by Freya Barker
“I’m sorry to invade you, but Keith mentioned he wanted a word with you.”
“Not a problem, come in.”
“Is your dog good with little ones?” she asks a little apprehensively, and I immediately grab him by the collar.
“Luke is very friendly, but he hasn’t been exposed to many kids. Let me put him outside to be safe.” I hustle the dog out the back door and turn back to my guests, my eyes immediately drawn to the beautiful dark-haired baby. “What a sweetheart.”
“Aleksander’s a holy terror,” Autumn deadpans, handing him to me. I don’t have a lot of experience with kids, but I mimic the way I saw Autumn hold him and prop him on my hip. Apparently, Aleksander has no problem with strangers; in no time he has a fistful of my curls in his hand, showing off his little teeth in a big smile.
“I’ll go grab the stuff from the truck.”
I watch Keith head out the front door before turning to Autumn. “Did he say what he wanted to talk to me about?”
The flash of concern on her face does not bode well. “I’ll let him tell you.”
“Is that my buddy?”
We must’ve woken Evan, who stalks straight for me. Or rather, for Aleksander, who he plucks from my hip and holds up in the air. The little boy, clearly familiar with the game and the man, giggles loudly and digs his hands in the red beard.
I’m an instant puddle when Evan blows a raspberry in the baby’s neck, prompting a fresh bout of giggles. Tearing my eyes from the endearing picture they make, I turn to Autumn. “Tea?”
Her eyebrows are up in her hairline at Evan’s appearance, and she’s still taking in the bandage wrapped around his head when she answers, “Tea would be great.”
Keith comes in hauling a bouncy chair, a baby tub, and a good-sized box with who knows what inside. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Tree. Twenty-eight staples and a mild concussion.”
“So you’re gonna live,” Keith concludes dryly.
“Looks that way.”
Autumn rolls her eyes. “Can you guys dial down the testosterone please? I’m having an allergic reaction. Tahlula, where do you want my knuckle-dragging husband to put the stuff?”
“Probably the nursery.”
Before I can explain where to go, Evan—with Aleksander still firmly attached to his beard—starts walking in the direction of the bedrooms. “I’ll show you.”
“Playing nurse are you?” She grins widely when the guys leave the room. It occurs to me it’s probably best not to respond, so I shrug my shoulders, which makes Autumn laugh.
When the guys return I supply them with drinks—Keith a beer and Evan a bottle of water—and we sit down in the living room.
“We got the DNA results back,” the detective says rather abruptly.
“Jesus, Keith, so much for being gentle,” his wife scolds him.
It’s too late; my stomach is already in my throat and my hands clammy. Evan gets up from his chair, hands the baby to his mother, and comes to sit on my armrest, his hand wrapping the back of my neck.
Ignoring his wife, Keith stays focused on me. “It’s a match, honey. The body as well as the blood from the rental car, I’m sorry to say both match Lena Griffion.”
14
Evan
“Are you awake?”
She rolls over and looks at me. Her face is in shadows in the dark room, but I can see her eyes are wet.
“Why are you awake?” she returns.
“I never sleep well.” A quick glance at the clock on her nightstand shows four in the morning. In another hour or so the sky will start lightening up.
I know the news about her agent hit Tahlula hard last night. Keith assured her he’d do everything possible to find out who was responsible. The fact her place is right between where the rental car was found and the body was recovered didn’t escape anyone.
When Moose and Penelope showed up shortly after, with enough pizza to go around, we all moved to the backyard so Luke and Smokey had room to play. Tahlula stayed mostly quiet, while the rest of us chatted, but she seemed to enjoy the company.
The sun was already going down when Aleksander fell asleep on his mother’s lap, and Keith announced it was time he took his family home, promising Tahlula he’d be in touch. Penelope and Moose disappeared into their bedroom shortly after.
There was a brief verbal scuffle between Tahlula and me about who would sleep where; she didn’t agree with me taking the couch ‘in my condition,’ and I fired the same argument back at her when she said she’d sleep there. We obviously both ended up in her bed, but she’d been on her side—right on the edge of the mattress—with her back to the room when I came out of the bathroom. I took my cue and stayed on my side of the bed.
Until now.
“Come here, Lula.” I reach for her and she shifts into my arms, putting her head on my shoulder, and curving her shape to my side. Despite the dull throb in my skull, my body responds to the feel of hers, but I ignore it. Sleep is more important right now. “Close your eyes, honey. Let’s see if we can grab a few hours like this.”
I wake up when I feel her rolling out of bed. By now the room is bright with daytime sun.
“Where are you going?”
“Pee,” she says simply, and I watch her round behind, covered by flimsy sleep shorts, move to the bathroom.
I hear the toilet flush and the sound of her washing her hands, but when after a few minutes she hasn’t come out, I swing my legs over the side. The door to the bathroom is open a crack and I peek in, catching a glimpse of Tahlula in the mirror. She removed her top and has her heavy breasts cupped in her hands as she stares at her reflection. Her skin is stretched taut over the swell of her pregnant belly. She looks like a goddess, all ripe curves and shiny skin.
Before my brain can engage, my hand is already pushing open the door and her beautiful eyes shoot up to meet mine in the mirror. To her credit, she doesn’t move to cover herself as I fit myself behind her, lifting my hands to cover hers.
“So goddamn beautiful, you steal my breath,” I mumble, pressing my open mouth to her shoulder.
“I wasn’t sure,” she admits, sliding her hands down to her belly, taking mine along with them.
“Gorgeous,” I reassure her, inching the fingers of one hand under the elastic of her shorts where I encounter soft curls.
I don’t have to wonder whether she’s on board with my exploration, since she hooks her thumbs in the waistband and shoves them down. Then she covers my hand and guides my fingers deeper into her wet heat as her head twists around, mouth searching for mine.
I sweep my tongue between her lips with the need I feel to claim her body. There’s nothing sexier than a woman who is clear on what she wants. Tahlula doesn’t hide her hunger for me. Not with her eager mouth or her lush ass rubbing against my dick, and not with her reaching back to pull down my boxers. While I roll the tight bundle of nerves at her core with one hand, the other cups her full breast, pulling at the large dark nipple.
“Now,” she breathes against my lips, as she tilts her ass in invitation.
Like a homing beacon my throbbing cock finds her, pushing slowly into her slick channel as my muscles tremble with restraint.
“Fuck, Lula,” I pant in her ear, watching our reflection in the mirror. My pale skin against her dark, my red hair next to her inky curls, my hard to her soft, like yin and yang twisted around each other. Perfection. “Look at us, baby.”
Her heavy-lidded eyes open on mine as I slowly pump in and out of her. “Harder, Evan.” I do as she asks, but it’s not enough. “Harder, honey. I won’t break. Fuck me.”
I was straining to be gentle—careful—but at those words my control snaps and I power inside her, my balls slapping against skin. With her mouth open, her head drops back against my shoulder, but those eyes don’t stop burning into mine.
Too soon I feel her clamping down on my cock, her body spasming in my hold, as a deep guttural groan escapes her. It’s enough to
trigger my own release seconds later, rendering me weak-kneed and breathless.
Still with our eyes connected in the mirror.
“God, I needed that,” she shares with a conviction that has me burying my face in her unruly hair, chuckling. “You don’t understand,” she clarifies. “The only action I’ve had down there in the past year or so was the turkey baster with my legs up in stirrups.” She mock shudders in my hold, making me laugh even harder.
“Glad I could be of service,” I mock her when I catch my breath.
“That’s not what I—”
My arms squeeze her tight. “I’m teasing you.” When my soft cock slips from her, I feel our joint releases wet between our bodies. “I didn’t use a condom,” I point out.
“I know,” she says, turning in my arms.
“I’m clean. I wouldn’t have risked—”
“Honey, I know,” she emphasizes. “As am I.”
I never even questioned that.
Sliding my hands down to squeeze the globes of her ass, I press a kiss to her lips. “An unexpected perk of hooking up with a pregnant woman.”
This time it’s Tahlula’s turn to laugh.
Tahlula
Pen left a note for us on the kitchen counter.
THE ‘KIDS’ HAD A GOOD RUN. HOME BEFORE DARK AT THE LATEST.
WE’LL GRAB DINNER ON THE WAY, DON’T COUNT ON US.
PENELOPE
It’s already eleven when we surface, after what was supposed to be a quick rinse off in the shower with my handheld but turned into something more that left a beard burn between my legs and a smile on my face.
The coffee is cold in the pot, so I brew some fresh decaf Evan claims not to mind, while he lets the dog out back.
Sometime in the last hour or so, the bandage wrapped around his head has come off. When he ducks into the fridge to forage for food, I see the extent of his wound clearly for the first time.
“Holy cow, that looks nasty. Are you sure you’re okay?”
His hand automatically goes to his head and his eyes come to me. “Couldn’t be better,” he shares, a shit-eating grin on his face. “You made me forget it was even there.”
“Sorry I reminded you.”
He lets the fridge door fall shut, his arm catching me around the waist, as he bends down to brush my lips with his.
“Fuck. I didn’t need to see that.”
I whip around to find Trunk standing just inside the door, his hands on his hips and Luke by his side. I try to create some distance from Evan but he won’t have it, tucking me in front of him with a hand on my hip and an arm across my chest.
“I didn’t hear your bike?”
“I took the club’s pickup. Bike is getting a tune-up.” He kicks the door closed behind him, stalks into the kitchen, and with one last glare at Evan, takes a seat at the table. “You got coffee?”
“Brewing now, but it’s decaf,” I warn him, moving toward the cupboard to grab mugs, and this time Evan lets me go.
“Should be fucking illegal to call that coffee. Got a beer?”
“It’s not even noon,” I protest as Evan ducks into the fridge, producing a bottle he walks over to Trunk.
I can barely hear his grumbled, “Thanks.” Followed immediately by, “The fuck happened to your head?”
“The tree was harder than my head.”
“Someone at the other end swinging it?” Trunk mocks, which pushes my buttons.
“It fell on him while he was out battling that wildfire, risking life and limb to keep us safe, you ungrateful moron,” I snap.
My brother does nothing but raise an eyebrow and Evan chuckles softy.
“I’m about to make breakfast,” Evan announces, ignoring my brother’s pissy attitude and skimming over my impassioned, and somewhat embarrassing, outburst. “You hungry?”
“I could eat,” Trunk says grudgingly, and Evan throws me a wink before emptying the contents of my fridge onto the counter.
“Need a hand?”
He turns to me with a smile and a shake of his head. “I’ve got this. Go sit. Talk to your brother, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to update him.”
“Update me on what?”
“Blackfoot came by yesterday,” I start, easing down in the chair across from him. “He had some news.”
By the time I’ve caught my brother up—interrupted by some choice expletives on his part, and a very vocal opinion on people with donkeys as pets—Evan slides steaming plates of food in front of us.
“Smells amazing. What is it?”
“My mother’s specialty.” He grins down at me. “She calls it ‘everything-but-the-kitchen-sink.’”
“She’s not kidding,” I comment, checking out the eggs, sausage, peppers, mushrooms, onions, spinach, and cheese piled on my plate. It looks like a hot mess, but tastes amazing; with hints of cumin and cayenne for some gentle heat.
Apparently Trunk approves as well, because his plate is half empty before Evan has a chance to serve himself.
“I’m gonna get the guys to keep an eye out here,” my brother announces, pushing his empty plate away.
I know he means the Arrow’s Edge MC when he talks about ‘the guys.’ “No way.”
“You’re my sister. My job to keep you safe.”
“Actually,” Evan interjects. “That would be mine.”
“Dude, no offense; you cook a fine meal, and I’m sure you’re an ace firefighter, but—”
“Excuse me,” I interrupt, before my brother has a chance to finish what I’m sure would’ve been an insult. “I’m right here and perfectly capable of looking after myself, which includes…” I lean forward over the table, eyeing Trunk, “…asking for help when I need it. Right now no one even knows what, if anything, this has to do with me. Besides I have Luke, Penelope, Moose, and Evan here for the foreseeable future.”
“They work,” he shoots back.
“I’m actually on mandatory sick leave until the staples come out,” Evan volunteers, earning him a dirty look from Trunk. “Which means, the next ten days, Tahlula will be the focus of my attention.”
I’m not sure it’s entirely appropriate with my brother sitting across the table, but the double entendre of Evan’s words sends a tingle straight down between my legs.
I have to wonder if Trunk heard it too when he gets up abruptly. “I should get going. Got shit to do.” I follow him to the door and wrap my arms around his midsection. “Keep me in the loop, yeah?”
“Promise. And I swear I’ll call you if I don’t feel safe.”
He grunts and turns his focus over my shoulder. “Watch her.”
“Not a hardship,” is Evan’s immediate response.
Trunk rolls his eyes to the heavens. “Have some fucking mercy,” he mutters.
I’m still chuckling when he turns down my driveway.
-
“That was Ma.”
After I finally gathered the courage to call Jaimie, and Lena’s sister, Sue, sharing some tears along with concern, I needed some fresh air. We took a nice long hike with both Luke and Smokey into the valley below. It’s hot out under the sun, but the valley has enough tree cover to keep the temperature underneath the canopy much more pleasant. I’d just walked up the porch from leading Smokey safely back into the garage when Evan’s phone rang.
“Checking up on you?”
“She’s demanding to know when she’ll have a chance to see, with her own eyes, her only child will in fact survive.”
I burst out laughing. “Ah, the guilt trip.”
“She rocks at those,” he says with an annoyed look on his face.
“Honey,” I gently admonish him with a hand on his arm. “Be glad she cares enough to put those on you.”
Instantly his face softens as he takes me in his hold. “You’re right. Don’t get me wrong; I know I’m lucky.”
For a moment I simply enjoy having his arms around me before I lean back. “Why don’t we take a drive into town? Let her see for herself?”
/> He smiles at me, brushing the hair off my forehead and planting a kiss there. “You just get better all the time.”
I quickly freshen up and change into something a little more appropriate than cutoff jeans and a tank top, while Evan does the same.
“Mind if I drive?” he asks, holding out his hand for my keys.
“If you feel up to it, knock yourself out.”
We’ve barely gone half a mile onto the county road when I notice the pickup in my side mirror. I twist around in my seat to get a better look out the back window, recognizing it as the same truck that rode my ass yesterday.
“Idiot,” I mumble.
“Who?” Evan wants to know.
“That truck. Must be someone who lives around here, I saw it yesterday too. Impatient idiot.”
Evan appears to take a long, hard look in his rearview mirror, slowing down my Lexus. I get his intention the moment I see the truck swerving into the oncoming lane to get by us. I keep my eyes on the cab of the pickup, hoping to get a glimpse of who I’m sure is some pumped-up knucklehead with more muscles than brains. As the truck pulls up beside the Lexus, I get a good look at the driver and it’s not what I expect at all.
The woman behind the wheel looks like she’s barely out of her teens.
15
Evan
“What the hell?”
I thought the truck was passing but it stays right beside me. The blonde behind the wheel looks straight ahead, matching my pace exactly when I speed up.
Keeping half an eye on her and half on the road, I note the truck is inching closer just as we’re coming up on a steep left curve. A feeling of dread balloons in the pit of my stomach.
“What is she doing?” Tahlula sounds more pissed than worried.
“Call 9-1-1,” I snap and stomp down on the brakes, locking them, as the truck swerves sharply to the right. “Hold tight!”
It feels like everything moves in slow motion as the back of the pickup catches the front end of the Lexus, knocking us onto the narrow shoulder, which is all that separates us from a sheer drop to the valley below. I vaguely register Tahlula’s scream as I struggle to control the SUV.