All In: Raising the Stakes

by Lane Hart

  Wow, so I guess that means the baby is either Will's or...Joe's. I’m still trying to figure out how I feel about that when Joe walks into the waiting room, giving me a smile and wrapping me in a hug.

  "So what about you? You still in the running?" I ask him.

  "Yeah," he says, rubbing his chin. "She's beautiful and she has a chin cleft. Chad and Zack don't."

  "Will has the same cleft I take it?”

  “He does.”

  “So now we wait?” I ask, and he nods. I hug him again, because of how hard this is on him. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Katie Kat,” he says into my hair. “No matter what, I know you and Drew will always be my family. And I can’t wait to marry you and make it official.”

  I gasp so hard I almost choke on the sudden influx of air. Maybe I misheard him. But then he pulls away and goes down on one knee, leaving no doubt as to what he said.

  “Katie Albright, you took my breath away the first time I saw you. I knew then that you were the one for me, it just took some time to convince you. Now I think you know how much I love you and Drew. You’ve given me something I’ve always wanted and never had before. A family. A home. Unconditional love. So will you agree to marry me and let me adopt Drew to make you both mine forever?”

  I nod because I’m not capable of saying the one word that I’m shouting in my head. I’m too surprised and happy. No, happy doesn’t begin to cover it. I’m beyond elated.

  “Yes?” Joe asks with a huge smile.

  “Yes," I finally say. "On one condition.”

  "Anything," he says seriously.

  "Chad has to be a part of this package deal, too."

  Joe hangs his head for a second before he responds. "We've talked about it, and he knows that this is what I want more than anything. Yes, I love him, too, but when it's a choice between you and him, I'll always choose you."

  "Why would you choose me when you love him, too? And why does it have to be a choice between me and him?" I ask him. "Why can't you have both?"

  He glances over at his best friend and lover, who's standing against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, a smile on his gorgeous face. Chad and I have had our own discussion without Joe, too.

  "Unfortunately, that's not how it works," Joe finally answers when he looks back up at me sadly.

  "Says who? Society? Churches? Tradition? Screw them all. We can do this however we want. We both love you and think you deserve to have a family and to be happy for the first time in your life, even if it means making exceptions to the rules. He and I are starting to love each other, too, all because of our common interest. You."

  "You're serious?" Joe asks, looking back and forth between me and Chad.

  "We are," I tell him.

  "Well, in that case, let's do this," he says with a smile. Getting to his feet, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small black box and opening it. He takes my hand and slides a beautiful three stone diamond engagement ring onto my finger, ironically symbolic, and a perfect fit, just like him in all of our lives.

  “Don’t you have something to ask Chad?” I prompt Joe. After a quick kiss he turns to the other man.

  “Will you move in with us?” he asks.

  “In a heartbeat,” Chad replies before the two embrace each other, in public, unashamed.

  “Good,” Joe says on an exhale when he finally pulls away. And then offering me his hand, he tells Chad and me, “Let’s go home.”

  Epilogue

  Joe

  I walk into my normally loud, crazy house that’s strangely silent. Katie’s car is in the driveway so I know she picked up Drew from preschool and they’re home, and Chad's Camaro is also out front. It’s just too...quiet. That’s when I finally notice the note with “Daddy” written front and center, standing up on the middle of the living room coffee table.

  Throwing my suit jacket over the arm of the couch, I pick up and open the piece of paper that says in Drew’s handwriting with blue crayon, “We’ve got a surprise for you, Daddy! Come find us in the backyard!”

  A surprise? It’s September, so not even close to my birthday in March. Shit, did I forget our anniversary? No it’s not until February. Drew’s birthday is in November, Katie’s is in May, Chad's is in December and Audrina’s first birthday isn’t until January. So I haven’t missed anything there. Still puzzling over it, I walk through the kitchen and step out through the back door.

  “Surprise!” All our friends and family are standing in the yard, smiles on their faces. Tyler and Jess with their twin girls. Lauren and Caleb, who still can’t keep their hands off each other. Dylan and Jules with her pregnant belly starting to show. And of course, Lacy, Will, and Audrina are out here with Chad, Katie, and Drew. Clearly I'm missing something.

  “Um, hi everyone. What’s going on?” I ask, looking to Chad and then Katie, who's holding Audrina.

  “Here, your daughter wants to tell you since Drew got to write the note,” Katie says with a smile. I hold my arms out for my girl who mutters “Da-da” when I take her.

  “Hey, baby girl,” I kiss her cheek, thinking she’s grown since I saw her just last weekend.

  After the prison escape coverage, Lacy had a ton of job offers. She accepted one here, so she and Will could move back to Greensboro. Will easily transferred to the local Daughtry plant to run their IT network. They wanted to be closer to Will’s family, and of course, I was ecstatic knowing I would get to spend so much more time with my daughter since they’d only be minutes away instead of hours.

  “Bay-Bay,” Audrina babbles, and everyone in the yard goes still and silent like it’s her first word or something. She’s only eight months old, but she’s been saying a few words for months now. “Bay-bay, bay-bay, bay-bay.”

  “I have no idea what bay-bay is, but you’re really cute saying it. And you look so grown up in your little tutu and-”

  I hold her out at an arm’s length to read the glittery pink and purple words on her white shirt that matches her tiny skirt. It says, “I’m the big sister.” I consider it for several seconds but figure Lacy just bought the shirt because it matches the pink and purple frilly bottoms. Then she says “bay-bay” again.

  “Baby?” I ask aloud. When I look over at Katie and Chad again, they both laugh before he says, “Finally! I thought you were quicker than that, counselor.”

  “So she’s saying baby?” I ask. “So the shirt…you’re pregnant!” I exclaim when it finally hits me.

  “I’m pregnant,” Katie replies. “She’s telling you that when the baby comes, she’s gonna be a big sister.”

  Drew looks up, and asks, “Daddy, am I gonna have another sister or can I have a brother this time?”

  I laugh and bend down to give him a hug. “Well, buddy, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

  I stand up and reach for Katie, pulling her to me with my free arm. After I kiss her, I start my direct examination. “How far along? When are you due? Are you feeling okay?” There are a million questions coming to me.

  “Six weeks, so I’m due May tenth, and I feel great.”

  “And this one is definitely mine?” I ask with a smile, still holding Audrina on my hip while rubbing Katie’s lower belly. Just a few months ago, Katie and I agreed that she should come off her birth control pills, so we could start trying. Since then, Chad's been required to wear condoms while I try to knock my wife up. Sure, the three of us aren't in a traditional relationship, but we're all happy, so that's the only thing that matters to us.

  Katie blushes before she answers. "Ninety-nine percent chance it's yours.” Right, because condoms leave that one percent chance of leaking or breaking. I'll take those odds any day.

  “Thank God!” I say before kissing her again, and then Chad and Lacy.

  In a way, it sometimes feels like I lucked up and got several families instead of just one. There’s more love in my life than I ever thought possible. And now, we’ve got a little more love on the way.

&
nbsp; The End

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to those of you who have stuck with the All In series from the beginning! When I started writing Double or Nothing a little over a year ago I never intended to have a second book, much less a third, fourth or now sixth. But Tyler had a story to tell, and so did all of the other characters. I know my heroines aren’t always the good little girls who like having just one man, but that was exactly my intention for Lauren and Lacy. And yeah, maybe I wanted to live a little vicariously through them.

  Even though I’m sad to end this series, no matter how many books I write, some of them will always be my favorite characters, especially Tyler, Dylan and Jules. I also have plans for at least two novellas, Cain and Rachel’s story from Playing to Win, and Jordan, Jake’s brother’s story from Paying to Play.

  Of course, I owe the biggest thank you to my husband for not only reading all of my stories before I hit publish, but for helping me brainstorm and become a better writer with each one. If you enjoy reading my books then you have him to thank too. It was his suggestion for me to write my own story when I complained about not having anything to read that put all the gears in motion.

  Thanks again for your continued support as a dedicated reader, and I hope you’ll stick around to see more of the crazy, sexy stories running through my imagination that I can’t wait to tell!

  ALSO AVAILABLE FROM LANE HART

  Keep reading for a free sample of Jax, the first book in the new MMA romance series!

  Jax

  A Cocky Cage Fighter Novel

  By Lane Hart

  Chapter One

  Page Davenport

  I tap my perfectly manicured nails rhythmically over the laptop keys while watching the clock. I'm bored out of my mind waiting for this “urgent and extremely important” meeting to commence. The one my father's secretary said would begin promptly at three p.m. sharp.

  And he's late.

  But really, what else is new?

  Ever since I started full-time at the firm I've felt like dad's errand girl. While some of his requests have actually involved trips to the United States Attorney's Office, my responsibilities in the building only included delivering or picking up documents. I've also been assigned the extremely important task of hole-punching a thousand pages of discovery before organizing them into binders. And last, but certainly not least, to remind me I'm the lowest on the totem pole he's actually sent me out to pick up his freaking lunch! I keep wanting to remind him that there is in fact a law degree hanging in my office, just like the one in his. I may have only recently graduated and passed several state bars, but being treated like a freaking intern is getting tiresome.

  "Page," my father says when he breezes quickly into the room. "Sorry I'm late, got held up on a conference call. We may have just settled our trade secret violation case with SynTech for a million."

  "Good for you," I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. It's not much, since I know our clients are making a killing stealing their old company's ideas.

  My dad, Miles Davenport, has always specialized in corporate law. My older brother, Logan Davenport, is an expert at patent law. My uncle, John Davenport, has been doing wills and estates for twenty-five years. All three areas of law put me to sleep faster than an elephant-sized tranquilizer dart. I'm still trying to figure out my specialty; what cases I'll actually enjoy doing for the long-term.

  The senior Davenport settles into the rolling chair at the head of the conference room table, slapping down a brown accordion file in front of him with a thud. Could it be that he's actually going to give me a real case to handle on my own? Usually the closest I get to a case is when I'm assigned research projects for him or my brother.

  "Our three o'clock is late, not that I'm surprised. His father just posted his bond this morning, so they probably got held up at the jail," he tells me while checking his phone.

  Oh no, no, no. I'll practice any area of law, but I won't do…

  "It’s a new criminal case," my father says, grinning greedily from ear to ear.

  Criminal?

  Represent miscreants? He can't be serious. There are two attorneys in our firm who do all of the criminal work. Ryan handles the state court cases, and Mark takes all the federal cases. So why the heck is my dad, a corporate attorney, talking to a potential criminal client?

  "I'm sure you've heard of him, Jackson Malone, the famous MMA fighter?" he asks. I probably dislocated my jaw based on the speed at which it hit the wooden table. "His head coach, Don Briggs, and I grew up together. Don called me this morning and asked if we'd take his case."

  "You mean Jackson ‘The Mauler’ Malone, the man who raped and strangled a woman?" I ask in horror. It's been all over the news ever since the story first broke three days ago.

  "Innocent until proven guilty, remember?" my father says, finally glancing up at me to raise a condescending gray eyebrow that matches his perfectly combed hair.

  "Yeah, that's the motto of all criminals," I snort. "So what am I doing here?"

  "You're going to represent him," he says, sliding the file across the table to me.

  "Like hell I am!" I exclaim, jumping to my feet and raising my voice at my father for probably only the third time in all my twenty-four years. "I don't have any criminal law experience other than a summer internship with the DA's office, and even if I did have experience, I wouldn't represent him!"

  "You are," he says with the narrowed cobalt blue eyes I inherited, and the cold tone of finality I've always dreaded. It means he isn't going to budge and there's no convincing him to change his stubborn mind. "This is going to be a huge case. Not only is he going to pay us a small fortune, but the national publicity we'll get will be incredible! It's also exactly what you need, to put yourself in the spotlight to boost Elliot's campaign."

  Oh please! Like I give a rat's bare bottom about Elliot's campaign. I don't even bother responding to that nonsense.

  "There are nine other attorneys in this firm, why can't one of them do it? You know, maybe one that has actual criminal courtroom experience," I argue.

  "You and Logan are the only ones who've passed the bar in New Jersey, which has jurisdiction in this case. And you're the only female in the office. It'll look better to the media and the jurors to see a woman sitting beside Mr. Malone at the defense table. Don't worry, Ryan will carry the brunt of the load."

  Oh no. Now I'm starting to understand. My father isn't giving me this case because he thinks I deserve it. No, he wants me to be the sacrificial lamb. The woman the media and feminist groups will all tear into for representing a chauvinistic pig. He really doesn't give one shit...ake mushroom about my reputation. After this case, I'll be nationally known as the idiot woman who represented the rapist jerk. Speaking of…

  My dad's secretary cracks the conference room door, and announces in her nauseatingly sweet voice, "Mr. Davenport, the Malones are here."

  I have a slight dislike of Margo. Okay, maybe a tad more than slight. She's so freaking nice, it's obviously fake. As soon as her back turns her smile falls and is replaced with a gaping maw of gossip, spewing filth to anyone who will listen.

  "Show them in," my father instructs her while straightening his blood red tie, the color appropriately representing his strict conservatism. Then he turns to me, and says, "Be nice, and don't you dare fuck this up," sternly through his clenched teeth.

  I make an attempt to ignore the knife sticking out of my chest from the second half of my father's directive, and instead try to come to terms with the idea that he wants me to be nice. Be nice to a ruthless, cocky meathead who thinks that since he's all rich and famous because of a brutal, barbaric sport that he has the right to do whatever the heck he wants with women and get away with it.

  Maybe my uncle will hire me if I get up and walk out the door. Sure it'd be boring work filling in blanks on templates for old people, but at least I wouldn't be stuck working with an actual hard core, violent criminal.

  An ol
der man, looking roughly in his fifties with shaggy black hair and a beard sprinkled with a dusting of white, steps into the conference room first. The heavy bags under his hazel eyes and his deep frown lines make him look tired, and highly annoyed. I paste on my fake smile and reach across the conference table to shake his hand.

  "Mr. Malone, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Page Davenport. Page, this is Martin Malone and his son. I'm sure you'll recognize Jackson Malone from his outstanding MMA career," my dad says when he makes the introductions.

  "Nice to meet you," I lie as I hold out my hand to the older man. Shaking it, he gives me a polite nod of his head while assessing me. He's not looking at me in a creepy, sexual way, but his eyes are narrowed and his crinkled brows meet, making it obvious that he's asking himself, ‘Is she really old enough and experienced enough to represent my son?’ Of course not, and everyone in the building knows that.

  My curious eyes finally dance around the older man to the one standing behind him. The spacious conference room, that can easily accommodate ten ego-inflated attorneys, suddenly feels too small. Intimidating doesn't even begin to describe the vibe this man is putting off. He practically comes with his own flashing neon sign over his coal colored pompadour cut that says in big, bright letters, "Danger! Stay back at least 100 feet!"

  It isn't necessarily the guy's size that makes him scary, even though he’s built like a tank at more than six feet tall, with a wide, muscular build. But when you add in his black bottomless-pit eyes and tight, unshaven jaw...he looks like Mount Vesuvius about to erupt. Violence and tension radiate off of him in waves that are almost visible. In nothing special faded jeans and a plain white tee contrasting nicely with his tan golden skin, he's absolutely, without a doubt, the most…scrumptious looking man I've ever laid eyes on. His mug shot photo plastered all over the television and Internet doesn’t do him justice.