But Riley just smiled. “No, thanks. But help yourself.”
Faith sat down. “I’m not really in the mood for food or drink.”
“I hear you.” She rubbed her hands over her belly.
“When are you due?”
“Just a couple of weeks. I’m so ready to see my feet again.”
Riley and Bart’s pending new addition wasn’t something Faith really wanted to talk about. It stirred up memories and worries.
After an awkward moment, Riley asked, “How’s your mom? Did they send somebody after her?”
Faith hadn’t even thought about her mother. She was the only one who wasn’t being pulled in. Feeling guilty, she considered whether she should ask Hoosier to send someone for her. But Margot was with Jose. And she didn’t want her anywhere near where Michael might be, especially not if she might be feeling stress. “No, I think she’s okay. It would really freak her out to move her in the middle of the night, and the nurse who’s with her is a huge guy. She’s better staying put.”
Riley nodded. “It’s awful, what’s happening to her. It makes me so sad.”
There was nothing really to say about that, so Faith didn’t. She watched Bibi and Veda and a couple of club girls she didn’t know making breakfast. Dawn was breaking, she noticed, the view of the mountains from the two-story windows on the other side of the table brightening with morning sun.
This, she remembered. The way life just went on, even at a time like this. Morning happened. People ate. They chatted about life and family. They didn’t sit and stare at the door. They would mourn those who’d been lost, but they would do it in the background, and in ritual, together. Loss was a part of life, loss like this was a part of this life, and life went on.
At her side, Riley said, “I hope this isn’t a strange thing to say, but I really love your mom.” Faith turned and cocked her head. Yes, that had been a strange thing to say.
Blushing, Riley continued. “She took me under her wing, I guess, when I came into the family. She helped me understand how this world works, and she answered a lot of questions I had. Like a mentor. Or a mom, a little.” She smiled. “I feel like I knew you before I met you. She talks about you and your sister a lot.” The smile faded. “Or she used to.”
Faith laughed, because that was funny. “I find that hard to believe. You know Margot and I went years—”
“I know,” Riley interrupted. “I never asked about that, and she never said. And it’s not my business. But I know she missed you, for whatever that’s worth. She’s been pretty unhappy for a long time. I guess a lot of it was this—what’s happening to her now. But I think it was more than that, too. Anyway, I hope that wasn’t me speaking out of turn. Being pregnant makes me need to mother everybody. According to Bart, it’s annoying as hell.”
Faith agreed with Bart. But she couldn’t be snappish with this pretty little pregnant movie star, who was trying to be nice. So she put on a smile. “Well, thanks. I’m glad she helped you. She definitely knows how it works around here.” Or she did, when her brain worked. Faith stood up. “I’m gonna see if Bibi needs help. You sure you don’t want anything?”
“No. I’m good.” Riley’s expression suggested that she knew she’d crossed a line and felt sorry for it, but also knew that apologizing would only continue the awkwardness further. Faith smiled, wanting to let her off the hook. It was a queer feeling to know that other people had gotten different, better versions of her mother than she had, but it wasn’t Riley’s fault that was true.
~oOo~
Breakfast wasn’t yet ready when the thunder of Harleys rattled the windows, and almost everybody in the house converged toward the side door. The warriors were home. Faith went over and helped Riley stand and then pushed her way to the door. Connor was out ahead; he gave her a small, sardonic smirk and then made a sweep of his hand as if he were presenting Michael to her.
She ran up and jumped onto him before he had his helmet off. He caught her and held her tightly. “I’m okay, babe. I’m good. I’m good.”
Speechless, she could only nod against his neck and hold on. He moved a hand to her face, pushing her back slightly so he could kiss her.
“There’s food in the kitchen,” Bart said behind them. “Load up plates, then Hooj wants us in the Ke—in my study. We need a debrief.”
Faith heard, and she knew Michael did, too, because he’d tensed a bit when Bart started speaking. But he didn’t stop kissing her, so she stayed where she was, her legs and arms wrapped around him, their mouths linked and their tongues twining together.
Connor cleared his throat theatrically. “Okay, Skinemax. Inside.”
At that, Michael put his hands under her arms and set her down. He took his helmet off and set it on his bike.
“Hold that thought. I gotta do this.”
“I know. I’ll be waiting.”
He took her hand, and they went back inside.
Strange, but this felt normal. It felt right. This was her club. Faith felt like Michael’s old lady, like he was really hers, more in that moment, at Bart’s house because the clubhouse had been shot up, welcoming Michael home from probably killing people, than she yet had. People had died, and yet she felt secure and…and safe.
She felt like she was home.
~oOo~
By the time the men filed out of Bart’s study, the children were awake and had been fed. Riley and Faith sat in the living room while they played noisily in the corner, which was set up like a little house, with an elaborate kitchen set and other furniture. Their fancy playroom wasn’t enough, apparently.
But Faith was enjoying watching them play, and she figured that might be part of it. In a playroom, they’d be away. Here, they were in the middle of everything. The room was bright with sunshine and the happy chatter of children, and it felt good. Even during a lockdown.
Lexi, a beautiful little girl with long, pale curls, was bossing Ian and Tucker around, but they seemed perfectly content to be bossed. Faith watched Tucker stirring ‘porridge’ with a little wooden spoon in a little silver pot on the wooden stove while Ian set the table with plastic princess plates and teacups. So sweet, so normal. So much was normal about this strange life. There were ways in which her life alone was beginning to feel like a dream she’d had. Or like a part she’d been playing.
She had to find a time, and a way, to tell Michael the one secret that remained between them. She had to move it out of their way, nullify the last thing Margot could do to hurt them, so that they could be together and make a new life, a real life. The truth would hurt him. Bibi thought he wouldn’t be able to handle it, and Faith thought she might well be right. But it was there, and it was in their way, and it had to be her who told him. If he came upon Margot when she thought it was ten years ago—that would be the absolutely most painful way to learn it, with extra layers of betrayal.
But she was afraid. He’d been hurt so very much in his life. To be the one to hurt him more? God.
Michael walked in and stood watching his son, a gentle, quiet smile on his face. He seemed more relaxed than Faith could ever remember him being. He turned to her, and his smile grew. He was—he was happy. On a morning after a night like that, even with the loss and danger, Michael was, just now, experiencing a moment of peace. Faith wanted to freeze time and let him have it forever.
Tucker saw his father and abandoned his work with the porridge. “Pa!” He trotted over, and Michael picked him up and hugged him hard.
“Love you, Motor Man. You having fun?”
Tucker nodded seriously. “Cookin’ an’…an’…” Tucker swiveled his head to the corner, his forehead drawn in concentration. “Hep Lexi.”
That was the longest string of words, clear words, Faith had yet heard Tucker say, and that was apparently the case for all the adults who heard him. Michael’s eyes, and Riley’s, too, went wide and pleased. “That’s great, helping Lexi. Ian, too?”
Tucker nodded in answer to his father’s question. “Uh
-huh. Cookin’ food.”
Michael looked over Tucker’s head at Faith. His eyes shone. He kissed his son. “Okay, you better get back to it. I’m going upstairs for a little bit with Faith, okay?”
He said it in the softer voice he used with Tucker, but he looked at Riley, who smiled and nodded. Michael set Tucker down, and the boy went back to his work.
“The porridge is going to burn, Tuck. You have to stir it all the time,” Lexi admonished, a dainty little Gordon Ramsay. Tucker nodded and resumed stirring.
Faith stood and went to Michael. He wrapped his large hand, the skin warm and rough, around hers and led her upstairs. At the top of the staircase was a loft area that was set up like another family room, with another wall of electronics. Either Bart or Riley was really into cutting-edge tech—probably Bart. Michael led her through that area and down a hallway, like he knew exactly where he was going. And of course he would. Bart was his brother, the club VP. He’d probably been here countless times.
He led her through a door, into a small (by the standards of all the other rooms here she’d seen) bedroom. Then he closed the door and pushed her against it, leaning into her right away and covering her mouth with his.
It took her breath away—not the force or pressure, as such, but the control. Michael had always been…well, hesitant at the beginning of their sex, always fighting himself, always trying to give her room to back away. That normally changed when they were deep into it, but it changed because he lost the fight.
Last night, he’d grabbed her hair and tugged her back to him, and it was the most controlling he’d ever been with her. She wasn’t someone who wanted to be dominated—at all—but she had found that strong move incredibly hot.
Being shoved against the door and kissed like this, like he hadn’t expected ever to be able to kiss her again? That was hotter. The way he started tearing at her clothes, trying to get at her as quickly as he could? Hotter still.
This was a different Michael. Somewhere along the road he’d ridden last night, he’d cast off a heavy weight. Despite the dark of last night, he was lighter, like the work he’d been sent to do had given him something he needed.
And that was what it was. Last night had opened a valve for the thing inside him he called a beast.
Faith reached between them, too, tangling with his hands, trying to get to his clothes as he was getting to hers. He released her lips with a grunt and buried his face against her neck, still struggling with her jeans and tights. She had his jeans open, his belt undone, the buckle jingling loosely, but he had her clothes bunched up on her thighs, stuck.
She bucked, forcing him to take a step backward, and turned around to face the door. When she wiggled her jeans and tights down a little farther, she bent forward and looked over her shoulder.
He stared. Hesitation was back. And now, knowing his past so much more deeply, she understood it so much better.
“Michael.”
Without a word, he stepped to her, and she felt his thick, hard cock pushing between her legs. His hand came around her hip and went to her mound, and his rough fingers slid gently over her clit and inside her, the path made swift and smooth by her arousal. He rocked his hips, and his cock pushed inside, his fingers lingering with it for just a second and then pulling back to focus on her clit.
“Oh, fuck!” she murmured, trying to be quiet. “Fuck, yes.” She put her own hand over his, feeling his hand and fingers flex with strength as he gave her pleasure. “God, Michael, it’s so good!”
His head dropped heavily onto her back, and his hips moved faster. His other hand grasped her hip and moved her on him, encouraging her own movements to counter his. Each time their bodies collided, the contact was deep and in that precise place where pleasure had grown so high it reached discomfort, and Faith couldn’t be quiet. With her face on the door, only a couple of inches between her and the rest of Bart and Riley’s house, she cried out with every crash of their bodies together.
All at once, he stopped, his body rigid. His hand between her legs moved frantically over her clit, right on the very nub, until her flaming nerves had her body twitching so much that she was moving them, forcing his cock to rub only on the singular place inside.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she breathed, knowing she was going to yell when this orgasm was finally done with her.
But Michael took his hand away and wrapped his arm around her waist. He picked her up off her feet and carried her, still buried deeply inside her, to the bed. He laid them both down, her prone on the bed, him stretched out on top of her. Propped up on his arms, he slammed into her once, twice—and she shouted into the pillow, a long wail that used all her breath. He kept going, and so did she.
When she was done, she felt his body taut and shaking on top of her. She opened her eyes and watched the spasms of his arm. She could feel him pulsing inside her.
He pulled out, making her whine with the loss, and lay on his side next to her, his face an inch or two from hers.
“You okay?” His skin was pink from his exertions, but his breath was barely heavier than normal.
“Holy hell, yeah,” she gasped, still trying to catch her breath. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it felt different. Is something different?”
He smiled and brushed an errant, wet lock of hair out of her eyes. “I think so. I feel almost normal. If this is what normal feels like. Definitely different. Last night was fucked up. We lost P.B., and Muse is fucked up. And Peaches. But I feel…I don’t know. Right, I guess.” His smile faltered. “Which is pretty fucking abnormal.”
She turned to her side and fitted her body with his, getting as close as she could. “No, it’s not. I get it. It’s normal for you. For us.” She kissed his throat and realized that he was still wearing his kutte. “Is Muse going to be okay? Do you know?” Hoosier had sent the Prospects to the hospital to keep watch, but Faith hadn’t heard more about the wounded.
“Yeah. The bullet missed his vital organs.” Demon laughed dryly. “That fucker is a lucky unlucky bastard. Second time somebody’s opened him up without getting anything important. He’s gonna look like patchwork if he keeps it up.” He rolled to his back and brought Faith with him, settling her on top of him. Her bunched jeans and tights were starting to get pretty uncomfortable, but she didn’t want to lose this moment.
“I’m gonna go see him when we get moving. You stay here, though. Hooj thinks families are safe, but I want you and Tuck here while I’m gone, okay?”
“Yeah, okay. I’m going to need to check on my mom, though. Leo’s there, but I need to check in. But I’ll ask someone to go with me.”
“I’ll be back in the afternoon. Wait, and I’ll go with you.”
“No!” Too late, Faith saw her mistake. Far too late. Michael lifted his head and looked down at her.
“What the hell is going on there, Faith?”
And now she was face to face with the time she would have to tell him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When Faith put her hands on his chest and pushed away, Demon tried to hold her. But she wanted distance, and he would have had to hurt her to keep her close, so he let go. She got up and stood at the side of the bed, shimmying her tights and then her holey jeans back up.
Lying silently on his back, his jeans open and his cock out, semi-hard and still wet with her, he watched her straighten her clothes. His heart pounded heavily, but slowly, in his chest, like a medicine ball bouncing against his ribs.
Something was really wrong.
When she’d run out of clothes to fuss with, she finally met his eyes. “I need to tell you something, Michael. I need you to listen and stay calm.”
The medicine ball bounced harder, picking up speed, and his hands shook as he put himself away and sat up. Why did people say shit like that? Why the fuck did they think it would do anything to him but make him upset all the sooner? The beast in his soul bared its teeth and crouched, waiting.
“Just say it.”
She s
tared at him, her beautiful eyes wide and sad. And fearful. He could see it—she was fucking afraid of him. His fists clenched at that realization, and she saw them curl. She took a step back.
Fuck. Fuck. He didn’t even know what was lying in wait for him, but he could feel everything inside him spooling out into a twisted knot. Everything he wanted, everything he needed, was almost in his grasp. Just moments ago, he’d felt it—he could be happy. He could be normal. And it was unraveling before he could take hold of it.
“Faith.” His voice broke, but even he could hear the danger in it. “Fucking say it.”
“I…don’t know how.” Her head was down, and she’d taken another step away. He could barely hear her. She had her arms crossed, her hands tucked at her elbows, and she was pinching herself. He knew why she did that.
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