Havoc turned his head and looked up at his President. His face had gone slack and white. He didn’t answer, but he turned his phone so Isaac could read. Len peered between their shoulders.
It was his personal phone. Across the top of the screen was his wife’s name: Cory. Water broke. Home pls. Now pls.
Isaac laughed. “Well, brother, you better get your ass in gear. Can you ride?”
“Uhhh.”
Still laughing, Isaac pulled Havoc from the barstool. “I’ll take you home. You’re gonna need to pull yourself together to get her to the hospital.”
Havoc still looked about ten minutes behind everybody else. “No. It’s wrong. It’s not time. She’s got like a month left. I didn’t even build the crib yet. It’s still in its fucking box. It’s too early. What if he’s not done in there?”
“They took Bo three weeks early, remember? He was fine. A little small, but no sweat. Come on, Hav. You gotta man up here and take care of your family. I’ll build the crib. Let’s go. Davey—van keys.” Davey, standing behind the bar looking on with interest, opened a drawer and then tossed the keys into Isaac’s waiting hand. With his other hand over Havoc’s neck, Isaac led the father-to-be out to the lot.
Len watched them go, grinning. Watching Havoc figure out how to be a father to an infant son was going to be hilarious.
He liked the new Horde—the men settling down, making families. Havoc’s new boy made three young kids running around—or someday running around—the clubhouse. And Havoc had a stepson, Nolan, who Len thought might end up wearing the Flaming Mane in a few years. There was new life in the club. Even with all the death and mayhem of the past five years, even with the turmoil they were currently in, still there was new life. It gave him hope.
And Len fucking loved babies. He’d always wanted to be a father—it still gave him a pang to think that once he might have been—but it hadn’t been in the cards for him. He was getting too old for it now, he thought. Nobody needed an old fart nearing seventy standing next to them in their high school graduation pictures. So he’d be an uncle. He couldn’t wait to get his mitts on this new one.
~oOo~
He’d called Tasha. They’d argued—of course they had—but finally she’d caved and agreed to put together a ‘proposal’ for her practice that he could bring to the Horde officers and then to the table at large. He understood that he was going to get his way with all of this, because he understood that she wanted it, too. But she was afraid. Afraid of failing, of losing control, of giving somebody else any power in her life or work, of being beholden. She needed to be nudged. Sometimes shoved. He’d come to understand that, for all of her unconventional interests and proclivities, for all the ways she seemed like a free spirit—for all the ways she was a free spirit—she was also riddled with fear, and she held onto control with a rigid fist.
He understood her preference as a bottom, then, too. Once she could trust, she wanted a respite, a chance to release that fist and be free.
And he understood how precious her trust was. How fragile and irreplaceable. Holding that trust was a lot of responsibility, but absolutely worth it. And he would not break what he had been given.
He’d placed the call in the bays, so he could have some privacy. He could have gone back to the dorm room he’d claimed and kept for fucking, but he didn’t want to talk to Tasha while he was in there.
He headed back to the Hall, aimed for his bike. He planned to do a couple of hours at the hardware store—he owned the little place and needed to run in and at least deal with payroll and ordering, though these days he didn’t have time to do much more than that and left the day to day shit to his few employees. He normally had Horde on staff, usually Prospects, but it had gotten too difficult to keep the doors open when his employees were being drawn off for club business. So now, he had a manager and a couple of clerks from town.
All the Horde had some kind of straight work on record. Time was, they’d needed the steady paychecks. Now, they were too busy to do more than probably ten or fifteen hours, if that, but they kept the jobs on the books, and the businesses in Signal Bend accommodated them. Part of their compact—the Horde took care of the town, and the town made room for them to do that.
As he passed the kitchen, Gwen called him, and he turned to see her leaning on the island, her cleavage maximized. He leaned against the doorway.
“Hey, Gwennie. How you doin’, darlin’?
Gwen had been around the clubhouse for a lot of years. She was almost as old as Len was, he thought. She was hot enough—she’d been blazing hot in the day—and she kept herself up. But club life was hard on her, and it seemed to be getting harder. When she’d been Isaac’s favorite, she’d had an easier go. Now, though, she was doing lots of drinking, lots of smoking, lots of fucking of all kinds. She worked as a cocktail waitress at an airport bar, and lived in Worden, so she had a long fucking commute to work every day. But she was in the clubhouse regularly, like clockwork. He had a soft spot for her. And she made a good show of fucking other women. He thought maybe she was actually bi.
“Ain’t seen you around for a long time, Len. You doin’ okay? Not still hurting from…” She pointed limply toward his gut.
“Nah, doll. I’m good. Just busy.”
She pushed herself off from the island and sauntered over to him with a sway in her hips. He stood there and watched until she was standing right in front of him, and she hooked a finger through one of his belt loops. “You busy now?” With her other hand, she lifted his hand and placed it on her tit.
He let her, and his cock noticed, filling out his jeans. She had a good rack. And she always smelled great—a little flowery, but not cloyingly so. He imagined her in bed with him and Tasha, and his cock maxed out.
But Tasha would never go for it. Isaac was right—she had a stick up her ass about the clubhouse and the women there. He understood—Isaac had made a big show of fucking club whores to force an end with her. But he wasn’t getting into a goddamn bed with a goddamn guy unless it was a brother—somebody who’d be accountable to him. So he wasn’t sure how they were going to make this whole foursome idea work.
In the past month, they’d done the threesome thing again a few times—three times with Nadia, and once with Greta, Tasha’s curvy friend. More his type, but it was Nadia who’d paid him some attention in these encounters. Greta had been very much about Tasha. They’d done a position he’d never tried before—Tasha lying between Greta’s legs, her back against Greta’s ample tits, and Len fucking her while Greta worked Tasha’s tits. That had been hot. Tasha really got off on being sandwiched, and Len had found it exhilarating to kiss both women and to feel Greta’s hands on his chest as she worked Tasha’s tits hard. Tasha’s hands had been between their legs, working her clit and his balls as he’d pounded into her.
Yeah…they could do that again.
Now, though, after more female-centric encounters, Tasha was pushing hard for another guy. She wasn’t pushing for Carter, and that was good, because that wasn’t going to happen. He’d actually spent an evening with all of her friends now, and he really disliked that pompous asswipe. He had designs on Tasha that pushed beyond their little sex circle; Len could smell it on him, even if Tasha said he was wrong. That dude was gonna get himself maimed.
The others were fine. He liked all the women, and the gay guy, Chad—he was so very gay, but Tasha said he still liked group encounters that swung in any direction—seemed harmless. Len had suggested that he wouldn’t mind bringing Kerry into bed sometime. She was very tall and lithe, with beautiful, dark hair, and she had a quiet poise about her that Len found appealing, but Tasha had given him an odd look and had said, simply, no.
But now it was his turn. Though she’d resisted the idea of bringing another member of the Horde into her bed, he had refused to consider anything else. It had to be somebody he trusted, somebody who would know the line and heed it. Finally, she’d acquiesced. But he had to figure out who. The brothers he’d most
trust were not candidates—Isaac, Show, Havoc, all in absolutely monogamous marriages. Badger? Good Christ, the kid could barely work himself up to talk to a club girl. He’d shrivel up and die in the scenario Tasha had in mind. Dom? No.
Shit. He’d made this fucking promise to Tasha, but he had no idea how to make it happen in any way he could stomach.
“Len? Where’d you go?” Gwen pulled a little on his belt loop, bringing him back into the moment. He still had his hand on her tit.
Giving it a little squeeze before he pulled away, he said, “Sorry, doll. I am busy.”
“Another time, then?” She looked really disappointed. Poor Gwen. The younger guys paid her no mind at all, and the older guys were just about all paired off now. Only Zeke, who’d patched in with Tommy, from the Haymakers. Len hadn’t gotten much of a read on Zeke with the women, but he was substantially older—mid-sixties—and heavy. Not a looker. Decent guy, though.
He bent down and pressed a chaste kiss to Gwen’s rouged lips. “Sure, doll. ‘Nother time.” He didn’t like to lie, but he didn’t like to hurt a sad woman, either.
With that, he turned and headed into the Hall.
Tommy was sitting at the bar with Badger. Tommy. Over thirty. Ripped—overmuch, in Len’s opinion. He and Zeke had only been wearing the Mane for a couple of months. But he was a brother, and a good kid, if a little bold and flashy. He wouldn’t cross any lines Len set. He wondered what Tasha would think of him.
Fuck. Well, there was no mistaking that Len was in love with Tasha, because he was standing here in the middle of the Hall, checking out Tommy’s ass and wondering what he’d be like in bed. Because his woman didn’t want to be exclusively monogamous, and she honestly believed that there was another way to be monogamous.
A good half of Len’s head argued strenuously not to look down the throat of this gift horse. He had a woman who wanted to have sex the way he’d preferred for half his fucking life. That was something special; he knew that. He enjoyed variety. He enjoyed all different kinds of female bodies. And he’d never have to give them up, as long as he included Tasha in the party. How could this be a bad thing?
Because, the other half of his head argued, those people were getting between them. She was using them as a shield to keep from getting too close. He had to figure out a way to get her to see that, because until he believed that she was ready to trust him enough to go all in with him, then he’d be jealous when it wasn’t just them.
But in the meantime, he was going to try this thing she wanted him to try.
~oOo~
He’d only been at the hardware store a couple of hours before he got a text to meet Lucas Joseph Mariano, Havoc and Cory’s new boy. So he mounted up and rode to Springfield.
He was the last one in. Havoc was out in the waiting room with a little bundle in a blue-striped blanket and a white beanie. He and his boy were surrounded by rough men in leather kuttes.
Havoc.
With a kid.
And an old lady.
And a house.
The world was turning, that was for sure.
Len got up close, pushing Dom out of his way. All babies were cute. But this little guy had his eyes wide open already, and he seemed like he was looking around, getting to know his uncles. Too early for that—he probably couldn’t see much at all—but he sure did look smart as a whip. And he was holding Havoc’s index finger in a tight grip.
“Good job, brother. Who’d’ve thought your mug could make something so good. Your lady okay?’
Havoc laughed—it had an edge of mania to it. The guy was hopped up on adrenaline. “Yeah. She’s sleepin’, I think. Boy could hardly wait. She shot him out in the fuc—in the hallway downstairs, right out in the middle of everything. They barely got her onto a stretcher. That was a fuc—a messed up ride here, man. Sure I was gonna have a heart attack.” Every time he almost cussed, his eyes darted guiltily to the bundle in his arms. “I had no idea how loud she could get. And the shi—stuff she threatened me with! There’s a psycho hiding in that little body.”
Len gave him a sharp pat on his arm. “Keep it in mind, brother, and keep her happy. Where’s Nolan?”
“Downstairs, getting a sandwich or something. The whole thing freaked him out worse than me. I don’t think he was happy to see that much of his ma. He might never get his cherry popped now.”
The baby fussed, and Len reached out and took a little, blanketed foot between his fingers. “Hey, there, Loki.”
“Nah—Luke. Keep it Luke. Pisses Cory off to call him Loki, and now I know she’s got ideas about doing bad shi—stuff to me in her head. Bobbitt bad. She’d make a decent enforcer, with that kind of mind.”
“Why’s it piss her off?”
“Thinks I’m trying to make him Horde before he can find his toes. That’s a quote, more or less.”
“Are you?” Loki was a pretty great road name. Len took road names seriously. But no baby should have one, in his opinion. Still, he understood Havoc’s impulse—locking in the legacy.
Havoc shrugged. “It’d be cool. But nah.” Luke’s fussing became crying, and quickly became wailing. “Oh shi—I got no idea what…I’m gonna take him back, let Cory figure this out.” He turned and gave Isaac a nod. “Show’s got my proxy.”
Isaac returned the nod, and Havoc hurried back to the maternity ward with his newborn son, who had excellent lung capacity, even born a month early.
Len turned to Isaac. “Proxy for what?”
“Impromptu meeting. Nothing big. Show broke one of the kids we thought busted up Main Street awhile back. And we were right—this problem, at least, is local. One of ‘em got caught shoplifting, and took a pretty bad beating from his dad. That was him and his friends gettin’ back. Just five boys, about sixteen to nineteen. From town and around. I want to get this handled quick, and I figured since we’d all be here, this would do.”
Show stepped up. “They’re gonna pay to fix what they broke. But none of ‘em have any money. So we need to put ‘em to work. Nobody on Main Street wants ‘em around, for obvious reasons. And it’s us they’re paying back, anyway. So how’re we going to work five boys?
Now Isaac came back in, falling into the seamless rhythm he and Show shared. “Hav’ll take the shoplifter—that’s Kellen Frey. He’s gonna clean bathrooms and wash barware at Valhalla.”
Badger chimed in. “I can take one to muck stalls at the B&B.”
Isaac grinned. “Excellent. That’s the kind of work I want these miscreants doing.”
Len looked over at Badger. “Time to treat my fences. Could use one for that.” Badger, who’d done that work a few summers when he was a boy, not for punishment but because he was willing to work hard and had wanted to learn about horses from a master, guffawed. Treating pine fences was nasty work.
Isaac took the others, one to do grunt work at his place, and the other to re-gravel the clubhouse lot. “Excellent. We’ve done good work today. Got a new member of the family, we straightened out the damage on Main Street, and we’ve got five boys to scare straight.”
Seemed to Len a decent day’s work. And he was less than five miles from Tasha’s place. When the rest of the Horde headed back to Signal Bend for an impromptu party to welcome little Lucas, Len, feeling good, feeling calm, peeled off for a different kind of party.
CHAPTER TEN
They came down the dark stairs into the garage under Tasha’s building. Len’s bike was parked across the way from Tasha’s Jeep.
As they headed to her parking space, Len looked over and said, “I’m gonna get a bitch installed on my bike next week. I want you riding with me. I’m fuckin’ tired of driving your cage.”
She grinned. There were still some things he didn’t know about her. “I don’t ride bitch, babe.”
“What? You do when I drive your Jeep.” He was a shit about not riding bitch, not even in a car. He would not ride if a woman was driving. They were all like that—macho dorks.
“Yeah, I do. But not on y
our bike.”
“Okay. Help me out here.”
She held out her hand, raising her eyebrows at her keys, which were clutched in his fist. He tossed them to her, still looking confused. She tucked them away in her pocket and pulled out another set, one with only two keys. Then she walked up to the cabinet against the wall of her space—one of her spaces—and unlocked it. Inside was a gleaming, deep blue motorcycle helmet. Full face. She took it out, locked the cabinet, and turned to Len.
His forehead was wrinkled and his head cocked. “What…?”
Saying nothing, she walked by him and across the garage, to a row of narrower spaces, parking for scooters and bikes. Len followed; she could hear the crinkle of his leather and the jingle of his metal as he walked behind. She went up to a deep blue Kawasaki Ninja and straddled it, resting the helmet in her lap and turning to watch Len walk up alongside her.
Aghast was the only way to describe his expression. “No way. No fucking way. You ride? You ride a fucking crotch rocket? Oh, man. Frank must’ve rolled over when you signed on that dotted line.”
She wasn’t offended. Part of the reason she’d chosen a Ninja was because she wanted some distance from the club, and pushing at its ‘Harleys are everything’ mentality felt like a way to do that. Her father would have thrown a rod to see her paying for a flashy Japanese bike. He’d have thrown a rod to see her navigating one on her own at all. In his world, in the Horde world, chicks rode bitch. Period.
“Get used to it. I ride, and I ride this. We can ride to Signal Bend together.” They were going to the Signal Bend Midsummer Fair. This was, apparently, their coming out party. Len had told Isaac—surprisingly, and thankfully, she had not gotten a call from Isaac after that—but no one else knew. Len thought there would be less attention on them at the Fair. Okay, then. What the hell.
She didn’t like socializing in Signal Bend. She loved the club as her family, but the clubhouse made her uncomfortable. And she only really knew about half the Horde anymore. Len had smoothed the way by telling her that he thought he’d figured out a foursome arrangement he could live with, and she was going to meet the brother in question: Tommy. Honestly, Tasha was relieved that it wouldn’t be one of the Horde she knew well. It would have been very strange to find herself in bed with, say, Showdown.
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