After Glow

by Autumn Jones Lake

  “This your repackaging?” I ask.

  “Yeah. We got behind.”

  “Too busy smoking your own stash?” Chaser asks.

  She giggles and covers her mouth with her hand. “Sometimes.”

  Chaser shrugs. “Ain’t my fuckin’ problem.”

  “You roll these?” Wrath asks, holding up a few baggies with pre-rolled blunts.

  “Yeah, they’re easier to sell on campus and parties.”

  Wrath pulls one out and hands it to Chaser. “Light it up.”

  Chaser eyes it, then Wrath. “I ain’t smokin’ it.”

  “No, she is.”

  Helen shakes her head. “He’s gonna get pissed if I dip into that. It’s already marked for sale.”

  “I don’t give a fuck,” Chaser snaps.

  The girl shrugs. “Hand it over, big guy.” She bats her eyes at Wrath.

  “You roll these yourself?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  Wrath turns the baggie my way so I can see the pretty gold stickers on the front.

  “Precious.” I roll my eyes.

  The familiar musky-herbal-skunk smell fills the room in a few minutes. Much more sharp and pungent than our usual supply. “Shit, now I know why Sparky wanted to unload this one,” Wrath whispers to me.

  If it’s laced, the effects should hit her pretty fast. A moderate dose might not be that much more distinguishable from a regular marijuana high. But given the news reports, we’re dealing with something more unpredictable.

  “You want?” she asks with half-open eyes. It’s not really clear who she’s asking. When none of us answer, she shrugs. “More for me.”

  “Too bad Sparky didn’t join us,” Wrath says under his breath.

  “Yeah, they’d be a real love match.”

  Chaser glances at me as if this is pointless.

  “She wasn’t worried about it and she seems fine, so let’s move on. We can stop back later and see if she’s gone psycho-zombie,” Chaser says.

  Wrath shakes his head. “Seems reasonable.”

  My mouth twitches.

  Outside, Grudge still has Danny’s shotgun.

  “Satisfied?” Danny asks.

  “You know this Dizzy Daley Jeff’s selling to?” Chaser asks.

  “Nah man, he’s on campus. From what I hear, he’s a frat boy who started selling on the side.”

  “Frat boy named Dizzy? Shouldn’t be hard to find,” Wrath says.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Hope

  “Rock, it’s fine. Really.” Even over the phone, I can sense how upset he is about not making it back in time to take me to the doctor. I don’t want to add to his stress.

  “I don’t want you to go alone,” he insists.

  “Z’s taking me as promised.”

  Z grins and flashes a thumbs-up.

  Rock groans. “Can you put him on the phone for a sec?”

  “No. You’re going to terrorize him when he’s doing something nice for me.”

  Z stands and jostles the phone out of my hand. “What, Prez?”

  He nods while keeping his piercing midnight-blue eyes locked on my face. “I’ll take good care of her. I promise not to look.”

  He hands the phone back.

  “Satisfied?” I ask Rock.

  “Not really. But I trust him. Call me as soon as you’re done, baby doll.”

  “I will.”

  Saying goodbye makes me teary, and a little hiccup-sob bursts out of me. Z doesn’t tease, though. He covers my shoulder with his hand. “He’ll be back soon.”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s beside himself that he can’t be here.”

  “I know.” I squint at him and use my stern voice. “That’s why you won’t tell him I was upset.”

  One corner of his mouth lifts. “Deal.”

  I wave my hands in the air. “I can’t help it. Everything makes me teary.”

  I suppose I should feel weird having Z walk me over to the clubhouse and help me into his truck. Somehow I don’t. This is what the guys do for each other. It’s less about keeping me company than making sure Rock’s responsibilities are covered while he’s away.

  “Are you excited?” he asks as we bump down the uneven driveway.

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Ugh. The driveway’s never bothered me this much.”

  He glances over but doesn’t tease me. He does ease off the gas, though. “Sorry.”

  “I’m nervous. Every little twinge and cramp terrifies me, even though now I know they’re normal.”

  To Z’s credit, he doesn’t flinch at the girly details. “I understand. You’ve been through a lot. But they said everything was fine, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re taking care of yourself.” He’s not asking. He knows, either from what Rock’s told him or from the fact that I rarely leave the property anymore.

  “Inga the Impossible was my last case.”

  He snorts and shakes his head. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that bullshit, Hope.”

  “It’s not your fault. As soon as I get it officially dismissed, I’ll feel better.”

  “You’re not alone there.”

  We chat about club stuff, the property, things Rock and I want to get ready before the baby arrives. Surprisingly, Z and I have lots to talk about, and the drive goes by quickly.

  “Stay,” he says when he pulls into a spot in front of my doctor’s office. I roll my eyes but don’t move until he comes around and opens my door.

  “I’m not a dog,” I grumble, taking his offered hand.

  His eyes widen, and he helps me down. “Sorry, Hope. I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  “I know. Thank you.”

  We’re not waiting long before I’m shown to a room. Once I’ve peed in a cup and changed into my gown, I poke my head outside the door. “Z?”

  He lifts his head, and I motion him over.

  “What are you doing?” He glances around. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Worried I’m gonna ditch you?”

  “No, smartass. I thought you’d want to see the baby.”

  “Can I?”

  I shrug. “Don’t see why not.”

  He takes a seat in the chair by the door. I hop up on the table, swinging my feet over the side.

  “Nervous?” he asks.

  “A little.”

  The doctor joins us and raises an eyebrow at Z. I introduce him as my friend and get a little weepy explaining my husband’s absence. “Well, I guess I know how you’re doing emotionally,” the doctor says without a trace of humor. She jots down a few notes.

  Z stays silent.

  “Still nauseated?”

  “Here and there. Nothing like the first trimester.”

  She makes a hmmm sound that I can’t figure out if it’s good or bad.

  “Feeling the baby?”

  “Yes. She’s very busy.”

  “Physically?”

  “Tired.”

  Another hmmm sound. This one not as promising. “Let’s get your blood pressure.” My gaze flicks to Z, and he’s watching everything with a passive expression. He catches me watching him and flashes a grin.

  “A little high.” She takes a few more notes. “Nothing alarming. Even so, I want you to be careful with your diet.” She goes over a long list of things I’m supposed to do before moving to the ultrasound. “Ready?”

  Z sits up, and I motion him closer. “Are we going to see her?”

  “I hope so.”

  He doesn’t realize that I’m kidding and grabs my hand, squeezing tight.

  “There she is.” The doctor points out our little bean, and I gasp. Every time I’m amazed.

  “Oh wow, Hope.” Z’s voice is low and distracted as he watches every move the doctor makes. He fumbles with his pocket, pulling out his phone. “Can I film it? For Rock?”

  “No need,” the doctor says. “I’ll email a video fil
e when we’re done, Ms. Kendall.”

  “Oh good.”

  We finish up and leave. Z’s quiet the whole way out to the car. “I’m sorry. Was that too much? Too weird? I shouldn’t have made you come in with—”

  “No.” He opens my door and gives me a boost into the truck. The door slams without him elaborating and when he gets in on his side, I wait.

  Once we’re moving, he finally speaks. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, Hope.”

  “What do you mean?”

  His fingers tighten around the steering wheel as he steers the truck toward the exit. “I don’t know what I mean. That was… amazing. I’m happy for you two.”

  I can’t figure out how to frame what I want to say, but I don’t have to, because he continues. “I want to settle down, but I don’t even know where to begin to find someone—”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I could knock up any of the girls at the club. Have her spit out a kid. That’s just not the kind of man or kind of father I ever wanted to be. Wanna find the right girl, who will be a good mother. A family, you know? Not a bunch of baby mamas running around with kids I never get to spend time with.”

  At the last minute, I catch myself and squelch my laughter. How could I make light when he’s stone-cold serious? Honestly, my heart’s breaking for him. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to find the right person.”

  He gives me a sideways glance. “I thought I did. With Lilly, you know? I’m so fucking pissed with myself that it’s been more than two damn years and I can’t get her out of my head.”

  “I’m so sorry.” If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t have met Lilly and she wouldn’t have broken his heart.

  And I have no doubt this is heartbreak talking.

  “Not your fault. I knew how skittish she was. I tried pushing her into getting serious, and obviously it backfired.”

  “When?”

  He glances over. “After your wedding.”

  “Oh.”

  “Have you heard from her at all?”

  “Here and there. She sent Trinity a wedding gift. You saw what she sent me for Grace. We email and chat online, but she always says her job in California—”

  “Yeah, I don’t fucking get that.” He knocks his fist against the steering wheel in frustration. “I thought her specialty was specific to New York politics. How the fuck does she end up in California?”

  I’m not sure what to say. Frankly, I’m shocked Z understands that much about Lilly’s job. “I was never clear on the details. It was sudden and right before all those senators were arrested in that big corruption case.”

  The corner of his mouth twitches.

  I hate what I’m about to offer because the last thing I feel like doing is contacting my ex-friend, Sophie. But I’d pretty much do anything for Z. “I can call Sophie and ask her—”

  “No.”

  “I probably have Lilly’s brother’s number—”

  “Didn’t he ask you out when you and Rock were on a break? No. Rock will kill me.”

  Soft laughter bubbles out of me. “Does Rock tell you guys everything? Jeez.”

  He huffs out a laugh. “That? Fuck yeah, he did. Thought his head would explode.”

  “We’re married and having a baby. I doubt he’ll care.”

  “Oh, he’ll care, sweetheart. Trust me.” He glances at the clock. “You ready to head to your lunch date?”

  “You can join us. I don’t want you sitting out in the parking lot like my personal taxi.”

  “But that’s what I am, Hope.” He gives me a dimpled grin.

  I reach over and squeeze his cheek. “Anyone ever tell you what a cute smile you have?”

  “Cute? Cute?” He grins even wider. “Woman, no one has called me cute since I was about six years old.”

  I turn a shade more serious. “You know I don’t think of you as my taxi, right? I really appreciate this, Z.”

  “I know you do. And it’s really not a big deal.” He gestures toward the back seat. “Brought my iPad. Have plenty of work to catch up on.”

  “Oh, Z. I didn’t even think about all the stuff you—”

  “Hope, it’s fine. I promised Rock I’d look out for you.” He glances over at me. “This is what we do. You know that by now.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rock

  Dizzy was not as easy to track down as we thought he’d be. His stash is. He keeps it in a fridge hidden in his bedroom closet at a run-down frat house.

  His roommate is more than happy to let us search the place.

  “This is definitely it,” Wrath says, showing off a small brown spray bottle and other paraphernalia. “I ain’t sparking it up, but—”

  “Superweed.” Dizzy’s roommate shouts. He’s high as fuck and not as scared of Chaser and Grudge as he should be. “Bro charges double for those. Don’t fuck with ’em, he’ll get pissed,” he warns.

  “How much has he sold?”

  He shrugs. “He’s got steady business. It’s not all super-duper, though.” He nods at the bottom drawer of one of the dressers. “He keeps the straight stuff in there.”

  Grudge drops the backpack he carried up here and starts unloading the drawer.

  “I’m flushing everything in there,” Chaser says, nodding to the refrigerator. “Before we leave.”

  “Fine by me.”

  “There’s no way to know what’s already been contaminated and what hasn’t. Then we still need to find Dizzy.”

  “I’m with you.”

  Wrath moves in to explain to the roommate in vivid detail the reason why he won’t be discussing our visit with anyone, and he will call us immediately if Dizzy shows up.

  “Yeah, man. No problem.”

  Grudge tosses him a baggie. “For your troubles.”

  Chaser returns from the bathroom. “I ran into a kid who says Dizzy hangs out at a place downtown on the weekends.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Outside, we meet up with everyone else. Chaser signals his men over. They form a loose circle around him while he explains where we’re headed next.

  When he’s finished, he takes me aside. “You don’t have to come with us. I’ll bring him back to the clubhouse for a chat, then handle it from there.”

  “We’re in, Chaser. I got your back. Let’s get it done.”

  He nods. “Thanks, Rock.”

  Dizzy is as stupid as his nickname implies.

  “Who the fuck are you guys?” He sniggers and elbows one of his equally stupid buddies. “Magic Men, black leather edition?”

  He roars with laughter. His pals start backing away from him.

  Grudge and Wrath don’t even wait for an invitation. They knock him out, scoop him up, and toss him in the back of the Demons’ van.

  “What a long fuckin’ night,” Chaser grumbles.

  “And morning. And afternoon,” I add.

  He turns and shakes my hand. “Thanks for this. I owe you.”

  “Hopefully we stopped it before it got worse.”

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  We stumble into the Demons’ clubhouse about an hour later.

  Much to my displeasure, Mr. DeLova’s waiting for us in the chapel.

  “Mr. DeLova, good to see you again. Long time.” I hold out my hand, and he takes it. Old man’s still got an iron grip.

  “Rochlan North. Look at you,” he says, Russian accent thick as ever even though, to my knowledge, he hasn’t left the States in the last twenty years. “Look at you. President. I knew from the first time I ran into you, you’d be a leader.”

  I nod and flash a bland smile. This is almost word for word the same conversation the last time I saw him a couple months ago. He’s old and he’s ruled his small mafia crime family for decades, so he’s certainly owed some respect.

  “That’s a compliment from you, sir.” It’s also bullshit. I was a punk who almost got his ass kicked for hitting on Chaser’s old lady—DeLova’s daughter.


  Now that the excitement of hunting down Chaser’s idiot drug dealer is over, my mind goes right back to the problems I rode out here with.

  Where the fuck is Teller?

  Fuck me, Teller must’ve been a baby when I was out here the first time I met DeLova. While I was puttin’ on my baby outlaw performance, some other man was raising Teller as his son.

  Wrath frowns and clears his throat to get my attention.

  “Let’s talk.” DeLova pats my shoulder and holds his hand in the direction of the Devil Demon’s chapel. Appears Mr. DeLova has gotten quite comfortable in this clubhouse over the years. I can picture the two old criminal overlords battling it out clearly.

  Stump and Chaser follow us into their chapel, but whatever business we’re going to discuss this time clearly concerns Mr. DeLova’s interests.

  He outlines his plan for expanding into central New York, and I school my face into a blank mask. Inside, I’m pissed as fuck.

  Once he’s said his piece, he sits back and waves his hand at me.

  I flick my gaze to my enforcer. Wrath’s eyes might as well be screaming hell-fucking-no. We worked way too hard to get our club away from cartels and gun-running when we took over. We’re in a solid place now. No room for the trouble DeLova’s crew can rain down on our heads.

  I happen to agree with everything I know my brother’s thinking.

  “Your discretion is what impresses me the most, Mr. North. I need someone who keeps their mouth shut. Who knows how to be humble and understands the value of loyalty.”

  He casts an irritated glare Stump’s way, which is pretty damn disturbing. Stump ain’t exactly a flashy guy. He sure as fuck isn’t one to take shit from anyone either.

  Although I imagine killing his daughter-in-law’s father might make his life difficult. Still, it’s not unheard of in our world. Not unheard of in DeLova’s world either. I’m a bit surprised one of them hasn’t moved on the other in all these years.

  Chaser takes mercy on all of us being held hostage in this bizarre standoff and steps in. “I’m taking over for my father. I’ll get the Feds off our back, starik.”

  The old man sneers at what I assume is not a term of endearment. There’s something funny about picturing Mallory teaching her husband Russian nicknames to piss off her dad.