by Cathryn Cade
RaeAnn sighed. “Oh, Mac. This, what we just did… it’s great, but… you and I have always had different ideas of what ‘being together’ means.”
A frown gathered on his face like an approaching storm. “What?” he demanded, his voice quiet but cold. “You wanna explain what the hell you mean by that?”
He wanted an explanation? Fine, she’d give him one.
It was fifteen years overdue, but at least now she could say the words without breaking into a blubbering mess of pain, the way she would have if she’d tried to do so back then. Then, she had let pride carry her through her next encounter with him… even though it had given her nothing but cold comfort.
“I’ll explain,” she said.
"Yeah, do that. And do me a favor—start with the night I patched in. Why did you shut me down that night? You never even showed at my big celebration. And the next day, I came to you and you shot me down again—for good."
She gave him another strange look. "I did show up, Mac. I told you before, I came to the clubhouse."
“Yeah, but when was that?”
"It was that evening. You invited me to your celebration, so I came. I couldn’t call you back and tell you I was coming, because you were on someone else’s phone, remember? But I figured it would be all right. You’d said that things wouldn’t be too wild until later, so… well. So I got dressed up, and I drove out to the club. I walked up to the front door and looked in.”
“But you didn’t come in? Why not?”
“Because, Mac! You were a little busy, if you know what I mean."
"Pretend I don’t. Tell me."
"I mean that you were not alone. And you weren’t exactly waiting for me, the way you’d said you would. You invited me to come to your party, as if I was special. But when I got there, you had two of your club sluts on your lap. One of them had her hand in your pants, Mac. And you were letting her do that. Or maybe you didn’t notice! Because the other one had her tongue in your mouth."
Mac closed his eyes tightly and grimaced.
He turned away from her and stalked several steps, his fists clenching and unclenching as the rage rebuilt again, this time at himself.
He turned and stared across the short distance between them.
It felt like a million miles of bad road. “You came to me,” he repeated, his throat so tight he had to wrench the words out. “You came to me... and I was drunk and being a fuckin’, stupid asshole. You came to me.”
She blinked, looked away, and blinked some more, and then she shrugged. “Oh, well. I should have known,” she said, her voice shaking. “That you were... with other women. I know that's how it works around here.”
"Wait." He held up a hand, palm out until he got control of himself. "You owed me that shot. Because that should not have happened that night. But I’ll say, I was young, I was stupid, and I was also drunk off my ass, or it would not have happened. It may have been fifteen years ago, but I still remember—I thought you’d blown me off, tha tyou decided your mama was right, and you didn’t want to associate with my brothers. That you were too good for me.”
He shook his head, the memory cutting at him like it had back then. “But that is not an excuse—there is no excuse for my pulling that stupid shit. When I woke up the next morning and realized what I’d done… Jesus, I would’ve given anything to go back and not do it. But I couldn’t undo it either, so I went to you.”
He sighed heavily. “And you shot me down… and now I finally get why.”
“But you’ve gotta know one thing, Rae,” he said. “If you’d accepted me, if we’d gotten together the way I wanted? That would never have happened again. Never. When I was with you for that short time, I was with you. Did not look at another woman. Didn’t want to, not when I could have you.”
He shook his head. “But that night—ah, fuck me. All these years I've been pissed at you for ending us, when I was the one I should have been angry with—me, not you.”
She sniffled and swiped tears from her face. “So, you mean… you weren’t with other women when you and I were…?”
He came back to her and framed her face gently in his strong hands, his gaze poured into her—lit with fire of determination she'd never seen there before.
“No, babe. And I get, you need time to process that. And I know, in the years we’ve been apart, you’ve been with other guys. Don’t wanna know about them, rather not think about them. Just want you to know one thing—I screwed us up back then, in the worst way. But I'm gonna fix this, Rae. I'm gonna fix this.”
And he knew just how.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
October 5th
“Mom, c’mon,” Connor said, sounding exasperated beyond belief. “Your hair looks fine. Now let’s go inside.”
Rae turned from the lighted rear-view mirror of her Equinox, in which she’d been doing a last minute check of her makeup and hair. Thankfully, insurance had paid for the damages, and it looked good as new.
She wrinkled her nose at her son.
“Okay, I’m coming,” she said. She wanted to look nice, so bite her.
Mac had made a big point of her arriving promptly at the Flyers’ clubhouse at seven o’clock. He’d come early, saying he had to meet with the brothers beforehand.
But something was going on, she just wasn’t sure what. All she knew was, he’d asked her to dress up a little and be on time.
Thus, here she was, in her wide-legged, black dress slacks that flowed around her legs when she walked, the black high-heels with the pointed toe that she’d bought on impulse but rarely got to wear, and a new black lace-and-chiffon top, fitted through the body with flowing sleeves and a thin, knit bra-tank.
From her ears hung simple, black beaded hoops. She carried a blush pink envelope purse that matched her nude lip gloss perfectly.
Con had, for once in his life, dressed up as well, without being asked. He wore new, dark wash jeans and a fitted, olive shirt that made his hazel eyes look green. His hair, which she’d trimmed a few days before, was combed into a stylish wave back from his forehead and was short on the sides and back.
He even, wonder of wonders, offered her his arm to navigate the parking lot in her heels.
“So, you going to tell me what’s going on?” Rae asked him as they approached the club’s front doors.
“No,” he said, as indignantly as if she asked him to divulge his latest crush. “You’ll find out—I mean, nothing’s going on.”
She smiled up at him. Over the last few months, he’d grown two inches. “Okay. You can tell your dad you kept his secret—whatever it is.”
The doors opened suddenly, revealing Heavy and Drew, a handsome club prospect, both also nicely dressed and grinning widely. Heavy gave Con a wink. “Welcome. C’mon in,” he said.
RaeAnn’s heart sped up. “Oh, my God, what…?”
Con led her through the front doors, and she stopped in her tracks, her pink purse clutched to her chest.
All the Flyers and their old ladies were there, it seemed. And they were all dressed up, too. And were those flowers on the tables?
Then Mac rose from a table in the center of the room, and she forgot everyone else. He stood there, gazing at her and Con, a look in his eyes that stole her breath.
“Mom, walk,” Con whispered, urging her forward.
She walked with him, through the tables of smiling Flyers and women who were becoming her friends, to Mac.
Con slipped into a chair, leaving her and Mac the only ones standing. The room was so quiet she could hear the faint rustle of clothing as someone shifted in their chair, and a man clearing his throat at the back of the room.
“What?” she breathed to Mac, shaking her head slightly. If he didn’t do something pretty quickly, she was going to hyperventilate and faint, or something.
He smiled at her, and then, to her utter shock, her tough, cocky biker dropped to one knee before her.
Reaching out, he took her left hand in his and pressed a kiss to
the back.
“RaeAnn,” he said. “You and I have a lot of history. Lot of things we can’t go back and change. Things we’ve said, things we believed, things we’ve done. But today, here in front of our son, my brothers and our Flyer family, I’m asking you to trust me, that from now on, it’s you and me. And the kid here—for a few more years, at least.”
Several people laughed, and RaeAnn did as well, but she kept her gaze on him.
“And this time,” Mac went on, holding out his right hand, with a small, dark blue velvet box in it. “I want us to go all the way. Rae, will you marry me?”
Oh, Mac. He was rewriting their history, this time in the very best way possible.
She swallowed hard against the tears that threatened. “Oh, Mac,” she said. “I thought that night, maybe if things went right you would ask me to marry you then. Now you are and…”
She paused, and it seemed to her everyone in the room leaned in, waiting for her answer.
“Mom!” Con hissed, giving her wide eyes. “Say yes!”
RaeAnn winked at him and then looked back to Mac, tugging at his hand. “Get up, biker man. I want you to kiss me after I say yes.”
“All ri-ight!” T-Bear bellowed from across the room. “That’s the way ya do it!”
Someone else whistled piercingly, and the room erupted in cheers, laughter, and catcalls.
RaeAnn and Mac, locked in each other’s arms, ignored them all.
He tipped his forehead against hers and flipped the box open so she could see inside. “You scared the be-jaysus outta me, mama. Thought for a minute there you were gonna say no.”
She looked at the ring he was offering her, a lovely diamond surrounded by smaller ones in a platinum setting, and smiled mistily. “Oh, Mac. I would never do that. If I don’t marry you, how am I gonna keep you in line for the rest of your life?”
He chuckled and gave her a squeeze. “Now you’re talkin’.”
She held out her left hand, and he slid the ring on. It fit perfectly. “You like it? If you don’t, we’ll trade it for one you do like.”
She shook her head, admiring it. “I love it. And I love you.”
“Fantastic. Now, I’d kiss you again, but I don’t wanna embarrass our boy. So how about we dance?”
“Oh, good, the mushy part’s over,” Con muttered, shooting out of his chair. “I’ll go turn the music on.”
His parents watched him hustle away through the crowd, like he was dribbling a soccer ball through a defensive line.
“Well, guess that means I get to kiss you again,” Mac said.
And he did.
And later, he did a whole lot more.
The next afternoon, Mac was watching a football game. Rae was curled at his side, perusing Facebook on her phone. Con was sprawled on the carpet midway between the TV and the sofa, pretending to read a book for a school assignment.
They were all full of tacos, and Mac looked as sleepy and well-fed as a lion.
Mac’s phone burred, and without looking away from the TV, he palmed it and lifted it to glance at the message.
“Huh,” he said.
“What?” RaeAnn asked, looking up.
“We’ve been summoned,” he told her with a smile. “Sara and Stick want to talk.”
She frowned uncertainly. “Why? I mean, they didn’t come to your proposal party, so…”
“They had good reason. The boys were sick. Pretty sure Sara was pissed to miss seeing me on a knee. Anyway, they want us to come over this evening. You okay with that?”
She shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”
He leaned in for a kiss. “Thanks, babe.”
That evening, in the sitting room of the Vanko’s big country farmhouse, Rae looked at their host and hostess with wary curiosity. Despite being hugely pregnant, Sara Vanko had the carriage of a blonde, Viking queen. Which Rae guessed she was, in her husband's biker territory.
Stick Vanko was just plain scary. He was blond too, although with a few strands of silver in his short hair. His eyes were the hue of a frozen lake, and about as warm. Add his tall, rawboned body, and… scary.
Mac patted her knee and when she looked to him, gave her one of his trademark warm, mischievous winks. That was fine, except Rae was unsure what she was doing here.
"So RaeAnn," Stick said in his deep, cold voice, his gaze trained on her. "You mean to stick around this time?"
Rae's hackles went up not only at his words, but his tone. But she kept her face and her voice even. "I do," she said. She looked to Mac and smiled at him. "I'm sure you know that Mac could sell ice cubes to folks at the Arctic Circle. Anyway, he talked me into it."
Sara smiled, but her husband did not. "'Talked you into it',” Stick repeated. “That sounds to me like you'll walk as soon as times get tough."
Rae wanted to stand and walk out of the room—after she told this autocratic man just what she thought of his rudeness.
But she also knew what he had done to help Mac and she had a strong feeling that the Flyer president was testing her. So instead, she raised her eyebrows at him and said calmly, "I won't. Mac and our son and I are a family now, in every way. And so we’ll remain, come what may."
Stick Vanko grunted, looking unconvinced. His wife shifted at his side. "Stick," she murmured. "You promised."
Stick and Mac exchanged a look and Rae felt Mac quiver slightly as if he were chuckling silently.
"Da, blazhenka. I remember." Stick looked to Rae again. "You want to belong to this club, to the Flyer family," he told her. "There is only one way to do that. All the way. Either Mac and the rest of us have your loyalty or we do not. No halfway."
Rae stared at him in alarm, pressing closer to Mac. "Um, right," she said. "I get that in theory but... I think you'd better explain what it means to you." Because at the moment she had a vision of herself surrounded by Flyers looming threateningly as she was forced to accept a brand on her wrist or some such arcane initiation.
Mac gave her knee another squeeze. "Mama, it don't mean whatever you're thinking. It just means I trust you... the club needs to be able to trust you, too. I already shared a few things. You told me you're okay with those, right?"
Rae nodded, holding his gaze like a lifeline. "But wait, there's more?" she quipped feebly.
"RaeAnn," Sara said, claiming her attention. "I can answer some of that for you. You don't know my story— how I came to the Flyer family. So I'll share—and I’ll warn you, some of it’s rough to hear."
Rae listened raptly as Sarah told how, coming from a background of law and order, she'd fallen in love with Stick and with his twin boys.
How a biker who'd been thrown out of the club had tried to kidnap the boys and use them as collateral to get in with another club, one full of degenerates and criminals.
How Sara had saved herself and the boys, and how the brothers had then rallied around, and the kidnapper had disappeared, this time for good.
"And many people would expect me to not be okay with that," Sara told Rae, her beautiful face serene, but her eyes burning. "But I was and I am. He tried to use our sons like pieces of meat. I could have killed him myself for that, and felt no shame nor regret. But I didn't have to because... well, you get my point, I'm sure."
Stunned, all Rae could do for a moment was stare at the other woman.
But finally, she took a long, shaky breath and lifted her hands, only to let them drop in her lap as she shook her head. "Oh my God, I can't imagine what it was like to go through that,” she told Sara as if they were alone in the room. "If that bastard had tried to grab my Connor, I would have killed him anyway I could—or tried."
A low rumble of sound filled the silence after her remark. Rae looked to Stick Vanko, startled. He was chuckling, his hard face wreathed in a grin, his icy blue eyes dancing. "Cooler, brother, I think your old lady will fit right in."
Mac dropped his arm behind her back and slid the other arm underneath her knees. Lifting her onto his lap, he gave her a deep, wet, delicious kis
s as if the other couple were not even in the room.
When he finally drew back, Rae was breathless and having trouble keeping herself from yanking his shirt out of his belt and getting her hands on him.
Mac gave her a huge smile. "Stick," he said without taking his gaze from her. "I knew that. Just glad you and Sarah do now, too."
Rae blinked at him and turned to look cautiously at the Vankos. "That's it? I'm in?"
Sara winked at her. "You are in. Welcome to the Flyer family, RaeAnn. And I'll just say, I'm a genius at planning weddings."
Rae blushed hotly. "Oh, I'm so, so sorry. But if I don't let my mother and my aunt be in charge of that, I will never, ever hear the end of it. Never."
Sarah shrugged. "I get that. I get dibs the reception then. We'll have it at the clubhouse. Or maybe The Hangar."
Both men moved simultaneously. Stick rose. Mac set Rae back on the sofa and got up as well. "Time for us to go and have a drink," Stick announced. “You women talk about wedding shit all you want."
"Fine," Sara called after him and Mac. "We will. Over drinks. Rae, you like mimosas?"
"Love them," Rae said.
Sarah rose. "Good, I'll go get us some—although mine will be soda and orange juice. And we can talk while the men drink whiskey and beat their chests, or whatever."
She strolled away to the farmhouse’s big kitchen, leaving Rae chuckling behind her.
She was going to like Sara Vanko—a lot.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
It was Cooler's second day off, and he was in a fine mood.
He'd had his woman last night twice in their bed, and she had gone off to work this morning with a smile in her pretty eyes that made him want to crow like a rooster. And soon they would be a family again, legally speaking.
He just had one more thing to do to put the family right, and he hoped it wouldn't ruin his good mood. But, if that happened, it was a price he would gladly pay for his family.
He donned one of his good shirts, tucked it into the dark wash jeans Rae had bought him, buckled on his good belt, and slid his feet into his dress boots. He made sure his hair was neatly combed, stuck his wallet and phone into his pockets, and headed out to his truck.