“Promise you won’t take my child away. Promise me.” Kiss. Kiss. “Whatever I do. However bad I fuck up.” Kiss. “Don’t walk away. Promise.”
His embrace was painful, but I couldn’t pull away, the intimacy knotting us together, and although my emotions were muddled, one thing became hauntingly clear. I was forever bound to Dane, and for reasons I didn’t understand, my soul was at peace.
Dane
A strange sense of peace melded me to the mattress. Moriah flipped her hair, tugging her fingers through the long waves, the blow dryer screaming, that gorgeous ass shaking back and forth causing her tits to bounce under the thin cotton top.
Beneath her soft sheets I was dangerously close to blowing my load, her simple bedtime routine an unbearable tease. Wasn’t the time for indulging in dirty fantasies, but hell if I didn’t have a firm hold on my cock, working to ease some pressure.
Her bed was a dangerous place for the likes of me, but my clothes still had a good forty minutes in the dryer, and I wasn’t about to parade around in a pink robe. So, there I sat, dick in hand, naked, and too damn comfortable.
Good fucking God, a man could get used to that domestic shit.
Moriah came my way, a little hesitant, a red tint to her cheeks, but chin held high regardless. She paused at the foot of the bed. Too far away for my liking.
“C’mere,” came out more a plea than the command I’d intended.
Moriah rubbed her hands up and down her hips, lifting those damn pink sleep shorts higher up her thighs. “Dane. We need to talk.”
“We’ll talk. But let me fucking hold you. Okay?”
She answered with a smile, crawled up the bed, then settled in my lap, straddling my waist.
I breathed, a deep, head-clearing, chest-freeing breath for the first time in ages. “That’s more like it, yeah?”
She raked her fingers through my beard, her eyes searching mine, and swear to Christ, that action grounded me, settled in my veins, and rooted my ass to that damn bed, my heart to that woman.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked.
“For what?”
Lips pursed, she leaned back and pointed at her stomach.
A rush of unwanted feelings jostled my nerves. “No, gorgeous. Not mad.” Terrified was more accurate, not that I would admit my fear.
“I’m not scared of doing this alone, Dane.” Her gaze dropped to my mouth, tongue darting out to wet her lips. “But I don’t want to.”
I pulled her in for a kiss because…fuck, I needed that connection, wanted her to feel the sentiment I couldn’t express with words… Hear me, feel me, know me.
When she softened, every rigid muscle relaxed, I pulled away and promised, “You won’t be alone.”
With a sigh, she asked, “How’s this going to work?”
“However you want it to work, Moriah. I’m taking my cue from you.” I grabbed her ass and yanked her closer. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. I’m in. Just be warned, I’m gonna fuck up once in a while. Probably a lot.”
“I’m gonna mess up, too, you know.” She shrugged, dropping her arms to her sides. “This is all new and weird, and nerve-wracking, and I’m clueless. You. Me. Mim. A baby.” She threw her head back, half-laughing, half-crying. “It’s like we’re in a bad soap opera.”
“So, we’ll take it one day at a time.”
“Okay. Yeah. Sounds good.” She nodded, then yawned, covering her mouth. “One day at a time.”
Much as I ached to keep her where she sat nestled over my groin, I ignored my selfish urges. “All right, gorgeous, time to hit the sack.” I squeezed her ass, one cheek in each hand. “My clothes should be dry enough to get me home.” With a grunt, I hoisted her to my side and pulled the blankets to her chin before she could protest.
We hadn’t figured anything out, or made any plans, but she wasn’t kicking me to the curb, and damn, what a burden off my chest. The past days had been torture, spent in a perpetual sweat, worried Moriah would realize that having my child was a bad fucking decision. Had I wanted to be a father? Hell no. But damn, when options were taken away, leaving nothing but cold, hard reality, a man learns what he’s capable of accepting, and fuck me, but I wanted that kid, whether or not I was deserving or capable.
Without thinking, I dropped my feet to the floor, exposing my naked skin to Moriah.
“What is that?” came from behind.
Shit. I’d been careful to hide the brand I’d been so eager to receive all those years ago.
The bed shifted. “Dane. What is that?” A sharp finger poked at my back making my muscles coil.
“Aww fuck,” I moaned, scrubbing my hands over my face. The conversation was inevitable, but that didn’t stop me from trying to hide my ugly a little longer. “Not now, gorgeous. You need to sleep.”
“Satan’s Slayers?” She brushed a finger over the words permanently etched on my skin. “You’re in a gang?”
“Something like that.”
She traced the outline of the skull and snake. “I don’t understand.”
“Motorcycle club.”
“Oh.” Her hand left my body, the bed bounced, then Moriah stood before me, hands fisted at her hips, and said, “Well. Let me hear it. What have I gotten myself into with you?”
“Had a shitty life, Moriah. Junkie mom. Drug-dealing psychopath for a father. Fell in with the wrong crowd. The wrong crowd became my family.”
“Satan’s Slayers.”
“Yes. And before you ask, I can’t talk about them.”
Eyes narrowed, she studied me, making my guts twist. Then she nodded. “I understand.”
She didn’t. She couldn’t. Eventually, curiosity would get the best of her and that shit would be an open wound that never healed between the two of us.
“Are you still with them?”
“No.” My ticker dropped in my chest. I didn’t want to elaborate, but I couldn’t lie, not to her. “Well. Not really.”
“What does that mean, not really?”
“It means I left. Walked away. But you’re never truly out. Unless you’re dead.” I hit her with a hard glare, fearing she’d file that info into her Reasons I Should Stay Away from Dane folder.
So, when she smiled and said, “I saw a biker at the diner the other morning,” my worn nerves began to snap, one by one, sharp needle pricks striking up and down my spine.
“How’d you know he was a biker?”
“Motorcycle. Leather vest.”
“He give you any trouble?”
“No.” She laughed. “I was across the lot.”
Moriah tried to hide a yawn behind her hand, eyes watering, reminding me it was time to hit the road. I pushed to stand, but Moriah gripped my shoulders, holding me down. “Dane.” She stepped between my knees. “Please stay. Stay with me tonight.” Her fingers snaked through my beard, dusting my jaw. “Please?”
Fuck. I was toast. Burnt and buttered.
I needed to go. Find out why the Slayers were in town. But damn how I needed her invitation, how I needed to just…be. For one fucking night.
I kissed her chest. Her neck. Her chin. Then gave that luscious ass a hard slap. “Get in bed. I have to make a few calls.”
“But you’ll stay?”
Fuck me, those pink cheeks and sleepy eyes did a number. “I’ll never be able to say no to you, gorgeous.”
I waited for her to settle under the covers, then dug my boxers out of the dryer, found my phone, and headed to the balcony, dialing Moretti.
# # #
“Wow. You were hungry,” Tuuli said, winking at Mim while she cleared our plates.
Tito’s wife looked like she weighed all of ninety pounds in her Truck Stop T-shirt and khaki pants, apron strings wrapped around her waist at least twice. But that little blonde waitress glowed. She looked far younger than her twenty-plus years, and I suspected that was why Mim took to her so well.
Mim bounced in her seat, nodding, because damn, that girl had chowed, clearing her plate bef
ore stealing my bacon. Moriah’s breakfast, however, sat mostly untouched.
Tuuli shot me a nervous grin. “More coffee?”
She had witnessed the damage I could do the night I’d taken Erik Meyer off her hands and sent that racist pedophile kicking and screaming to the bowels of hell. She had nothing to fear from me, ever, but she was wise in keeping that fear forefront.
“Please.” I tapped the side of my cup.
“Be right back.” With a measured grin, she sauntered away.
I searched the diner for Slade or Tango, thankful neither of them had shown their faces. Tango had yet to confront me about my confession to James, but I had no delusions. A shitstorm was headed my way, and rightfully so. I risked bumping into them at the diner, but since I wasn’t leaving town, I figured the sooner we dealt with my crimes, the better. Tango and I would never get along, never be friendly, but we were damn well going to share space, and we were damn well going to keep things civil, for our women, if nothing else.
Mim sat to my right, Moriah the opposite side of the table, nails tapping the red Formica. She’d been quiet all morning.
I was about to probe when the familiar, fuckin’ beautiful rumble of an engine drew my attention out the window, and despite the knot in my gut, I couldn’t help the tug at the corner of my lips. Fuck, I’d missed riding.
Hammer strode through the door like he owned the place, searching the room for threats, before his eyes landed on Moriah. The fucker actually had the audacity to pretend he hadn’t noticed I was at the same God damn table, shooting her a menacing grin.
“Trailer.” He nodded, coming to my side with a hard clap on the shoulder.
“Hammer.” I chanced a glance at Moriah and winced at the blush in her cheeks, and the way she studied the dirty bastard.
Uninvited, Hammer plopped his ass in the seat next to Moriah, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “Who’s this pretty lady?”
Moriah tried to speak, her words catching in her throat. She coughed, straightened her spine, then offered her hand. “Moriah. Nice to meet you.”
Hard to tell if she was nervous, or ready to barf, so I slapped the table. “Hammer. Mind movin’ your ass. Moriah needs to get to work.”
With a grunt, he removed himself from the seat. Moriah wasted no time getting to her feet. She held my gaze, that skin between her brows crinkling. Not a chance in hell I was going to let Hammer witness her effect on me, so I tore my glare from her troubled expression, and focused on the dickhead.
“So—” she started to speak.
I needed her gone, away from my poison.
“Mim will be fine. Don’t worry,” I offered, tone flat, trusting she understood the severity of the situation.
Moriah’s shoulders stiffened, but she played along, blowing her niece a kiss with a, “Bye sweetie.” Then, she shot me a warning glare and pushed past Hammer, throwing a casual, “Later, Dane” over her shoulder.
Damn, how I wanted to chase her down and send her off with a goodbye she’d feel for weeks. Instead, I tucked an arm around Mim and settled in my seat, doing my damnedest to appear relaxed.
Hammer raised his chin, eyeing the little girl in my arms. “How’s she doing?”
Like he gave a shit.
“What do you think?”
“Well. She ain’t screaming like the last time I saw her. Got some color in her cheeks.” He winked at Mim, and her tiny body tensed. Then the scary bastard puffed his cheeks and gave her a cross-eyed grin.
She shoved her face under my armpit and damn near fused herself to my body. What the fuck?
I wanted Hammer gone. “How’d you know where to find me?”
“You never could keep your eyes off the chick who runs this joint,” Hammer answered, studying Mim like she was a puzzle he needed to solve. “Club’s got eyes and ears everywhere, trailer boy, you know that.”
Trailer boy. Hammer’s way of cutting me down a peg.
“Who’s the chick?” he asked, tearing at a napkin, presumably feeling every bit as uneasy with the visit as I was.
“Mim’s aunt.”
“How’d you find her?”
“I know a guy.”
“Shit.” He blew a low whistle, turned his head to stare out the window. “You tappin’ that ass, ’cause—”
“The fuck you want, Hammer?”
He pounded the table, two raps with his fist, then gestured toward me like I was the crazy one. “Low-Key is moving his mom to a home in Eastern Washington. Had room in the van. Brought your bike.”
The asshole had ulterior motives. Not a chance in hell he’d deliver my ride. “Prez know?”
“His idea. Said he was tired of staring at it.”
“That fucker don’t give without taking. What does he want?”
His attention was back on Mim, who clung to my side, halfway shoved between me and the back of the seat.
Raised my hackles, the way he studied her.
“Club needs your trailer. Coupl’a guys’ll be cutting through town the next few weeks. Need a place to crash.”
“Haven’t been to the river for years. Not sure if that shit’s even standing.”
“Well. If it ain’t, they can pitch a tent. If it is, we expect it to be stocked. Just giving you a heads up. Only reason you own that land is ’cause of your old man. Only reason he owned it was because of the club. We need to use it, we’re gonna use it. You know the drill.”
The drill. When my old man was alive, the drill meant making sure our trailer was stocked with drugs, booze, women, and food—pretty much in that order. I would not supply shit for anyone.
“That all?”
Hammer tilted in his seat, trying to get a better look at Mim.
“Get your fuckin’ eyes off the girl,” I warned, his interest in the child unsettling.
He threw his hands up in surrender. “Chill the fuck out, brother. Just noticing the resemblance to her mama. That’s all.” His eyes met mine in a glare meant to intimidate, but the edge I was used to seeing in Hammer was gone, replaced with something that looked like desperation.
“How well did you know Mick, Hammer? There something you wanna tell me?”
Hammer stared long and hard at the table, then lifted his glare to Mim again, eyes glazed. He made a tsk sound, shook his head in a slow no. “Not a damn thing. Come and get your ride, Trailer Park, so I can get the fuck outta this shit town.”
# # #
Low-Key stepped back. Kid was a newer recruit, half the size of Hammer, but twice the man. By the snarl on his face, I guessed he was not happy about being in my presence.
I shifted Mim from my shoulders to the bike, settled her on the worn leather, and waited for her to balance before letting go. She seemed unsure, hands flat on the seat between her legs, body stiff.
One hand at her rear, the other on the handle bar, I blocked her from view of the dickheads standing at my back. “Only been one other girl on my bike, and she didn’t look anywhere near as badass as you do right now.”
If I could have chosen one moment in time to snapshot and keep forever, that would’ve been the image, right there, the straightening of her spine, the wide-eyed innocent wonder that spread across her face, the one hundred percent worry-free, shit-free, fear-free smile that cracked her grim expression. Tore me wide open, my innards spilt at her feet. Took nothing for me to place her on my throne, but the girl reacted like I’d given her the world.
Mim ran her small fingers over the leather, then stretched up to study the gauges, and God damn, if I’d known that pride could lift a man so high, maybe I would’ve considered different paths in my life, because watching that little lady admire my ride, appreciate the beauty, hell, I was suddenly taller than the pines, more majestic than the mountains surrounding us.
I hoisted my leg over the bike and settled behind Mim, gripping the bars and damn near groaning in pleasure. I’d missed my Fat Boy.
“Soon as we get you a helmet, I’ll take you for a ride. What do you think abou
t that?”
A gasp escaped her lips, making that wild hair shake across her back, and fast as a blink, the girl turned and had me in a head lock, those tiny arms squeezing tight, and fuck me, but I hugged her back, locking her against me, feeling every nuance of that fragile body against mine, inhaling the fruity scent of her hair, and taking the unrelenting assault on my chest. I never wanted to let go.
God damn my life.
God damn my girls.
God motherfucking damn.
Hammer spoke over my shoulder. “Little shit’s got you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?”
At the sound of his voice, Mim squeezed me tighter, something sharp digging into my neck. I pried her off and that necklace she’d worn the day I found her, and every day since, fell back into place at her chest.
“Hey, whatcha got there?” Hammer asked, reaching toward Mim.
Out of instinct, I blocked his advance, shoving him away.
Mim whimpered, and shoved the necklace under her shirt, where she always wore the damn thing, hidden away, like it was her secret.
An unholy growl tore from Hammer’s throat, raising my hackles. He made to reach inside his cut when the diner’s cowbell rattled and Rocky burst through the door, barreling our way, skidding to a halt at my side.
“Whoa,” he shouted. “Is that your motorcycle?”
Tango followed, hot on his heels, and swear to the asphalt gods, Pretty Boy looked ready to tear me to shreds. Fuck. I knew what was coming, had been expecting a war, but I hoped like hell he would wait until there wasn’t an audience.
“Get inside, Rocky. Now.” Tango came at me, those unnaturally green eyes deadly sharp and spitting venom. “Take Mim and go to the office until I come and get you.”
I dismounted, set Mim on her feet and told her to go with Rocky. She didn’t hesitate, grabbing Rocky’s hand, and dashing back inside.
The second that cowbell rattled, Pretty Boy swung, and damn, his aim was spot on, his right hook blinding me with a colorful explosion of bright lights. “The fuck you doing bringing your filth to my diner?”
I caught my balance and charged, knocking the surly fucker in his expensive suit to the ground. He had every right to pummel me, and were I a better man, I’d have stood still and let him purge, but I’d wanted to turn that smug mug to pulp since grade school, and damn if I’d give up the opportunity.
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