by Rie Warren
Looking big and badass and road-weary. Wearing my MC cut, leather pants, and the twin gauges in my ears.
“Maxwell?” Mr. Lockhart held out his hand hesitantly. “It’s been a long time.”
I met his palm. “Sure has.”
“You grew up.” His eyes narrowed into hard beads targeted on me.
The last they’d probably known about me was the jail time I’d gotten before I’d dropped all the way off the Charleston high society grid.
“Your girlfriend, is she doing okay? Because Shiloh has—” The doors dinged open on the oncology ward before Mrs. Lockhart completed her sentence.
Christ. They have no idea about their daughter and me.
We all tromped in the same direction, toward Shy’s room.
Mr. Lockhart opened the door.
My heart leaped into my throat.
Mrs. Lockhart turned to frown at me with an ahem expression on her face.
Sending a last look at the black-dressed dudes lingering in the corridor, I stepped inside.
“Max!” Shy called to me from the bed.
Relief washed right over me when I saw her. She was a little pale and hooked up to an IV, but she was alert and smiling as she held her hand out to me.
Unfortunately her folks weren’t all too happy to find out my girlfriend with cancer was none other than their daughter.
“What’s the meaning of this, Shiloh?” Daddy Lockhart’s jaw tensed into a locked-tight position.
“Oh!” She kept staring at me, and I realized she’d never seen me in full biker gear before.
I guess me dressed in the leathers and a tight T-shirt and the big boots flipped her switch big time.
I’d remember that . . . for some time in the future, because right now her continued staring/almost drooling at the sight of me wasn’t making her ’rents any happier.
Can you say awkward much?
“Why is Maxwell Rush”—Mr. Lockhart’s inflection somehow replaced my name with the words total fucking loser—“here to see you?”
Might as well just brand me as the black sheep of The Battery, forget about the Rush family’s scapegoat.
“Mrs. Lockhart, Mr. Lockhart. We’ve been seeing each other.” I finally moved from my frozen stance by the door. “Shy’s pretty special to me.”
When I reached her side, I leaned down to kiss her forehead then I dropped into the nearby chair and wrapped my hand around hers.
“And you’re doing what exactly now?” Unveiled scorn dripped from Mrs. Lockhart’s voice. “Since you wasted your top-class education and got cut off from your family?”
“I work at Chrome and Steele Auto Parts. You want my resume? And by the way, I own my home.” I tried to maintain the respect for Shy’s folks, but it was hard when faced with this line of inquisition.
Like I wasn’t worthy, which was exactly my biggest battle with myself concerning being part of Shy’s life.
“Where? North Charleston?” Justine Lockhart’s icy veneer reached bitter cold levels as she sneered down her patrician nose at me.
Snob didn’t stand for just Slightly North of Broad; it stood for all the elitist bullshit I’d bucked against growing up.
The atmosphere in the private room remained glacial.
“Shiloh.” Her father stepped in, taking her other hand. “As soon as Doctor Haines says it’s okay we’ll take you home.”
Removing her hand from her dad’s, she glared at him, her delicate jaw set. “I’m not going home with you, Daddy. I have my own place now. And you can’t just shut Max out because he doesn’t fit your idea of the perfect downtown bachelor anymore.”
“Should you even be dating right now?” Her mom sat at the end of the bed.
“Would you rather I died never having done all the things I wanted to?” Shy’s furious words struck my heart, made me clench her hand harder.
Her folks finally had the decency to look a little repentant.
“Relax. I’m not on death’s door. I’m just making a point. I’ve gone through enough tests and surgeries and chemo and goddamned pain to have earned the right to live my life as I see fit!” Her cheeks pink, those gorgeous eyes flashed. “I’m going home to my own bed. And I’m damn well doing a lot more than dating Max. So stop treating me like I’m a child!”
Okay then. Way to out us as lovers.
I shifted in my seat, practically fucking squirming after Shy so righteously dropped that particular bomb.
“You’re right, Shiloh.” Her mom slid forward and framed her daughter’s face in her hands. “You’re right. You have every right to make your own decisions. You always have.” Her voice broke, and she sniffed. “We worry about you so much, darling.”
Shy hugged her mom while Mr. Lockhart looked on, a damp sheen making his eyes glassy, just like mine.
Pulling away, Shy laughed huskily. “I think the drugs make me a little bitchy.”
I bit back a chuckle, recapturing my hold on her hand.
“Well”—Justine drew out a tissue and dabbed at her eyes—“we always called you spirited.”
Thomas’s eyes crinkled. “I thought the term was willful.”
“Okay. You can’t dredge up my teenage years now.” Shy fidgeted with the sheet, folding and refolding it with her fingers.
“Actually, I’d like to hear all about the rest of those years.” As long as mine were off the table.
“You’re terrible.”
Pretending her parents weren’t watching, hawkeyed, I slipped my hand up her arm, around her neck, and brushed our lips softly together.
“You can remind me of that later,” I murmured, drawing away with a quick lick to her mouth.
She appeared even more flustered, sexy, cute . . . in a hospital bed. All the tension between her parents and me had diverted my attention from the facts of the matter I still wasn’t clued in on.
I leaned back. “So, what’s the verdict on your infection?”
“This isn’t a courtroom.” One of her fair eyebrows arched high.
“Shiloh’s infection was caused by a slightly ill-fitting suction socket on her prosthesis. It got into her blood, and she had a reaction to the first antibiotics.” Justine kept her steady eyes on mine. “They switched the prescription, and her fever’s gone down. We’re just waiting for Dr. Haines to give her a final check.”
Shy let out a long sigh, apparently so over listening to her personal, medical details recited right in front of her.
I twisted back to her once I got the lowdown on her condition.
Fuck. Her condition.
Still looked like the same woman I’d left—naked and sated on her couch—late two nights before.
Except for the silky headscarf she’d wrapped over her short, wavy hair to take the place of her usual fashionable wig.
“I wish you’d take this off.” I swept my fingers over the tied scarf, watching her duck her face.
And that wouldn’t do.
I brushed my lips against her ear, breathing out, “Already told you I like your new hair, and I like all of you exactly as you are.”
She patted her head doubtfully before beginning to unwind the scarf. “I’m still shy about the way I look.”
I chuckled from deep in my throat, quickly filling my fingers with her softer than soft waves. “Well, you’ll always be my Shy. But not like that. Not ever with me.”
She peeked up at me, placing her hand on my stubbly jaw. “Maybe not so terrible after all.”
“I know it’s not the color her hair used to be, but look at me? I have to pay hundreds of dollars at the salon to get highlights like this.” Mrs. Lockhart winked conspiratorially at me. “I don’t like her hiding what she’s been through either. And how much stronger she’s grown from it. Her work with Sinclair Chatham, has she told you about the donation, Max?”
“God, Mom . . . Stop. Please,” Shy grumbled.
This was the most bizarre scene, and one of the most touching moments of my life. I wondered if I could get to
the box of tissues without anyone noticing.
Her parents weren’t all that bad after all.
But Brodie freakin’ busybody Steele sure was.
He shoved his head inside the door after rapping on it. “Hey, Shiloh. You doing okay?” Before she could reply, he stepped into the room. “I gotta cut out, Handsome.”
His eyes looked brighter than usual, and he kept glancing at his phone.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Ashe. She’s here. In labor.”
My mouth probably plopped open. “Isn’t it a little early?”
“Seems so. She’s saying it’s my fault for telling the baby to hurry up so I can meet it.” He grinned, his body virtually vibrating. “The OB’s got it covered. Baby Steele on the way, my man.”
“Where’s Cara. Do you need—”
“Nah, nah. You take care of Shiloh here. Nick and Cat picked up Cara.” He opened the door to leave like his feet were on fire.
“Wow, man.” I crossed over to hug him fast and hard. “Wow.”
“I’ll text you.” Brodie disappeared down the hall in a flash.
On the cusp of fatherhood.
Ashe about to give birth to her second child.
Something Shy might never experience.
I shut the door softly, trying to keep my emotions in check.
“Is Ashe okay?” Shy asked.
“Sounds like it.” I pulled the chair closer to her. “I’m more concerned about you though.”
A few minutes later, a woman who was presumably Shy’s oncologist entered. The Lockharts turned from their whispered conference at the window and greeted her.
I rose to my feet immediately, introducing myself to Doctor Haines. As she carefully checked Shy, I listened intently to all the aftercare instructions and dates for follow-up appointments.
“Did you get all that, Max?” Shy teased me as soon as Doctor Haines gave her the all clear.
“Damn right I did.” I stood next to the bed with my arms folded over my chest.
Her eyebrow arched, and she shook her head.
I began gathering Shy’s bag. “So, are you ready to check out now, baby?”
“It’s not a hotel either.” She laughed full throttle.
“I know.” Rubbing my hands over my face, I groaned. “Shi—shoot, I know. I mean are you ready to bounce out of here?”
My new choice of terms seemed to amuse her even more, and she grinned. “Definitely ready.”
While Justine helped Shy change out of the hospital gown in the bathroom, Thomas and I pretended the whole situation was not entirely awkward. It was almost a relief when an orderly brought in the wheelchair so we could get Shy out of there.
When she exited the bathroom in her own clothes, I picked her up in my arms.
“I hate these things.” Her mouth puckered while I set her down in the wheelchair.
“Hospital rules. Besides, I know how to pop wheelies.” I dropped a kiss on top of her head.
Helping wrap her hair in the scarf, I asked, “You ready to break out of here?”
“I can’t wear my prosthetics until the infection clears up and I get re-fit.”
“Okay.”
“But my shop opens in a couple weeks, and I still have a million things to–”
I pressed a fingertip to Shy’s lips. “Okay. We’ll take care of it.”
“We tried to tell her it was too soon to be taking on such a big responsibility.” Justine smiled to lessen the rebuke.
“Always so headstrong.” Thomas reached out to cup Shy’s face.
“Probably one of her best traits.” Justine squeezed Shy’s hand. “And we’ll be there to help out any way we can, of course. Max, just let us know.”
“Who’s the we who’s going to help get the store up and running?” Shy whispered as I wheeled her out into the corridor of the hospital.
The Retribution men stood up straight and center as soon as they saw Shy.
“These yahoos.” I motioned toward them.
“Oh God. They all know?” Her hands flitted down to the visible stump of her leg.
“I tried to tell them not to come, but they’re stubborn.” I squeezed her shoulders. “Just like someone else I know.”
Boomer stepped up. “Hey, Shiloh. Our buddy needed to make sure you were all right. Damn happy to see you getting out of this place.”
Tucker shook her folks’ hands then held out his huge fist to bump Shy’s.
Every man came forward, formally greeting her parents and giving their own gritty downhome blessing to my girl.
Tail saved the best—not—for last. “You know, if Handsome screws things up with you, I’ll gladly take over.” Asshole winked, once again pushing all my jealous buttons.
“Handsome?” Justine interjected.
“Max’s roadname.” Shy linked her fingers through mine. “Thank you, guys.” She dipped her head then looked up with a coy grin aimed at Tail. “And I’ll keep your offer in mind.”
All the men guffawed.
Her parents stared at us, open-mouthed.
I muttered a few foul words under my breath as we headed toward the elevators.
“Relax. I was just joking,” she said as I rolled her away.
“That’s not even funny though.”
“But you know what is?” The elevator doors slid shut behind us. “We left my parents with the MC!”
“Looks like it.” I stooped so we were eye to eye.
“I think that may have just made my day, Handsome.” She clasped me behind the neck. “That, and you being here.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Strength and Steele
WE ONLY MADE IT a few floors down before my phone lit up.
A huge grin spread across my face when I saw the group message from Brodie. “I’M A BABY DADDY!”
“What is it? Did Ashe have the baby?” Shy tugged on my wrist.
I showed her the photo of Brodie propped up next to Ashe, both of them cuddling a blanketed bundle with a tiny round face and a rosebud mouth and a pink ribbon on the top of the knit cap.
A girl.
The messages started pinging back and forth like crazy, and I knew the maternity ward would soon be the scene of bedlam when basically an entire MC plus the MPPD made their way downtown to celebrate. Not to mention the dudes we’d left moments ago upstairs.
I wanted to see the baby, but I . . .
“You want to visit, Max?” Shy peered up at me.
“Would you mind?”
“Of course not. We’re already here.”
“Okay.” I redirected the elevator to the right floor. “Only for a minute or two.”
Brodie was stalking up and down the hallway, buzzing with energy, when we located the ward.
He practically ran toward us. “Oh, man.” He bear-hugged me before bending to give Shy a squeeze too. “She’s freakin’ beautiful. Wait ’til you see her!”
“We don’t want to impose on Ashe,” I said.
“Are you kidding me? She’s like an expert at this stuff.” He swept the door open. “She can’t wait to show off our new baby girl.”
I wheeled Shy into the room, which was—somehow—already filled with flowers and balloons.
Ashe sat in the bed with her daughter snuggled in her arms. She looked tired but radiant at the same time.
Brodie patted me on the back. “You get first viewing. Nice one, dude.”
I could tell he was trying to be cool, but his voice shook, and he quickly knuckled beneath his eyes before gathering the tiny, pink-faced baby in his arms.
“Wanna hold her?” he asked, unable to tear his gaze from the newest, littlest Steele.
“Don’t think we should. You know. Shy’s infection and everything.”
“Okay, okay.” He rocked the little sweetie gently in his arms, his voice dropping low. “She’s freakin’ precious. Can’t believe she’s finally here.” Leaning over the bed, he kissed Ashe softly on the lips. “You done so good, babe.”
“Not too bad yourself, Brodie.” Ashe caressed the curve of his jaw.
A lump grew in my throat, and I looked down to see Shy’s watery smile.
“Well, what’s her name, proud papa?” I asked.
As soon as I voiced the question, baby girl’s mouth popped open to emit one loud squall before she settled back to sleep in her daddy’s arms.
“Roxanna Rebecca Steele.” Brodie patted her on the rump, brimming with paternal pride. “But I’m just gonna call her Rockstar.”
“Have fun with that once the boys start hanging around her.” I grinned.
“Boys? Screw that. There will be no boys for my little rockstar. Ever.” He pushed his thumb into the little lady’s tiny grip.
“Foxy Roxy? Just sayin’.” I smirked.
Brodie’s head shot up, and he glared at me. “Good point. Changing her name to Agnes.”
Ashe smacked him lightly on his side. “We’ll do no such thing. And if you’re not careful her name’s going to be Roxanna Rebecca Kingston.”
“Kingston?” Shy asked.
“My last name.” Ashe pinned her gaze on Brodie.
Brodie shuffled his big feet.
“Uh. Yeah. Brodie popped the question last year, but he still hasn’t married Ashe yet,” I explained.
“Oh dear!” Shy’s lips curled together, she was probably trying not to laugh, watching the big bad biker dude go all sheepish.
“Exactly,” Ashe agreed.
“Gonna fix that soon.” Brodie nuzzled his nose against baby Roxy’s.
“Dude. Your house is dominated by females,” I said, very entertained by the idea.
Ashe sure as hell wasn’t a pushover, and Cara—their ten-year-old—often claimed to be more mature than her adoptive dad.
“Yeah. I don’t think I’ll hate it too much.” Shrugging, Brodie grinned. “’Sides. I’ve still got Twatson the cat on my side.”
We didn’t hang around too much longer, just enough to seep in the vibe of new baby and happy family. I managed to get Shy out of there before the rest of the dudes descended en masse.
“She’s adorable.” Shy sighed.
“I think she’s gonna end up giving them a run for their money.” I rubbed my fingertips along Shy’s neck. “You all right?”