two take care of business. I gotta check in with Ghost and see how Kat’s doin’.”

“What about Kat?” If they needed an update, they could’ve asked me.

“After Kade picked you up, Ghost dropped by with some pies. Didn’t want her feelin’ lonely since you were gone and Rosie ain’t there.”

Fuck. Okay. I wonder if he told her about the party. If he did, I’m as good as dickless. Kade was right, I probably should’ve given her a heads up.

Idiot.

I shake my head, pissed at myself.

Pullin’ my new cell phone outta my back pocket, I focus on what’s most important while my brother and father chat among themselves before Pops takes his leave.

I’ve gotta talk to my woman. At least touch base. I hadn’t planned on doin’ that ‘til the party, but now’s as good a time as any. It’s not like I don’t miss her. I always do. When she’s not around, it’s like I’m missin’ a limb. But I don’t wanna get clingy, which I could easily do. That’s not the kinda man she needs. Or the kinda man I wanna be. I’m pussy whipped enough as is.

Me: Hey baby, how are things? Was dinner good?

Thirty seconds pass, and she doesn’t text back.

Dammit.

I’m in the doghouse—again.

Shovin’ my phone back in my pocket with a belated groan, I glance up to see that I’m alone. Twenty feet away the second cell door stands wide open. I can hear Kade whistlin’ to himself inside.

Resigning myself to the fact that I’m gonna grovel later, I get the show on the road. These guys ain’t gonna kill themselves.

Scooting into the open doorway, I pause a moment to appreciate the scene my sadistic brother has graciously bestowed upon me. In the middle of the room above the drain is a giant, potbellied man hoisted on his tippy toes by his wrists, ankle still cuffed to the floor. This room is our primary torture chamber, or the fun room, as Kade likes to call it. Because it has a lever system that can be unlocked from the ceiling and used to restrain prisoners. There’s also a steel-doored closet that contains Kade’s toy chest and cleaning supplies. We don’t usually keep people in here for more than a few hours. Not unless it’s necessary. In this case, it was. So they brought in a cot and bathroom bucket for the guy. Luckily, this fucker was smart enough to use it and disposed of his own bodily fluids down the drain like any sane person would.

Two-finger pointing to our unconscious prisoner, I cock a humored brow. “Was he not very helpful? Is that why he’s sleepin’?” I tease.

Kade shrugs, apathetic. “I entered. He wanted to fight. I clocked him in the jaw. He went down like a rhino. The end.”

“And you got him up there all by yourself?” I’m impressed, the guy has to weigh well over three hundred pounds.

My brother caresses the winch attached to the wall. “This gets close enough to the floor. All I had to do was drag him over, sit his fat ass up and crank. Wasn’t too hard.”

Still, in my condition, I couldn’t accomplish half of that. Clockin’ someone in the face hard enough to knock ‘em out ain’t no cake walk, it hurts both of you. My muscles aren’t what they once were. Gunshot wounds will do that to ya.

Strollin’ over to the closet, Kade extracts his toy chest that has cartoon stickers kissing every inch of the old red paint. Fuck knows why he put those on there. To make it less intimidating? ‘Cause it’s hilarious? Maybe My Little Pony, Scooby Doo, and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles give him extra motivation? Hell, I don’t fucking know. And it don’t matter anyhow.

He sets the box on the cot, goes back to the closet, grabs a folding chair that we use for interrogation, and unfolds it against the wall closest to me. Tappin’ the metal seat twice, he juts his chin at the scuffed top. “Take a seat. Rest. I’m gonna wake him up, get him talkin’, then let you do your thing.”

Ya don’t have to tell me twice. I’m already in need of a nap or two. This almost dyin’ shit ain’t no joke. Leaving my scooter be, I hop on one foot to the chair and drop my heavy ass on it. It welcomes me with a high pitched squeak.

“You know torture ain’t really my scene,” I note, adjusting my casted leg in front of me as Kade rifles through his toy box.

“It is today.” He slams the lid shut, snaps open a smelling salt and shoves it right under the man’s nostrils.

The guy’s head snaps up abruptly, eyes watering. “What the?”

Kade slaps the bastard’s cheek twice. “Mornin’ sunshine,” he sing-songs.

“Fuck off.”

“Awe, you wound me.” My brother thumps his breastbone, mock-hurt.

I chuckle to myself.

Sarcastic ass.

The big guy yanks on his restraints, checking their strength, the chain jingles. Extending his bulky, heavily tatted arms as high as they can go, straining on his tippy toes, he wraps his fist around the chain twice and pulls his knees up, so he’s hanging by his arms. If the dumbass thinks his weight is gonna break the winch, he’s delusional. It’s never gonna happen. The device is meant to tow heavy trucks. Kade and I sit back and watch—amused.

Givin’ up, the guy places the tips of his toes back on the floor and unwinds the chain from his fists. His shriveled dick is a pathetic sight, as is the muddy jailhouse ink he’s got covering the majority of his body. Judging by the lines around his eyes, the big gut, and chubby, toneless thighs, I’d say he’s in his early fifties. Although, his calves are in decent shape. Probably from ridin’ a Harley for most his life.

“If you don’t lemme go, you’re dead men,” he snarls, upper lip curling back, exposing a chipped front tooth. Wonder if he had that before or if it’s recent.

“Now, now, Piggy. We don’t take kindly to threats, empty or not,” Kade scolds, his back to the dickweed. Retracting the top of his toy box and removing some of its contents, he lines a variety of instruments on the cot.

“You’re fucked, little boy. I’m gonna gut you.” The man spits in Kade’s direction to cement his savage, albeit funny as fuck threat.

Kade’s shoulders shake in silent laughter. “No. I don’t think you are.” He snorts. “We’re gonna do the guttin’ ‘round here. If you have any last words, might as well say ‘em now or forever hold your peace.”

“My prez will find you and—”

“Your prez, along with the rest of your club has taken their final ride on the highway to Hell,” I interject, enjoying the pathetic show more than I should.

His dark eyes snap to mine. “That can’t be true.”

“It is.”

“No way.”

“You fucked with the Sacred Sinners, tried to kill my old lady and me, what’d you think was gonna happen? Big Dick don’t take kindly to people fuckin’ with his family, and neither do I.”

“I did kill your bitch. Shot her good. Ain’t no way she’s still breathin’.”

Oh, hell no. That motherfucker didn’t go there.

Not giving a shit about my leg, I shoot up, hop twice, and slam my fist into that piece of shit’s face. The satisfying crunch and feel of cartilage caving under impact gives me a chubby. Howling in pain, his head snaps back, blood gushes from his nose down the front of his chest and stomach. Unsatisfied by the damage, I unleash another blow to his jaw, his chest, stomach, and side. On and on I release my rage—fist to flesh. Sweat drips into my eyes, and fatigue turns my arms to jelly. Yet, I push through, landing punch after punch. Like a boxer fightin’ a life-size dummy, I do my thing ‘til my breath grows harsh and heart batters my ribs. The sound of meat being pounded into submission is music to my ears.

That’s right, fucker! Who’s the bitch now?

Disgusted by the scum hangin’ before me, I spit on his face and curse him to Hell. Red begins to tinge the edge of my vision. A fresh wave of adrenaline surges through my system, erasing any trace of pain or exhaustion.

Suddenly rejuvenated, I pummel his solar plexus with a swift one-two.

Take that, you sick fuck. Bet you wish you didn’t try to kill me now.

Thrusting my chest heavenward, hands fisted, head tipped back, I roar like a lion gettin’ a taste of his first kill of the morning. Then I sneer at the battered man and punch him in the throat with all my strength. His teary eyes widen in shock. Teeth and lips smeared with blood, part with a hoarse, choking gasp. The chains rattle overhead as he struggles to pull in air.

“How do you like me now, you soon to be dead sack of shit!” I growl, ready to unleash more damage.

Two strong bands of tattoos wrap around me from behind. “Enough,” Kade whispers beside my ear.

Fine.

Keepin’ me steady, somehow knowing I need to connect once more, my brother grants me a final strike before draggin’ me backward where he drops me on the chair. Wiping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, I slump down as a fiery inferno crafted by the devil himself blazes through every muscle in my body, the adrenaline wearing off. Fuck.

Swallowing thickly, I grit my teeth.

A bottle of pills bounces off my chest, landin’ on my lap. Snatchin’ up whatever gift Kade’s given me, I open the container, pour two tablets into my palm, and toss them back dry.

“That should take the edge off,” he comments, checkin’ the pulse on the side of our prisoner’s neck.

Damn. I did a number on him. His body’s already startin’ to bruise, and that face is jacked up. One eye is swollen. Lip busted. Nose flattened. Cheek inflamed. The only place I didn’t bother was below the belt. I’m not that sick and twisted.

Flexing the fingers on my right hand, I examine the damage I inflicted on myself. The skin’s split across each knuckle. It hurts so damn bad that I can feel my pulse throb through every digit. It’s gonna be at least a week before it gets any better.

Kade slaps the man’s less damaged cheek. “Wakey, wakey, princess.”

In response, air wheezes out of the guy’s mouth, his good eye glaring at my bro. There’s no way his nostrils function any longer.

Kickin’ his dickishness up a notch, Kade clasps the dude on the shoulder. “My brother fucked you up, didn’t he? Man, that’s gotta hurt. You gonna be okay?” He cackles, loving this way too much.

A mixture of tears and blood leak down the prisoner’s face. Listen, I know this ain’t nice. If I had any morals or gave a fuck, even I’d feel sorry for him… How’s that saying go? If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen? Yeah, that’s the one. If you can’t endure the repercussions, you don’t shoot people. This is why the Sacred Sinners don’t pick on other clubs. That’s not our MO. We don’t start unnecessary turf wars. We don’t eradicate other clubs for shits and giggles. Our national prez has his head on straight. We’re a family of bikers first and criminals dead last. If the fucker’s lucky, Kade will take pity on him and let him die quick. Though, that doesn’t look promising. The scalpel in my brother’s latex-gloved hand and the eager gleam in his eye says otherwise.

Rollin’ his shoulders to loosen ‘em up, Kade approaches the guy. Then stops, turns his head, and asks with an arched brow, “You got your licks in, is it cool I get mine?”

Feelin’ the effects of whatever kickass drug he gave me, my eyelids droop, and I wave him forth. “Have at him.”

The bright, maniacal smile Kade blasts at me is enough to draw a small one from my lips. Resuming his whistling, my brother begins to carve his masterpiece made of flesh. First, he cuts the man’s club tat from his bicep with medical precision. The man yells loud enough to make my eardrums ring. Still, Kade carries on carving the tattoo out ‘til it’s one large piece. Which he drops to the floor with a wet slap of fat, skin, and blood.

“Nice,” he mutters to himself, pleased.

Grabbing a container of salt from the cot, Kade flips open the metal tab and pours a steady stream of white crystals onto the prisoner’s exposed wound. I wince at the sight knowing that’s gotta hurt like hell. Consumed by pain, the man thrashes in his chains, screamin’ bloody murder until his throat goes raw. Spittle flies from his cracked lips. Urine streams down the inside of his thigh, pooling beneath his toes. To shut him up, Kade fastens a ball gag around his head and forces the rubber between his lips. As if that’s not humiliating enough, he steps away to snap a few pictures of his masterpiece all the while whistling the opening song to The Andy Griffith Show. This is the sick fuck most people don’t see. The part that Kat will never witness because none of us will allow it. This is the part of Kade that craves Rosie—a kindred spirit who gets off on this shit, too. Maybe not exactly like him, ‘cause he’s got the biggest fuckin’ boner right now tenting his jeans.

The phone in my back pocket vibrates. I breathe a sigh of relief knowin’ it has to be her.

Kat: Dad brought over two pecan pies, so dinner was great.

Forgoing idle chitchat, I pull out the big guns.

Me: I miss you.

So fucking much. I wish I was there right now, lyin’ next to her, talking, maybe kissing a little, and a whole lot of touchin’. Swept away by the mere thought of her, I sample my bottom lip where the memory of her taste lingers like a hot brand. I’ll never forget today for the rest of my life. Or the subtle tang of her pussy as she comes all over my face. Her moans of pleasure. The sweet scent of her cunt. It’s all there locked inside the giant box labeled Soulmate in my brain.

My cock thickens.

Kat: Are you trying to suck up because Dad said you’re going to a club party?

I knew he’d tell her. Of course, he would. We might get along for the time being, but he’s not my biggest fan.

Me: I’m not sucking up. I’m being honest.

Kat: Are you going to drink?

Me: A little.

Kat: It’s not good to mix your medicine with alcohol.

I smirk, my heartwarming. She always feels the need to take care of me, even if I don’t deserve it. I couldn’t have found a better woman.

Glancing up from my phone, I check Kade’s progress. There are tiny slits now covering the guy’s body that he’s taken upon himself to douse with salt. The floor’s a mess of bodily fluids. Whoever cleans up Kade’s torture party is gonna be in for a treat.

Me: I know, babe. Thank you for trying to take care of me.

Kat: Don’t do anything stupid. You have a habit of doing stupid things.

Me: I know. And I promise not to.

Kat: No more babies.

Me: Agreed. No more babies. Is Walker giving you hell?

He must be. Unless she’s worried I’m gonna step out on her and knock someone else up. Which would never happen.

Kat: No. Your daughter is. She’s practicing for the Olympic gymnastics team. Roxie and Scarlett have been tormenting the poor thing. So she’s trying to beat them up for messing up her routine. Walker’s not helping matters. He wants to be constantly held. Any time I put him down he fusses, which isn’t like him.

I chuckle at her description, wishing I’d stayed home instead of followin’ Pops’ orders. Then I could’ve watched my girls touchin’ their mom’s big, sexy belly. Fuck. Just thinkin’ of Kat’s beautiful belly, swollen with my kid gets me rock hard every time. She puts the S in sexy. Add in all that sass, luscious tits, brilliant mind, and my dick’s ready to pound railroad spikes.

Me: I love you so goddamn much.

Kat: So you say. Sometimes you have a shitty way of showing it.

Me: I know. You’re welcome to kick me in the balls anytime I fuck up.

Kat: Like today when you didn’t tell me what you were really doing at the clubhouse?

Tippin’ my head back, I groan in absolute defeat, as the coolness of the wall chills my scalp. I knew this was coming.

Scratching my scruffy chin with one hand, I type out a text with the other.

Me: Yes. That was an error on my part. I didn’t want you to know, because I was worried you thought I might sleep with someone else. And I didn’t want you to worry.

In hindsight, that was foolish. Either way, she’s gonna worry about other women. After the Vanessa fiasco that blew through my life, I wouldn’t be surprised if my little Tiger ever fully trusts me at a club party. Not that I cheated on her. Nor would I. But I did possibly impregnate another woman—if the DNA test shows that Walker’s mine. So her concern is reasonable. At least to me, it is.

“You better be textin’ Kat,” Kade interjects.

Spreadin’ my legs out, gettin’ more comfortable, my head lists to the side, high as a damn kite. “Yes. I’m textin’ with her. What in the hell was in those pills you gave me?” My lips are almost numb.

“Oxy.”

“F-uck.”

“You feel better, don’t ya?”

“I’m high.”

Kade smirks, eyebrows bouncin’ animatedly as he nods. “That’s the objective. Yeah?”

“You better not let anyone rape me tonight at the party.” I sound like a bitch.

“You sound like a bitch.” Kade snorts.

My sentiments exactly.

“I don’t need to give Ghost any more reasons to hate me. Or for him or anyone else to feed Kat lies.”

“You’re not gonna cheat on her.”

“I know that, and you know that. But if I pass out all it takes is one picture.” It wouldn’t be the first time people snap a photo to cause shit.

Kade thumps his blood speckled chest. “I got you, bro. That just means more pussy for me.” His smirk grows into a full on smile, smug as fuck.

“Precisely. Now carry on.” I wave him forth with a lazy hand. The sooner this guy dies, the quicker we’ll be done.

“You better not pass out on me. We’ve got another asshole to kill.”

That’s not gonna happen. This shit’s strong— makin’ my head float. This is the reason I don’t take heavy narcotics if I can prevent it.

“I took two oxy.”

Kade rolls his eyes. “Dumbass.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll wake you if ya snooze.”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Kade gets back to his thing, and I get back to mine before my brain powers down.

Kat: Honesty is always the best policy with me.

Me: I know. And you’ll get it. Which is why I’m gonna tell you that I took two oxy that Kade gave me. So I’m gonna be out here soon. If you don’t hear back from me for a while, know that I ain’t up to no good. I’m just sleeping.

Kat: OMG. Are you okay?!

Me: Babe, don’t freak out. You wanted honesty, and I’m given it to ya.

Kat: Shit. I know. I’m sorry. Are you okay? Is that better? That makes me sound calm. I’m calm.

Me: No you’re not. And I’m fine. Overdid it a bit. That’s all.

Kat: This is why you shouldn’t have left!

Me: I know. I wish I woulda fought Pops about staying home.

Kat: He is the one who made you go?

Me: Yes. He wanted some shit handled that only I could handle.

Kat: I’m gonna kill him!

Besotted beyond rationalization, I grin at the intensity of her text. I’m one lucky bastard to have such a fiercely loyal old lady. And I’m gonna show her just how fuckin’ lucky I am in two days, when Valentine’s rolls around.

Me: Sweetheart, stop. There’s no use in getting upset on my account. You gotta remember he’s not only my pops, but he’s also my prez. There are some orders I gotta follow even if I don’t want to.

Kat: Well he’s my father-in-law, not my prez, so I can kill him if I want.

My heart jackknifes. I can’t believe she called him her father-in-law. That means she’s in this. That this is fuckin’ real! Goddamn, I’m so happy I could weep like a bitch. But I won’t. Instead, I smile ‘til my cheeks hurt.

Me: I love you so fuckin much, Tiger, you don’t even know.

Kat: I love you, too.

Me: You better.

Kat: I do. Sometimes I wonder if I should be committed to an asylum for feeling that way.

Me: If you were committed anywhere I’d break in, kill everyone, and rescue you.

Kat: Well aren’t you a regular knight in shining armor.

Me: Smartass.

Kat: Always.

Me: Hey, Tiger?

Kat: Yes, Ryker?

Me: I’m getting really sleepy, but I don’t want to stop talking to you.

Kat: Get some rest. You can text me when you wake up. Dickcheese told me he’d keep you safe.

Me: He did? When?

Kat: When he picked you up today.

That’s my brother, always lookin’ out for me as I would him.

Me: Alright, pretty lady, I’ll text you later. Tell the girls I love them… I’m gonna dream sweet dreams of your sweet, sweet pussy.

Kat: I will, you perv.

Me: Love you forever.

Stowin’ my cell in my pocket, unable to keep my eyes open a moment longer, I tilt my head back and succumb to the euphoric opiate high.

Ryker

Two dead and another one not to go. After I passed out during my brother’s torture sesh, I woke up to a bloodbath of flesh and guts. Talk about sickening. Kade decimated that man until he died a very horrible death. Once he was finished, the guy’s abdomen looked a lot like hamburger fresh from the grinder. How Kade can stomach that level of torture is something I can never and will never comprehend.

Now that the meds I took have worn off a bit, we’re arguing in circles outside the third prisoner’s cell. Ten minutes ago I wheeled myself to the next room along with a blood-smeared Kade. What I didn’t expect to find inside the four cold walls was a scrawny, freckled-faced kid who’s naked and deathly afraid.

“I’m not killing a kid, Kade,” I rumble for the fifteenth time. There’s no way I’m takin’ a life so young. Not when I know for a fact he didn’t shoot me, nor drive the vehicle that t-boned Vanessa’s car.

My jazzed up bro has his knife out, twirling it between his fingers, ready for more blood. “He’s an accomplice. We know he was in the truck with them. We know he knew about the attack at the cabin and the clubhouse. He was in on it!”

“Did he drive any of the cars? Did he shoot at anyone?”

“Not that I know of.”

“He’s a kid.”

Kade spits on the concrete floor. “He’s old enough to know fuckin’ better. If you join a club and do bad shit, you face the consequences. I’m gonna bleed him,” he says through clenched teeth.

Fistin’ the front of Kade’s shirt I jerk him forward, bringing us nose to nose. He doesn’t put up a fight. “You ain’t touchin’ shit unless I say so.”

“The fuck I ain’t. His club almost killed you,” he hisses in my face.

“You wanna try me? ‘Cause I’ll fight you. Do you wanna hurt your brother? You wanna fight over this? ‘Cause I might not have much of a conscience, but at least I got a pea sized one. You ain’t got nothin’. We can’t kill a kid, Kade! That’s bad karma. He’s already scared out of his mind.” I shove him away, and he stumbles back three steps.

Kade massages the nape of his neck and begins to pace. “What do you wanna do with him then? Bake him a cake and kiss his boo-boos?”

“No, smartass.”

“Then what? ‘Cause Pops ain’t gonna like whatever you come up with that doesn’t put that kid six feet under. He’s gotta be put to ground. You know it.”

“We’re not killin’ a fuckin’ kid.”

Kade scoffs. “How’d you get a bleedin’ heart all of a sudden?”

“I have no such thing.”

“Is this about Kat?”

I lean my shoulder against the hall wall, so I don’t fall over. These meds are still kickin’ my ass. “How would this have anything to do with her?”

Chin to chest, he continues pacing. “’Cause she’s softened you up. She has this way about her that makes you wanna be good—a better man.”

“She makes you a better man, too. Whether you wanna believe it or not. It’s true.”

Kade was much different before Kat came back into my life, and freshly into his. Their friendship has changed him in ways I don’t think he realizes. He’s less rough around the edges. Cares about people’s feelings more than before. Not sayin’ he wasn’t always considerate of those he loves. Because he is. That’s never been his problem. But when you have to balance such darkness day in and day out with the light, it takes its toll. Kat helps ground him. My brother has never been normal, though to most people he appears that way, aside from his love affair with knives. That’s because he doesn’t let most people see the darkness that lingers in his soul. His morbid fascination with the human body and how it ticks has always made him unique. When we were kids, he was the one who used to come down to these chambers and watch club brothers kill and interrogate various men. He learned a lot from them, and the medical journals Pops use to buy him all the time.

“I know that. But Watermelon Tits ain’t gonna keep me from guttin’ a teenager,” he argues.

Guess it’s time to try a different tactic. Bloodlust has his brain firin’ on all the wrong cylinders.

“What if that was… Walker in eighteen years?” I test.

“Ain’t neither of ‘em your kids. So that don’t apply here.”

“Humor me. What if Walker was mine and we had a club war, he was prospectin’ and got caught up like this. What if both of us died. Would you want the other club to kill him, too?” I would say no in a heartbeat ‘cause I know that’s the right answer. Believe it or not, not everyone deserves to die when they make bad choices. Kade has to realize this.

“Stop talkin’, Ryker.” Kade rakes a hand through his hair—frustrated.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he clips.

“Would you want him to be killed? What if he’s got a mom back home like Kat…and sisters who love him.” Yep, I’m layin’ it on thick.

“That’s not possible. Nobody has a mom like Kat, except Rox and Scarlett.”

Damn, he’s a stubborn motherfucker when he wants to be. He’s got a smart-mouthed answer for everything, and it’s startin’ to piss me off.

“Jesus Christ, Kade, can’t you cut that bloodlust for a damn minute and think like a normal human!”

“WWKD, is that the game we’re playin’ right now? What would Kat do?”

If he doesn’t shut his smartass mouth right now, I’m gonna fuck his pretty face up. Then Kat really will kill me whenever she sees the damage. ‘Cause you and I both know damn well he’ll go cryin’ to her that I punched him. Fuckin’ baby.

I squeeze the handle on my scooter to curtail the need to lay him out. “Oh, my God, you’re an insufferable dickhead sometimes.”

“Hey, you start textin’ with your old lady, and now you wanna play nice. What do expect me to say?” He kicks the base of the chipped wall where a little puddle of water has gathered.

“I expect you to answer the question like a sane adult. Can you at least try to act that way for just a minute before you go back to my psycho brother? How Kat hasn’t realized you’re insane yet is truly a miracle.”

“She’d love me even if she knew,” he volleys back with supreme attitude.

“That might be true, but you still need to answer the question.”

Kade throws his hands up in theatrical defeat as he turns to me, makin’ eye contact through a blistering glare. “No. Okay! No. I wouldn’t want them to kill Walker in this hypothetical bullshit situation. I’d want him to live.”

“Then why can’t we sit down with this kid, talk to him, and figure out what’s goin’ on in his life? Then we can decide how we wanna proceed.” That sounds reasonable enough to me.

“We’re not Dr. Fuckin’ Phil, Ryker. I’m not gonna ask about his feelings and wipe his scrawny ass when he takes a dump.”

Aggravated, I palm my entire face and grumble behind it, “Kat is so gonna find out how much of a nut job you are. There’s no way we can keep this under wraps.”

“Shut the fuck up! We ain’t talkin’ about her. Stop bringin’ her up. She ain’t gonna find out!”

Oops, I nicked a nerve.

I slide said palm down my face, banishing a groan. “She totally is. You can’t act normal long enough to be a stable adult.”

Tuckin’ his knife inside his cut, he crosses his arms over his chest, legs wide apart—facin’ off. He taps his toe on the ground like a twitch he can’t restrain. “I know what you’re doin’. Stop usin’ her against me. It’s not fair.”

Was that a whine? I swear he was whining right there. Now I know I’ve poked a sore spot.

“What’s not fair? I’m doin’ no such thing.” I play dumb.

“You’re makin’ me wanna be a good person by talkin’ about Kat. ‘Cause all I can think about now is what she’d want me to do in this situation. You fuckin’ suck.”

Hell yeah, that’s definitely a whine.

“Is it working?” I taunt.

“I hate you,” he grinds out.

A victorious smile steals across my face. “I love you, too.”

“Fuck off.”

“Awe, you’re so sweet,” I mock to irritate him a fraction more. This is fuckin’ fun.

“Suck a fat dick.”

“That’s my woman’s job,” I quip.

Unfolding one arm, he flips me off. “Christ, dickbag, can’t you shut up?”

“Are you gonna sit back and let me talk to the kid instead of killin’ him?”

Kade makes a sour puppy dog face. It’s hilarious as hell. “I thought you already won. Yes. Yes, we’ll talk to the freckly fucker.”

“And?” I prompt. He knows what I need to hear.

“You want me to say it?” More childish pouting.

“Yes. I want you to say it.”

“I won’t kill him. There. Is that better?”

“Yup.”

Kade yanks open the cell door, and like a sarcastic SOB, he sweeps his hand and bows midway, signaling for me to enter first.

“I seriously hate your guts,” Kade whispers menacingly behind my back as I scooter forth.

The corner of my lip hooks a partial smirk.

No, he doesn’t.

“I think I’ll survive.”

“I dunno what Kat sees in you,” another harsh whisper.

“On that, we both agree. Now be a good boy and get your brother the chair from the other room.” Brooking no further argument, I lean against the wall furthest from the cot and thumb to the open doorway. Surprisingly enough, Kade does as he’s told and retrieves the chair. He’s even respectful enough to unfold it and set it down beside me.

“Thanks,” I mutter in appreciation before I take a seat and stretch out. Rubbin’ my eyes to rid them of crud, I keenly observe the kid who’s curled into a ball on the corner of his cot. His waif-like arms are wrapped around his shins. The bottom half of his face is hidden behind knobby knees. He has messy, reddish blond hair, and snow white skin speckled with light brown freckles across the entirety of his body. At least from what I can see. His bony shoulders are as heavily spotted as his forehead. However, the tops of his long, skinny feet lack the brownish dots.

Standing alongside me, Kade parks himself against the wall, arms and ankles both crossed in a faux lax position. If he expects me to believe he’s not jonesing to bleed this kid by restin’ that way, he doesn’t know me at all. The tightness around his fiery blue eyes and the set of his jaw is enough to know he’s doing his best to restrain his internal demons. Kade is and always has been like a shark. One taste of blood and he wants more. A good thing about my brother is that he doesn’t kill frivolously. It’s not random, or accidental. It’s done with a purpose. If you’ve ever watched the show Dexter, you’d consider Kade a watered down version of the famous blood splatter analyst.

Wanting to appear somewhat intimidating, but not overly so, I slouch in the chair lettin’ my legs spread wide, one arm tucked across my chest. “What’s your name, kid?” My tone’s firm, yet friendly.

The kid in question starts to tremble. Any minute now and he’s gonna piss himself. This is worse than I anticipated.

“Name, kid. My brother asked you a fuckin’ question,” Kade barks, effectively screwin’ this up. I wanna hiss at him to shut his trap, but I know that if I do, we won’t come off as a united front. That’s not what I want.

I’m not interested in playing good cop, bad cop.

“You gotta name?” I adjust my voice to a soft almost whisper. “All we want is a name.” Once you get someone talkin’ and to trust you aren’t’ gonna murder them, their tongues loosen. That’s the goal here. As much as I say I don’t feel shit, my hearts poundin’ a hundred miles an hour watchin’ this scared kid about to stroke out at our mere presence. This ain’t the reaction of a true outlaw biker. Most of ‘em laugh in the face of death or tell you where you can shove it. Not this boy. He’s like a scared puppy who’s been beaten into submission and afraid to make a peep. Which tells me he’s either meek or been abused. Possibly both.

A waterfall of tears silently stream down his gaunt face as his swollen eyes stare back at us—weary. The assholes should’ve fed him more. There’s no way he was this skinny when they brought him in. And by the bruise on his bicep, I’m willin’ to bet somebody took it upon themselves to beat on him a little. Bruises don’t stay that dark unless they’re fresh. If I got any say in the matter, whoever’s been pickin’ on him will also pay. Brother or not, you don’t hurt a prisoner without your president’s order to do so. Even Kade follows that rule.

“Kid, come on, give me somethin’ here,” I try again.

“Y-y-you ca-can ki-kill me now. I-I won’t p-p-put up a fight. J-just let me close m-m-my eyes first,” he stutters out, then squeezes his eyes shut as tears continue to leak. A silent sob wracks his lean body as he sucks in a snotty breath through his nose. Christ, I’m dyin’ over here. This is awful to watch.

Side-eyeing Kade, I notice he’s almost as affected by this as me. The fury in his eyes has completely vanished. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say sympathy has taken its place.

Swallowing down the lump growing in my throat, I scrub the back of my bald head and adjust myself on the chair. This kinda meltdown would be handled better by someone like Kat, who has extensive mom experience with this stuff. She’d know what to say and how to calm a cryin’ kid who truly thinks he’s about to die. And what’s worse, is willin’ to go without a fight. The other two dicks we killed were deserving. Even so, they each got a few words in edgewise and they sure as hell fought to stay alive.

“Oh, come on, kid, we’re not gonna kill ya,” Kade finally breaks the emotionally charged silence.

Most people would be relieved and brighten at the news of stayin’ alive. Not this kid. He opens one eye and uses it to scan us like a lie detector. Then the second opens and he scrutinizes every inch of us—cautiously. He’s smart to be guarded, I’ll give him that. Not many people learn that lesson until later in life after they’ve been burned one too many times. Which, once again, makes me wonder how much he’s been forced to deal with at such a young age.

Changing tactics, I come at him from a different angle. “My name’s Ryker, and this here is my brother, Kade.” I jerk my head in said bro’s direction.

“M-my name’s S-Stuart, but everyone c-calls me Mouse.”

Kade snickers. “Mouse? As in Stuart Little?”

The kid blinks rapidly, cheeks pinkin’ up, staring at my brother who’s, in essence, teasing him. “Y-yes.”

“How the hell did ya get that name?” For someone who wanted this boy dead, Kade’s mighty talkative.

The kid supplies a tiny shrug. “I’m s-small, my name is Stuart, and I c-can get in and out of places quick without bein’ seen.”

“You a thief?” Kade asks.

Mouse’s head ducks completely behind his knees before he whispers a faint, “Yes.”

“That’s really fuckin’ cool,” Kade praises without a hint of mockery. What in the hell has gotten into him?

Before my brother can ask the kid twenty questions about his skill set, I interrupt their little… whatever this is. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen.” This comes out clearer than anything he’s said yet. Now we’re gettin’ somewhere.

“Why did you join that piece of shit motorcycle club?” I shoot off next, not givin’ him much time to deliberate.

A half shrug. “I didn’t have much choice.”

“Why’s that?”

“M-my mom left me with m-my eighteen-year-old brother when I was t-twelve. He was a pr-prospect at the t-time. Less than a year after she left, I had to s-start stealin’ food and money to get by. It didn’t take long to realize I was good at it. B-by the time I was fifteen my br-brother had me stealin’ small time stuff for the club on the side.”

That was way more than I expected him to say. As a club, we’d never have some kid workin’ for us. That’s a disaster in the making.

“Did you wanna do it?”

Mouse shakes his head. “No.”

“Then why did you?” I test.

“I dunno.”

“Yeah ya do.”

“W-why do you care?”

“Consider me curious.” Which ain’t a lie.

“Well, there’s not much to tell. Jonny was k-keepin’ a roof over my head, and I got to s-stay in school. I felt like I owed him.”

“And you decided to join the club when you were eighteen for the same reason?”

Another half shrug. “Pr-pretty much.”

“Did your club brothers care that you’re gay?” Kade asks outta fuckin’ nowhere, shocking the shit out of me. I swing my eyes to him, wonderin’ where that came from. I’m… What the… Has he lost his damn mind? Nobody’s talkin’ about gayness.

“I-I’m I’m I’m n-not a fag,” the kid squawks, face beet red, eyes bulging. His hold around his shins tightens as he locks his fingers, knuckles blanching.

Knowing this is plain horseshit, I address Kade with venom tinging my voice. “That was fuckin’ uncalled for.”

Kade shakes his head with two stiff jerks. “No, it ain’t.” He points to Mouse. “He’s queer. If he can’t be honest with us about that, how can we expect him to be honest about anythin’ else? Maybe he’s playin’ us. You ever thought about that?”

“Of course I have,” I snarl, glaring at the dipshit. Where is all of this comin’ from? Nobody said anything about Mouse bein’ a gay kid. He might be pretty, if he put on twenty pounds. But that don’t mean jack. I’ve seen plenty of pretty men bang bitches.

“Then ask him why he can’t admit he’s gay.” Kade’s dead serious. There’s no humor in the blue eyes that battle against mine.

“I ain’t no fag!” Mouse screeches, thick with emotion.

Kade arches a questioning brow at me, head dipped in a way that says, ‘Really? You’re buyin’ that?’ “He is, Ryker. He’s got bottom boy written all over him.”

“I… I… I… I don’t like boys. I… I like girls. Tits. P-pussies. All… all of it.” Mouse ain’t lettin’ this go without a weak fight. It’s the first time I’ve seen him get riled up, albeit with watery eyes and a shaky voice. He doesn’t fight when he thinks we’re gonna kill him. But he’s upset when Kade declares he’s homosexual? None of these puzzle pieces fit in the right slots. The picture ain’t clear. Kade must know somethin’ I don’t. If he’d been forthcoming before we came in here, I wouldn’t have to question who’s right and who’s not. I hate mind fucks.

Before I get a chance to question my brother about his accusation, he’s tappin’ on his cell phone. Then he stows it away and stands smugly against the wall keepin’ his lips sealed.

Who did he message?

Less than a minute later my question’s answered when Pops and Ghost’s voices and heavy footfalls carry down the hall.

“Why are they here?” I whisper hiss.

Kade juts his chin, expression unreadable. “He seems to have a problem. So, we’re gonna clear that problem up.”

What. The. Fuck?

My eyebrows furrow, an impossible headache forming in my frontal lobe.

Is Mouse gay? Or is Kade testin’ to see how he feels about gay men by accusing him of preferring the D? None of this makes a lick of sense, and that’s not the meds talkin’. This is legit confusing.

Pops and Ghost silently enter the room and stand shoulder to shoulder beside Kade, forming an impenetrable wall. Their air of dominance sucks most of the oxygen from the room. Apparently, Pops has an ax to grind. Reading his emotions is easy. The age lines crinkling on his face and the hardness of his wide-legged stance is a distinct tell. Ghost’s not farin’ much better. Except his emotions are marginally harder to decipher. If I hadn’t known him this long, I wouldn’t know what to look for, but the tick in the side of his cheek is all I need to see.

“Are you a fag?” My prez booms.

The kid shrinks further into himself like a frightened turtle. What in the fuck is goin’ on?

When Pops doesn’t get a response in a timely manner, his brusque dominance escalates. “I’m fuckin’ talkin’ to you, boy.”

“You better answer them, Mouse,” I cut in. The last thing I want is Pops orderin’ Kade to finish the job he wanted to finish in the first place.

Face hidden behind his knees, shoulders trembling through quiet sobs, he shakes his head the tiniest bit.

“Do you like dick?” Ghost is next to speak.

Hasn’t Mouse already said no plenty of times?

Is this one of those try to break him into agreeing with you to see if he has guts or not? If he doesn’t relent, you can trust him? Fuck. I don’t get it.

The kid sniffles.

I wanna ask what kind of game we’re playing here, but don’t wanna get chewed out.

“If you ain’t gay, then why in the fuck did we find PrEP in your wallet when we brought you in?” This comes from Kade.

What’s PrEP? I open my mouth to ask, but Pops beats me to it. “It’s a pill people take to keep from contracting HIV durin’ sex. It’s used mostly by gays. Especially those who prefer to bottom.”

Like you, I wanna comment, yet think better of it. I prefer to keep my balls right where they are, between my legs.

The room stills for a good ten seconds before the oddest thing happens. A tear stained Mouse climbs off the cot, shakes his scrawny limbs out like a newborn colt, and approaches us as if he’s walkin’ the damn plank. Louder sobs break from his lips with each shuffle of his pale feet. For some reason I expect my brother to pull out a knife, on high alert, but he doesn’t. All four of us watch in quiet fascination until the kid gets less than a yard from my pops and kneels on the floor at his feet, chin on chest, hands clasped behind his back in a submissive pose.

“I-I’m r-ready,” Mouse stammers.

Ready for what?

I glance at Kade to get a read. He appears about as confused as me.

Is he waitin’ to die? Is that what he means?

“For what?” my brother asks, takin’ the words right outta my mouth.

“T-to die.”

Ummm… Yeah… Do people really kneel to die? ‘Cause I sure as fuck ain’t gonna kneel at nobody’s feet to meet my maker.

Pops and Ghost exchange a look that says a million things and nothing all at the same time. It’s their own special language that irritates some, but I’ve always found it cool. Maybe one day, Kat and I will have a similar language.

Inching forward, Ghost touches the boy’s trembling shoulder. Mouse emits a terrified squeak, going rigid, yet doesn’t pull away. “Your club didn’t tell you much about us, did they?” he tests.

“N-no, sir. They br-brought me along to show me h-how it’s done.”

“How what’s done?” Ghost queries all Zen-like.

What the shit?

Did these motherfuckers just do a 180 with their attitudes and I didn’t notice? They must’ve.

“I d-don’t know. To kill? All I was told was t-to sit back, shut up, and learn.”

“You didn’t have a gun on you when they brought you in,” Kade remarks as Ghost begins to massage the kid’s shoulder.

A string of snot runs out of the boy’s nose, close to touchin’ the floor. He doesn’t move to wipe it away. “I’m a t-terrible shot.”

“You got any family back home?” This comes from Pops, who’s strokin’ his beard, deep in thought.

“I have no home.”

Another look swaps between VP and Prez.

Could this mean good things? ‘Cause I’m starting to hope it might.

“No family?” Kade asks.

The timid shake of Mouse’s bed head says everything. “Only my brother. An-and I know he’s d-dead. They already told me.”

“Were you abused?” I can’t stop the words from leavin’ my mouth. None of this is addin’ together. Not a damn bit. Something ain’t right.

Mouse says nada, which might as well be a bright neon sign flashing yes.

Ghost releases the kid, now that he’s quit shakin’ and stands beside Pops. Gathering up a little courage, Mouse lifts his head. When he does a proud smile, I’ve never seen before steals across Kade’s stoic face. This is the goddamn Twilight Zone.

“This here is my pops and our club prez, Bear,” Kade introduces with a simple flick of his hand. “The other guy is our VP, Ghost. What you might find fascinating is that they’re together.”

The bomb has been dropped.

The kid glances between them and back again still not processing.

To speed this reveal along, Ghost hooks Pops around his thick neck and yanks him down for a disgustingly passionate kiss that has them both moaning in milliseconds. Droppin’ my eyes to my lap to give them a modicum of privacy, not that they give a rats ass, I wait for the sloppy makeout sesh to end. Once they get started, it’s oftentimes hard for them to stop. I’ve seen it way too many times to count. At least they have mild restraint whenever we’re with the club brothers. Sons don’t count.

Kade roughly clears his throat and hisses, “You’re given the kid a boner. Stop.”

His words don’t penetrate their sex crazed bubble.

There’s a distinct clang of belt buckles. Kade curses. I sneak a peek to see if what I think is about to happen is. Sonofabitch. I’m right on the money. We’ve gotta move. Fast! These horny bastards are gonna fuck. Ghost has Pops pinned to the wall with his hand down the front of his jeans, strokin’ somethin’ I’d rather not think about.

A shiver of ick rolls down my spine.

Trust me, you don’t wanna watch your pops get plowed in the back door by his partner. It’s not a pretty sight. Hairy asses aren’t a turn on, even if it wasn’t attached to my father.

Kade and I exchange a knowing look. Then I quickly get to my feet and grab my scooter. We’re in the hall with a naked boy in tow within seconds.

“Do they always gotta do that?” I grumble, trying to scoot as fast as I can so I don’t hear their filthy foreplay banter.

“They’re dudes,” Kade states as if that explains everything. It kinda does.

We pause at the bottom of the staircase that I’m gonna have to tackle. Droppin’ my ass on a step to gather strength, I take a load off. Kade leans against the hall wall in front of me as the kid stands awkwardly between us with his hands clasped over an obvious boner.

“You so like dick, kid,” I chuckle heartily. Today’s been one helluva wild ride. Jealousy, pussy-lickin', shit stain, tortured fat man, and gay boy, what an odd combination. Next, a party. From the sound of the muffled bass vibrations, it’s in full swing.

“I-Is that okay?” Mouse sways back and forth, shoulders curled forward like he’s protecting himself. His eyes are glued to the cracks in the floor, teeth sawin’ away at his bottom lip.

“Did you not see our pops about to fuck back there?” Kade asks incredulously.

A small nod. “I-I did.”

“Then you should know most of our club don’t give a fuck about gay or straight. We care about character. Some of the brothers are pricks about it, but they’ve learned to keep their mouths closed, or they’ll get fucked up. You can’t go through life scared of likin’ dick. Especially if you’re gonna roll with bikers. We’re a bunch of barbaric assholes sometimes, but ownin’ who you are ain’t a crime. So when I asked you if you’re gay… you’d better say, fuck yeah I am, you gotta problem with that? You don’t fuckin’ lie. You don’t back down. You don’t cower like a bitch. You can’t change that you like dick any more than I can change that I like pussy… Guess the question I should be askin’ ya is… Do you wanna lead a different life? One where I can teach ya to stand up for yourself. This is a club, it ain’t no cake walk. We demand respect, loyalty, and hard work. But you ain’t got nobody, and I’m feelin’ mighty charitable today. So the decision’s yours. Go back to your shit life in the cold as fuck north, or build a new one here. I’ll sponsor ya so you can prospect with the club. If that’s what ya want. But you’re gonna have to be the one to grow a damn backbone, and put in the work. Ain’t nobody gonna coddle your skinny ass.”

Just when I think Kade can’t surprise me more, he does. This is huge, even for him. He’s not a typical do-gooder. He doesn’t give chances to people he doesn’t think truly deserve them. I’m kinda in awe of him right now. Kat’s gonna be proud.

Watching the kid’s reaction, I sigh.

He’s cryin’ again. Fat droplets are fallin’ from his eyes, landing in small splashes on the floor. He’s bloodied his bottom lip from bitin’ it too much. “W-why would… are you doing th-this for me?” he hiccups.

Kade’s right about the backbone thing. He needs to toughin’ up. It’s hard enough clashing with club brothers when you’re straight. Bein’ gay adds a whole new layer of watery crap you gotta wade through. Just ask Pops and Ghost; they’ve been livin’ the small-mindedness for years. It ain’t easy to handle. Not when you’re weak. Kade’s got his work cut out for him. Glad it’s not me. I’ve got enough shit to juggle.

Kade extracts a small pocket knife and picks his nails with the tip. “’Cause people deserve second chances. ‘Cause I see a scared kid who’s been dealt a shitty hand, who deserves to stand on his own two feet. And I’ve got a best friend who’d put my dick in a meat grinder if I didn’t.”

This is true. Kat totally would.

Ready to get this day over with so I can get back to my old lady in the mornin’, I wrap my fist around the railing and use it to get to my feet. Shovin’ my scooter at Mouse to carry, I wave Kade over so he can help me hop up this flight of stairs. It’s gonna be a bitch. But the sooner we’re up there, the sooner I can drink, and Kade can get some clothes on this naked kid. I’m sick of seein’ other dudes floppy cocks and pale asses tonight.

Ryker

I’m d-r-u-n-k-k-k. Three sheets to the wind and lovin’ it! No aches. No pain. Not a thaaang. Sure, my brain’s fuzzy, my eyelids droopy, and I’m buzzy warm from pecker to ear tips. It’s per-fuckin-fect. Almost better than sex. Almost. I can’t remember the last time I consumed this much drankkk. A beer and pain med cocktail ain’t good for my liver, kidneys, or other vital organs. You think I give two good goddamns about that? Nope, Kemosabe. I needed this.

Head tipped back, I melt into the soft leather of the couch. Arms spread on either side of me, manspreading as I bask in the chill party. The sweet scent of Mary Jane perfumes the air. Classic rock pulses, making the windowpanes rattle. The only thing that could make this night better is Kat bein’ here, sittin’ on my lap, kissin’ on this mouth that aches to consume hers. Instead, I’m watching two naked babes, standin’ less than six feet away; finger each other, as they make out in a mess of sloppy lust. It's normal. Nothin’ outta the ordinary for the clubhouse. Two of my fellow brothers are shamelessly droolin’ over the display with woodies tentin’ their jeans. The chicks do nothin' for me. Can’t say it’s not a little hot to watch two chicks goin’ at it. Who doesn’t love a bit of chick on chick action? But, the mister in my pants ain’t twitched or nothin’. It could be from my drunken state of this-is-fuckin’-heaven. Though, I think it’s got more to do with Kat than anything. Her voodoo pussy put a spell on me. And now I’m hers.

A long-haired sexpot with huge jugs flounces around the edge of the sofa, comin’ straight for me. Without sayin’ a word, she straddles my good leg, restin’ her thong wrapped cunt on my thigh. Both of her manicured hands lay on my shoulders as she leans in close to talk above the music.

“Hey, Ryker,” she purrs, her eyelashes fluttering. The scent of alcohol tinges her breath.

“Sup?” My head lolls to the side, and I grin halfcocked, bein’ friendly.

The babe drops a hand to my johnson and squeezes it through the denim.

I chuckle. “Sorry, sweetheart. You’re barkin’ up the wrong tree. My dick’s under new management.”

Blondie’s bottom lip juts into an exaggerated pout. On my little Tiger, it’d be adorable. On this chick, not so much. She needs to get up. I’m not in the mood to play games, get a lap dance, nor pry her greedy paws off my dick. The same dick that she’s trying to wake up by strokin’ him earnestly outside my jeans. Did this bitch not hear me? This ain’t a strip club. I didn’t come here to get fondled. I came here to be with my brothers and get lit. If I wanted pussy, I’d go home to get it.

Refusing to give up, she presses those bare tits to my chest and mouths my jaw. Yeah, that’s enough. I’ve been nice. Didn’t wanna be an asshole to her, but she’s pushed too far. You don’t put your lips anywhere near my face unless I give you permission.

“Hey!” I twist my head away so she’ll get the hint. “Get. Off.” I nudge her shoulder, tryin’ hard not to shove her onto the floor like an insensitive prick.

My words don’t penetrate.

She ain’t listenin’.

That glossy mouth of hers attacks my throat, and I see red.

“Knock it off!” I roar, grippin’ a fistful of hair to yank her off. Which the bitch must take as foreplay when she moans like a whore, tryin’ to grind her pussy on my sore thigh.

Before I can finish correcting the jacked up situation, the blonde’s torn off my leg. Body flying backward she lands hard on the floor in a mess of limbs. Confused by what the hell just happened, I glance up at the same moment a fist connects with my jaw. Whoa! My head snaps to the side. Pain explodes. Teeth rattle. I bite my tongue, tasting copper. The circuits in my brain malfunction for a long second before they click back on. Blinking a few times, I rub my sore face and swallow down the disgusting taste of blood, wincing.

Another slow blink and my addled brain focuses blearily on the pixie bitch standin’ across from me fuming. What makes matters worse, is Kade’s holdin’ her back. She’s ready to commit murder.

Knowin’ this ain’t good, I raise both hands in surrender. “I wasn’t doin’ anything bad, Rosie.”

Volcanic fire blazes in her eyes, promising me a slow, agonizing death. “The hell you weren’t! I was just at your place. Spendin’ time with your woman. And this is what she gets? You touchin’ somebody else!” As this loyal chick spits poison at me, what’s my stupid brother doin’, besides holdin’ her back? He’s got his lovesick nose stuffed in her hair, getting high on Rosie scented perfume. By the blissed-out expression Kade’s wearing, he’s not payin’ a damn bit of attention to the flurry of pissed off crazy this chick is spewin’. Hell, I’m so drunk I can’t make out half of what she’s screamin’ either. There’s something about boiling my balls in acid. How Kat’s gonna find someone better once I’m dead. And I think something about wastin’ her time comin’ here to talk to me when I was busy with some whore. By the time she relents, her face is strawberry red, she’s done fightin’ against Kade’s ironclad restraint, and still, her fists are shakin’ something fierce, ready to knock my block off.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” she seethes.

“What you walked in on was me yankin’ that chick’s hair so she’d get off me. I wasn’t about to fool around with her. I didn’t want her on my lap, she just wasn’t listenin’.” The female in question is gone. Where she ran off to, I could care less about. Good riddance. Even the brothers and two bi girls have disappeared, leavin’ the three of us in the living room, alone. Not that I’m gonna fool myself into thinkin’ people ain’t spying to see what’s going on. At least they’re smart enough to get outta dodge when a woman loses her mind. And here I thought Rosie had more control than that.

Thankfully, my explanation pacifies Rosie enough that she curbs her death stare. “You weren’t about to fuck around?”

Pointin’ to my dick, I shake my head, given her no room to doubt me. “Not in this lifetime. Even if I could stomach bein’ with somebody else, my cock knows who he belongs to. Some dogs only do tricks for their owners. Mine ain’t any different.”

“Good.” Satisfied by my reply, Rosie twists out of Kade’s hold and drops on the couch beside me. Extracting a white envelope from the inside of her black jacket, she haphazardly tosses it onto my lap. “That’s what I came to drop off. But you weren’t home, and Gunz said I had to hand deliver it.”

Pickin’ up the envelope, I finger the unsealed flap. “That why you’re here?”

“I had a mark in Texas. Big gave me 48 hours to finish, and I was done in five. So, I told Gunz I’d do him a solid and deliver this.”

Yeah right. That’s not the only reason she’s here.

“You wanted to check in on Kat,” I state.

“I did,” she concurs, pickin’ lint off her black t-shirt.

“I’m gonna take care of her.” There’s no reason Rosie needs to worry about that. Kat’s mine and I take care of what’s mine.

“I know. If you don’t, you’ll be another mark.” Rosie’s threat flows off her tongue like fine silk.

“Big wouldn’t sanction that.” I smirk. It’s true he wouldn’t. Not that I’d expect her to follow the rules.

Rosie snickers like Lucifer himself as Kade drops down beside her. “I don’t need Big to tell me who I can or can’t kill, Ryker. He’s not my keeper.”

“Heard you took out the rest of the club on your own.” I change the subject. There’s no need to chat any more about my hypothetical demise. I like my blood right where it is. In my veins, not pooled on the floor beneath me.

“I’m good at cleanin’ up Sacred Sinners messes. I heard you’re keepin’ a kid that should’ve been killed.”

This best not be her way of threatening Mouse’s life.

Earlier, after we got up those horrendous stairs, my brother helped me to the living room before he disappeared with Mouse. I haven’t seen the kid since. Kade said he put the boy in his room to shower, and gave him a clean pair of clothes that are way too big. Now, there’s a club brother stationed outside his bedroom to make sure the kid doesn’t wander off… aka get offed by an inebriated brother who’s yet to be informed.

My gaze meets Rosie’s. “You better not end his life, either. Kade’s takin’ care of him. That’s his business. Not yours.”

She draws shapes on her knee with her pointer finger. “That’s your choice as a club. You do what you want. I don’t take pleasure in killin’ kids.”

That’s nice to hear. At least she has a moral code, unlike the infatuated school boy that can’t stop ooglin’ her like she’s his next meal. I knew Kade had a thing for this chick. I just didn’t realize to what extent. He hides it well when he’s not intoxicated.

Slippin’ two fingers into the envelope, I remove a tri-folded piece of white paper. “What’s this?” I jiggle the floppy document, watchin’ it flap back and forth.

“The truth.”

“About what?”

“Why don’t you read it and find out?”

“’Cause I don’t like surprises.”

“Read it, Ryker,” Rosie stresses.

Sighing, I carefully unfold the paper. A blur of black ink in two boxes greets me. Yet, my eyes zero in on the bold 99.999% inked at the bottom. Beside it reads, “probability of paternity” which means…

“He.” I clear my throat roughly. “He’s mine,” I mutter to myself, scanning the paperwork that has my name and Walker’s.

Fuck.

Fuuuck.

Closin’ my eyes, I take a deep breath and let it out. This… Fuck… Kat was right all along. She knew.

Christ!

I scrub a palm over the top of my head blindly reading the paternity results in… astonishment.

My pulse races.

Mouth goes dry.

Tears gather in the corner of my eyes as a tidal wave of intense emotion consumes me. I’ve got a son with a woman that’s not Kat. I put a baby in another woman’s belly. This is wrong. So fuckin’ wrong. I knew it was possible. Hell, I’d married Vanessa because I believed it to be true. Yet, here I am freakin’ out. Gunz had to have known I needed this delivered so I couldn’t deny the results. ‘Cause I damn well would have.

Walker’s mine and I still don’t believe it.

It doesn’t feel real.

Snatchin’ my bottle of Bud off the floor, I bring it to my lips and drain the last half in one breath. I need somethin’ stronger. A fifth of Jack can wash away this gnawing guilt eating my gut. I promised Kat years ago I’d give her three daughters. It was a dream I desperately wanted to come true. Nowhere in that dream did havin’ a son with another woman come into play.

A son.

I have a son.

A son, my old lady, named Walker.

A beautiful boy with dark hair and… my eyes.

My daughters have a brother.

Kat has…

A lone tear treks down my cheek. I brush it away with anger. I’m not some pathetic bastard, so why am I actin’ like this? I did this to myself. Fucked another woman raw, implanted my seed in her, and gave myself a son. A handsome boy with a button nose, his mom’s dark hair and my blue eyes. No, that doesn’t sound right… his birth mother’s dark hair. Yup, that’s better. ‘Cause it takes a fuckuva lot more to be a mom than carryin’ a kid for nine months. Vanessa’s dead. Which leaves Walker in my care. In…

How is Kat gonna react to the news?

What am I gonna say to her?

We should’ve read this together. Found out at the same time.

Movin’ from his spot beside Rosie to sit with me, Kade bumps his shoulder against mine. “You good?”

I drop the paper in his lap to read. He does.

“He’s yours.”

“He’s mine,” I agree, keepin’ my voice deceptively even, when all I wanna do is drive home, wrap Kat in my arms, and beg for forgiveness. For what, I dunno. She loves Walker. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t care for him as she does. But, that fact doesn’t stop my insides from curlin’ into a giant ball of guilt that sits like a boulder in my gut. Life wasn’t supposed to be this way. I was supposed to keep Kat. Not, fuck up and walk out on her. Not, knock-up and marry another woman. Yet, here I sit, facin’ the blunt reality of my decisions. Am I gonna love that baby boy? Hell, yes. I already do. He’s blood. I’d do anything for him. It’s the pain I know I’ve caused my old lady that hurts the most. This news is the icing on the cake of bad decisions. I’ll be forever grateful that Kat has chosen to let our past lie so our future can flourish. I thank God every single day for that. But this… I don’t want her resenting me for it later.

Lost inside my head, I stare vacantly at the wall, and succumb to the onslaught of truths… feelings… life. There’s no use in fighting it. My inebriated brain wouldn’t let me anyhow. So, I let the emotions take hold, and I ride them out.

Kade offers me a shot of something. It slides down smooth. Then another. Side by side we sit, drink, think, chill, and let reality take its course. There’s nothing to say. Nothing to do, except drink to the point my head no longer stands on its own and my eyelids refuse to stay open. The buzz of alcohol-induced warmth slowly corrupts my body ‘til the world tilts. Givin’ up the fight of trying to stay awake, I welcome the blanket of beautiful oblivion with open arms. Anything’s better than beatin’ myself up over something I can no longer fix. Life has a way of hittin’ you below the belt. Right now, I don’t wanna get my nuts crushed. I wanna sleep. I wanna forget. I just want my woman.

Kat

Rosie visited yesterday. She showed up outta the blue when I was reading after the kids went to sleep and kept me company. By that point, I was having a hard time concentrating on the storyline, when all I could think about was Ryker at the clubhouse party doing whatever with whomever. Trust takes a long time to build, and my trust in him is at the seedling stage. One of these days the stem will sprout and grow into a beautiful flower. Until then, I’m stuck where I am, overthinking, worrying, needing him home where I can see him face to face. Sure, the texts helped some. But, they didn’t last long. Once that seed of doubt gets planted it has a way of flourishing like a weed in a forest of hope. That’s why I’m grateful for Rosie’s distraction. We talked. Ate pie together. Caught up on nothing and everything at the same time. It was sort of amazing, considering I don’t have any female friends here besides her. And even that friendship is unusual.

Rosie left late last night, the girls are at school, and Walker is sleeping soundly after a bath and a bottle. My current situation; I’m soaking in a hot bubble bath to calm these intense, albeit sporadic Braxton Hicks contractions. Obviously, it’s been years since I experienced anything like them. Nonetheless, I remember what they feel like, and they suck major donkey dick. Big, fuzzy donkey dick. Ugly, weirdly shaped donkey dick. You catch the drift.

Reclining my head on the ledge of the tub, legs bent at the knees, hands cupping either side of my belly; I ride out the next false contraction. When it’s through, I grab my loofa and pour a generous amount of body wash on it to get clean. If I felt up to it, I’d shave. I’m not. So that’ll have to wait for another day when I’m feeling less green. Even my stomach’s a mess. The eggs and bacon I cooked this morning didn’t settle well. The yogurt I ate for lunch, to soothe my bubble gut, didn’t mask the issue like I hoped it would. If I had a choice, I’d lay in bed all day and sleep. However, when you’re a mom, you don’t get that option. The girls will need dinner, Walker too, among other motherly duties. For now, I’ll bask in the relaxing heat and fuss over my endless to-do list later.

“Kat?” A familiar masculine voice reverberates through the space, coming from the bedroom.

Ryker’s home.

“Yes?” I call.

“You in the tub? Or are you usin’ the toilet?”

“Tub.”

Without an invitation, Ryker opens the bathroom door, wearing a breathtaking smile, eyes bright, face scruffy, showing no signs of a hangover or pain. He’s even changed his clothes. The jeans are gone, and sweats are back in action. It ought to be illegal for a man to look that damn good in sweatpants.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He scooters forth and takes a seat on the ledge of the tub, drawing a tender finger down my scarred cheek. “I missed you.”

I missed you, too.

A kaleidoscope of butterflies flap in my belly, overriding the waning contraction and mild sickness. I smile bashfully at him.

Ryker dips his hand in the tub to massage my massive belly, which pokes a smidge out of the water. “How’s she doin’? How are you doin’? How’s Walker?”

What’s with the inquisition? Since when does he ask about Walker?

“We’re all fine,” I remark, confusion lacing my words.

“I’m glad to hear it. Well, whenever you’re done, come out to the living room, I’ve got somethin’ to show ya.”

He’s acting weird.

“Um. O-kay.”

Patting the side of our daughter, he continues to smile that same spectacular smile, leans in, pecks my forehead, then he’s gone like a figment of my imagination.

Peculiar

Quite peculiar.

Curious about what Ryker’s up to, I finish washing in record time for a pregnant woman. Which is nowhere close to the land speed record. More like a snail’s pace. Climbing out of the bath isn’t without difficulty. Neither is drying off with an average towel. I’m certain we’ve been over this once before, but there needs to be pregnancy towels for us fat ladies. Get to it marketing people; I wanna wrap my body all the way, not half of it! Soaking up the wetness, I get mostly dry before wrapping the damp towel around my hair in a turban. Clothes are next. Meh. They’re so overrated… albeit essential. The question is, what do I wear? Is this weirdness Ryker’s exuding something that requires proper attire aka maternity leggings and a blouse? Or, can I throw on one of his Harley t-shirts that I’ve begun to stretch out around the tummy, and tug on a pair of his oversized sweats sans panties? They’ve become my go-to duds when I wanna be ultra-comfy. A necessity pretty much all the time, considering walking around the size of the Goodyear blimp isn’t exactly fun. There’s less than a month until my due date, and I’m about to start counting down the days like an advent calendar. Don’t we all do that? In the beginning, you loathe being pregnant due to the sickness. In the middle you love it. Then you reach the final countdown, and you’re ready to do anything, and I do mean anything, to induce labor. Eat spicy food, fuck like rabbits, nipple stimulation, running, jumping, walking, twerking, mowing the lawn, and even drinking castor oil, if you’re desperate enough. I’ve not gotten to that point, but I know some who have. More power to ya. The idea of shitting my brains out while someone pushes on my bladder and kicks my heart isn’t exactly on my bucket list. If you wanna give it a whirl, knock yourself out.

Selecting a navy blue shirt from a hanger in Ryker’s closet and a pair of black Nike sweats, I drape the clothes over my forearm and carry them into the bathroom to get dressed. That’s where I left the maternity bra I have to wear this late in the game. If I don’t, there will be milk stains all over my shirt. Guess it’s a good thing I have reusable breast pads to soak up the colostrum leakage.

Once that clumsy task is complete I brush my teeth, deodorize my pits, clean my glasses, gloss my lips, comb my wet hair and tie it up in a messy bun. Finished, I give myself a once over and shrug at the form reflecting back at me. My face is fuller than it was a month ago. I’m getting Violet Beauregarde fat, and I don’t like it one bit. The scar on my cheek is lighter, though. That’s a plus.

Fixing the loose strands of hair in my bun, I stop staring in the mirror and waddle into the bedroom to check on Walker. Sidling up to his bassinet I peek inside. He’s gone. What the frog shit? Did Dad come in here and steal him? Is that who drove Ryker home today? It has to be. Nobody else holds the little guy besides me or the girls.

Hand perched on hip; I breathe through a sneaky Braxton Hicks contraction, then pad toward the great room with bare feet that resemble bejeweled Lil’ Smokies sausages glued to an oddly shaped puff pastry… Mmmm that sounds yummy—Lil Smokies and puff pastry. Perhaps I’ll Pinterest this later to see what I find. Maybe pick up some BBQ sauce, too. Lil Smokies go perfectly with BBQ deliciousness, especially the sweet and tangy kind. Oh Boy, I’m not even feeling well, and I still wanna stuff my face. Lord, help me now.

Too busy observing said sausage toes that Scarlett painted with six different colors; I don’t notice Ryker holding Walker until I suddenly come upon them seated at the kitchen table of all places. On first glance, I stumble over my fat feet, catch myself on the back of another chair, and gasp at the odd, hopeful sight of the baby boy sleeping soundly on his massive chest.

“Wh-what ar-are you doing with him?” I whisper disjointedly, catching my breath.

Grinning like the cat that ate the canary, Ryker tilts his gorgeous head toward the living room. Confused as all get out, I follow the silent movement. Then everything becomes crystal clear. He couldn’t have made it any more obvious than this. Oh. My. Bejesus. This is… too much… Too, too much.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I soak in the insane view. I can’t believe he…

“You got the results,” I mumble to myself, heart thundering in my chest.

Ryker reaches out to fold our fingers together, and I let him. Without warning, I tremble. My bottom lip wobbles so I suck it between my teeth. Tears form and begin teeming. I’m… I’m in shock. That has to be what this feeling is… This is happening. This is real. It’s freaking happening, and I can’t believe it.

“Sweetheart?” Ryker questions, as his perfect fingers squeeze mine.

There’s no way I can look at him—at Walker. I’ll have a total meltdown if I do. Don’t test a pregnant chick with happy moments, she’ll lose it. That’s exactly what I’m close to doing.

“You know,” I force out.

The backdoor closes, and multiple sets of heavy footsteps resonate through the mudroom.

Kade, Dad, and Bear enter the space. It seems to gain ten times the emotion in their presence. To see them here, witnessing this… it’s too much. The silly hormonal dam breaks and I outright start to sob. Kade saunters over to… wait is he relieving Ryker of Walker? No. That can’t be right. He isn’t peeling my sleeping little boy from his… father’s chest. Oh. Jeez. His father. A hiccup cry wrenches from my throat, and Ryker pulls me to him. Without asking, he cradles me in his lap and my cheek rests on a beefy pec, as he whispers loving tidbits that only I can hear.

“You were so right, babe,” he croons, massaging the side of my thigh. “I should’ve listened. Rosie brought the paperwork last night.”

“Did you buy out the baby store?” I sniffle, curling into him, inhaling his manly scent, his warmth, comfort—him. It’s perfection. The only place I wanna be for always.

I sense him shrug. “We’ve got one infant and another on the way. We know we’re havin’ a girl. So I had to get enough for the both of ‘em.”

“A giant, pink giraffe, really?” I giggle softly.

“It goes with the giant blue bear that Pops picked out.”

“They helped?” Wow. I wasn’t expecting that.

“I’m a gimp right now, babe. Who else was gonna do all the heavy liftin’?”

Oh right. Duh. I wasn’t thinking.

“Sorry. I guess I couldn’t picture Bear in a baby store.”

Ryker chuckles all deep and sexy, giving me an extra sweet squeeze. “We had to drive two hours to get to that store. I called ahead, so they had some of the stuff ready for us to load when we got there. Why don’t you go see what we bought our kids? There’s even a little somethin’ in there for Rox and Scarlett, too.”

I’m a goner.

He had me hooked before. Stuck on his line and halfway reeled in.

Not anymore.

Consider me caught.

Buying stuff for our kids has melted me into a pile of madly in love goo. It’s bright pink and bursting with unicorn glitter! For all his assholish ways, Ryker has these rare moments of perfection that outshine the darkness that lurks around the edges of our complicated relationship.

Instead of moving, I nuzzle my nose to his pec, soaking up all that is him. It’s better here anyhow. The messy living room can wait.

“Tiger,” he warns. “You gotta quit that.”

“What?”

Something hard flexes against my hip that cuddles his crotch. “When you get all affectionate, I get like this.” The thickness does a pushup, letting himself be known.

Don’t worry, I know you’re there Ryker Jr, and you’re just as tempting as I remember.

“You’re always horny,” I mumble, lips pressed against the cotton of his tee, hiding my smile.

“I am. Am I?” he snickers, playing along with my silly banter.

“Uh huh.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Yours?” I suppress a school girl giggle.

“Mine, huh?”

Ryker’s palm glides up my arm to my shoulder, where he slides his fingers into the base of my hair. He gets a firm hold and tilts my head back, so I’m forced to look up at him. A zing of pleasure awakens my clit as he slowly lowers his lips to mine, fusing us as one, breathing together, touching—being. Agonizing seconds tick by as we merge there, going pliant… softer, softer, softer, until we’re slotted in the most delicious of ways. Our tongues pursue their mate in a game of hide and seek. A tiny touch at first, and then another. My heart wallops harder with each tentative taste. Curling a hand around his thick neck, I flick my tongue along his, memorizing the seductive flavor. Ryker moans, tunneling the vibrations into my mouth.

That’s it.

Getting high on his touch, I moan in response. Ryker answers my ravenous call with a hungrier one of his own. Yanking me higher, until I’m molded to him completely, he captures my mouth in a searing kiss that borderlines violent. Teeth clink. Lips bruise. Giving as good as I get, I battle for supremacy. On and on our mouths mate. Illicit moans and groans exchange. My juices soak through the cotton of my bottoms. Somehow, I end up straddling his lap, undulating against the erection in his pants. Yet, we don’t stop. His big palms grab my ass, kneading, helping me along—grinding, grinding, grinding, on his cock; hitting my clit with expert precision.

It’s not enough.

There’s too many clothes in the way.

Blindly tearing at the waist of his sweats with my fingertips, he helps me slide them down, so they rest at the tops of his knees, exposing his thick erection. Yes! On instinct, I fumble to my feet. Bent in half, mouth still molded to his in sloppy kisses, I shimmy my pants to the floor with his help. Before the sensible part of my brain can interfere, I reposition myself on his lap and impale my pussy on his pre-cum coated dick, groaning in pleasure through the aching stretch.

OhMyFuckingGod!

“Fuuck,” he growls, attacking my lips with the passion of a hundred orgasms, palm possessively gripping the nape of my neck.

Pushing off the chair rungs with the tips of my toes, I ride his member. It’s messy. Frenzied. It’s gloriously shameless. Clasping my hands around his neck, curled forward to combat my large belly wedged between us, we kiss, we fuck, we lose ourselves in ecstasy. The wet cacophony of bodies colliding is music to my ears. His manly scent invades my brain. Sweat beads on my brow. Air heaves from my lungs, thighs burn from exertion. But I don’t stop. I can’t! The urge to climax is imminent. I need this. I need him!

Heat builds, turning my blood to molten lava. My walls contract around his girth. Slamming my hips down one last time, spearing myself wholly, the world as I know it fragments into microscopic pieces of explosive nirvana. Throwing my head back, eyes pinched shut, I scream Ryker’s name, coming apart at the seams. Starved for more, my pussy spasms on and on, deepening the white-hot pleasure with each downward stroke. Ryker helps me along by rocking our pelvises together in perfect sync, hitting that special spot just right. Before the high can fizzle and I catch my breath, another all-consuming orgasm unexpectedly crests. Holding on for dear life, Ryker controls my hips with both hands, fucking me on his cock like I’m a life-size fleshlight.

Jesus Christ!

So good!

“That’s it. Come on, beautiful. Come all over me,” he rasps, unable to steady his own breath.

And I do. Again. On. Command.

Kisses forgotten, Ryker attacks my throat with small nips and love bites. “I’m gonna come in you,” he growls below my ear, pressing a tender peck there.

“Yes!” I cry out.

“That’s it.” He drags his lips to my jaw.

One final thrust and he stills, releasing a feral moan as hot spurts fill my channel. His thigh twitches beneath me, body tremoring through his release.

That was… unexpected… amazing!

Sagging forward, boneless, forehead resting on his shoulder, I force air into my lungs. A satisfied smile pulls at my lips. “That was…”

“Perfect,” he finishes for me.

“It was.” A pinch of guilt takes hold. “I thought you couldn’t have sex.”

“Don’t care.” His hands travel up and down my spine as if he can’t stop himself from touching me in some way.

“Are you hurt?” It sounds like I’m asking my sixty-year-old partner if he threw out his hip having sex. One of these years that could be the case.

“Nope. Might be a bit sore later. But it was worth it.”

Drawing back to judge if he’s telling the truth, he smiles boyishly, cheeks reddening. That’s not like him. Ryker doesn’t do shy.

Heart-stopping warmth washes through me at the rare sight. I brush my thumb across the bridge of his nose and cheek. Then lean in to ghost my lips over his before planting a gentle kiss there. It’s soft, tender, and oh-so-wonderful that it nearly steals my breath away. When we were together all those years ago, kissing him was emotional. It always touched the delicate spots inside of me that I kept hidden. This isn’t the same. It’s somehow more. As if we had crawled through an endless desert in search of a miracle and found one another on the other side.

“I love you,” I whisper there, testing the seam of his mouth with the sweep of my tongue.

“I love you so much more,” he returns equally sweet before touching his tongue to mine.

Someone clears their throat, bursting our perfect sex bubble.

Shit sticks! I forgot we weren’t alone. We had… all of our family here.

Hiding my face in Ryker’s neck, wanting to die from mortification, I blindly search for his hands and plant them on either of my butt cheeks to conceal them from prying eyes. As if they didn’t see everything already. As if my ass isn’t bigger than his already large hands. It is. I’ve got quite the rump. All of my jiggly bits that only Ryker is supposed to see are out on display. Not that Kade hasn’t seen them at least once, but that’s not the point. I wasn’t having sex then. The jiggly bits jiggle during sex. And I’ve put on a bit of weight, thanks to the two-ton baby residing in my womb. Oh crap, I screamed Ryker’s name, too, didn’t I? Yep, someone kill me now. There’s no way I can ever live this down. Who has sex with their crippled whatever he is when their father, best friend, and Bear are in the same damn room? Ugh! This can’t be reality. I didn’t do that. My slutty, Ryker sniffing pussy didn’t just force me into that, did it?

Squeezing my lady parts I can indeed feel the softening cock take leave, and a cum mess beginning. Great! This is super-de-duper, naked from the waist down, and dribbling man juice. Guys are so lucky. They don’t have to deal with this after they come. A quick wipe up and they’re good to go. While us ladies are squeezing fresh baby batter from our hot boxes for the next three hours. Or is that just me? It damn well better not be. If you say so, you’re lying. The inner thigh cum slide is a real thing.

Catching on to what I’m doing, Ryker chuckles. “It’s okay, babe. They left way before you got naked.”

“Someone’s in here now,” I whisper hiss below his ear.

A throatier, way sexier chuckle follows. Damn him and his hotness. He’s a Walmart sized buffet of finger-lickin' beefcake, I tell ya. It’s unfair to womankind.

“It’s Kade, with our son. He’s not starin’ at your ass.”

“Our son?” Is he… no… that… what?

“He’s my kid second. You claimed him first. So he’s your son, too. If you want him to be.”

I… I have a son.

Me.

Katrina Remington.

Has a son.

I dunno if it’s the endorphin high, pregnancy hormones, or what, but those simple life-changing words flip a switch and I burst into tears. Clinging to Ryker I blubber, so happy, yet manically overwhelmed in the crook of his neck. To calm me, he whispers a round of reassuring words that mean nothing and everything all at once. He soothes me further with the gentle glide of his palms up and down either side of my back.

“Shhh, it’s okay, babe. Don’t cry. You’re killin’ me with your tears,” he mutters, peppering kisses along my shoulder.

“Watermelon Tits,” my bestie calls, his voice laced with concern. “Don’t cry. We mere menfolk don’t deal well with our favorite female crying.”

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

Get it together, Kat. You’re making them uncomfortable.

Sucking back a bout of hormonal tears, I force myself to quit acting like a giant baby. There’s no reason to act this way. So I have a son now. That doesn’t need to reduce me to waterworks. I can get my shit together. No, I need to get my shit together. I’m crying, half naked in my man’s lap for Christ sake. My man. Yeah. That’s what he is. I think we established he’s definitely that. It just sounds strange to me. My man. My son. My cabin. My new life. The words taste sweet on my tongue—pleasant.

“Is Kade lookin’ over here?” I test to be safe.

“Nope. He’s starin’ at the ceiling.”

Good.

I don’t move yet. “Then I should probably get cleaned up.”

“We both should.”

True.

“I’m gonna make a mad dash to the bathroom and get washed up. You can handle yourself, right?”

Please say yes. This is embarrassing enough. Having to clean his cock is an ultimate low when I’m in the same room as Dickcheese. I’ll never live it down.

Ryker chuckles. “Uh, yeah, I’ve got two workin’ hands, I can wipe my dick.”

“Good. ‘Cause I’ve got a waterfall of cum to combat. You have less mess to worry about.”

“Waterfall of cum?” I sense a smile in his voice. Bet it’s a sexy one.

I nip his neck. “Don’t pretend you don’t know about the inner thigh cum slide that we ladies have to deal with when you fellas decide to bust a nut in our vags.”

One millisecond all is chill. The next I’ve got Ryker rolling in boisterous laughter for no good reason, alongside my best friend who apparently caught everything I said. He has hearing aids in or something. I’m not speaking that loud. This isn’t funny. I’m dead serious. The cum slide is not a joke.

Semi-insulted by their outburst, I play slap Ryker’s good pec and climb off his lap. He’s too busy laughing to notice. As predicted, once vertical, the luge of baby gravy starts its descent. It’s icky, wet and gross, so I have to force myself not to run from the room as intended or cup my vagina to keep the mess contained. For show, I sway my hips and stroll with my head held high from the room; bare, jiggly ass and all.

Eat that, you cackling hyenas.

“Babe!” Ryker calls to my retreating form as he somewhat controls his laughter. It’s futile. Because as soon as I don’t respond, Sir Asshole and Sir Dickcheese bust a louder gut.

Fuckheads.

Forgoing the girls’ bathroom, I enter our bedroom. Once I know that nobody can see me, I shake out my shoulders and waddle to our washroom; my cheeks burning as hot as coals. Those dipsticks sure know how to humiliate a chick. Let’s see if I share pie with either of them ever again. I’m stingy enough with pie. Sharing isn’t always caring in my book. They can eat dirt from now on. Bet it’ll taste good with some whipped topping, ‘cause that’s all they’re getting.

Disregarding my freshly fucked reflection in the mirror, I snatch a washcloth from underneath the sink and begin wiping up the cummy explosion. On the second swipe, a jelly lump tinged with blood winds up on the cotton. No. No! This cannot be happening. Not now. I stare at the gelatinous blob in denial. Out of the blue, a familiar wave of motherhood hits stronger than before—a true contraction. It’s painful as hell.

Gripping the vanity for support, I Lamaze breathe through the tightness wreaking havoc as the stark realization that there’s no going back takes root. I’ve officially lost my mucus plug. If my two other pregnancies were any barometer for what’s to come, I’m gonna have this baby in the next 48 hours. The contractions will be sporadic, yet excruciating until my water breaks and then the baby will make an immediate appearance. Hopefully, if I’m lucky, this is an overreaction, and she’ll wait for her due date to grace us with her presence. It’s way too soon. I’m about three weeks out. Full-term by doctor standards, but early nonetheless.

Massaging the side of my stomach as it loosens; I finish cleaning the vag mess and find another pair of sweats from Ryker’s closet before joining my family in the living room. All four of the men in my life are sprawled out on the chair and couch. Dad’s stolen Walker, who’s passed out on his chest. The impulse to reclaim my son is great. Doing the mature thing, I shove that notion to the wayside. There’s no reason the men in my life can’t hold my boy. I’ve got plenty of time to cuddle the little bug. Plus, it’s not exactly smart to carry him at this point, when I know a contraction could sneak up at any moment. However, until I’m positive that I’m in true labor, I have no intention of telling any of the guys. They’ll freak. Irrationally so. Bear’s daily texts are a prime example. Every morning since the accident, I’ve woken up to him asking how I’m feeling. It doesn’t help that none of my family was happy to find out I skipped my last doctor’s appointment. It’s not entirely my fault that I have no desire to see that flirty doc without Ryker. There’s no telling what she’ll say or how she’ll act. And taking Kade, since I was pissed at him on Walker’s behalf, wasn’t gonna happen. Not when I was set on strangling him.

Still a little salty about their stupid behavior, I ignore my family and carefully lower to the floor to dive headfirst into one of the bags that they brought home. The room goes silent as they watch me unload a fancy breast pump, enough bottles for a small orphanage, and four packs of pacifiers in different styles. Who needs four kinds of binkies? Walker probably won’t even take them. He’s too fond of his fingers.

Looking over my shoulder at Ryker, I hold up the four colorful packs. “Are we having quads and I wasn’t aware?” I tease, bouncing my eyebrows.

From the comfort of the couch, Ryker pokes his sexy tongue out, grinning half-cocked. “Smartass.”

“You like it,” I quip.

“I fucking love it. But no. I got them because I heard some babies are picky ‘bout their pacifiers. We don’t wanna have a screamin’ kid at two in the mornin’ and only one type of paci she spits out. Consider them backups. We can return whatever we don’t need.”

Well, alrighty then. I wasn’t expecting that.

Is it weird that his considerate daddy talk makes me wanna jump his bones again? I’ve never been more attracted to Ryker than I am at this moment.

Not sure what to say that isn’t gonna make me sound lovesick, I continue to rifle through the giant sack. There are breast milk storage bags, and diaper rash ointment left. The next bag has everything from small toys to cloth diapers that I’ll use as burp cloths. Honestly, I’m impressed he remembered. By the fourth bag, I’ve got the entire floor littered with baby items. There’s a large stack of boy clothes in one pile that go from 0-3 months to 3-6 months. The girl pile is much the same. The amount of pink and purple is overwhelming. Can’t we go mint or light blue for once? Why do girls always gotta wear pinks and purples? At least he bought her a little black dress, which is nothing more than a onesie with attached tutu.

“They’re deliverin’ the matchin’ crib and dresser sets in a few days. I paid extra for them to build ‘em on site, so I don’t have to,” Ryker notes as I read the extras printed on this swing box. Beside it is a matching unisex playpen with a built-in changing table. They never had this super awesome shit when the girls were little. We also didn’t have the money to afford it if they did. This is pretty darn incredible.

By the time I’ve dug through our stuff, I’ve kept a straight face as another contraction took hold, read numerous packaging, cataloged in my head what we have and where it should go, and embraced the blazing love expanding inside my chest. He’s gotten everything I could’ve thought of and more. Way more. We’re set for months. The four boxes of wipes and diapers are overkill. It’s like we’re stockpiling to have quints.

As the guys continue to carry on amongst themselves, the back door slams open, followed by a rush of footfalls.

“Mom!” Scarlett skids to a halt beside the chair. Her eyes widen, soaking up the goodies.

Crawling on my hands and knees to the single undisturbed bag, I shove it across the hardwood toward her feet. Rox pauses beside her sister, equally taken with the baby depot. “Hey girls, open that.” I point, sitting back on my haunches.

They exchange curious glances before dropping backpacks on the floor by their feet with a thunk and peeking inside. Scarlett, my impatient one, dips her grubby paws in the bag first and extracts a shirt and jewelry box with her name engraved on the top. Propping the black garment on her chest, she looks down and reads the white script aloud. “Big Sister.”

Following suit, Roxie does the same, her cute expression twisted in confusion. “Biggest Sister.”

At the very bottom of the sack, Scarlett seizes the final two objects and fans them on the ground in front of her. The matching black onesies are a sight for sore eyes. I’m thrilled Ryker pulled this off. Clever man.

“Little Brother?” Rox mumbles to her sissy, fingering the cotton.

“Brother.” Scarlett tests the word on her palate.

“The other says Littlest Sister,” Roxie illuminates.

“It does,” I add, grinning so wide my cheeks ache.

“I thought we didn’t know if he was Dad’s or not?” Rox looks to me for an explanation.

“Got the test back. He is, kiddo. Which makes him your brother,” Ryker answers in my stead, flashing a smile that would make the straightest man weak at the knees.

Scarlett jumps to her feet and launches herself at her dad. Wrapping him in a monkey hug, babbling her excitement, she stuffs her face in the crook of his neck. Both of his muscly arms engulf her tiny frame as he winks at me over her shoulder. My insides go berserk at the adorable sight. Rox, who’s not as crazy as her sister, drops onto the floor next to me with her arms extended. I take that as my cue to get some much-needed lovin’. Her hair smells of strawberries as I take a whiff.

Smartass Uncle Kade, not wanting to be left out, lets his presence be known. “Hello. What am I, chopped liver? Where are my after-school hugs?” He waves the girls forth with theatrical gimme gimme hand movements.

Rox snickers and pecks my cheek before she entertains her uncle’s need for attention. Scarlett giggles and joins her sister in a three-way hug with Dickcheese, whose lazy ass doesn’t even get off the couch. Nope. He forces them to bend and hug. Then the fool drags them into his lap. Roxie on one knee, Scarlett on the other; all three of them rolling in laughter. It’s contagious, and soon the entire room has erupted in silly merriment.

Quirking a come-hither finger and patting his lap, Ryker draws me like a moth to a flame. I struggle to get to my feet to join him. Just as I do another powerful contraction takes hold. Dammit. Panicked they’ll notice, I forgo my man’s invitation and waddle to the bathroom without saying a word. Locking myself inside, I drop the toilet lid in place and take a seat on the top to breathe through the agony. Grinding my molars, I close my eyes and try not to fight the inevitable. 35 seconds feels like an eternity.

Exhaling in relief as soon as the vice releases my poor uterus, I rub my daughter. “Why can’t you wait?” I whisper as if she’ll respond. “Couldn’t you give me another week or two?”

Her snarky comeback is a foot in the ribs. Not that I can blame her. It’s my body’s fault, not hers. It has to be uncomfortable living in a sac for months on end. If I was her, I’d be cranky, too.

Now that I’m fairly certain these bitches aren’t going to let up until my babes is delivered, I need to decide how to proceed. Do I inform Ryker? Do I ask him to call the doc? Do I tell Kade? Frankly, I don’t wanna say a thing. Maybe I can get through dinner tonight without incident, and before we go to bed, I’ll tell Ryker. This way I don’t interrupt our evening. Tonight is cause for celebration. Walker is officially ours for life. If that doesn’t warrant a special dinner and family time, I dunno what does. And this damn body of mine isn’t gonna ruin that. As long as my water doesn’t break, I’ll be fine… I hope.

Decision made, I stack my strong mind over matter, fix my clothes, and rejoin my chatty family in the living room.

“How does pizza sound for dinner?” I ask, maneuvering around the baby crap to take a seat on Ryker’s good leg, right where I wanna be. Rox and Scarlett are busy doing their homework on the floor by the front door with Grandpa Bear’s help. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that big, burly man would be sitting Indian style on the hardwood, stroking his beard as he listens to Scarlett prattle on about her latest assignment, juice box in hand. It’s an awe-inspiring sight. If I had my camera handy, I’d snap a pic.

My man’s arms wrap around me as he sprinkles tiny kisses on my temple. “Pizza sounds good, babe.”

Snatching the remote off the end table, Kade puts some sort of classic car show on the TV as I relax on my lover. Head resting on his shoulder, legs draped over his, feet pressing into the couch cushions. I listen to the strong lub lub of his heart in my ear while he talks random car stuff with my dad. The deep purr of his voice echoing inside his chest sounds personal. Like it’s a special cadence made just for me.

Over the next however many hours we spend quality time as a family unit. Pizza is ordered and devoured. Beer drank by the males. Pie fought over. With me winning three large slices that I’m saving for later. Once the girls’ homework is complete, Uncle Kade changes the channel to a kid-friendly movie about a dog. I take my leave on multiple occasions, pretending to pee, when in reality I’m fighting the unrelenting squeeze of contractions. Nobody seems to notice, and for that I’m grateful. The best part of the night is watching Ryker feed his son a bottle and burp him without needing any direction. As if it’s second nature to him. A flood of memories bring me back to the days when he would do the same for our daughters. While some men are lazy with their parenting, leaving most of the duties to the mother, I’ve been blessed with a man who takes pride in carrying half the load. Even if he isn’t quite capable with his casted leg.

Before bedtime, the girls take showers, kiss their favorite uncle and grandpas goodnight, and climb into bed to await our nightly ritual.

“You go be with the girls, I’ll put Walker down,” I explain to Ryker as I steal my son from Grandpa Bear cuddles. He’s reluctant to release him to me. With a parting kiss to his grandson’s forehead, Bear relinquishes his hold by placing my babes in my waiting arms.

Scooting by me on his wheeled contraption, Ryker pauses to kiss my cheek. “See ya in there soon, sweetheart.” He pinches my butt in departure.

“Y-yep.” I flush at his never-ending charm. Sometimes I wonder what a man like that wants with a woman like me. I’m average, and he’s well… sort of an asshole… but a hot, unconditionally loveable one.

As Ryker joins our daughters, I say goodbye to the other three men in my life. Bear offers me a tight hug, careful not to suffocate a sleeping Walker. Dad is worse. He won’t stop; rubbing my belly, kissing my face, wrapping me in a warm embrace that only a daddy can give his daughter.

“Love you so much, peanut,” he coos to my ear.

“Love you, too, Dad.”

“If you need me. Call.”

“I’m gonna be fine.” Which is code for I’ll call you tomorrow when my water breaks.

Taking a step back he strokes a palm down my arm and assesses me from nose to toes, then back again. If he looks too closely, I’m afraid he’ll call me on my shit. Perhaps he already knows and is too much of a gentleman to cause a scene. Is that why he’s been clingy tonight? Always wanting to put stuff in the sink or fridge for me. He even sat down to give me a foot rub. Yeah. He must know. My father and I were close growing up. It’d only make sense that he could tell something was off kilter tonight. The long bathroom breaks and lack of appetite might’ve risen the alarm. Those eyes of his miss nothing.

Leaning in once more, he kisses my cheek and lingers there. “Call me when it happens.”

Bingo.

“I will. Please don’t say anything,” I whisper in return, trying hard to keep a straight face since Bear’s watching our exchange like a hawk. He’s gotta be ready to go home. They’ve been here longer than they usually are.

“I won’t. But I’m serious. You can’t do this alone.”

“Ryker will be here.” Attempting to ease his wariness isn’t easy. If I was in his shoes, it’d be hard for me to leave my daughter if I knew she was in labor. Hell, I’d probably demand to sleep on her couch to keep an eye on things. Yes, that’s what my kids have to look forward to—an overbearing mother.

“I’m gonna leave Kade here,” Dad murmurs.

My heart rate spikes in fear. A cold sweat breaks out along the base of my neck, dampening my hair. I shiver.

“No. Please don’t.” I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose to distract myself from overreacting.

“You don’t like that doctor. I know you. You’re gonna avoid callin’ her at all costs. Kade is the next best thing to that lady.”

He’s right. Too right.

Dad knows all about my discomfort with her unprofessional medical practices. Do I love the idea of birthing in a suite instead of the hospital? Yes. But I loathe the idea of her delivering any of my kids. The more I think about seeing her again, the more my skin crawls. A hospital birth doesn’t seem so bad if the alternative is her. There…that’s the plan. I’ve made up my mind. When my water breaks, I’ll deliver at the hospital. No need to stress over seeing that doctor again. Lord knows if she heard about Ryker’s accident, which I’m sure everyone in town did, she'd try to fuck him in the middle of labor out of sympathy. Ya know, because I can’t have sex for six weeks after birth. Wouldn’t want him to have to wait. Sheesh, I’ve gotta stop focusing on this outlandish bullpucky. There’s no use in trying to avoid reality. Let’s face it, I’m going to be a mom again and soon. There’s no turning back.

Finalizing our goodbye, before Dad can dampen my responsible planning, I half wrap him in another brief hug. Then move on to Dickcheese for a special bestie embrace. One that gives you all the feels and a sense of security that you can’t siphon from anybody else. They’re Dickcheesy scented.

One arm around his strong middle, cheek on pec, I close my eyes and bask in the comfort, careful not to smoosh Walker.

His lips press to the top of my head. “See ya tomorrow, Watermelon Tits. You be good. Call if you need me.”

“I will.”

“I mean it.”

Loving his sincerity, we hug a little tighter. Any more snug and he’ll pop my water. “I know ya do.”

Soaking up my fill like a needy sponge, I quietly finish our huggy time before escorting my men to the back door to lock up. With parting waves, they roll out. Two on their Harley’s, the third in a beat-up pickup that I don’t recognize. They must have a functioning junkyard around here that I’m unaware of. Half of the vehicles in Red Fort are a blast from the past—early to mid 90’s relics with faded paint and mild rust spots. It’s a miracle they’ve survived this long. Guess that’s the difference between Texas and Indiana—inclement weather. You don’t see people salting roads ‘round here.

I place Walker inside his bassinet next to our bed. Tucking a blanket halfway up his torso, I peck his dream crinkled forehead. His nose squishes up at my touch, but he doesn’t wake. Out of all my kids, Walker sleeps the most. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was part lion.

Satisfied that he’s snug as a bug, I join Ryker and the girls in their bedroom.

My love is sharing a large section of Roxie’s bed when I arrive.

Scarlett waves me over to hers. “Dad’s reading to us.” She draws back her comforter for me to climb in. I do, making way too much noise. Once I’m situated, Scarlett tucks the soft blanket around us both. A headful of blonde hair descends to rest on top of my belly. Guess it does function as more than my own personal shelf. She drapes an arm across my lap as I lean against her headboard and stroke my fingers through her soft, damp hair.

Beside our eldest daughter, Ryker resumes reading the first chapter of The Fairest of All: The Wicked Queen. To cheer the girls up after Ryker’s accident, I ordered the first book of the series, plus other various stories. In case you’re not familiar with it, Disney published numerous villain tales. This one being the queen from Snow White.

“Snow White followed Verona into the Queen’s chambers,” he enunciates smoothly, setting a steady, perfect pace. This reminds me of the days when I would read to the children at the library. It was one of the best parts of my job. Over the years I’ve read hundreds of books to the girls before bed. To have someone replace me as narrator is bittersweet. More sweet than bitter. Ryker fills the role well.

Tipping my head back to rest, I slip my drowsy eyes close to picture the scenes playing in my mind like a movie in high def. One chapter glides to the next; before I realize it, Scarlett’s asleep on my stomach. I’m not far behind.

Ryker

Tossin’ our blanket over my zombie woman’s legs, I scooter to my side of the bed and slip in beside her, sans clothes. Alright, ya caught me, I’ve got boxers on for the sake of my daughters. That’s the one and only downside to having girls. Your pecker has always gotta be covered. At least with Walker, we can hang out with our wangs out, and neither of us are gonna give a fuck. My bro and Pops never gave a shit when we were growin’ up. That’s one thing I’m gonna teach my son. Hopefully, he’ll understand he can’t do that with his sisters. Don’t wanna scar them too early in life. I never grew up with women. So I don’t have much experience in that department. Can’t help him navigate those waters, besides tellin’ him to hide the winkie in his boxers when the women folk are around.

Folding one arm behind my head, I yawn, starin’ up at the ceiling.

I dunno about you, but I’m exhausted. Wakin’ Kat up long enough to navigate my sleeping beauty out of our daughters’ bedroom into ours was a challenge. Half the time she kept fallin’ asleep on the arm I was guiding her with. If I wasn’t laid up, I would’ve carried her without a problem. If I tried that now, we’d both end up on the floor.

Flipping onto her opposite side, Kat groans aloud. She kicks the covers away, exposing her sexy legs and the swell of her bare ass. Yep, I took her pants off. It’s not my fault she wasn’t wearin’ any panties. Got a nice peek at the goods. If I didn’t love her so damn much, I’d have played a little. But I know she needs her rest.

Another groan emits from my love. These aren’t dreamy sounds. They’re from pain. Rubbin’ my hand along her side to calm her, I brush the edge of her belly and stop. That doesn’t feel normal. It’s like a boulder forming under smooth skin. Kat’s in labor. She has to be. It now makes sense why she was actin’ so weird today. Hardly eating any dinner. Saved her pie for later. Kept excusing herself to the bathroom. She’s a smart woman. She had to know what was happenin’ to her body. Why she didn’t tell anybody is the real question. One I’m not about to wake her up for and ask.

Curling up behind her, my crotch settling against her lush ass, I kiss Kat’s shoulder and the back of her neck with the faintest of pecks, not wantin’ to disturb her sleep. Holdin’ her close, I rub our daughter as the contraction fades. Her rigid muscles soften to overcooked noodles. If she’s sleeping through labor, there’s no doubt my Tiger is well past the exhaustion stage.

Turning over real quick, I palm my cell from the nightstand and set it on the bed behind me. Ya never know when you might need to make that call. Until then, I’m gonna keep her close and sleep with one eye open, in case anything changes. I know we’ve got this covered. My woman’s a badass. She knows what her body needs more than I do. I’ll take my cues from her.

Happy Valentine’s to us.

Kat

“Babe. Babe, wake up!” a frantic voice calls, jostling my shoulder. “Tiger.”

Slowly blinking through the hazy fog of sleep, I come to, and roll onto my back to see what Ryker wants. The clock on the nightstand reads four in the morning. What in the world could he want this early? Before I can open my mouth to question his idiocy, I feel it… the warm dribble of wetness between my legs. If I wasn’t pregnant, I would be worried about incontinence issues. But it’s not that. My water broke. The reality is double confirmed when the most powerful of contractions immediately seizes my uterus. That’s the crappy thing about labor. You have no control over a damn thing. Not the pain. Not the… Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, this hurrrrts!

Gritting my teeth, eyes clamped shut; I cup either side of my belly with both hands, and try to breathe through the agony.

Beside me, Ryker’s losing his shit as he shoves a second pillow under my head, propping it up higher. At least he’s helpful. “Babe. Fuck. Okay. Yes. Breathe. Just breathe. Shit. Fuck! We’re havin’ a baby. Right? What am I sayin’? Of course, you’re havin’ my kid. Fuckin’ hell. This is really happening. I gotta call the doc.”

His final words penetrate through the haze of pain. Call the doc. Nope.

Prying my eyes open to check if he’s started to dial, I slap the phone from his hand more forcefully than I intend. It drops onto his lap.

Ryker frowns down at it, at me, brows knitted together.

My jaw begins to ache from the building pressure. Her head’s giving my cervix a workout. I’ve gotta relax. Not fight it. She’ll come when she’s ready to. I’ve done this twice before, how hard can it be?

Riiiight.

Hard as hell.

You try pushing a watermelon out of a hole the size of an egg with no medication and tell me you’re as right as rain. Bet a benji that you’ll cry mama before Johnny Cash can sing you his burning rendition of Ring of Fire. Just wait. You’ll see.

Ten seconds tick by at a sluggish pace, and then its heaven. The tightness ceases only to be replaced with bone-deep exhaustion and achy pressure from spine to asshole.

Ryker wipes sweat from my forehead with the back of his hand. He discards it on the blanket. “You gotta tell me what you want me to do, sweetheart.” Concern surges off him in waves.

I steady my erratic breathing. “I’m in labor. Gonna have this baby.”

“I know. I didn’t sleep much last night. You kept havin’ contractions. They weren’t regular, so I didn’t wake you.”

What a sweet, sweet man. He should’ve rested. I must’ve been too damn weak to notice the pains. Spending a day enduring contractions while hiding the evidence from your family will do that to ya.

“You didn’t sleep?” I ask, slotting his fingers through mine to hold his hand. His grip is firm, bringing me comfort—exactly what I need.

Ryker shrugs, running a palm over his bald head. He stifles a yawn. “Not really. Dozed a few. Woke up for sure when your water broke all over you, me, and the bed.”

I scowl eyeing the mess. The beds soaked beneath me and Ryker’s leg hairs are matted to his thigh from the wetness. Not that he’s bothered to wipe it off.

“I don’t wanna call the doc,” I remark.

“I gathered as much. But you gotta decide how we’re gonna do this. Do you want me to call the fam so we can get ya to the hospital?”

“Sure. That sounds…” My words are severed as yet another all-consuming vice stakes its claim. This is not a good sign. There was barely two minutes between the last contraction and this one. If he’s gonna call our guys, he’s gotta do it now.

Spreading my thighs, feet flat on the bed, my nails sink into the back of my leg. In through the nose and out through the mouth, I steady my respirations to keep my heart rate from skyrocketing and our daughter from going into stress. Easy in, easy out. There, I can do it. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. If only the… fuck… nope… this can’t be happening. No. No. No. No! The prehistoric urge to bear down rears out of nowhere, prickling every cell of my body, preparing my muscles to engage without consent.

“Ryker,” I rasp, refusing to panic. I’ve gotta tell him. He needs to know.

“I got you, babe. Dialing Kade now.”

Thank God!

There’s no way I can let him call for an ambulance. I refuse to scare the crap out of my kids with sirens all because I’m in labor. For thousands of years, women have done this kinda thing at home, in the woods, the river, in the back of a pickup truck.

I’m safe. We’re safe. We’ve got time. We do. I went fast before, but she’ll wait. There’s no need to overreact. I’ve got this. No pain no gain. I’ve got… sonofabitch… fuck you contractions. This damn pep talk isn’t working.

Staring ahead at the fireplace, I count the seconds in my head as Ryker talks to his brother on the phone.

“Kat’s in labor, we need you.”

Eighteen. Breathe. Nineteen. Breathe. Twenty.

“No. She doesn’t want the doc. She wants your ass here to take us to the hospital— Yes, I know it wasn’t planned. Just—,”

“We’re… ohhh… not… gonna make it,” I cut in between sputtering breaths. Shiit… I need to… the pressure…it hurts. Everything in my brain screams for me to push. But I can’t. I won’t. My head and my muscles can fuck right off a cliff. This baby isn’t coming until I say so.

“What do you mean we’re not gonna make it?” By some miracle, my man is the epitome of calm.

Thirty. Breathe. Thirty-one. Breathe. Thirty-two.

“Put. Speaker. On,” I grit, sweat dripping down either side of my face, tendons bulging in my neck.

Ryker heeds my instructions, and Dickcheese’s voice fills the room with pinpoint concern. “You’re ready to push, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll get my bag and be there as soon as I can.”

I appreciate that he, too, is composed.

“Good.”

“You know what to do?”

“Yes.”

“I know ya do. Love you so much.”

“Love you.”

“Be strong.”

“Always am.”

“That’s my girl.”

The phone goes dead just as the contraction yields, giving me a short span of time to prepare for the next one. It’s gonna be a doozy.

Ryker’s hand cups my knee in unfailing support. “What do I need to do?”

“Don’t freak out.” I flash a tiny grin, attempting to bring a bit of levity to this craziness. I cannot believe we’re gonna have this kid at home. Never in a million years did I think this would happen. So much crap can go wrong delivering in general. But I refuse to believe that. My gut says this is safe. That my baby will be fine, healthy even. If my gut steers me wrong, I’ll fire her from voicing her opinion, and we’ll call 911. It’ll be okay. Everything’s gonna work out. I’ve got this. We’ve got it.

For an endless moment, our eyes connect, tethering our souls, filling my cup with unimaginable love. It’s soothing, it’s soft, it’s everything I need and more. “I promise. I won’t,” Ryker vows, leaning in to kiss my temple despite the sweat.

I nod once, believing him. “She’s gonna come soon. Next push, maybe. I need you to get lots of towels and the bulb syringe from under Walker’s bassinet as a precaution.” Kade’s medical kit might not have one.

Another kiss and knee squeeze. Then Ryker’s scooting off the mattress in his snug boxers that outline his ass and dick in the best of ways. “Anything else?” He pauses with his trusty scooter in place.

“A bowl from the kitchen. Kade’s gonna need it for the—”

“Placenta. I’m on it.” And he is. Quick and efficiently my perfect man follows my directives to a T as I take a moment to prepare for the inevitable.

Shuffling up the bed, pillows piled high beneath my shoulders and head, I prop myself halfway up the headboard to give Kade or Ryker plenty of room to sit by my feet and help deliver if necessary.

Knowing skin on skin is best, I remove Ryker’s shirt and my bra. It falls into a small pile on the floor. There’s no reason to be shy about nudity at a time like this. A cantaloupe sized head is about to split open my vagina. My breasts hanging out are the least of my worries.

By the time the next wave of hell steamrolls through me, I’m prepared. Thighs pulled back, chin to chest, I stare straight ahead and simply breathe. The pain is nothing, or so I tell myself. The urge to push I can overcome. Air draws in through my nose and whooshes from my parted lips in even gusts. The pressure down below is indescribable. My stomach feels like an elephant is sitting on me trying to shove my guts out of my crotch. Even as I remain calm, keeping my muscles loose, my jaw unclenched, I can feel my body prepare itself to give birth. This might be the part where women scream or cry or want to knock their man’s dick in the dirt. But I’m too busy locking my system down tight. Refusing to let this rule me, when I’m, by the grace of all that is me, gonna rule it like it’s my bitch.

Forty-six sluggish seconds later my stomach relaxes and Ryker’s back in the bedroom. On the bed beneath my bottom he spreads a few towels, laying a handful on the mattress to use after. The pink plastic mixing bowl I bought for popcorn goes on the floor beside the bed. He sets the bulb syringe that came from the hospital, when Walker was born, on the nightstand where my glasses lay.

“How’re ya doin’?” Ryker sits at the base of my feet, getting a front row seat to the birthing show. If this was his first time, I’d be worried how he’d feel about me afterward. If the sight of a body barreling out of my cooch would make him love me any less. But this is our third rodeo together. He’s watched heads pop out of my vagina without flinching—much. By this point, he’s a pro. Even the gross stuff doesn’t seem to faze him. And trust me; if you’ve never given birth this way, you won’t understand what I mean by gross stuff.

“I’m gonna be alright.”

“Did you have another while I was gettin’ shit?” Ryker rubs my shin, my knee and back again, in even strokes meant to relax me.

“Yes.”

“Did you push?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

“But you wanted to?”

“Yes.”

Expression resolute, he nods in his strong special way that communicates he’s a badass motherfucker who’s got this handled. “The phone is on standby if we need to call an ambulance. Just in case something goes wrong. Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

“Nothing is gonna go wrong,” I reassure with full conviction. I’ve been through enough crap in the past two months. God owes me this one.

The sudden rush of heavy boot falls clambering up the hallway is music to my ears. Not waiting to be welcomed into the room, Kade shoves the door open. Over his shoulder is a massive black bag full of stuff.

“Am I too late?” he rasps out between breaths.

“Not yet,” I reply.

Kade drops his bag on the open side of the bed and digs in.

Ryker looks at me, eyes raking my nude form, then to his brother. A flash of something displeasing transforms his face for half a second. His lips turn down. “I’m gonna pretend that you’re not seein’ my woman naked right now. Or that you’re...Why are you puttin’ gloves on?”

“They’re sanitary, and I need to check her.”

“Check what exactly? Her blood pressure?” Ryker eyeballs the cuff on the mattress that Kade withdrew from his bag.

“No.” Snapping the wrists of his gloves, testing they’re secure, Dickcheese grins wide, eyes alight. “I’m gonna examine to see if she’s safe to deliver.” He walks around to my side of the bed and squeezes my bent knee.

“You’re puttin’ your hand in my woman’s pussy?” Ryker hisses.

“It’s for medical reasons, bro. I’m not feelin’ her up.” Kade’s all business.

“I’ve never had a hand inside her. There’s no way I’m lettin’ you do it. Give me the gloves. I’ll check.” Nostrils flaring indignantly, Ryker offers his palm, expecting Kade to comply.

Kade arches an amused brow. “Do you know what you’re checkin’? What to feel for?”

“No. But you can tell me. Wait. Do you even know?”

“Yes. Asshole. I do. And it’s not my hand. It’s a few fingers. Now move, before she has another contraction.”

Growling his discontent loudly, Ryker scoots a tad out of the way, giving his brother space to reach in.

Kade poises a big hand by my entrance. “This is gonna be a bit uncomfortable, Watermelon Tits.”

“Your fingers are gonna be up my vag, I think we’ve already crossed that bridge,” I wisecrack.

Kade chuckles, teeth flashing. “I love you. Remember that.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You love her. I love her more. Now get your fingers in and out of my old lady’s pussy before I punch you in the face.”

Dickcheese and I share a private snicker at Ryker’s outburst.

I know I shouldn’t find my man’s overreaction adorable, but I do. He’s all macho and huffy, about to strangle Kade. If he was sitting closer, I’d kiss the scowl clean off his face.

Sucking in a deep breath, I prepare for Kade’s invasion. He’s swift and efficient, taking no time at all to examine my progress. Once he’s done, he removes both gloves, tosses the bundle on the floor, and seizes the blood pressure cuff.

“So?” Ryker prompts with an impatient snarl.

“She’s ready. Got to… never mind.” Kade’s eyes lock with mine as he secures the cuff around my wrist. It’s digital. “You can push on the next contraction.”

“What’s with the never mind? Is somethin’ wrong?” Ryker grumbles. With the way things are going, Kade might need to test his brother’s blood pressure next. He has got to chill out.

“No.”

“Then fuckin’ tell me.”

“I felt your daughter’s head.”

“Oh.” Ryker’s lips form into the cutest childlike ‘O’.

Paying no attention to Ryker’s stunned reaction; Kade rubs my forearm and gives me a subtle wink, reading my BP. “Blood pressure’s a little high. Nothing to be concerned about, though. I’m gonna call a friend of mine after you deliver so she can come weigh the baby and double check everything. I don’t have a baby scale. And she’s sweet. You’ll like her. She doesn’t live in Red Fort, or I would’ve had you use her to begin with. But she’ll make the drive since I asked.”

“Sounds—” Once more, words are swept from my tongue as the telltale ache in my lower spine crawls around and clamps onto my stomach with the strength of a twelve-foot alligator. Getting in position, thighs held, chin down, I prepare for the push, stretch, and plop.

“Okay, Watermelon Tits, we’re almost ready for ya. Ryker, place two fingers just inside her canal; lightly pressing down to protect the perineum. This’ll prevent her from tearing,” Kade instructs standing at the rear of the bed, watching as Ryker positions his fingers. I think. I can barely feel him. The… I gotta push.

Inhaling deeply, I let nature take her badass course and push, channeling all of my energy into my bottom, making no sound. Kade counts to ten aloud. Then I release my muscles and breath, inhale again, hold it, and bear down reengaging all of my muscles to get this baby out.

By the third try, I feel it—the immense pressure before the burn as a mass breaks through the tight hole with a wet pop. Ryker’s wide glassy eyes are a sight to behold as I pant through the remainder of my contraction, doing my best to ignore the fiery pain.

“She’ll be out soon.” I’m the first to break the silence, trying to catch my sputtering breath. It’s entirely too cute to see both of my men staring in slack-jawed wonderment at me and the head of my daughter. Reaching down I run my fingers through her slimy hair, careful not to poke any eyes or her nose.

“She has dark hair,” Ryker whispers in awe.

“You didn’t make any noise,” Kade notes simultaneously.

I smile a tired smile, covered in sweat, muscles fatigued. I dunno how some women do this for hours straight. I don’t think I could ever be that resilient. This is difficult enough.

“There’s no cord around her neck, so you can push her out on the next contraction. Be ready, bro.” Kade clasps Ryker’s shoulder, jostling it a little, infusing it with familial love. “You get to play catch.”

“I’m gonna have four fuckin’ kids,” my love mumbles to himself, still a bit dumbstruck. Shaking it off, he squeezes my calf and glances up to my face, where he gifts me a look of radiant love that catches in my throat. My heart soars in harmony.

“Four,” I reiterate equally stunned. Two infants, two sets of diapers, two bellies to feed. It’s not gonna be much different than having twins, and I always pitied moms with twins because of the extra work. Yet envied them because they had double the love, double the smiles, double the baby babbles, and silliness. I’m one of those moms now. And it’s gonna be amazing.

“I love you.” Ryker shifts the two fingers inside my opening that our daughter’s head presses on.

“Love you, too.”

“Love you three,” Dickcheese interjects, beaming as bright as the sun, totally enjoying this. It’s not every day you get to assist your best friend having a kid.

Ryker rolls his eyes, smirking from the corner of his mouth. I copy the sentiment for a fleeting moment before the next contraction swoops in without warning. I brace myself. This is it. Time to give birth. Eyeing the clock out of my peripheral, I jot a mental note that she’ll be born just after five a.m.

Legs back, summoning all my inner strength, I bear down, allowing the surge of pain to guide me.

Ryker readies his free hand.

Then it happens.

Her shoulders breach and the rest comes along for the ride. Reaching underneath her, supporting her not so tiny head, Ryker draws our wet girl to his chest, cradling as he massages her back, skin on skin. Those small eyes blink open, look around half dazed with a tiny furrow between her brows. Then she peers up at him with a look that could only be described as ‘Hey Dad’. Big, fat tears roll down my beautiful man’s face in a rush, dripping off the tip of his chin. A small hiccupped cry tears from our daughter’s lungs. Followed by another, her bottom lip pouty. My nose stings with the urge to bawl, yet I reel it in, not wanting to miss this precious moment. Leaning in, face suspended beside Ryker’s, Kade cries happy tears as he snaps pictures of his brother holding our chubby babes, coated in vernix.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Dark hair.

Fat cheeks.

Round head.

Tiny chest filling with oxygen.

Wiggly toes.

Mini fists that go straight into her mouth. Or try to.

Ryker coos down at her. Kade too.

Relaxing, I melt into the mattress and heave a sigh of contentment. The hardest part is done.

Snapping out of his enamored fog, Kade kicks into nurse action to examine our girl.

My eyes fall shut for a blip as the remnants of adrenaline drain from my system.

“Sweetheart,” Ryker pats my foot.

I pry one lid open.

“Yes?”

“You wanna hold her? I know I kinda stole her away. Should’ve given her to her mama first.”

With a lazy hand, I brush his words away. “She’s as much yours as she is mine.”

“Not really. But we’ll go with that.” He smiles, scooting closer to offer our babes to me. Careful not to drop her, I lay her on my chest. Testing to see if she’s hungry, I shift her to the side and tease her lips with my nipple. Instinctively, she opens right up. With a bit of adjusting, she latches on without a fuss.

Raking my fingers through her hair that needs to be washed, I watch her mow down on my breast.

Ryker shuffles up the bed to sit beside me. He fingers her belly button cord that’s still attached. Soon, I’m gonna birth the gross part, so they’re gonna have to cut that.

“Kade’s calling his friend.” Ryker lifts his chin toward the bathroom, where Kade’s voice carries from.

“Do you know this chick?”

“She’s one of the blondes he fools around with.”

“And she’s a midwife?”

Ryker shrugs. “If he says she is. She is.”

“Okay.”

A kiss lands on my temple, soft and lingering. “Love you. So damn proud of you,” my man murmurs to the skin there.

“Love you more.” I lean my head on his shoulder to rest.

Kade reenters the room, and endeavors to dig in his bag that rests at the foot of the bed where Ryker kicked it to reclaim his spot. He grabs some kind of string stuff and medical scissors from inside. Another pair of gloves are put on before he approaches.

“My friend’s on the way. But we’re gonna have to tie and cut the cord before she gets here. And you’re gonna be ready to deliver the placenta soon.”

“Right.”

“I’m really proud of you,” he comments as he knots the string around her umbilical cord.

“Thanks.” I reach up to squeeze his bicep to show some love.

“She’s really beautiful.”

“She is.”

“Like her mom,” Ryker nuzzles his nose to my hair, making my insides melty like ice cream on a hot summer day.

“What’s her name?” Kade asks out of nowhere.

“Lucy.” It’s the first time I’ve mentioned her name aloud to either of them.

“After?” Kade lines up the scissors and offers them to Ryker or me to snip.

“Lucille Ball,” Ryker chuckles heartily, passing on the opportunity to cut our daughter’s cord. “I caught her. I can’t steal this moment, too.”

“You do it,” I urge my bestie.

“You want me to… to cut…” Kade’s is shocked to his core if the bug-eyed expression he’s sporting is any indication. His bottom lip quivers.

Please don’t cry. I’ve witnessed enough crying today. He’s killing me here.

“I do. We do,” I reaffirm, keeping my emotions in check. Ryker drops another kiss, wordlessly giving his blessing.

“Oh. Um. Okay.” Not wasting another second Kade pinches the cord between two fingers and scissors through my daughter’s lifeline. As if that’s not enough, Kade’s Adam's apple bobs in his throat before he kisses Lucy on the forehead, then does the same to me.

“You’re never gettin’ rid of me. You’re mine for life,” he mumbles, pressing another tender peck to my skin. “Life.”

“Life,” I parrot the solemn vow.

Drawing back, quirking a tender smile, Kade snaps out of his emotional reprieve and reengages nurse mode. I rest in bed dozing in and out, my head on Ryker, snuggling, as my best friend takes care of everything. He checks my blood pressure. Examines me down below for bleeding. Helps me deliver the placenta, even though I’m beyond tired. After it’s placed in the bowl, he cleans me with room temperature washcloths. The gross towels are carted to the laundry and replaced with fresh ones. A clean sheet is strewn over my naked body. Somewhere along the way, Lucy nods off, my nipple falling from her mouth. Ryker puts a diaper on her tiny tushie, without removing her from my chest. It’s difficult paying full attention to the whirlwind of activity when I can barely keep my eyelids open. So I don’t.

“Sleep well, my little Tiger. Happy Valentine’s Day.” Is the last I register before succumbing to the bone-deep fatigue that whisks me into a sweet, sweet dreamscape full of sexy bald men and healthy newborn babies.

Kat

Rolling onto my side, sore and groggy, I wake with a start when I no longer feel Lucy on my chest. Fuck. My eyes spring open as I frantically pat around, searching for her. She’s… she’s nowhere to be found. Where’s my baby?

“Ryker! Ryker!” I croak, about to lose my shit, heart lodged in my throat.

A pungent floral aroma hits me hard, quickly followed by the familiar scent of pancakes and bacon. Noises, lots of them, carry from the front of the house into the bedroom through the open door.

A tiny less freaked than before, I reach for my glasses and slip them on. That’s when a burst of colors hits me tenfold. I soak in the staggering view of our bedroom. He did not. No freaking way! Lifting my glasses, I scrub my eyes before double checking this is indeed real. Sure enough, it is. There are hundreds, if not thousands of flowers in various vases and baskets covering nearly every square inch of our room. Roses, daisies, and tulips alike. If that wasn’t enough, there are stacks of… I cover my mouth, giggling like a giddy school girl. He did not do that, too. Sno Caps, boxes of them are stacked on the hearth. We’re talking at least fifty, possibly a hundred. Tilting my head back, downright overwhelmed by this romantic display, I glance heavenward to give my brain a chance to process. Heart shaped balloons in red, white, and pinks coat the entirety of the ceiling. This crazy fool has thought of everything. I must’ve slept like the dead, if he could accomplish all of this without me waking. Can’t say I wasn’t tired, but this is insane. Too much. He had to have planned this way in advance or bought out the entire store this morning when I was asleep.

I check the time.

Hell, it’s only nine. I didn’t sleep that long.

This was definitely premeditated.

Speaking of the devil, the man in question is wheeling himself through the door right now with a plate poised on his palm like a waiter.

“This is a lot.” Scooting up the bed, I gesture to the space, blanket tucked beneath my chin to maintain some modesty, in case the girls aren’t far behind.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, babe. The first one we’ve had together in years.”

Why do those words do funny things to my stomach? His sweetness rivals even my sexiest book boyfriends. And that’s saying something.

“I didn’t know we were doing gifts.” If I had, I would’ve gotten him chocolates or a card.

“We’re not. I am. Plus, you gave me a daughter. That’s the greatest gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“That’s not fair, Ryker. And I’ve given you three.”

He perches his fully dressed self on the edge of our bed. That t-shirt does little to hide the man candy underneath. Those abs… “Not on a holiday, you haven’t. And it’s totally fair. Valentine’s Day is… what?”

Lordy, not this crap again.

I suppress a silly eye roll, trying hard not to smile as well.

“A holiday for men to show their woman that they care,” I drone, reciting the same words he pounded into my brain a decade ago.

“Yup, and to do this.” He sets a plate of heavenly scented scrumdidliumptiousness on my lap that contains his signature pancakes topped with a bacon heart and...

Wait.

Where’s the maple syrup?

Hold up.

What’s that in the center, poking out of the pancake?

No.

No way!

This isn’t happening!

Oh, my…

A hand gently clamps around my wrist, that’s shaking. Holy Mary mother of all that is hot and tattooed in the world… he’s…

“Will you marry me?” Ryker’s words permeate the air with growly hesitation, as I stare in a state of perpetual shock at the enchanting diamond that’s winking back at me.

Yes, I said winking.

The morning light streaming in through the windows is hitting the ring at just the right angle.

Inching a single trembling finger forward, I touch the princess cut gem a mere instant before I jerk my hand away as if it bit me.

“I… I… I dunno what to say.” Are those tears running rampant down my cheeks?

I swipe the back of my hand across my face. Sure enough, they are.

“Say yes,” Ryker suggests, humor marinating his tone.

Say yes. Say yes, to marrying Ryker. I never thought a moment like this would ever come where I could say yes. This is all too surreal.

Shaking my head to disconnect the gemstone stare down, I look to him, searching for the right words. “I just had a baby.”

Yep, boys and girls, apparently I have no brain to mouth filter.

Ryker smiles wide, all teeth and sexy charm. Eyes twinkling. “My baby.”

Blinking, I nod dumbly. “Right. Your baby.”

This is mortifying.

Just say it already, Kat.

“Who’s with her sisters, brother, uncle, and grandpas right now so I could do this.” He plucks the band from the fluffy hotcakes and doesn’t hesitate to slide it on my ring finger. It fits like a well-worn glove.

Way in over my head, I stare at it some more, on my finger, where it belongs. The butterflies in my belly are doing The Macarena. My lenses fog up from this torrential downpour happening on my face.

“Tiger, it’s alright.”

“It’s not,” I blubber, successfully ruining what could’ve been the most romantic proposal of all time.

Ryker carefully removes my glasses and uses our sheet to wipe my disastrous face. This isn’t how you’re supposed to look when you get engaged. I’m one hot mess while he… Sheesh. He’s always so damn yummy. It’s not fair that he gets to be that handsome every single minute of every single day.

“Why do you wanna marry me for anyhow?” I sniffle. He needs to be certain he knows what he’s getting into here. I’m not Vanessa, this isn’t a commitment he can make on a whim. Or take lightly. This is it. I’m it. Divorce is not an option. My heart couldn’t take it. Not after everything we’ve been through.

Cupping my jaw, Ryker leans in, his lips a hairbreadth from mine. “So I can kiss you anytime I fuckin’ want,” he rumbles planting a savory kiss that seals our union forevermore. My heart soars to the sky as I kiss him back. It takes but a moment for it to escalate to tongues and groans… to promises of more. Soon, I’ll marry my soulmate. Soon, I’ll be Mrs. Knox. Soon, our family will be bound by more than love and blood. This is it. This is my forever. It’s him. It’s always been him. As it was written in the stars.

The End

Not quite…

Fourth of July – 5 months later

Standing on the sidewalk in front of my old house, I pause a long moment to reflect on the past six months as I stare at the porch where my future awaits. Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you, doesn’t it? Mine sure has. I’m now a mother to four flourishing children, I’m madly in love, I have the bestest, best friend a girl could hope for, and today I get to make it all official. I’m standing here in my wedding dress with my arm hooked through my father’s, as he patiently waits for me to make the trek up the walkway. To the porch, where our love story began all those years ago—when we were young and inexperienced. This is the same place I lost my virginity, had my first child and second. It’s also the first house I ever had my heart broken. So many memories began here. But it’s not the end for us. Simply a new beginning.

Two months ago when we placed my first real home on the market, my future husband suggested we get married here as a way to close an important chapter in our lives and start anew. Last week, we discussed it with the buyers. They were awesome about it. Not that they wouldn’t be. They’re friends of Big’s. So I know it’s going to be cared for long term. Texas is our home now. A place the girls and I want to stay for good. It’s where Ryker’s club is, as well as the exquisite cabin he built for us. The girls also love their school, even though it’s out for the summer. Red Fort is the ideal place to raise our children, surrounded by family who loves them, including their dad. Plus, the weather’s better in the south. It rarely snows.

Peering down at my white, knee-length dress, I grin privately at the all-white Chucks I wore for this special occasion. If Ryker was allowed to wear jeans, a t-shirt, boots, and his cut to marry me, I sure as hell wasn’t wearing the traditional wedding dress and heels. Instead, I found this delicate, well cared for beauty at a second-hand store. The sheer neckline and beaded bodice is what sold me on it. Kade, too. Who I dragged to half a dozen thrift stores until I found it. To me, getting married to your soulmate shouldn’t cost thousands of dollars. All you need is a handful of family and friends, a special place, and the man of your dreams. Today couldn’t be any more perfect.

On either side of the makeshift aisle, a sea of bikers and family alike cover the front lawn. There’s heaps of leather and denim to go around. Dickcheese stands beside the front steps as both my maid of honor and Ryker’s best man. Alongside him are our eldest daughters who insisted on wearing white dresses to match mine, as well as our special initial necklaces. Somewhere in the crowd, Bear’s caring for our infants, who I fed less than an hour ago so they’d be too tired to fuss.

This is it.

This is our time.

Finally.

Nodding once to Gunz that I’m ready for this, our makeshift DJ lifts his chin in acknowledgment and seconds later out pours Hopelessly Devoted To You: by Olivia Newton-John—a song that Ryker chose as my processional because he claims it encompasses my devotion to him like no other song can. I’d have to say I agree.

Side-eyeing Dad, I give him a playful nudge with my hip. “You ready to marry off your daughter?”

Nodding stiffly, he dashes a tattooed knuckle beneath each eye. The movement tears at my heartstrings.

“Dad, I’m not goin’ anywhere,” I reassure in the tenderest tone I can conjure, willing myself not to cry despite the momentous occasion.

Another stiff nod is his reply, as his throat works through a forced swallow.

Pressing my glossed lips together, I take a fortifying breath before squaring my shoulders and powering through one of the most important days of my life.

I will not cry.

I will not cry.

Each step we make side by side is another toward the man of my dreams. Gathering the courage, I lift my gaze to meet Ryker’s. His blue eyes glued to me, rimmed in red. Unshed tears swim in the penetrating depths. This isn’t fair. He can’t cry, too. There’s only so much I can withstand. He has to stop. I don’t wanna ruin my makeup that the Sacred Sisters took ages to perfect. The smoky eye won’t be smoky anymore, if I can’t keep these bubbling emotions in check.

A lone tear treks down his left cheek.

One of mine follow.

Dammit.

Please don’t let messy eye makeup ruin the wedding photos. We’re only doing this once.

Step by slow step, the music serenades our approach. Though the words don’t penetrate through the erratic pulse whooshing through my ears. My fingers tremble around the tiny bouquet of flowers clutched in my hand. Between one blink and the next, we’re standing at the bottom of the stairs. Down saunters my confident lover to join us.

Offering his upturned palm to me, Ryker clasps my dad’s shoulder with the other. They exchange a stern look of understanding and respect.

“Love you, peanut.” Dad pecks my cheek with shaky lips, then trades me off. Nervous as all get out, I forget to respond in kind as my dainty hand slips into a much larger one that encases mine in damp comfort.

Thrum, thrum, thrum, my heart hammers wildly.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Ryker’s infinitely considerate as he escorts me to the top of the porch one stair at a time no matter how long it takes my nervous feet to move.

Face to face, eyes locked as one, Ryker tugs the bouquet from my death grip and throws it to his brother. I’m too preoccupied with him to care what happens to the flowers. I didn’t wanna carry them anyhow.

To comfort me further, my trembling hands are clasped between his. I shoot my Asshole a weary smile, chock-full of nerves. He returns the sentiment with an adoring grin and an air blown kiss.

My heart leaps sky high trying to catch the affection.

Our officiant, Big Dick, clears his throat to gather everyone’s attention. The noise dies immediately, and Gunz shuts off the music.

“We are gathered here today to witness Kat and Ryker in holy Sacred Sinner matrimony.”

The crowd of bikers respond with a round of hardy grunts and fuck yeahs.

“When Ryker approached me last month to marry them, I was honored to join such a badass woman and loyal brother for this ride in life. So without further ado, do you Kat take Ryker to be your old man ‘til he’s put to ground?”

Swallowing the growing lump in my throat, I will my tears to stay away. “I do,” I announce with fierce conviction, head held high.

Our guests howl their approval. Motorcycle engines rev in celebration.

Ryker beams a Colgate smile and lifts both of my hands to his mouth. Not giving a shit what anyone thinks, he kisses my knuckles one by one as those soulful eyes bore into mine, expressing a million words in a tender heartbeat.

My bottom lip wobbles.

A traitorous tear slips free, and I let it fall.

I dunno how much longer I can restrain the waterworks.

He’s killing me with his surplus of sweetness. Not to mention how good he looks today of all days. So strong, and sexy with his broad shoulders putting that cotton t-shirt through a strenuous workout. The stubble on his face is sonnet worthy. Those lips illegally sensuous as they make their way across my fingers.

In unorthodox fashion, Big offers us our wedding rings. Mine’s a simple diamond encrusted band that matches my engagement ring. It looks tiny resting in his giant mitt. Ryker’s is a simple black tungsten carbide ring. Inside each of them, Forever Tiger & Asshole are etched.

Easing my hands from Ryker, I pluck his band from Big’s palm. The first attempt, I drop it thanks to shaky fingers. The second doesn’t fare much better. By the third try, I’m able to hook my thumb through it. At least it didn’t drop on the porch.

Ousting a shuddery breath, I pinch the metal between my opposite thumb and forefinger. I slip it on Ryker’s proffered digit with marginal difficulty, considering I’m on the cusp of having a meltdown.

Without preamble, another two tears break free.

This is not how I foresaw our wedding. Nowhere in my dreams did I picture me barely holding it together.

Once the ring is safely on its owner, Ryker cups my jaw with both hands, forcing me to retain eye contact. I chew on my bottom lip, not caring at this point if I ruin the gloss. Why can’t I stop trembling? This is embarrassing, almost as embarrassing as the day he asked me to marry him. I couldn’t keep my shit together then, either.

“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart,” he soothes in that gruff, panty soaking, southern gentleman’s tone. More water swims in his vision, too. What a pathetic sight we are. A match made in emotional heaven. I inwardly snort at the thought.

“I… I know.”

Ryker’s thumb massages my scarred cheek in the gentlest of brushes as he retrieves my wedding band from Big’s upturned palm. “Go on, brother,” he instructs.

For a split second Big Dick dips his forehead out of respect. “Ryker, brother, do you take this babe to be your old lady for eternity?”

Stepping forward, crowding my space, Ryker slips the ring on my finger as smooth as a ghost. Wrapping his arm around my middle, he smashes my front to his and growls, “Fuck yeah, I do.”

There’s a megawatt, eye-crinkling smile that lights up the galaxy a millisecond before a pair of sinful lips crash down on mine, stealing all the oxygen from my lungs. Letting him in, our tongues clash in a tangle of bliss. Greedy moans pour from one mouth to the other. Someone announces us, man and wife. A deafening roar of celebration echoes across two city blocks.

This is…Mmmm… yes…

Palming the back of my head, Ryker grabs my ass with his opposite hand and hoists me up with no effort. On instinct, I wrap my legs around his waist like a monkey, locking my ankles. Arms following suit, they hook around his thick neck. Thank heavens for short dresses.

Mouths fused in a love imbued fog, he stumbles into our old house with Big’s help. I think. Maybe. Who knows how we got in here. All I care is that he’s mine. For always. And we’re touching. Gripping. Hungry. His tongue’s turning me inside out. Sweet bejesus he can kiss. Who needs to breathe, talk, or think when your man can fuck your mouth like Magic Mike drizzled with hot fudge, topped with whipped cream and a cherry in the most risqué of places?

On his… yeah.

Whipped cream sounds incredible. We need some. For tonight. Between my legs. Between his. On his dick. His balls. Yum.

Kicking the door shut with his boot heel, we pivot, and my back meets wood with a slam, knocking what bit of air I have left from my chest. I gasp into our kiss. Ryker growls like an animal possessed, sending tiny vibrations of approval through his pecs. My nipples harden to sharp points, stabbing against the lace of my new bra.

Safely supported by my man and the door, Ryker tears our lips apart and shoves a hand between the juncture of my thighs. Delicate panties are torn asunder. His jeans zipper ripped down. Then, without a moments pause, there’s connection. It’s deep. It’s brutal. It’s frantic. It’s undiluted ecstasy. Perfection.

Mouth falling open in a silent cry of rapture, eyes rolling back in their sockets, Ryker attacks my throat with sharp nips and kisses. “It’s about time I get to fuck my wife in the first place we met,” he groans beneath my ear. His breath hot and raspy, steams my skin… sending shivers throughout.

A moan of agreement erupts from my parched throat. I attempt to swallow. To respond. But I’m far too gone to say anything. I can never get enough of this man. Ever. It’s both a blessing and a curse.

Drawing his hips back, my husband hammers my wetness with zero remorse. My shoulders bounce off the door between thrusts. Fingers dig into my ass, bruising flesh, marking it. I moan for more. Beg. Plead.

His teeth sink into the skin above my collarbone.

“Ry-ker!” I scream, voice cracking.

“What am I?” He does it again, owning my pussy with each skillful lunge.

“My…” Sweat drips. Nails bite into the back of his neck as I hold on for the ride of my life. My pussy clenches around his cock, milking the girth. Reveling in it.

More. I need more.

“Your what?” He bottoms out, swiveling his hips. Without warning the base of my spine tingles, the walls of my sex flutter, and I explode. Fragments of who I am splinter into shades of pinks and oranges. Mere dots of light dancing behind my eyelids that are squeezed shut as I convulse in his arms. Potent drops of pleasure imbue every cell of my body.

“Husband,” I choke out between waves of euphoria.

“That’s right,” he husks, nipping my earlobe. “Your fucking husband. You’re my wife. Can’t get rid of me now, Tiger. I own this pussy.”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“You… oh fuck… own… yes… th-this…”

“Pussy,” he growls to my parted lips, nipping the bottom before sucking it into his mouth. “You’re mine.”

“Oh… G-God… Yes.”

“Do you want my cum inside you, beautiful? Do you want your husband’s cum?”

“Yes! Please! Yes. Yes. Please,” I chant.

I’m high—on him. Floating out of body in another realm, where I’m acutely aware of every tiny movement, sensation, smell—it’s magical. From the aching stretch that leaves me delirious with want, to his masculine scent of leather, cologne, and man invading my nostrils, I’m lost to him. To us.

“Not yet.” Another nip to my bottom lip, then we’re moving away from the door.

Considerate of my blissed out state, Ryker lays me flat on my back in the middle of our old living room. My eyelids lift to half mast, blearily watching as he mounts me again where we’ve made love many times before. My dress pools around my waist, the cold floor against my bare ass oddly arousing. A sweet kiss is dropped to my upper lip before my lover draws away, leaving me exposed. Tempting him further, my thighs fall open, giving him the perfect view of my shaved bits. A shot of cool air bathes my sex. I love the tingle. Desire it. Ryker samples his bottom lip with the flick of his tongue, staring at my pussy like he wants to feast on the buffet. Fuck, I hope he does. I want that mouth anywhere on me. Everywhere.

Rocking back on his haunches, my husband peels his jeans and boxers down his legs to rest above his knees. The tattoo on his thigh that pays homage to me is a sight for sore eyes. My heart gives an extra thump at the view. Unable to keep his hands to himself, Ryker’s palm skims up my leg, eliciting goosebumps. I shiver despite myself, and he smiles like the devil who’s about to corrupt his virgin sacrifice.

Yes. Take me. I surrender. Let me be yours.

There’s a half a second pause that lingers with unspoken anticipation, making my blood pressure roar before he buries his face in my pussy.

My back arches off the floor in a broken war cry as two fingers plunge inside. They curve just right, hitting the spot that drives me crazy. Ryker’s tongue joins in on the action, attacking my clit with sharp lashes. Body no longer my own, I thrash like a fish outta water.

“Ryker!” I squeal, legs quivering. Wrapping them around his shoulders, heels digging into his muscles, I grab the back of his head, nails penetrating skin, and shamelessly grind my pussy to his face. My stupidly sexy husband growls his approval, eating me like there’s no tomorrow. The cacophony of sloppy finger fucking and harsh breaths fill the room. I bask in the raw debauchery. Our first time was nothing like this. This is better. This is us, unhinged, uninhibited—the way it ought to be.

Teeth attack my clit, and that’s all it takes to have me soaring. The orgasm is soul clutching, as it rips its way through every cell. Hoarse nonsense pours from my throat in endless groans as I undulate against that gorgeous face, bathing it in my juices. Ryker moans as I moan, lapping my entrance around his encroaching fingers.

Prying my hands off his head, Ryker sits back and wipes the mess I’ve made from his face with the hem of his shirt. In and out, his massive chest heaves for oxygen. Sweat drips from his bald head. Lips red and swollen. Pupils blown. His smooth, steely rod stands proudly between his thighs, as a waterfall of pre-cum cascades down its length, making it glisten. I lick my lips, not wanting all that to go to waste.

“You wanna fuck my mouth with that big thing?” I purr, rising up to rest on my elbows.

Ryker groans, cupping his balls and giving them a mighty squeeze. “You can’t talk to me like that and expect me not to blow my load. Jesus. Babe. You’re fuckin’ hot.”

“Is that a no?” I wink, channeling my inner seductress.

“That’s a… maybe later.”

I pout, turning my bottom lip down.

“Stop. Seriously. I’m tryin’ to make this last.”

“You can come, ya know. This doesn’t have to be about me getting off.” Truth be told it’s always about me getting mine. At least in Ryker’s mind, it is. Four weeks after I gave birth to Lucy he was forcing me to come on his tongue. Two weeks after that we were at it like rabbits. My orgasms always crest in the teens, whereas he holds out for his explosive one. It’s flattering albeit a bit frustrating at times. It’s not like he can’t go multiple rounds. He merely chooses not to focus on his end game, only mine, until I’m left a rag doll of epic proportions. Sometimes, I can barely remember my name afterward. It’s that intense. However, our wedding day shouldn’t be the same. This is for us. Not me. And I’ll be damned if I don’t have that cock in every hole by the time we’re finished. You only get to consummate your marriage once. Come Hell or high water, we’re gonna consummate the fuck out of this body with that drool-worthy man meat.

“Kat,” Ryker warns. “We can’t. Just give me a sec. Kay?” his voice squeaks at the end.

More nut squeezing ensues. He stares up at the ceiling as if that’ll fix whatever is going on between his legs, or inside his head. Ryker discharges a weighted sigh. His dick drips more pre-cum as if it has no intention of listening to whatever war he’s waging with it. This is silly. He doesn’t have to last an hour. We’ve got all day. The Fourth of July party at Big’s compound isn’t ending anytime soon. Our kids are safe. The Sacred Sisters ensured me they would be taken care of. This house is ours for a few more hours. He’s taking this too seriously.

Screw it.

Tired of waiting, I sit up and do whatever the fuck I want. In this case, I dive forward and swallow that thick cock whole. In one swoop, my tonsils are reunited with their best friend. Ryker shudders. His dick throbs in my throat. A guttural, broken moan battles in his chest. Without warning he curses as cum erupts from his rod, shooting down my throat in salty bursts. Hips sputtering, he fucks my mouth in tiny thrusts, expelling the sexiest groans that sound like they hurt so good. Trembling fingers slide into my fancy up-do as I take all he gives with infinite pleasure.

That’s it. Exactly what I wanted.

“Kat,” Ryker rasps, as he pulls me off his cock. It exits my mouth with a filthy wet pop. A string of cum trails from my mouth to his slit. He breaks the iridescent connection with the slow swipe of his thumb across my bottom lip.

Is it bad I wanna climb up and ride his slightly softening dick until I get off again? Having him lose control in my mouth was… hot a sin. He should do that more often. I’m ready for the next round.

Pushing off his thighs, I sit on my feet tucked beneath me, dress fanned all around.

Ryker cups my cheek, staring at me adoringly. “I fuckin’ love you.” He shakes his head, smiling a shy smile, cheeks flushed. “I can’t believe I blew down your throat that fast. That’s embarrasin’ as fuck. Don’t tell Kade or I’ll never live that shit down.”

Turning toward his touch, I kiss his palm, quirking a grin as my eyelashes flutter. “I thought it was sexy.”

“Babe. Fuck. You gotta stop lookin’ at me like that.” Ryker wraps a fist around his dick, giving it a tug. A bubble of leftover cum pearls on the tip. He uses his thumb to smear it around.

“Like what?” I whisper, ogling that part of him as my sex clenches, ready for action.

“Like you wanna fuck me to death.”

I nibble my bottom lip, trying my best to keep from attacking him. My restraint won’t last long if he keeps eyeing me that way as he strokes that dick. “Maybe I do. You’re my husband now. Isn’t that implied?”

An affectionate head shake. “Christ. You’re too much.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“That’s never a bad thing. You’re the sexiest woman on the planet. There’s no other woman I’d wanna fuck me to death, than you.”

“Good.” Throwing caution to the wind, I wrap my arms around Ryker’s neck and take his mouth in a searing kiss. Teeth clang, tongues wrestle, and the world fades to nothing but us in this moment. Clothes come off. His thickness enters me again, stretching my walls to the max. We don’t fight it. The burning lust, it roars through us, suffusing our veins. We fuck doggy style in the living room, my knees digging into the hardwood. In the kitchen my bare ass sits on the counter as he takes me there, legs wrapped around his waist where he marks my throat with primal bites. In our old bathroom, I ride him on the toilet before he bends me over the sink to watch us connect in the mirror. Wetness runs down my inner thighs, yet we power on, basking in each other, trying to slake the never-ending lust.

By the time we reach our old bedroom we’re drenched in sweat, and I’ve come so many times I struggle to stand. Dropping into a heap of naked, sticky limbs, Ryker slides home, fingers clasped in mine, pinned above my head where the bed used to be. He kisses me softly as we make love, skin connected from hips to hands.

“You’re mine,” he mutters to my lips, swiping his tongue across the cupids bow.

“Yes,” I pant, because I have no clue what else to say. I’m wrecked.

“Gonna cum in you again.” Sweat drips off his forehead onto my cheek, mixing with my own. His pulse beats in sync with mine, as my hard nipples graze against his pecs with each thrust.

“Third time’s a charm,” I quip.

“Is my wife gonna come on my cock before I go?” His eyes delve into mine. Soul chaining to soul.

“I think…” Yes. Yes, I am. Lifting my head off the ground to fuse our lips in a delicate kiss. My thighs quiver as my sex milks his dick with all she has. Another slow in and out, his balls collide with my ass, and that’s all she wrote. I come. Not hard. But softly. Warmth cascades throughout, sparking little bursts of pleasure from toes to fingertips.

“Husband,” I whisper, kissing his chin.

“Wife.” A guttural prayer on his lips as he spends inside me one last time.

I’m dead. This has to be what heaven feels like. I’ve never, in all my life been this thoroughly dicked. Twice he came in my pussy and once in my mouth. If I was able to get pregnant, we’d be growing another baby by now. Thankfully, I had my tubes tied two months ago. No more kiddos for us. Speaking of which, I hope they’re doing okay. The babies especially. They don’t do so well being away from mama for any length of time. But we can worry about all that later.

Rolling off, dropping onto his back on the floor with a sated groan, Ryker tugs me closer. I lay my head on his sweaty chest not caring one iota how gross it is. Nuzzling my nose to his heated skin, I inhale his yumminess. Sweet Jesus, how’s it possible for a man to smell even better after sex? He does. Ryker’s scent is a damn aphrodisiac. If I wasn’t exhausted, I’d… screw it.

Not having enough connection, I climb on top of my man, straddling his waist. I return my cheek to his pec. Yesss. I sigh. This is much better. He’s warm. So, so very warm. It’s delicious. Those big arms of his fold around me in a Ryker cocoon. I wish we could freeze this moment and come back to it for always, when I’m ready to throttle him or put his nuts in a meat grinder. This right here is why I love him.

“You’re amazing.” Ryker peppers the top of my head with kisses. Somewhere along our sex fest route my fancy up-do came undone. Right now I could care less what my hair looks like.

He’s not finished. “Sometimes I wish I would’ve married you sooner. Not that I don’t regret the past and the choices I made. But knowin’ that we’re here after all this time with four beautiful kids. Happy. Together. In love. It almost makes all the shit storms worth it.”

I couldn’t agree more. Walker wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for all we endured apart for those years. Do I wish we’d had more time together? I’ll always wish that. But, the bitterness is gone now. He’s right. We have four beautiful kids. We’re together. We survived Hell and dug our way out of the ashes on the other side. I’m stronger for it. He’s stronger for it. And together we’re stronger as a unit.

“I’ve always loved you. Even through the pain,” I mutter, drawing designs with my fingertip on his opposite pec.

“Even through the pain,” Ryker mimics.

Time drifts as we lay in our lover’s bubble where nobody can touch us. The sun changes in the sky, filtering in through the bedroom windows. We nap. We cuddle. We simply be together without words. There’s no need for them.

By the time dusk arrives, I wriggle in Ryker’s arms, breaking his fortress of muscles surrounding me so I can sit up.

“You about ready to go to the party?” I ask, massaging his pecs, not giving a crap that my pussy is sitting atop his thickening member.

He holds on to my hips, fingers pressing in. “I’m ready for anything as long as it’s with you.”

“Even if we have to explain to the brothers for the millionth time, about Walker and Lucy?” I tease, winking at him.

When we arrived yesterday at the mother chapter compound, we were greeted with an abundance of club love. There were a few of his fellow brothers that oohed and aahed our twins. Even though, we all know they’re not. Yet, these men were too drunk to care. Because they kept prattling on about it like a bunch of hens. “They have the same eyes. Look at all that hair. They must be fraternal… yadda, yadda, yadda.” At first, I thought it was funny. Ryker never saw the humor. He’s a wee bit overprotective. If it weren’t for me, there would’ve been fists in faces and loads of cussing. Dickcheese would’ve gotten in on it at some point, to defend his brother. Which would’ve lead to more bloodshed, and most likely trips to the hospital. Not what we needed to deal with the day before our wedding. Bribing Ryker with a bathroom handy smoothed it over, and we both got a bit of somethin’ somethin’ outta the deal.

Ryker’s lips pull into a lazy smirk. “Yep, babe. Even if we gotta do that.”

“Without fists.”

“You’re no fun.” He pretends to pout, puppy dog eyes and all. I wiggle my ass on his boner to make him stop. Heat replaces the poutiness in a flash.

“It’s our wedding day. No fighting allowed.”

“They’re havin’ a huge party to celebrate Big’s kid tonight. There are brothers from everywhere here. There’s gonna be fists at some point. Somebody’s gonna say somethin’ wrong. Skulls are gonna get knocked around. It’s bound to happen. We’re bikers.”

“As if that explains everything,” I tease, knowing he’s right. Spending six months day in and out in the presence of bikers, you learn a thing or twenty. I’m not gonna say it’s been hearts and flowers. On the other hand, I have gained a whole new respect for the lifestyle. One, I never thought I’d live.

“It does. You married a biker, you know what you got yourself into.”

“Yep, and I love my big, sexy, biker.” My French manicured nails bite into Ryker’s pecs, cementing my statement.

“Hell fuckin’ yeah, ya do. Now ride me ‘til you come, sweetheart. Then I’ll grab your street clothes from the bike so we can go see our kids and party.” Ryker forces me up with the drive of his hips before he positions himself at my entrance. Lowering onto his shaft, we groan in unison as we merge as one.

“Goddamn, you’re sexy. Love you so fuckin’ much it hurts.” He palms my tits. Rubbing his thumbs across my hard nipples. Milk bubbles to the surface, and he licks his swollen lips in a trance.

“I love you, too.” I breathe.

“Then fuck me, my little Tiger. Wring my dick dry. ‘Cause I’m gonna go insane if you don’t. Need you too fuckin’ much.”

So I do. I ride my man ‘til my legs turn to Jell-O and my brain’s mush. When you love someone, that’s what you do, you give them what they need. And my need to love him whole is almost as strong as my need to breathe. Hopelessly devoted to each other some may say… I won’t deny that and neither will he ‘cause we know we’re meant to be.

The End

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Hopelessly Devoted- BONUS SCENE

Contains Spoilers from the MC Chronicles & Corrupt Chaos Series

(If you haven’t already read them.)

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1. Ring of Fire: Johnny Cash

2. Hopelessly Devoted To You: Olivia Newton-John

3. King Cry Baby: James Intveld

4. Dear God: Avenge Sevenfold

5. No Matter What: Papa Roach

6. Hell & High Water: Black Stone Cherry

7. I Hope You Dance: Lee Ann Womack

8. Who I am with You: Chris Young

9. In Case you Didn't know- Brett Young

Note from Author

Readers/Sisters/Friends, I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who’s taken this journey with Ryker and Kat from beginning to end. I hope you agree that this gave them the ending they deserve. Where will these characters go from here? Will Kade get his own story? Who knows. Time will tell.

As some of you may know, some may not, while writing this trilogy our family was devastated with not only one, or two, but three major deaths. The first put me in a tailspin, where I lost my writing mojo. The second, I was just getting back on the horse when it hit. Yet, I made myself persevere because he would’ve haunted me day in and day out if I didn’t. He was one of my biggest supporters. The third, took place a couple months prior to this release, when I was in the middle of writing it. I have to be honest, I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to carry on. But, I told myself I had to. That I didn’t have a choice. So, through the grief, and my own personal heartache, I’ve given you two beautiful souls who’ve endured years of their own heartache only to come out the other side intact. I think we can all learn a little something from Kat and Ryker’s journey… That everything happens for a reason. We may not understand it now. Nor may we ever. Life isn’t always fair. Life isn’t always just. It’s just life. Yet, we owe it to ourselves to make the best of the cards we’ve been dealt.

Through these books, Kat shows us what true strength really means. I’ve learned a lot from her over the last few years. We’ve bonded through my writing. She’s brought out things in me that were buried deep, that I was forced to resurrect in order to bring her to life. That’s why she’s my most cherished heroine to date. She’s the one who kept me sane throughout my own sorrow. The one who constantly reiterated, like a mantra in my head, “Bink, if I can survive what I have. I know you can, too.”

She’s right.

I can.

You can.

We all can.

No one would’ve thought, myself included, that I could learn so much about life itself through the eyes of one of my characters. But I have. And I hope, in the end, you have, too.

Thank you again, from the bottom of my heart, for reading.

Peace,

Bink

Other Works by Bink Cummings:

MC Chronicles: The Diary of Bink Cummings Vol 1 (FREE)

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Beyond Her Words

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Beyond Christmas

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Nowhere

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His Boy

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Beyond Her Words

(Standalone. Out Now.)

“We’re not in Kansas anymore, Viola.”

I firmly grip the steering wheel of my restored ‘69 z28 Camaro—Viola. She’s my pride and joy. Leaning forward in my seat like an old lady, I try to gain visibility through the torrential downpour. My windshield wipers swish maddeningly back and forth, doing little good. Brilliant streaks of light flash through the murky sky, quickly followed by a heart-stopping boom. A knot forms in my throat and I swallow hard, trying to dislodge it.

This storm’s the worst I’ve driven through, and it’s right above me, creeping at a snail’s pace, looming overhead. It’s like the darkness that is my life. It’s lurking around every corner, between every nook and cranny, waiting to swoop in and sip the happiness from my marrow like a fine wine. I won’t let this storm win, though; not this time, not again. Tenth time’s the charm, right? Or maybe it’s the eleventh? Crap, I dunno. But for my sake and sanity, I hope so.

Strong wind wickedly batters the sides of my car, swerving it to the left. I hold on tighter to the wheel, keeping the tires on the road. I can do this. I know I can. I can find a place, any place, along this never-ending country road to get gas and suitable shelter. My body needs a break and a place to rest my tired head from this hellacious storm.

After eight hours of driving straight through, with the exception of two shitty pit stops, my patience is wearing thin. But, the more pavement that rolls under my tires, the faster I get away from Jonathan and his sick, addictive behavior. Why I’d spent the past six months hoping he might be the one to cure me, I can’t be sure. Loneliness, maybe? Stupidity? This inherent need to help people? I have no clue. I just know that yesterday was the last straw.

At thirty-two, I’m too gosh damn old to put up with men’s bull-honky. Guess that’s what I get for dating younger men. This time, it was only by four years. But in women’s years, it might as well have been ten. When they say women mature faster than men, no truer words have ever been spoken. I’m just glad I didn’t waste another six months trying to help him cure his alcohol addiction, which regrettably transposed his dependency to me and everything I do. I became his need. His drug of choice. For a woman like me, that doesn’t mix. I can’t fill that tall order, no matter who the man is. I don’t have it in me. My soul’s too damaged; my heart too broken.

Through my water-logged vision, the broken sign swings from a pole on the side of the road—Miller’s Gas Station, one mile. I pray this gas station is still in operation. I’m pushing less than a quarter tank in an engine that devours gas and need to fill up.

Quickly, I steal a glance at my passenger side floorboard. The box holding my potted garlic bulbs is still keeping them safe; no soil has been spilled. I blow out a relieved breath and focus my eyes back on the road.

Those garlic bulbs are the only thing I have left from my grams’ garden. They’re my most prized possession, aside from the two rings I wear on my left hand and my beloved car. Who knew so much love could be wrapped in these otherwise insignificant possessions? Not me. Not until everything was stripped away, and all I was left with were these objects, the clothes on my back, and a dirty box of old photographs.

Red lights flash up ahead in a store window—OPEN. A single uncovered pump sits in the middle of a gravel drive. The price for unleaded fuel is written in white on the shop's window. Unable to pump gas in these conditions without drenching myself in the process, I idle to the front of the rundown gas station. There are no marked parking spots, so I make my own. Through the rain I see a short, older woman curiously peer out of a window with a shotgun in her hand. I can tell she wants me to see it when she raises it above her head and shakes it a few times to get her point across. I’m not going to mess with her, but I suppose she can never be too careful out here.

A gust of wind jostles my car as the storm boisterously ensues from above. I lean over my shifter and grab my purse from the floor. Reaching into the front pocket, I fist the crinkled wad of cash before turning off the car and tossing my keys on the passenger seat.

Leaning back into the soft leather, I try to relieve the tension in my back and numb butt. A tired groan escapes my lips as my eyes scan the lot, waiting for the rain to slow so I can go inside. At the back of the rural property sits an older and heavily rusted mobile home. Parked beside it sits a flashy motorcycle with a blue tank and a red pickup truck. Must be where the owners live. Though I’m pretty sure the woman in the window, who’s still staring at me, won’t be riding that bike anytime soon. Although I could be wrong—wouldn’t be the first time or the last.

Shoving the money between my legs, I absent-mindedly pick at my nails and wait for the storm to slow. It has to let up sometime; it can’t last all dang day. Figures, I’d be the one to get caught up in a storm on my drive to the East Coast. I don’t really care, though. I just have to get away from small towns, and, more importantly, away from lazy, crazy, or drug addicted small town men. Men who are pros at bullshitting their way into your pants right before they try to stake claim over your heart. Not like I’d ever give them that. You can’t give them something you don’t have.

Which is the main reason why I’m sitting here in this gravel lot right now, staring out my window, daydreaming and talking to you. You’re the only real person who I’ve got to listen to me anyhow. Men surely don’t care what comes out of my mouth if they’re not getting the candy in my pants, and usually not even after that. Trust me—us girls gotta stick together. Chicks before dicks. All for one and one for all—you know, all that female power bull-honky. If that actually exists. Does it? I dunno. Probably not.

Not like I think you’d like me anyhow if you got to know me. Nobody does. I’m easily forgettable. I mean, what can you do when you're the person that nobody sees? The tomboy; the girl with grease on her face and dirt under her nails? How do you cope with boys seeing you as one of them, not a person with XX chromosomes? How do you handle all the women being jealous of you because you're one of the guys? Like that’s something to strive for. It’s not. I’m the living, breathing proof.

I’ve spent too much time wishing I could tell people, and make them understand, that two people molded me into the person I am. Two people who really cared. Two people who were just as odd and backward as I am. And that those two amazing people are dead, buried, and never coming back. Ever. It’s a harsh reality I am faced with, day in and day out. Something that wrecks me on a daily basis, leaving me only a tiny sliver of my former self—a hollow shell.

Both of my people tragically died four months from each other to the day. Both of them ripped from my soul, leaving me to painfully wander the world alone. That was ten years ago. And I've been adrift, floating haplessly through a meaningless life ever since. Living a shoddy existence, where I roll into a town just as quickly as I roll out of it, never staying more than a year or two at most.

Ten small farming communities in ten years. Places where you're guaranteed to be an outsider since you weren’t born and raised there. Places where you become the dull gray stone in the vast sea of pearly white. Or more specifically, the sloppy, introverted, vertically challenged, backward tomboy, who could always understand cars and vegetables better than she could ever understand a living person. Especially females, who are notoriously focused on the glitz, the glamor, the 'something better'—the end game. Rings, weddings, babies, dresses, being sickly thin, and wearing gobs of makeup. All of those things I've never understood. Or maybe I did once, but not anymore. That part of me withered away and died long ago.

Well, I suppose I should stop being a Debbie Downer and make a run for it. The storm has settled for a moment and the clouds have parted in the sky. Beams of vibrant sun are casting down on Mother Earth, breaking through the dreary for a moment.

I grab the cash between my legs, throw open my weighted car door, and make a break for the entrance. The door chimes as I dash inside and shake off like a dog. My hand runs through my long, wavy hair, damp from the rain.

“Can I help ya?” the older woman asks with a smoker’s rasp, standing behind the counter with her shotgun left lying in front of her, next to the register.

The noise of the weather forecast is broadcasted over the surround sound speakers, as heavy winds shake the windows. Air whistles through poorly sealed seams, and water drips from the leaky roof into buckets on the cracked linoleum floor. On a deep inhale, I’m assaulted with the cheap tang of lemon cleaner, and worse—the unmistakable scent of mildew. I try not to judge or crinkle my nose in disgust, because I’ve smelled worse. Lived in worse. Survived worse.

Meeting the woman’s eyes, I flash her a friendly, closed mouth smile. “I need to fill up,” I point to my car outside, “and I could use a little break from riding so long.”

She leans against the wall behind her, covering a beer poster, and crosses her arms over her chest. “You been drivin’ long?” She jerks her chubby chin my way.

“Eight hours.” I wade further into the store. The shelves are minimally stocked and the prices, as I figured, are outrageous. Beggars can’t be choosers, though, so I snatch a handful of candy bars and a few bags of chips, paying special attention to the expiration dates. There is no way I’m paying almost two dollars for a bag of candy if it’s expired. All of them, except the Baby Ruth, are fresh, so I put that one back and continue my inspection of snacks for the long ride ahead.

“Where ya headed?” she snoops, just as a siren broadcasts over the speakers, immediately followed by a tornado warning.

“Is that a local station?” I ask, choosing to ignore her question.

“Yeah,” is as much as I get outta her.

“Should we be taking cover?” From my experience, most warnings are more of a safety precaution. However, this woman appears unfazed by the whole thing. She doesn’t seem to care that the rain is beating the windows like they owe it money. Or that I can see huge branches flying like feathers through the front lot.

I wince, sucking in a sharp breath when a broken branch barely misses my beloved Viola. At my sides, I fist my hands, still full of candy, and clench my teeth. My car shouldn’t be out in this weather. It’s not letting up; it’s only getting worse. If she gets the slightest scratch, I’m going to lose it. I’ve kept her pristine for almost fourteen years. I can’t allow a storm like this ruin her custom paint job. It’ll wreck me.

The sky’s black now, matching my heart. Can you see the low hanging clouds and the streaks of lightning slash through the sky? It’s beautiful, in an End of Days morbidity, don’t you think?

A deafening boom and sizzling crackle of thunder shakes the windows. I move closer to the back of the store, just in case one of those flying branches decides to do the swan dive and impale the glass.

I spare a brief sideways glance at the woman. Her bushy brows are pinched and her aged lips pursed as her eyes fix on the storm brewing in Mother Nature’s cauldron. She makes a disgruntled noise in her throat.

My eyes fly wide when I catch sight of an iron gate tumbling like a weed down the country highway. “Holy crap,” I mutter to myself, following the gate’s path until it’s out of sight.

“It’s gettin’ nasty out there,” she comments. “Owned this place for thirty-five years and she’s still standin’.” Her hand proudly slaps the counter and it startles me. I fidget, dropping my unpurchased candy to the floor, and my heart leaps into my throat.

Bending down between two shelves to pick up my mess, I hear the first crack.

“Damn it!” she barks.

I forget the candy and shoot upright just in time to catch another branch collide with one of the store’s windows, cracking the pane like a spider web. The rain hardens and the roof groans under pressure. I warily watch the paneled ceiling and send a silent prayer to my grams, God, and Brian, to keep me safe and the roof from buckling. If anything goes, my fear is that’ll be the first to collapse.

The older woman leaves her post and scurries past me to the back wall of the store. She presses herself against it, between stacks of unpacked goods. I follow right on her tail and slide up beside her, my back flush against the wall. “Is this the safest place?”

“The store room has too much glass, so yes.” Her voice wavers.

Uh-oh, that’s not a good sign….

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