by Drew Elyse
Be careful.
It was advice I hadn’t heard since I was a kid, back when Mom was still around, always worrying about me. The irony was she had no reason to be worried. I was careful. I knew what I had and had no interest in losing it. I was only ever reckless once there was nothing left to fear.
Now, I was getting that advice again.
For the first time in a long time, there was something to fear. Ace had meant be careful of how I treat my brothers over a woman. Be careful not to overstep. That wasn’t what I really needed to be careful of.
What I needed to be careful of was Ember herself.
I had something, whether I wanted it or not. Losing it wasn’t the real fear. I would lose it eventually, no question. But just how that loss was suffered was in my control. I could let her go, make sure she walked away clean and unharmed, or I could be reckless and risk her going because I destroyed her.
Ace was absolutely fucking right.
I needed to be very careful.
I walked out of the room, flipping the lock before I closed the door behind me. People were hanging around in the main room, brothers and old ladies kicking back. Ember was there, sitting on a couch with Gauge and Cami’s kid, Levi, in her lap.
Ace took the seat next to her, taking the boy when he tried to crawl toward him. The man wasn’t an asshole, he wasn’t sitting there to make a point. Still, the point was made.
My time was up.
There was just a bit more for me to sort before that happened.
My gaze moved around the room, jumping from person to person, everyone chill despite the heavy shit that had gone on behind closed doors. Church stayed locked in there, it didn’t come out and infest the vibe of the whole club. Old ladies didn’t get hit by it, and club girls didn’t either.
Ash was seated on a stool by the bar, her eyes on Sketch, who had Emmy seated on the edge of a pool table, teaching her the game. She was giggling incessantly, enjoying her dad’s attention and not learning a damn thing.
I went to Ash and didn’t beat around the bush. “You talk to her?”
“Not yet,” she answered. She gave me her attention, even though she wanted to watch her family. Christ, she pushed my buttons, but she was a good woman. “But we just made plans for tomorrow night. I’ll see if I can work it in then.”
“Don’t see. She won’t give you an opening on purpose or by mistake. You find a time and you make it come up,” I told her.
Her head tilted. Ash was quiet, but she knew a lot. This was partly because she was quiet, which let her see a lot instead of her being too focused on her own noise. It hadn’t been the same when she first came back to Hoffman. She’d been too focused trying not to see the picture of a perfect life Sketch was doing everything he could to show her. Now, with her life sorted and everything as it should be for her and her daughter, she had her mind turned to other things. Me, in particular.
These days, she saw way too much.
And she saw exactly why I needed that from her, so she gave it to me.
“I’ll do what I can.”
That was all I could ask.
Deni waddled—this being not in any way an exaggeration—to the love seat in her living room with Slick one step behind her. I expected she chose that seat because it was closest to the bathroom she just came from. While she was in there doing her business, Slick stood next to the door like a bodyguard.
“Slick, honey, light of my life, I swear to Christ, if you don’t back off soon, I’ll be popping this baby out in lock-up after I stab you with a fork,” Deni vowed as she half-lowered, half-plopped onto one of the cushions.
“Babe, you think you can get to the kitchen, get a fork, and stab me with it before I could stop you or get out of dodge?” Slick asked, completely unconcerned by the third bodily threat I’d heard that evening alone.
Not acknowledging the truth of his rebuttal, Deni snapped, “You don’t have to follow me around or stand outside the door while I pee every ten minutes! Everyone’s going to start thinking you’ve got some creepy fetish soon.”
“We had this argument when you were pregnant with Jules, we’ve had it God only knows how many times since you’ve had our boy in you, and I’m sure you’re going to keep bitching about it any time I knock you up in the future, but the answer is the same. I’ll do whatever I feel I have to when you’ve got one of my babies in you and you’ll damn well deal with it.”
Well, that was firm. It was also sweet in a way that I kind of melted a bit.
I noticed the guys could cause melty-type feelings—the guys who had old ladies, anyway.
Deni, who certainly had way more practice with her man being sweet than me, didn’t melt. “If you don’t back off, you aren’t going to be knocking me up again.”
Slick smirked. “We’ll see about that.”
With that, he kissed the top of her head, then went to the kitchen.
“Asshole,” Deni muttered under her breath. Then, she called, “Grab me the puffy Cheetos!”
“What do you think I’m doin’, babe?” he shouted back.
“Hiding the forks,” Cami snickered.
We all laughed with her.
“Can I ask,” I started after the laughter died down, “how far along you are?”
“My due date’s the fourteenth,” she replied.
She still had about three weeks. I was surprised. She looked like she could go into labor any second, though I guessed three weeks wouldn’t make the baby that premature.
As I was thinking this, Slick walked back in and informed me, “She means we passed the due date six days ago.”
“Oh,” I muttered. That made more sense. Then, it struck me that she really was ready to pop at any time and my eyes got wide. “Oh,” I repeated.
“Yeah, it seems our little boy is feeling comfortable where he is,” Deni said, digging into the bowl of Cheetos her man brought her.
I had to admit, I knew nothing about pregnancy. “Is that…problematic?”
Deni shrugged. “Only in that it means his full-size baby booty is sitting on my bladder instead of coming into the world where he can be Daddy’s problem too. If he doesn’t decide to make an appearance soon, I’m scheduled to induce labor the week after next.”
I also had no idea what it meant to induce labor, but I wasn’t asking that one.
“You alright, Ember?” Ash asked. “You look kind of pale.”
How did I answer that without offending the three mothers sitting with me?
“No offense,” I decided was a good place to start, “but the whole having babies thing kind of freaks me out. Not like you being pregnant,” I assured Deni, “more the idea of doing it myself.”
“Don’t worry about it, it still freaks me out too,” Ash replied. “I thought I’d feel more confident the second time around but…” Her eyes got huge as she pressed her lips together.
“Wait! You’re—” Deni started to demand, but Ash waved her hands around frantically, nudging her head toward Emmy, who was playing on the ground nearby in her pajamas. Levi and Jules, Cami’s son and Deni and Slick’s daughter, were upstairs sleeping. Based on the couple times I’d seen Emmy’s little head droop, she’d be joining them soon.
Slick was grinning. Cami clapped a couple times in excitement. I’d thrown a hand over my mouth in shock.
“Yes,” she admitted, shaking her head. “But you can’t tell anyone.”
“Who are we going to tell?” Cami asked.
“I mean Sketch,” she replied.
We all looked at each other. “He doesn’t know?” Deni broke the seal to ask.
“Not yet. I just found out a few days ago. I’m trying to think of a fun way to tell him.” Her eyes went back to her daughter, her face growing wistful. “He missed all of it last time, and that was my fault. I want to make this one as special for him as I can.”
“Honey,” Cami said gently, “you know you don’t have to keep beating yourself up for that, right?”
�
�I know,” Ash replied. “And I don’t. Really. We’ve moved on, all three of us. But I know he’s going to be so excited. I want to do something fun for the reveal.”
“Balloons!” Cami cried.
“Balloons?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she replied. “Like in videos online. Fill up like a whole room with pink and blue balloons. You could use his room at the clubhouse.”
I tried to picture the brothers’ faces when an avalanche of pale pink and blue balloons went flooding through the hall.
“I can get the girls in to set it up while you keep him busy somewhere,” Slick offered.
As if his voice was the trigger, a small cry came through the baby monitor on the side table. Slick shifted into full dad-mode in half a second, jumping to his feet to answer his daughter’s cries. He looked from Emmy to Ash.
“You want me to take her up?”
Ash shook her head and stood too. “Come on, baby,” she called to her daughter. “Time for bed.”
Emmy—surprisingly, since I knew the girl had sass—hopped right to it.
“Jules has been having trouble sleeping lately,” Deni said, looking worried. “We can’t figure out what’s up with her. The only thing that seems to settle her is her daddy singing to her.”
My mind filled with the image of Slick, his imposing, muscular self, rocking the little girl, who had some of her dad’s features and all of her mom’s cute, and singing to her. He was a married man and I’d never cross that line, even if the woman who had his last name wasn’t my friend, but I could appreciate that image to my heart’s content.
It didn’t take long for Ash to settle Emmy in, and she came back down, reporting, “Jules is being a little fussy. Slick is going to stay up there for a bit and make sure she’s good.”
“He’s letting her out of his sight?” Cami teased, tilting her head Deni’s way.
“He might have made it clear if there were any signs of labor or any issues at all, I was supposed to yell for him immediately.” She looked directly to Deni. “He also wanted me to remind you that you aren’t allowed out of that seat unless it’s to pee.”
Deni stuck her tongue out at us when we giggled. “I swear, he’d put me in adult diapers if I let him and take away my right to even do that,” she grumbled.
It was long after, when the conversation lapped, that Ash addressed me. “How are you doing, Ember?”
It was an oddly direct question, but I also hadn’t really said much about myself all evening. “Good. I think Dad and I have finally found a rhythm for living together. I like it. But I really should sort out a job. I don’t have much savings and Dad won’t let me use it, so he’s been paying for everything.”
Ash’s eyes looked way too sympathetic and gentle for what I’d said. I felt my muscles tense as she said in a soft, but meaningful, way, “That’s good, but I meant how are you doing as in how are you coping…” there was a pause as she figured out how to word it before adding, “with what happened?”
“Ash,” Cami rebuked on a whisper.
My throat closed up. I didn’t want to talk about it. It was over. Done.
I just wanted to leave it in the past where it belonged.
Ash’s gaze stayed on me, apologetic but determined. “He’s worried about you.”
I forced my voice to work, not needing this to turn into Ash picking the whole thing apart. I didn’t need to hear her talk about it.
“Dad is…” I started, but Ash cut in when I paused.
“Not Roadrunner,” she said on a shake of her head. “Jager.”
What?
“Jager?” I choked out.
Ash gave me a sad nod. “He wanted me to talk to you. Obviously, he didn’t want me to tell you that, but you should know. He’s worried about you, that you aren’t dealing with it and it will continue to haunt you.”
“I…he…” I took a breath to collect myself. “It’s over. I’m fine. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
Shifting forward so she was right at the edge of her seat, Ash leaned toward me and grabbed one of my hands. “I know this isn’t easy. I hate doing it. But Jager absolutely knows what he’s talking about. He knows exactly what happens when you let something like that fester. He lives it every day. And I might have been too, if he hadn’t helped me.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
She sighed. “There’s not much I can say,” she offered apologetically. “It’s Jager’s story to tell. But, after Barton…” she trailed off, her eyes going far away for a moment. I’d been told the whole story about Ash. About the man who tried to kill her and shot Ace. It was horrible and she needed that moment, so I let her have it.
“After what went down with Barton, I wasn’t dealing,” she went on when she could. “I was having nightmares and not sleeping. I couldn’t get it out of my head. Jager noticed. Honestly, it was probably hard not to notice. He’d been living in the farmhouse then, while Sketch and I still were. One night, when I was a mess, he talked to me. He didn’t go into a lot of detail or anything, but he told me his story. I don’t feel right sharing that. It’s not my place. But what he went through was horrible. He didn’t say as much, but now I can see he never dealt with it. Instead, he carries it around, every day, feeling that pain.”
He did. I knew he did. I had no idea what he’d been through, but I’d been in bed beside him when it woke him. I could feel the fear radiating off him. But I’d never said a thing because I didn’t want him to turn it around on me.
How fucking selfish was I?
“He has nightmares,” I told her in a small voice.
She nodded, not already having that knowledge but not surprised by it. “It happened a long time ago, well before he ever joined the club. He’s been carrying it around since.”
Years. Years and years he’d felt that. The nightmares had probably been connected to that.
Would that be me? Years from now, still unable to find peace enough to sleep through the night?
Reading that I wasn’t going to continue our talk, Ash spoke up again. “He wanted me to talk to you, to try to help you work through it. I’m here. Anytime you want to talk, I’m happy to listen. But I don’t think I’m who you need,” she finished meaningfully.
“We aren’t that,” I whispered.
“Maybe not,” she conceded. “Or maybe just not yet. Maybe you both need this to move on.”
Maybe.
Maybe wasn’t a given. It wasn’t even something to work toward. It was nothing but a fleeting possibility.
“We’re all here for you,” Cami added, drawing my attention back to her and Deni, who’d been quiet throughout my exchange with Ash. “But the right person can make all the difference. We’ve all experienced it firsthand. Maybe you need that too.”
“Both of you,” Deni tacked on.
There it was again. Maybe.
Maybe wasn’t what you built on. Maybe wasn’t a good enough reason to rip your heart open and let the ugliness taking root spill out.
Was it?
No, it couldn’t be.
I didn’t argue with them, but I couldn’t agree. For my own sake, there was no taking that chance.
But still, somewhere deep, a voice inside me whispered.
Maybe.
The motherfucker with the Uzi strapped across his chest stared us down while we were disarmed. He wasn’t the only one going overkill on the firepower. Every suit-clad asshole guarding the joint was armed to the teeth. I could appreciate security, but Kuznetsov’s layout reeked of desperation.
That kind of firepower meant one guy who was a decent shot could guard the single building we were in front of. Instead, I counted eight suit-clad men just on the front side, let alone whoever he had guarding around the sides and back. That said two things to me. One, Kuznetsov had no faith any of his men could hit the broad side of a barn. Two, he wanted to create the appearance that he was big-time shit. More guards implied more threats. Men in high places had a lot o
f threats. Kuznetsov did not.
Pasha Kuznetsov, if the intel we’d gathered over the years was correct, had been a nobody, a lowly foot soldier to a big man back in Russia. Kuznetsov didn’t see himself as a little man in a big world. No, he fancied being the Pakhan, the leader of the Bratva. There was no chance of that shit back home, so he committed the cardinal sin of sneaking out of that life. He set up overseas, claiming power his old superiors would kill him in a second for stating he had right to, and set up his own, little, wanna-be Bratva outside Seattle. He had no backing, no loyalty, no ties of any kind to any other Russian mafia men in the U.S. or anywhere else. He was a little man with a big head and a small battalion. Eight guards with that kind of firepower he absolutely did not need.
We were on his turf, having ridden up for the sit-down Stone had set up. So, for the time being, we had to play by his rules. The first of those rules being delivered by his guards demanding we disarm completely before going in. Not surprising, but irritating all the same.
After pat downs and warnings I didn’t pay a lick of attention to, we were finally led inside.
Stone took the lead, as was his place as the pres. Tank was at his back, then Gauge and me at the rear. Roadrunner was not present. Fuck, the man didn’t know the meet had been set. Stone had told each of us individually so Roadrunner wouldn’t tail our asses up here. The fact was, Roadrunner was too much of a liability. The odds he’d lose it sitting across from the man who’d set having his daughter kidnapped in motion were too high.
My hands clenched into fists at the thought of Ember.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Gauge’s head turn my way. I forced myself to release the tension in my body, relaxing my hands at my sides, but I didn’t acknowledge him. He turned his attention back in front of him, but his head shook.
He didn’t think I should be there. He’d made that plain to Stone, who’d warned me. I was there because I was the one with the intel on Louis already, and I was the one who’d been tasked with finding more after this sit-down. Stone admitted he had considered keeping me out of this. They thought I was a liability the likes of Roadrunner.