Tough Love (The Nighthawks MC Book 6)

by Bella Knight

  She pulled out her phone, sent a text. She sat down, and Killa gave her a full plate of food. “I’s sorry,” she said again. “I be forgettin’ you is da bomb, da best damn girl anyone could have.”

  Killa smiled tiredly, and sat. “I promised ta be good to ya,” said Killa. “It in our vows.”

  Ghost hung her head. “I plumb forgot ta follow dem,” she said. “But, no moah.”

  They ate, then Ghost received a text. “Train be comin’ to help ya tomorrow. She say she help ya cook, ‘frigerate da stuff, be ready fo’ me all week.” Train was a Nighthawk who owned a local soul food chain. “She be bringin’ sweet potato pie, bacon potato soup, da stuff dat keep ya goin.’” Killa smiled, the one she had, only for Ghost.

  Ghost whipped out her phone, and sent a text. They finished their meal. Ghost missed the shop, and had Killa tell her everything.

  She got a text back. “Jannie be sayin,’ ‘You’re on.’ We be gettin’ food all in heah, get you relaxin’ ‘stead o’ tryin’ ta keep me happy.” Ghost stood, took the plates, and put them in the hot water. “I be cleanin’ up tonight,” she said. “Ya go on, turn on da TV. I be comin’ in after da dishwasher full and da pots soakin.’”

  Killa sighed then rubbed her back. “Been lookin’ forward ta dat recliner all day.” She took her glass of sweet tea with her to sit down in the living room.

  Ghost cleaned everything up, groaning a bit as she had to raise and lower herself to put the dishes in the dishwasher.

  She waddled to Killa, and kissed her deeply. “We be gettin’ some help roun’ heah. My baby ken stop bein’ so tired.” She used the new recliner, the one that raised to meet her butt. She laid back, then reached out and held Killa’s hand. “We gon’ be okay, baby. In a few months, no more babies, an’ we can take us a vacay. Where you wanna go? On a ride? Maybe a plane? Jamaica? St. Kitts?”

  But Killa’s hand was slack in hers. Her wife was already asleep. Ghost got up, groaned, and put a red chenille blanket over Killa, and grabbed one for herself. She made sure the DVR was recording Killa’s show, the one about the doctor who was really a spy, and she fell asleep, too.

  Girl Time

  Ghost blew out a long breath. The babies were kicking and spinning. She was out of breath a lot, in the bathroom far too many hours of her day. She completed her last job, and had six in her inbox, some three-wheelers, some the new bike —she assumed that’s what it was —and two low-riders. She thought about how to set things up more efficiently, and what could be taught.

  She thought about her wife, but Killa was so tired. She had both the bikes and the boxes to put together and weld. She took a deep breath, and called an Uber, and went to the one person who would understand what she was going through.

  Katya handed her a baby the minute she opened the door. “Babushkas at mass,” she said. “Hold baby.” Ghost held the baby, who looked up at her with wide, crystalline blue eyes.

  Ghost kicked the door shut behind her. She followed Katya into the living room. Katya sat in a recliner, took out a breath, and put a breast to a hungry mouth.

  “Give me Luka,” she said. Ghost handed over the baby. Katya expertly flipped the baby around, rested his butt on the arm of the recliner, opened her bra, and put him to the other breast.

  “You be good at that,” said Ghost. “The babies inside me be kickin’ an’ rollin.’ Be at the bathroom ev’ry five minutes.”

  “I remember,” said Katya. “Very difficult time. But, I think, I have babies for my Gregory. He working very hard at security company. Help me every moment he can. He stayed home two weeks. Now, he works from home half time. Very good father.”

  “I was thinkin’ bout the money.” Her mouth felt dry. “You got somfin’ to drink?”

  Katya gestured at the kitchen. “Many drinks. Lemon water, lime water, iced coffee, no caffeine.”

  Ghost waddled to the kitchen. “It be cold outside. You got ‘em hot drinks?”

  Katya laughed. “Pour coffee, put in microwave.”

  Ghost found a mug, and poured herself the coffee. She heated it in the microwave, and when it dinged, took it out and tasted it.

  “This be damn fine coffee,” she said.

  “Kenyan,” said Katya. “Come, sit.”

  Ghost sat down. “I gotta problem.”

  “Tell Katya.”

  “I busy, too busy. Cain’t ask wifey, she too busy. Need help.”

  “Did you call Nantan?” asked Katya. “When Gregory and I need lovely dinner, and the babushkas are at mass, we call him. He sends two. There are twelve of them, I think. Many to help.”

  Ghost texted Nantan. “Need help with project.”

  Nantan texted back. “Heard about your little Harleys. Need help pouring metal?”

  Ghost smiled. “Yeah. Got too many orders.”

  “I’ll drop off two, but they get breaks every twenty-five minutes. In between pours, they have to do homework.”

  Ghost smiled. “Works for me,” she texted. “Be home soon. Gotta get an Uber.”

  “See you soon,” Nantan texted back.

  “Thanks,” said Ghost to Katya. “Nantan be helpin’ me. Whatcha got on helpin’ me wif da bein’ pregnant?”

  Katya laughed, and took Ivan off to burp him. She patted his back. “Some chairs help. There is one you can buy that rises to meet your rear end.” She pointed at her own chair. “When I have hands, I text you with the link. They deliver.”

  Ghost nodded. “I already got one. What else?”

  “Rest,” said Katya. “Too many people inside you, pull at your energy.”

  Ghost nodded, then pulled out her phone and called the Uber to pick her up. “Sorry, Katya,” said Ghost, slowly getting up. “I gotta pee and go.” She sipped her coffee as she slowly walked to the bathroom.

  “Is okay,” said Katya, as Ivan let out a long, low burp. She put Ivan back on the breast and switched babies to burp. “Babies sleep, and so do I.”

  Ghost made it out of the bathroom, rinsed out her coffee cup and put it in the dishwasher. She went out to the waiting Uber. She made it home in time to see Nantan’s van pull up. Two teens piled out. One of them rushed over to help her out.

  “Hey, Ghost,” the teen said. “I’m Ajai. I’m here to help you pour metal.”

  “Be real nice,” said Ghost. “Gettin’ slow and in the bafroom mo’ than in my chair.”

  “This is Willow,” said Ajai. “She’s strong. We both are. The Valkyries have been training us.”

  Ghost waved to Nantan, unlocked the door, and let the girls in. “Be pourin’ metal into my molds. Be easy but kinda hot.” She shucked her leather jacket, the one that couldn’t zip up now. “Hang ya stuff up here,” she said, pointing to the hall tree. “Be puttin’ you in masks an’ gloves.”

  “Okay,” said Ajai. “Safety first. Metal burns probably aren’t pleasant.”

  “Gotta sign the agreement first,” said Willow, taking out a piece of paper. “We want twenty percent of your take. College money.”

  “’Kay,” said Ghost, and signed the paper. “Be fillin’ up da college money real good here,” she said.

  She took them into the workroom. The tables were covered with hot glue melting trays, some labeled “metal,” some “rosin.”

  She showed them her metal sticks. “This be my mix. You ain’t tellin’ nobody ‘bout it.”

  “Okay,” said Willow. Ghost started Willow on the trikes, and Ajai on the new bikes. Ghost worked the low-riders.

  “Wait a minute,” Ghost said.

  Ghost grabbed her tablet and went online, first ordering the chair that Katya texted to her, and then okaying all the orders, putting them into the spreadsheet.

  “’Kay,” she said. “Three for each of us. That be a lotta pourin.’” She put on her mask, gloves, and apron, and gave the girls the same.

  She showed them how to melt the metal, and pour it into the various molds. They melted and poured three times.

  “I be happy I made so many molds,” sa
id Ghost. She mixed resin, and used a part to make a mold. “Might as well make more molds, witcha all here.”

  The teens helped with the molds. They took out the poured parts, and Ghost showed them the labeled parts bin. “You all keep pourin,’” she said. “I be makin’ da bikes.”

  The girls poured, discussing training, until their phones beeped. “Break,” said Ajai.

  “Good,” said Ghost. “I be usin’ the closer bathroom. You be goin’ to the one off the kitchen. Get whateva’ ya want from da kitchen.”

  The girls got sodas and chips, and munched away. They brought a soda and chips back to Ghost after their break. Ajai finished first, and watched Ghost put a three-wheeler together.

  “Diagram be dere,” she said, pointing with her elbow to a sheet. “Go real slow. Da tiny screws be heah,” she said, pointing to a tray. “We gonna need mo’ o’ dose, too. Here da tray o’ da tiny screwdrivers.” She pointed to the screwdrivers used for building computers.

  Ajai got one hell of an education on how to put together a Harley. She used the lighted magnifying tool —Ghost had two. Ghost stopped to help Willow take out the parts in the resin, and to pour new metal into them.

  “Then the screws,” she said. “Mold makes ‘bout seventy o’ dem.”

  They got the three three-wheelers put together. Ghost showed her the spray machine that she used for painting, and the paintbrush.

  “Gotta red, a blue, an’ a gold,” she said, taking out the bottles of model paint. “Stink ta high heaven, but dese be da best ones.”

  “Awesome,” said Ajai.

  They put together the low-riders next. “Ya cain’t tell nobody ‘bout dis one,” she said. “Be a secret.” Ajai mimed locking her lips.

  They took frequent breaks. Ghost hung out in the bathroom, and the girls did schoolwork and ate their way through biscuits with butter and honey, and baked potato soup.

  Ghost waddled out of the bathroom toward the food. “Gotta let the paint dry,” said Ghost. “Den we finish off de last ones.”

  The girls nodded. “Gotta do our Ute language learning,” said Ajai. “Then, math.”

  Ghost nodded. “Wifey an’ I takin’ our Harley mechanics certificate.” She sighed. “Wifey be done first. Mo’ hours.”

  “She’s pregnant too,” said Ajai. “She won’t get that much farther.”

  “She done got knocked up latah,” said Ghost.

  “You having twins?” asked Ajai.

  “I be havin’ quadruplets,” said Ghost. “Gotta work while I ken.” She finished her meal, rinsed the bowls and plates, and put them in the dishwasher. “Be paintin,’” she said.

  “Cool,” said Ajai. Ghost took her tablet, looked up de-caffeinated Kenyan coffee, and ordered it. Ghost then walked to the workroom, and put together the last bikes. She painted them, took out all the previous pours, and poured new ones. She then went to the bathroom, and took a nap. She awoke to all the parts put away, three new trikes and new bikes, and brand-new pours. The girls had also wiped down the counter, and left their equipment carefully hung up.

  “Damn,” said Ghost. She painted the rest of the bikes, turned on the curing light, boxed what she could ship, called the FedEx man, and ate a dinner of chicken, green beans, and sweet potato pie. She sent out what she could of the first delivery, and asked the guy to come back in the morning. She went back in, put together three of everything, and went to bed.

  Gregory came in from his home office. “Give me my sons,” he said to his wife. Ivan was being burped.

  “Must wait,” said Katya. “Nearly done.” She finished burping Ivan, then switched babies.

  “What can I feed you?” asked Gregory. He pulled off his dress shirt and put on a sweatshirt hanging on the back of the bedroom door.

  “Soup,” said Katya. “I ate before our sons ate. Bowl is in microwave for you.”

  He reheated the soup, heated up some of Nantan’s amazing bread, buttered it, and ate. He cleaned up, and was back in time to burp Ivan again. He took Ivan in for his bath, and Ivan screamed as if he was being murdered. He diapered him, then put him in his crib with the mobile. He turned on the mobile, and Ivan screamed again, this time with joy. He did the same with Luka. Luka didn’t scream, just attempted to eat his hand.

  “All that good food,” said Gregory, “and you want to eat your hand.” Luka smiled at him and farted. Gregory laughed.

  He got Luka into his crib. The boys liked to stare at each other while falling asleep, and they looked at each other through the slats that were very close together. He read them a baby book, sang them a baby song, and listened as they stopped talking baby talk to each other, rubbing their ears to stay awake. Their eyes closed.

  He swung by the bathroom and pocketed a jar of mint lotion. He went back to his wife. She was all the way back in the recliner, watching the news. He brought over an ottoman, took off her thick socks, and rubbed the mint lotion into her feet. She groaned.

  “Where’s Elena?” asked Gregory.

  “Babushkas took her to pizza and movie,” she said.

  Gregory nodded. “Good,” he said, digging deep into her arch.

  She groaned again, and said something in Russian. He smiled, and changed feet. She groaned even more deeply, and settled into her chair; iced, de-caffeinated coffee in a thermos with a straw in her hand.

  He was halfway up her leg when she abruptly de-reclined her chair, and pressed the button to make it rise. “I want sex,” she said.

  He kissed her. “I’m glad I married a woman who knows what she wants.”

  “But no more babies,” said Katya. “If I have more babies, I kill you.”

  He sighed. “I agree.”

  Katya kissed him as hard as possible. “Then,” she said, coming up for air, “we go to bedroom.” She reached down, unbuttoned his jeans, and put her hand inside his pants. She grabbed the tip of his cock, and said, “We go.”

  “Fuck,” he said, gasping. “We go,” he said, in a strangled voice.

  She stripped off her clothes as she went down the hall, throwing them into the hamper. He stripped off the shirt he’d just put on, hanging it on the door. He had his jeans and underwear off before she had arranged herself on the bed; on pillows, like a queen.

  He knelt, and worshipped at her altar. He kissed his way up her right leg, blew gently on her button, and kissed his way up the other leg. She writhed as he touched the button. He pushed on it, kissed it with a flicking tongue, and put two fingers deep inside. He made her come, again and again. She kept her screams down, not wanting to wake the babies. He slid into her, and kissed her deeply. She arched her back, and dug her crimson nails into his back. He screamed into her mouth, and pushed himself inside her. She came again, clenching onto him, and he only needed a few strokes until he came as well.

  He smiled at her, and carefully helped her to sit up. She pushed his hands away —after she swung her feet down. “I am strong, Russian, peasant woman,” she said.

  He kissed her neck. “You are my queen, my Tsarina.” She laughed.

  He took her hand and led her to the bathroom. He turned on the shower; hot, and washed her fall of red hair. It felt like wet silk in his hands. He put the conditioner in it, and soaped her. He washed his own hair while she scrubbed him down. He groaned as she stroked him, she made him hard.

  She expertly kissed and sucked him, then grabbed his balls. “These are my toys,” she said.

  He groaned. “Yours,” he said. He came in her hand, and she washed them both.

  He got out first, legs rubbery. He got her a little towel for her hair, and she started to dry it. He wrapped her in the large towel, and kissed her. He dried himself, and then helped her out of the shower. She finished drying herself, and he put all the towels into the hamper. He combed and dried her hair, and plaited it into a French braid she liked. It kept the boys from pulling out her hair. He rubbed lotion all over her, carefully, slowly rubbing it in.

  He dressed in underwear and loose pants, then went to t
he living room for the jar of mint lotion, then went back to the bathroom. He rubbed the lotion into her feet, and led her to bed. She dressed in underwear, loose pants, thick socks, and her maternity top with hidden slits so the babies could eat. He propped up her feet, and went to get a snack for them. He brought her more iced coffee, and a soda for himself. He brought in a bento box of snacks and dips —cucumber and carrot sticks, ranch dip, nuts mixed with dried apples, and cranberries. He took chips for himself.

  They propped up their feet, turned on the TV, and watched an old movie; alternately snacking and holding hands. They were asleep long before Elena and the babushkas came home, laughing, from the animated movie.

  Bella served as fast as she’d ever moved. Cougar moved like a panther; in, around, laughing, talking with people. There were less people —Ivy was a huge draw, but they were doing fine. Cougar made the cash pickups, went to the back room, counted it, and made the deposit every night.

  Bella found the guy —an Iron Knight named Bruiser. He was actually a tiny, whippet-thin guy, but he was seriously fierce in a fight. She found that out when a tourist guy slapped his boyfriend as hard as he could.

  Bruiser grabbed the guy’s hand and said, “A little violent for a vacation, huh?”

  The slapped man stood. “Keith, you’re an ass,” he said. “I’ll check out of our hotel room, I’m changing my ticket to another flight, and you need to forget my number.”

  Bella cheered inside her head. The guy that got slapped was fierce.

  Bruiser let go of the guy’s arm, but grabbed it again when Keith went to take a swing at his now, ex-boyfriend. “You fucking cunt!” Keith said. Bella wondered if he was yelling at Keith or Bruiser.

  Another Iron Knight got on Keith’s other side. “You need some coffee,” said the Iron Knight, who looked like a surfer boy, ripped and blonde with blue eyes.

  “Fuck you,” said Keith. He lunged, trying to dislodge his arm.

  Bruiser smiled. “If you stand still, you get let go,” he said. “You are not following your boy-toy out.”

  “I’m a doctor!” screamed Keith, trying to get his arm free.