by Nicole Fox
“Are you sitting down?” Wilde asked. There was an audible smile on his lips.
Kelsey hesitated. “Yes …” She dared not get her hopes up, but she could feel them rising in her chest. Unconsciously, she reached for Chopper’s hand, wrapping her fingers around his and squeezing tightly.
“We were contacted by an individual with links to an unrelated case earlier today.” Wilde paused. “He just confessed to the murder of your sister.”
Kelsey almost dropped the phone. “What?” she asked hesitantly. “Is that true?” Her hands shook so much that Chopper gently reached over and held the phone for her.
“It’s true,” Wilde confirmed. “I was there. Congratulations, Kelsey. We got him.”
Kelsey wanted to say something; she wanted to say a lot of things, but all her words ended up smothered by a torrent of tears. Somehow, she choked out a thank you that wasn’t nearly as heartfelt as Wilde deserved. The detective promised to let her know about trial dates, and he promised to send her a picture of the killer, at her request.
The man’s name was one she recognized from the media coverage of Spike Lawler’s killings: Henry Rawl, the last Mongol standing. He had fled the city, or so he claimed, to avoid the fallout that he was sure would come after word of the killing got out. And when his old leader Spike Lawler turned up captured, it changed something in Rawl’s hard heart. He began to grow a conscience.
Kelsey was positive some of that was just Rawl attempting to capitalize on the pitying impulses of the public, thinking that if he came back and showed remorse for his crimes in the shadow of Spike’s atrocities, he might be let off easy. At the beginning of her journey, that might have bothered her a lot. But now, basking in the glory that came with finally knowing as much of the whole story as she possibly could, Rawl’s confession was enough. She felt some restless shadow within her settle down to sleep at last. A great weight lifted itself from her heart. She had done right by her little sister at last. She had done everything she could, and she had received her answers. When the call was over, she turned toward Chopper and buried her face in his chest for a minute, breathing in the comfort of his presence. He rubbed the back of her neck until she lifted her head and looked up at him.
“Now what?” she asked, a little smile tilting the corner of her mouth.
He kissed her forehead. “What do you mean?”
“Well…” Kelsey shrugged. “Spike’s in jail. I know who killed my sister. Who are we now? What do we do?” She meant it half as a joke, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized how much her relentless pursuit of the truth had defined her. With that chapter finally written and tucked away, she had no idea where to go next. As painful as Hannah’s death had been, it provided her life with a structure that was suddenly missing.
“Here’s an idea,” Chopper whispered, his lips against Kelsey’s neck. She shivered, resting her hands on his strong forearms. He slid his fingers teasingly under the hem of her shirt. “Why don’t we celebrate?” Before she could say anything, their lips met, and Kelsey decided it would be okay to stop thinking for a while.
# # #
The buzz of the tattoo gun was like a fly droning around Kelsey’s torso — a fly that stung like crazy. She lay on her back in the parlor chair, trying to keep her mind off the pain. “Hey,” she said, running her finger along the outside of Chopper’s wrist. “Tell me something.”
“Tell you what?” he asked, looking at her with mild bemusement.
“Anything. Just say words so I don’t have to think about how many needles are poking me right now.”
He chuckled, lifting her hand to his lips. “How about this? The Outlaws are expanding.”
“Really? How much?” Since Spike’s incarceration, Kelsey had allowed herself to drift back toward club business just a little bit, but not enough to get back in over her head again. She had briefly considered asking Chopper to step down so that they might be able to live a slightly more normal life, but she quickly ditched that idea. Chopper provided for both of them, and he did it well. Who was she to tell him how to spend his time? Still, she wondered what an expansion could mean. More drug routes meant an increase in revenue, but if she’d learned anything from this experience, it was that a drug-fueled peace never lasted too long.
“I want to buy up some of those houses in that area where Spike was hiding,” Chopper said. “You know, fix ‘em up, turn ‘em into places where people could actually live.” He paused. “I think it could be good for single moms, or kids who don’t have anywhere to go.”
Kelsey’s heart swelled. She had always known Chopper could be sweet, but their hard times together seemed to have transformed a part of his spirit. The bitterness over his own rough start was gone, replaced by a desire to help others like him overcome their own. No words existed to express the depth of her pride in him. Even if he didn’t see it himself, he’d come so far. They both had. And there was so much farther to go. She took his hand and held his palm against her cheek, suppressing a wince as the tattoo needle dug into the skin below her breast.
“I love you, Jesse,” she said softly.
He smiled, a genuine, gentle smile. “I love you too, gorgeous.”
The buzzing stopped. “You know what I love?” the tat guy said, carefully wiping over his finished artwork. “I love this piece. Check it out.” He held up a mirror so that Kelsey could see. Her eyes widened as she gazed at it, the pain immediately forgotten. She’d wanted her first tattoo to be simple—a small, fiery flower standing vigil over the name she had chosen for her fallen baby boy, inked directly underneath her heart.
“What do you think?” she asked Chopper, turning her eyes to his face.
He didn’t say anything, but she saw the gleam of tears in his eyes, and she sat up gingerly, wrapping her arms around his neck. Graciously, the artist turned away to afford them some privacy. “It’s perfect,” he whispered finally. “Like you.”
Kelsey smiled. She nuzzled his neck. “And there’s plenty of room there for the others … when they come.” She knew that there would be a time when the hole in her heart could be filled, when she could carry and deliver a little soul into the world. Maybe she wasn’t ready just yet, but someday, she would be. And when she was, there was no question in her mind that Jesse would be standing by her side.
She pulled back and looked at him, soaking in the magic of his sea-blue eyes, the warmth of his touch. She’d come to him from such a dark place, and he had helped her create the vision of a beautiful future.
“Thank you,” she said, running her thumb over his bottom lip. “You saved me.”
He laughed, his eyes tender. “Kels, the only reason I could save you is because you saved me first.”
“That’s not true,” she protested, her features lit by a smile. “As if Chopper Slater needed saving.”
“Just because I wasn’t lost yet doesn’t mean I wasn’t getting there.” He pressed his lips against her temple. “I needed someone to come in and challenge all my idiot ideals. Show me there was somethin’ beyond bikes and money and hating Spike. Call me by my real name.” He ran his hand through his hair. “That was you, and that’s why we’re here right now.” He reached across her and picked up the mirror, and together they looked at the name inscribed on her body. “That’s why we have this.” She had never spoken it out loud, but she didn’t need to. It was a secret, hers to keep until she chose to release it.
The name of their unspoken love, carried in Kelsey’s body and heart for as long as she could bear it, and even after that.
The beginning of their legacy.
Aiden. Their little fire.
Bonus Content – HELLFIRE: A Dark Bad Boy Romance
As a gift to you, enjoy this exclusive bonus content!
He’s as hot as hellfire – and dangerous as sin.
Gunner Wilson is the human equivalent of a motorcycle – loud, dirty, and built to ride all night long.
He’s spent a night with damn near every girl i
n Texas.
Well, every girl except me.
I’m new in town, but I haven’t even been here for a full day before Gunner saunters over and starts tempting me towards his bed.
He’s hot as hell and I’m dripping wet just looking at him…
But I’m not that type of girl.
Silly me.
I might as well have just slept him.
But how was I to know the truth?
That, in just a little while, I’d be married to the bastard…
And pregnant with his baby.
Chapter One
“You’re killing me, Gunner.” The woman in the white tank top ran a hand through her thick, platinum blonde curls and stuck her ample chest out a little. “Sure you can’t just patch it?”
Cam “Gunner” Wilson straightened to his full height of six-foot four inches, forcing his gaze up from the woman’s chest to her face again. He wiped his hands on a greasy rag and then flashed the woman — Peggy? Patty? Something with a P — a grin. “Gotta be replaced. That crack’s too deep and too wide. The whole thing could fall in on you if you so much as hit a pothole.”
Her expression was exaggeratedly horrified. “Jesus. How much is it gonna run me?”
Gunner leaned against the woman’s bright yellow Mustang, broad, tattooed arms folded across his chest. He glanced at the web of cracks in the windshield. “Depends. Anywhere from two hundred to a thousand.” He could feel Durango eyeing him. They’d never done a windshield replacement for more than four hundred.
The woman sucked in a breath, and Gunner met her pretty blue eyes once more. He recalled a wild night last year — the two of them, half drunk, fully loaded, soaking her twelve hundred thread-count sheets in their mutual sweat. “Shit.”
He tossed the rag aside. “Tell you what. I’ll try my damnedest to make sure you’re not looking at more than three hundred.”
Peggy-Patty’s face positively lit up. “Omigod, Gunner, that would be incredible.” She had a hot smile—full lips stretching back to reveal gleaming white teeth. Gunner almost wished he could recall the details of their encounter. Had those straight, perfect teeth latched onto his skin? Had her long pink nails raked down his back? Had she screamed his name? Probably. They all did.
She couldn’t seem to keep her gaze off his chest. His once-white sleeveless shirt was smeared with oil stains and clinging to him with the Texas humidity and was ripped in strategic places to show his ink.
He heard Durango snort, and tossed the fucker a glare.
He grinned back at the woman, unable to resist the temptation to flirt, even with a woman he’d already bedded. Hell, looking at her now, he was almost tempted to go in for round two. Except that wasn’t the way he played. And anyhow, she was a bit older than he liked them — had a kid who was in high school, he remembered suddenly, so she was likely in her late thirties. Still, she’d been a tiger in bed. Probably had some flabby-gutted loser of a husband who couldn’t give her an orgasm. Gunner was recalling more details—the way those firm, round breasts had bounced as she’d ridden him. Those legs that went on for days. His own deep growl as he came inside her…
Shit, he really was hard up if he was thinking about pissing on the same tree twice. But he’d made it with every available woman in this town. If Romedo didn’t get some fresh blood soon, he was gonna have to start going back for seconds.
“Gunner?”
Shit, she’d been saying something, and he hadn’t been paying a lick of attention.
“Yeah?”
“I’d really like to say thank you for this.” She nodded at the Mustang. “Maybe a drink sometime?”
Ah, shit. “Maybe sometime,” he agreed casually.
“You still have my number?”
Not a chance. “Sure. I’ll call you.”
“All right.” She winked at him. “Looking forward to it.”
He nodded, pulling a battered pack of Camels from the pocket of his worn jeans. He stuck a cigarette between his lips and tipped his head toward the car. “We’ll need a couple of days to replace that windshield. You got a ride home?”
“A friend’s picking me up. Well … more of an acquaintance. My new neighbor has a daughter — lovely young lady. We just met yesterday when she was moving in. She agreed to pick me up if the car had to stay in the shop.”
A lovely young lady, huh? How young we talkin’? He dug out his lighter and lit the cigarette.
Gunner didn’t go in for barely legal, but twenty and over, and he’d have to figure out a way to meet this girl. “New in town? Or just new to your neighborhood?”
“New in town. The father doesn’t say much, but he’s nice enough. The daughter — I get the impression she’s a bit lonely. Certainly was eager to talk to me.”
“She in school?” A neutral enough question. If Peggy-Patty was like,Yes, she’s finishing her junior year at MacArthur High, Gunner would know to quit sniffing around. But if this ‘young lady’ was at the University … fair game.
He got started on Peggy-Patty’s paperwork, trying to play nonchalant.
She didn’t answer, and he glanced up to find her eyeing him. “She’s a nursing student. Good Lord, you got a one track mind.”
He laughed and ashed his cigarette. “I didn’t say anything, ma’am. Just curious.”
“Ma’am?” She shook her head. “You’re making me feel like an old lady. Listen, I knew all about your reputation before I screwed you, but this poor gal’s still getting her bearings. Don’t go pouncin’ on her like a horny tom cat, you hear?”
Gunner wanted to ask what the girl looked like, but he had a feeling Peggy-Patty wasn’t about to give him measurements. “Fair enough.”
She looked him up and down, and her gaze rested just a little too long on his crotch. She shook her head again, a little ruefully, but with an amused smile tugging her lips. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth, Gunner Wilson.”
He grinned and dragged on the cigarette as he went back to work. He tried to keep an eye on Peggy-Patty so he could see when her ride came, but he got distracted doing some detail work on a Chrysler and trying to ignore Durango’s whispered jibes. Durango was his — well, it wasn’t like he had best friends; he wasn’t a fucking thirteen-year-oldgirl— but his closest pal. They were both members of the Horned Devils Motorcycle Club, working at J&J Auto by day, going out on whatever missions Silverback had assigned them by night.
“You fucked her, didn’t you?” Durango whispered.
“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t,” Gunner muttered around the cigarette, trying not to smirk.
“Aw hell. How old is she? Forty? Forty-five?”
He pinched the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger and blew out a stream of smoke. “Jesus, she’s thirty-two if she’s a day. Look at the rack on her.”
“How was she? A screamer?”
“They all are.”
“You dog.” Durango laughed. “Seriously, you fuckin’ ass-sniffing, tit-humping old dog.”
Gunner snickered and stubbed out the cigarette. “Shut up.”
“Hey, man,” Durango said after another minute. “Did you think something was weird about Silverback last night?”
Cesar “Silverback” Ortiz was the Horned Devils’ president. A gruff old curmudgeon — hard to tell when something was up with him, since he always had a bug up his ass. But yeah, Gunner had noticed the old man had been particularly grim last night when they’d all been over at the clubhouse shooting cans in the backyard.
Gunner shrugged. “Dunno. Figured it was just the heat.”
Durango rubbed the back of his neck. “You think it could be Jaws’s boys again?”
“Better not be.” He glanced over at the woman, who was waiting by the curb. Kept his voice low, just in case she had good ears. Gunner and Durango tried not to discuss club business at work, but sometimes it was necessary. “We made it damn clear last time where the turf lines are.”
“You know Jaws, though. Like a dog hurling itself
against a chain. He’s gonna keep testing us.”
“Well. If the dog keeps biting, we’ll have to put him down.”
Durango shook his head and grabbed a socket wrench. “Any excuse to pull out the big guns, huh?” He got on a backboard and rolled himself elegantly under the F-150 he was working on.
“What can I say? I like my toys.”
They worked for another few minutes in silence before Durango spoke again, from under the truck. “Ought to go for a ride soon. Maybe next weekend. Up into Three Sisters.”
“What for?”
“What d’you mean? Just to ride.” Durango sounded surprised.
“Not a bad idea,” Gunner agreed. “Who do we take?”