by Rie Warren
“I’m not.” A muscle ticked at the back of my jaw.
Shiloh wasn’t gonna affect me like this. I could hook up with someone else at night’s end, take a random woman back to my place, get her off, fuck her to oblivion. Wake up in the morning—intact.
Shy and I had too much history, a past I couldn’t afford to revisit.
“You really shouldn’t be here.”
She tossed back the rest of her bourbon. “I’m pretty sure I can go wherever I want. I’m legal and everything.”
I’d never seen her as anything more than a girl before. Wasn’t about to start now.
“And you are, actually.” She picked up the hanging thread of conversation I lost track of as soon as she skimmed her fingertips back up the muscles of my arms to reach my shoulders.
I chewed ice between my teeth, hoping it would cool everything burning in my veins. “I’m what?”
“Handsome.”
Prep school pretty boy. The perfect one to take the fall because big money Daddy would always bail him out.
Until he hadn’t.
Not a shocker.
I’d been stupid.
My dad had been a hardliner.
Water under the bridge I’d never cross again.
“I heard you were disowned.” Shiloh toyed with the rim of her glass but her gaze never left mine.
Everyone in the bar paid extreme attention to our quiet conversation even though they covered up their bald interest with the usual trash-talking tactics.
“Don’t really discuss that around here, Shy.”
Aware we were being watched by hawkeyes all around, I shoved my chair back. “Say goodbye to Sadie now because I’m taking you home.”
“You didn’t used to be so bossy.”
“Welcome to the new me.” But I pulled her chair back, and when she stood only to stumble, I steadied her with my hand on her waist.
“You okay?” I asked.
Her cheeks flushed bright. “Yes.” She glanced away. “Just lost my footing a little.”
I snickered. “Not surprised with those shoes combined with the booze.”
“Complaining about the heels?”
I rubbed the side of my jaw. “Not sure I should answer that.”
My eyes slit at her as she swayed over to Sadie and the gathered crew, collecting hugs and fucking kisses everywhere she went.
An MC babe she’d never be. And I’d make goddamn good and sure of that. But the ghosts she stirred up I’d have to lay to rest again. And again. And again.
Clasping Shy’s elbow, I led her into the muggy May night. “Did you drive?”
“Uber.”
“Because that’s not shady at all.” I growled, tugging her toward my vintage Harley Panhead, slowing down when she missed another step.
“I know how much you like speed.” She fit the helmet on her head with quick motions like a pro. “I had a Vespa in Italy.”
“This isn’t a Vespa, Shy.”
Straddling the bike, she hugged me around my middle, pressed right up against my back. “Remember the first time you took me for a ride?”
“Yeah. You almost made me wipeout, and your dad had a fucking conniption.” With the motor revving, I peeled out of the parking lot. “Hold tight, Shy.”
I didn’t need to remind her. The woman—the girl, I corrected myself—seemed to have no problem slanting with every dip and curve.
As we cruised over the giant Ravenel Bridge so high over Cooper River, Shy tightened her thighs around me long enough to let go of my waist for just a few seconds, throwing her arms into the air and her head back as her free laughter floated to my ears.
She gripped me again, stronger, closer, and a thrilling sensation worked through my body as the bike purred between my thighs.
Remarkable.
Shiloh.
The thunder of my Harley echoed the thunder of high cresting waves when I tore down The Battery on Charleston Bay. Big houses—antebellum mansions—stood like fancy as fuck sentinels behind White Point Garden where Civil War canons pointed out to sea.
I killed the engine in front of one of the most well-maintained, majestic stone piles. The Chathams on one side. And fuck my life forever, my folks’ huge house on the other.
“You’re staying here?” I waited for her Shy to dismount then got off after her.
“Just until my apartment is finished. I’m redecorating.”
“You know, Tail’s pretty good with the painting and shit.” Then I wished I’d kept my damn mouth shut.
No way did I want her hanging around Tail. The dude was a known skirt-chaser and an unapologetic pussy hound.
Not that I wasn’t.
Well, chicks usually fell into my lap, no chasing needed.
I shuffled my hands through my hair.
“Come inside? My parents would love to see you again.” Shy lifted her big silvery eyes.
And I met a gaze I couldn’t turn away from.
Big mistake . . .
Her hand folded inside mine, soft and warm. Her scent again filled my senses, and she roamed closer. Too close.
Close enough her heat called to mine. And her freshness awakened something I’d denied so fucking long.
Her lips curved, lush pink crescents. “You really are handsome, Max.”
A jolt, unwanted, hit me low and hard and too fast.
“I don’t want you coming back to the MC.” At the sound of my gruff voice, her eyelashes shuttered down. “Not a safe place for a girl like you.”
Suddenly her chin thrust up. “And I don’t think you have any right to give me orders.”
I glanced from her to the house next door, separated by a tall brick wall and iron gates we’d passed through many a night. A threshold I couldn’t cross again.
My phone rang, and I dug it out, staring anywhere but at Shy.
Saved by the fucking iPhone.
I answered the ringing cell, turning my head away from Shy. Listened to the voice on the other end.
“She is?” I asked.
Boomer—my midnight caller—replied in the affirmative.
“Holy shit.” I tucked my phone away, a grin chasing my lips.
“Good news?” Shiloh stood uncertainly in front of me.
“Yeah. The best.” I kissed her hard and quick on the lips—not something I’d intended at all. “Gotta go. Brodie and Boomer’s little sis is having her baby.”
I backed away, but Shiloh halted me. “Max?”
“Yeah?”
“It was good seeing you again.” She moved against me, and her voice barely breathed against my ear. “And I’m not taking your warning to stay away.”
A hard shudder crashed through my body, and I had trouble focusing on my helmet, the kickstand . . . breathing in and out . . .
Hammering down, I left a tread mark on the road when I roared away from Shy. I looked back, just once. And she watched me, too.
Chapter Three
All in the Family
THE HOSPITAL WHERE CAT was popping out the kid wasn’t far from Shy’s house, but the couple of miles through Charleston’s busy one-way street system took longer than expected. I made it up to the maternity ward and had to bark a laugh at the scene in the waiting room.
Looked like all of Retribution MC plus the crew from Stone’s Auto Service had set up shop and hunkered down for the duration. The men from the garage were all good friends with both Cat and her famous husband, Nick Loveland. That meant they were part of the family as well.
Massive dudes everywhere.
Black leather and big boots.
Goatees and long hair and gruff voices.
I fit right in with the melee, getting a quick update from soon-to-be Uncle Brodie.
The dude had the chillest eyes I’d ever seen—icy pale blue—and now they looked a little damp. “Hey, bro. Cat’s hangin’ in there. Baby got a little turned around on the way out—”
“Probably got the wrong directions from you!” Josh Stone—owner of
the garage and Nicky’s best friend—heckled.
For once Brodie just flashed him a grin, not the bird. “Anyway, C-section for her. They just wheeled her in. Nicky’s with her. Baby should be out in no time.”
I knocked my knuckles against his then went to say hi to the other almost uncle, Boomer. He only stopped pacing when his wife Rayce placed her hand on his forearm.
For the next twenty minutes we all hung out, taking over the waiting room, watching the door for Nicky to appear with the good news. Thirty minutes and Brodie started raking his hands through his hair while Boomer looked like he was about to bull rush the swinging doors.
And yet more bets were placed on the baby’s gender.
I was throwing my money down the newest bean on the block was a boy.
Finally the doors were thrown open with enough force to create a breeze, and Nicky, still in his surgical gear and cap, stuck his head outside.
“Well?” Josh strutted toward him. “Ya fuck. Boy or girl? I got money riding on this.” He razzed his buddy, but his giant grin was as unmistakable as the one on the proud new papa’s face.
“It’s a boy, y’all!” He whooped, and everyone joined in, sending the room into sheer pandemonium.
Boomer and Brodie marched up to give him hard hugs while the rest of us shouted our congrats and best wishes for Cat, drilling him about when we could see the newest arrival to the world. The latest member of the Retribution MC/Chrome and Steele family.
Shit, I shed a tear or two. Even Tail knuckled beneath his eyes.
Nicky scowled at all of us as if he was contemplating getting us kicked off the maternity ward before he finally relented with nothing short of the biggest shit-eating grin I’d ever seen.
“Yeah, c’mon.” He motioned us into the corridor. “But keep it down. Jesus. They’re just cleaning him up while they finish with Cat, then we’ll be in the recovery room. But you might get a glimpse from the nursery window.”
Brodie hustled up to him. “So? What’s my nephew’s name?”
“My nephew too.” Boomer bristled.
“And I’m honorary uncle.” Josh made sure his claim was clear as well.
I chuckled.
Nicky stopped just before stepping into the nursery. “Daniel.” His throat bobbed, and he wiped a finger under his eye. “Danny. Named him after my brother.”
The brother who’d overdosed. Fuck. Another sting of emotion clamped my throat tight. Burying his only brother was a story Nicky had unfolded for us after we’d all helped him lay his grandmother to rest.
“That’s perfect.” Josh gave him a crushing hug. “You done good.”
“Well, Cat did all of it.”
“Of course she did. She was born a Steele,” Brodie boasted, but his voice was shaky.
“Made of something close to steel, that’s for sure.” Nicky opened the door to the nursery then glanced back. “Thanks, guys. All of you. For coming.”
We took up the entire hallway, crowding at the big window, possibly leaving nose-prints on the glass. Nicky reappeared, holding the tiniest bundle imaginable. Incredible. Wrapped in a blanket with a plain white knitted cap on his head, baby Daniel fit into the pocket of Nicky’s forearm like it was the most perfect cradle in the world. His little red mouth popped open, and one hand clutched strongly at Nick’s huge thumb.
The dudes pulled out their phones, quickly snapping off pictures. Tucker nodded over and over with twin tears coursing down his cheeks—he’d been a father figure to the Steele family after the accident that took both their parents. Now he had a daughter in Rayce, and because of his close bond with Cat, he was practically a grandfather.
We watched Nicky kiss Daniel’s forehead then dip his head toward us before he turned away to take Daniel to his momma.
The commotion since leaving Shiloh kept my mind momentarily off her showing up at the MC. That almost felt like a lifetime ago, but it was only an hour or so. She was a complication from the past I didn’t need.
Correction: my past was the complicated part, not her.
Once I got home—after stopping at the bar for a congratulatory drink with my brethren and Josh Stone and the knuckle draggers from the garage—all the unwelcome bullshit from days I tried not to think about started seeping back in.
Home. There was one helluva big difference between my small piece of real estate in the Old Village of Mt. Pleasant compared to my parents’ house on The Battery downtown.
I owned approximately half an acre and the small cottage that sat on it. The house dated from the 1930s, and I’d been systematically updating it when I had the spare cash—or whenever Tail could help me out for a free case of beer.
At least he was easy to please.
My parents? Not so much. Or maybe I’d given up trying. Yeah. Definitely that.
Trust fund rich boy turns badass biker with a mighty big chip on his shoulder.
My folks owned a distilling empire. The MC even carried our label, but no one knew it came from my family.
Bourbon was king where I’d grown up, and I was into that too, but it had been fast rides, hot rods, and illegal street racing that made me go off the rails.
Such a Rush . . .
Speed was in my blood.
I’d tried hard to remain pretty much anonymous, keep my head down, and most definitely stay off the MPPD’s motherfucking radar since cleaning up my act. At the age of nineteen, after my third arrest by none other than Brodie’s fiancée, Ashe Kingston—then a rookie cop—my father sent his lawyer to bail me out, hand me a suitcase, an envelope full of cash, and the big kiss off.
Seven years ago and I hadn’t been in contact with my parents or my younger sister since.
In all that time we’d never crossed paths. Definitely kept different social circles. I stayed on my side of the Cooper River.
Three strikes and you’re out. Disowned by the Rush family. I’d brought shame on them. Sullied their status in the high-and-mighty, old money, old school Charleston snooty society.
That cash the lawyer had handed over to me? Yeah, those greenbacks sat in my savings account, unused, untouched, unwanted.
Some things I didn’t regret. The cars I’d bought in my teen years as soon as I’d gotten my license—the wicked-looking ’73 silver and black Pantera and the hellishly fast Chevy Nova. Both babied and pampered in the two-car garage that had almost as many square feet as my house.
Didn’t regret having my own place. Owning my own piece of land.
Or joining up with Retribution MC, working with my hands at Chrome and Steele every day to earn a living.
But I had my own plans, too.
And one day I’d face my father and give his money back to him, because I was not a broken man no matter how hard he’d tried to bring me to my knees.
Shy. Her name echoed from my lips as I turned off the light in the fresh-paint-smelling living room with the huge bay window Tail and I had installed last weekend.
She shouldn’t look so good to me.
And I shouldn’t look back to the past, because some things could never be changed.
Chapter Four
Baby Fever
A WEEK LATER, NICKY drove up to the compound with his baby momma, newborn Daniel, and Viper the precious Rottweiler drooling in the back of his upgraded hardtop Jeep.
Cat was on maternity leave from the family business, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t ride roughshod over anyone who dared slack in her absence. Lucky for me I worked only on the custom car and motorcycle orders, rarely stepping into the offices because that woman right there was nothing short of a ball-buster. Gorgeous as a gypsy with her long straight black hair and fully inked sleeves and eyes that flashed like blue ice—but no woman I wanted to tangle with.
Nicholas Loveland? Nicky Love? Mr. Famous Romance Writer? Word was he’d actually taken her on in the ring at Crossfit and let her kick his ass. The letting part was still up for debate. Whatever it was, they made a good couple. Maybe because they’d both known hard ti
mes and come out the better for it.
It was time for midmorning break, and Brodie and I’d been heading to the gym set up at the back of the MC building, but Viper made a beeline for me, all big paws and long sloppy licks.
Brodie hurried over to catch the door for his sister with Nicky carrying the car seat containing Daniel. Snapping my fingers under Viper’s velvety nose, I led her to the office of the business side of things then watched the huge canine almost knock the receptionist, Lucy, on her ass once the doggie bolted inside.
Ultimate chaos ensued. The best kind. Happy dog. Happy families. Men from the MC invading the building as soon as they’d seen the Jeep pull up.
Cat glowed. That shit was not a lie.
Boomer stood in front of the car seat perched on a chair, glowering. “When can I hold him?”
“How about now, Boom?” Cat gently unbuckled a worrisome number of straps before lifting the tiny baby boy up and out, still sleeping.
Brodie watched, just a couple months away from his first baby being born, grumbling, “I get him next.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Boomer couldn’t care less what Brodie said.
He rocked Daniel—the little bundle cradled against his huge shoulder.
The baby startled at his deep voice, his eyes popping as wide as his mouth, before Boom ssshhhd him in a gentler tone.
I kissed Cat on the cheek. “He’s really beautiful.”
She reached for Nicky, dangling her hands in his wavy hair. “I think he’s gonna look like his daddy here.”
Other men held off just enough of a discreet distance, but fuck it, it was clear to see every single big bad MC dude was spellbound by the tiny being.
“So, is he gonna have cool blue eyes or violet like Nicky’s there?” Tail was the first to ask.
Cole glanced over, his eyebrows raised question mark high. “Time to start a new wager?”
“I’ll collect the bets.” Tucker’s thumbs beat against his chest as he beamed at the baby in Boomer’s arms.
“You men are hopeless.” Cat happily sighed.
Grudgingly—when Brodie’s impatience brooked no more waiting—Boomer handed off the sleeping parcel.
Brodie’s eyes immediately glazed over. “Oh, fuck. He’s a tiny thing, isn’t he?”