by Evelyn Glass
She and Gabriel had made love way too late into the night, and she hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep, but she wouldn’t change a thing. It had been magical, unlike any other time, better even than any time with him before. She hadn’t forgotten what he’d done, but it no longer mattered. That Gabriel was gone, replaced by the new Gabriel, the strong, confident, secure Gabriel, the Gabriel who made her made her knees weak and her heart soar.
They had breakfast, talking about their day. “I need to go to the clubhouse for a while today,” Gabriel said. “Now that we have the money back, we need to get another contractor lined up to finish the work Tony started. Want to come by after work and see the place? You said you wanted to see what the fuss was about and to thank the brothers. You and Katrina both.”
She smiled. This was his life, and so long as he didn’t put the club before her or Katrina, she could accept it. Having the club riding to her rescue with Gabriel and standing guard over Grammy and Katrina had done a great deal to soften her opinion of them.
“I think I’d like that.”
He smiled, relieved she wasn’t going to try to force him to choose between his family and the club.
***
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Hot Rod chuckled as Royal made his way into the clubhouse. Moose and Scratch were there, waiting for Doc and Jaunt, along with the rest of the brothers to arrive with the safe. “You look like hell. Stella must have worn your ass out last night.”
Royal chuckled. “That, and Tony. He tried to kill me.”
Jaunt shook his head as he grinned. “I keep telling you, that Ninja shit you do isn’t worth a damn. You need to learn to kick ass.”
Royal chuckled again. “It works for me most of the time. I can’t bring in fugitives beat all to hell. They’ll pull my license over shit like that. Tony, he must have been a wrestler or something because he knew how to counter everything I did to lock him up.”
“Next time, take me with you and I’ll show you how to do it,” Jaunt teased.
“There won’t be a next time, I hope. Have you heard from Doc or anybody?”
Moose looked at his watch. “They should be here in the next fifteen or twenty minutes. You arrived just in time to help move the safe.”
Royal grinned as he shook his head. “I’ll try, but I don’t know how much help I’ll be.”
***
Since they had a smidge of experience, the Iron Kings didn’t have nearly as much trouble getting the safe into place the second time as they did the first. Once the had the vault upright and level again, Doc opened it for the first time. The shelves and stacks of cash were jumbled from the safe lying on its back and side, but a quick inventory confirmed the money was all there. They knew intellectually it had to be, but that didn’t prevent them from sighing in relief after they counted it.
Royal put the money back and relocked the vault.
“Maybe we should bolt this bastard down,” Blade muttered as Royal gave the dial a spin.
“It won’t be water tight anymore if we do,” Doc said. “I don’t think we have to worry about anyone stealing it again, especially when we finish getting the walls up. They’ll have to knock a fucking wall down to get it out because the hoist damn sure won’t go through a door.”
“This sucks,” Scratch said. “We have a bar and we can’t even use it.”
“Who says?” Hot Rod said, stepping behind the bar. The brothers heard the sound of ice and he popped up with two beer bottles. “Who wants a beer?”
The brothers spent the next couple of hours nursing beers as Royal recounted how he tracked Tony down and rescued Stella. They gave him hell about nearly getting his ass kicked by a carpenter and wanted to know if Stella had rewarded him well last night. His refusal to confirm or deny only started the ribbing over again.
“She wants to come by this evening, after work, and tell everyone thank you for what they did,” Royal said. “She gets off at eight, so we can be here about eight-thirty.”
“Bring her by,” Doc said with a grin. “Your little girl, too. Holly would love to meet her. Katrina is her name?”
“Kathy, too,” Hammer added, the rest of the bothers adding their agreement, as well.
“Stella and Katrina,” Royal nodded.
“Katrina is cute as a button,” Hot Rod said. “Gets her looks from her mother.”
“Thank God,” Blade teased.
***
“You ready?” Gabriel asked as Stella slowed in front of the clubhouse doors. The lights were on inside and she could see men and women milling about, talking and laughing. It had been more than four years since she’d been to any type of party, and never to one with Katrina.
“I’m a little nervous.”
He reached out and took Katrina from her, holding her in the crook of his arm as she clung to his neck. “Don’t be. MC members get a bad rap by a few bad apples, but most are people, just like you and me, and these guys, and their old ladies, are better than most.”
She gave her head a firm nod and stepped forward, trying to emulate Gabriel’s confidence. The moment the door opened, everyone turned and fell silent a moment. An older man stepped forward with a lovely woman on his arm. “Stella, I’m Avery Doctson and this is my wife, Shari. Welcome to the Iron Kings clubhouse, such as it is.”
“Nice to meet you, Avery, Shari,” she said extending her hand and shaking theirs.
“Call me Doc, everyone else does.”
“Is this Katrina?” Holly asked smiling at the little girl in Royal’s arms. “Hot Rod said she was beautiful, but oh my!” She grinned at Royal. “In ten or twelve years you’re going to have your hands full!”
Blade stepped forward. “Don’t worry, Royal. We’ll help you beat off the boys.”
“Can I get you a beer?” Doc asked Stella.
“Sure, thanks,” Stella said, and almost immediately a beer was handed to her.
“If you can stand to be away from this loser for a minute, I’ll introduce you to everyone,” Doc said, taking her by the arm and slowly escorting her away.
Holly extended her hand to Katrina. “Hello, Katrina. I’m Holly. It’s nice to meet you.”
Royal chuckled as she turned away and buried her face into his neck. “She’s a little shy.”
“It’s okay,” Holly said with a smile. “Bryan was the same way when he was her age. You want a beer?”
“In a minute.”
Holly watched Stella as she shook hands, smiling and laughing occasionally. “She’s lovely, Royal. You were with her before, right?”
“Two years. I left her to join the Kings.”
“I thought you were brighter than that. I can tell by the way she looks at you that she adores you.”
“Not my best decision, no.”
Holly smiled and gave him a nod. “At least you know you made a mistake. That’s half the battle. You’re luckier than most. You get a second chance.”
“You got that right, sister.”
She glanced up and watched as Royal’s eyes tracked Stella, and smiled. She could remember when Doc looked at her that way and she smiled slightly. Tonight, after they got home, she would remind him why he had.
***
Royal and Stella sat in lawn chairs, nursing beers, as the brothers and sisters regaled Stella with embarrassing story after embarrassing story. He smiled, allowing them to tell their tales, Katrina in his lap, head against his chest, her eyelids slowly getting heavy as she battled sleep. They had done a good job keeping the stories PG-rated since Katrina was there, but Stella was able to glean enough from what was said that she had howled in laughter at some of his more ridiculous moments.
She had particularly liked the one where he’d missed a collar in boonies of Louisiana because, while on a stakeout, an alligator had taken up position by his bike. In the two years since that happened, the story had grown more preposterous with every retelling. Yes, he had eventually run the thing off by throwing sticks at it, but no, it hadn’t chased him fir
st, and no, he hadn’t fallen in the swamp. Just because he had a little mud on the knees of his pants didn’t mean he was covered in mud.
She wiped her eyes and gasped, trying to catch her breath. “Oh my God! I can’t remember the last time I laughed this much!” She had been nervous, worried about the types of men and women who were in his club, but she was surprised. They had been uniformly welcoming and warm, putting her at ease and allowing her to relax around them.
Royal put his hand on the inside of her thigh and stroked her slowly. “We need to go. Someone needs to go to bed.”
Kathy nodded and grinned. “Katrina is getting sleepy, too.”
Stella twittered out a laugh. “I see that. Thank you, everyone, for making me feel welcome,” she said sincerely as Royal rose and cuddled Katrina, turning her so her head lay on his shoulder.
“You’re welcome to come back anytime,” Kathy said with a smile. “You can help us old ladies give these assholes some class.”
Royal and Stella finish making their goodbye and stepped into the night. “So?” he asked.
“Not what I expected.”
Gabriel grinned. “They were on their best behavior since Katrina was there, but they’re good people.”
She nodded as she leaned in close. “I can see they’re your family.”
“Yes.”
She nodded and watched as Gabriel slid Katrina into her car seat. It’ll be nice to have family other than Grammy, she thought, her lips cracking into a smile.
THE END
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CHANCE’S BABY: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance
By Evelyn Glass
HE’S MY SAVIOR, MY DOWNFALL – AND THE FATHER OF MY BABY.
The hitman came fully loaded.
He saved me from the worst fate a woman can face…
Then took my body as the cost of my freedom.
Now, I’m carrying a killer’s baby.
My captors swore I’d never escape.
Then Chance blew through my prison door.
Guns blazing, he laid waste to the men who meant me harm.
Then his sights landed on me.
I wasn’t part of the plan.
But he isn’t going to leave a pretty, helpless girl behind.
Now, I’m chained to a hitman.
There’s lust in his eyes, a beast waiting to burst free.
He tries to hide it, to keep it caged.
But when that’s no longer possible, he shows me what it means to be truly owned.
Now, I’m pregnant with the baby of a stone cold killer.
There’s no future with Chance.
He won’t let that happen.
I can see the truth, though.
Deep within him, there’s a good man waiting to be released.
I just have to hope I can find it in time.
Before the hitman breaks me.
Chapter One
Chance
A lot of folks in Brooklyn might be surprised to find that the abandoned warehouses dotted all over the place ain’t abandoned at all, but are used by some damn evil gangs for some damn evil stuff. Not that I’m judging whatever it is these bastards wanna do with their free time. I know I do some damn bad stuff when I’m unoccupied, especially when it comes to killin’ and fuckin’. But as I sit across the street, in the full darkness of an autumn night, watching the warehouse, I idly wonder what’d happen if some kids came by and ran on in there, doing like kids’ll do. Could get shot and killed, or worse. I ain’t a saint; I wouldn’t run after some idiot kid who didn’t have the sense to stay out of a dark abandoned warehouse. But still. It’s a thing that ain’t what it should be.
Idle thoughts as I wait for Nate to contact me.
As I sit here, I scan the warehouse. The gang inside are known as the Blood Bandits, which is about the most goddamn stupid name I’ve ever heard in my life. As far as I know, they’re some two-bit gangbangers just like any other small timers in New York, except that these particular small timers might have a lead on Julian. According to my boss Giovanni, Julian is a Capo who has made the incredible mistake of turning on the Family. Giovanni points, I go; now, I sit and wait.
The outside of the warehouse is nothin’ but a blank wall of darkness, the windows painted over with black paint, all the doors boarded over like they haven’t been used in years. But the truth is I saw a few Bandits walking in and out of that boarded up door about an hour ago, using it just like a regular door. It’s all a performance, put on for the public. Something’s going on inside there, something they want kept hidden. Maybe heroin, maybe meth, maybe prostitution. It don’t matter to me, as long as I get my lead, get my pay, and get out of here alive.
I lay my weapons out on the passenger seat: a pistol, a machete, a knuckle-duster, and a sub-machine gun, along with ammo for the pistol and machine gun. I check the weapons, keeping my hands busy and my eyes on the warehouse. Everything’s good. How many men in there, I wonder? I saw two dark-skinned guys go in earlier, but they haven’t come out yet. There’s been no screams, or gunfire, so if anything’s gone south in there, it’s gone south silently, or earlier today, before I got here.
Drumming my fingers on the dash, I mutter, “Come on, Nate.”
I always get itchy before a fight, itchy in my bones. I guess other men’d get scared, or excited, or nervous, but all I get is this itchiness throughout my body. The violence, something I keep chained up most of the time in order to exist in polite society, getting itself ready to spill over.
Finally, my cell buzzes. I put it on speaker, giving my weapons a final once-over.
“Nate,” I say.
“Chance,” Nate responds. Nate’s a nerdy short guy with horn-rimmed glasses who dresses like a little kid with colorful shorts and T-shirts, big running sneakers on his feet. I’m sure he’s kicked back, studying his multiple computer screens as he talks to me. He’s my intel guy, a hacker, but he’s also got a knack for anticipating people. He’s the sort of guy who knows you’re gonna sneeze before you even get a cold. “How is it down there?”
“A warehouse in fall at night,” I say. “Cold and dark.”
Nate laughs awkwardly. Folks’re always trying to bring me out, make me have some banter with ’em, but I’ve never been that way. I just get the job done. Whenever I go by the bars and clubs where the enforcers hang out and I see ’em there, laughing and joking and shit, I always get the sense I don’t belong. Maybe that’s just ’cause I was passed between so many families on my way up I was never allowed to belong. Not that it matters. Belonging don’t mean much to a man like me. Difficult to feel like you got any place to call home when your hooker mom checked out the day after she gave birth to you and your enforcer dad got himself clipped when you were seven years old. Damn difficult.
“Chance, you there?”
“Yeah,” I say. “So what’ve you got for me? Somethin’ serious, to tell me to wait for your call.”
Usually, I just go in and do my work. Usually, Nate’d given me anything I needed to know way before I was about to go in there. But tonight was different. I got a text from him just when I was about to bust down the door, telling me there was more to this than I knew, and that he needed to do some more research.
“Go on, then,” I say, when he’s silent a few moments.
“Well, it’s not a hooker hovel,” he says. “It’s drugs. That’s the first thing.”
“Does it matter? Meth, heroin, coke, women…who cares? All that matters is I get in, get one of those bastards singing, and get out.” As I talk, I slide my weapons into their places: the pistol into my armpit holster, the machine gun into my other armpit holster, my dusters in the pocket of my black hoodie, and the machete into the sheath on the back of my leg, just in case. Sitting here tooled up, I wait.
Nate hesitates, and then says, “Look, Chance—I don’t even know if I should be saying this. I’m just the research guy, right? But you know me. Once I get my teeth into something, I can’t just ignore it. But I don’t want to cross into any Family territory. I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“Just speak,” I say. “No one will know where I heard a thing. Goddamn. Hurry up.”
“You’re there to get information about Julian, right? Because Giovanni thinks he might’ve said something he shouldn’t have, or something?”
“Family shit,” I say, shrugging. “The boss wants to talk to a made guy who’s chosen the wrong time to take a vacation. So what?”