by Lane Hart
“I think we do, too,” I agree with a smile, watching Liam snuggle closer to his father. Once I’m sitting in the wheelchair, the technician begins to roll me out the door. Before he pushes me away, I look back to Torin and say, “You’re already a better father than any I’ve ever known, and I think you’ll make a pretty good old man, too.”
“I told Jade you were my old lady…” he says and the look of shock on his face is priceless as he finally realizes we’ve reached the serious relationship status in the MC’s culture. One that Torin probably never thought he would reach with another woman again. And I can’t help but smile as the technician takes me down the hall.
Epilogue
Torin
Several months later…
“Look at you, momma,” Dalton laughs, laying an uninvited hand on Lexi’s hugely swollen belly. “You’re about to pop!”
I turn from the grill where I’m cooking, ready to slap his hand away. Before I can get close, the baby kicks so violently Dalton’s hand bounces, leaving him with a shocked look on his face.
“Baby girl isn’t going to put up with your shit, either,” I warn Dalton, threatening him with my grill tongs.
“Oh good god,” Lexi mutters as she struggles up from the porch swing at our beach home. “She’s using my bladder as a trampoline again,” she explains as she waddles inside the house.
I watch her weave her way through the rest of the Kings and their family members gathered on the deck, making sure she gets inside, before I turn back to the steaks. War is right beside me, checking the smoker to see how the ribs are coming along.
“I sort of regret never bringing Ren around to stuff like this,” he sighs, taking a deep breath of the ocean breeze. “I thought I was doing the right thing, keeping my family separate from the MC…”
“Don’t worry, brother. You’re gonna get your kid back. You hear me?” I assure him as I give his shoulder a squeeze with my free hand.
“Yeah…yeah, I know I will,” he says, and I understand exactly what he means. He’ll try doing it the court’s way for now. If it comes down to it, though, the Kings will take things into our own hands. War’s ex-wife may be a worthless junkie, but he’s a damn good father.
Dalton clears his throat and asks, “Lexi’s due any day, right?” probably just to change the subject.
“Any day,” I reply. The sooner the better because I can’t help worrying myself to death about her and the baby. I just want our little girl here and to know both of them are healthy.
“I have no idea how that little woman deals with having your massive devil spawn kicking around. I would have C-sectioned myself by now,” Dalton says.
“Lexi’s a champ. I don’t know how she made it through morning sickness, back aches and all the other mess that goes along with pregnancy. At least, she says this one is a lot easier than Liam.”
“It’s because you’re helping this time,” War observes.
“Yeah, I hope that’s part of it,” I tell him. “I hate I missed out on so much before, but…”
“Hey, what did we talk about?” War interrupts. “No more thinking about before. You’re in a better place, Torin. A good place. A place you deserve.”
I wave my tongs at him, dismissing his words. “Yeah, yeah, I know. That’s not what I was getting at. I was going to say, before you got on your high horse, that I’m making up for all of it now. Lexi seems really happy with me, and the way things are going…”
“Ugh, Torin!” Lexi calls from inside the house where the sliding glass door is wide open. “Come here and look at this!”
“Uh-oh,” I grin at War, figuring Liam has gotten into something. Now that he’s walking, he’s a handful. I pass off my utensils to Dalton, who is still leaning on the rail nearby. “Here, make yourself useful, sunshine. Don’t burn my steaks or I’ll cut the next slab off your heinie.”
“My heinie?” Dalton roars in laughter. “Oh man, you gotta get back to hanging out at the clubhouse. This keeps up, you’re gonna have to buy a minivan soon!”
I glare at him as War and I head into the house, irritated that he guessed something Lexi and I had actually discussed. “Fucking minivans,” I mutter quietly so little ears won’t hear, as we head over to where several of our women are gathered near the television. “What’s going on over here, ladies?” I ask.
“Look at this mess that’s on the way,” Lexi says, pointing at the screen. “It’s probably going to hit us right about the time I go into labor, you wait and see!”
“What is it?” I ask, unable to see past everyone standing in front of the television or hear over their chatter.
War is standing off to the side where he has a clear view of the screen. “We better enjoy the clear weather today,” he remarks as he waves me over. Once I’m beside him, I can see the massive spiral of a hurricane spinning in the Atlantic and notice all of the path projection arrows are pointing right at the Carolina coast. The headline underneath is, “Monster category 5 hurricane gaining strength as it barrels toward the Carolina coast.”
“Hell, and things were settling down so nicely,” I mutter.
“Yeah, they were,” War agrees. “But it looks like we’ve got one hell of a storm on the horizon.”
The End
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue were created from the authors’ imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual people or events is coincidental.
The authors acknowledge the copyrighted and trademarked status of various products within this work of fiction.
© 2018 Editor's Choice Publishing
All Rights Reserved.
Only Amazon has permission from the publisher to sell and distribute this title.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Editor’s Choice Publishing
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Edited by All About the Edits
Cover by Marianne Nowicki of PremadeEbookCoverShop.com
WARNING: THIS BOOK IS NOT SUITABLE FOR ANYONE UNDER 18.
Synopsis for War
Warren O’Neil is a single dad constantly juggling two very different lifestyles. While trying to be the best father he can to his young son, he’s also a devoted member of the notorious Savage Kings MC.
War never claimed he was perfect at either role, but he knows that he's a helluva lot better parent than his junkie ex-wife.
Nova McQueen doesn't like being the bad guy who rips kids from their homes. She’s only trying to protect them from neglect and abuse.
And while the big, dirty-talking biker may have once given Nova a wild weekend that she’ll never forget, War is as far from father of the year as you can get. His participation in a motorcycle gang makes Nova certain that his son is in danger.
There's a storm on the horizon; and as tempers flare, a natural disaster may destroy more than just the town the Savage Kings has built.
But it’ll take more than an act of God himself to take War's son away from him.
And Nova can’t decide if she wants to continue to fight the biker’s wrath or succumb to him.
Chapter One
Warren O’Neil
Studies show the average man thinks about sex nineteen times a day.
I’m not your average man.
My life has never had room for any nonessentials like physical intimacy.
Right out of high school, I joined the Army and proudly served my country overseas, repairing Humvees in the desert for four miserable years. When I got back to the States, there wasn’t even time to enjoy my freedom before my parents died unexpectedly in a horrible accident. That’s when I became the sole guardian of my younger sister, Audrey. She was only thirteen when we lost them, and she took the hit even harder than I did.
Then, just when Audrey was about to graduate high school and go off to college, I found out I was gonna be a father. The day Little Warren came into the world was the proudest moment of my life. I’ll never regret having my son.
But I do regret sleeping with his mother and tying myself to her for the rest of our fucking lives.
Last, but certainly not least, I’m a member of the Savage Kings MC. Our club runs the coast with an iron fist, which means sometimes we occasionally have to deal with enemies. Since I’m the Sergeant-at-Arms to Torin, our MC’s president, my job is to stand between him and anyone who tries to kill him. Protecting him means sometimes I have to get my hands dirty.
No, it’s not the profession I would’ve picked for myself when I was a kid, but I make damn good money. Loyalty to my Army friend is the main reason I joined, but the cash was also a nice bonus, back six or so years ago, when I knew that my measly income as an auto mechanic wasn’t gonna come close to paying for my sister’s college tuition.
My life is hectic as shit.
Even after all this time, I make sure to keep my biological family entirely separate from my MC family. It isn’t easy, juggling two lifestyles, but it’s the best I can do to keep my sister and my son safe from the occasional chaos of the club.
Luckily, things have been pretty quiet for the Savage Kings the last few months, after one incredibly bloody year. Some of the guys are beginning to settle down and start their own families, including Torin, which means I have a lot more free time to fill my protective older brother and father roles.
I still haven’t been able to catch my breath in my personal life, though, not when my ex-wife continues to raise hell.
“Put your lips around this and blow,” I tell Marcie.
Scoffing, as her heavily made-up eyes narrow and lower, she says, “Is this really necessary, Warren?”
No, I’m not asking her to give me head.
That’s a luxury I haven’t allowed myself to indulge in for more than five years.
In fact, I think the last blowjob I had was immediately followed by the conception of Little Warren.
“It’s only necessary if you really want to leave with my son,” I grumble under my breath. I don’t want Ren to hear me down the hallway, where he’s packing his things in his bedroom.
“Our son,” Marcie corrects, which may be technically true, but I’ve had sole custody of Ren ever since she popped him out. And no, that determination wasn’t made by any family courts or shit like that. It was just me, putting my foot down when my no-good ex-wife made it clear she was incapable of being a full-time mother.
“I’ve been sober for ninety days," Marcie says proudly, like she’s accomplished something miraculous. Ninety days out of more than one thousand, eight hundred days that Ren’s been alive is nothing to brag about.
“Then there’s no reason why you can’t blow in the damn breathalyzer, is there?” I point out.
“Fine," she huffs with a roll of her eyes before she finally puts her lips around the device and blows.
Seeing any other woman perform such an act would probably make my jeans tighten, but I know full well that Marcie’s throat has had more dick in it than a public urinal. I’ll never let her mouth, or any other part of her body, near me again. When we hooked up at the clubhouse, back when I first started prospecting for the MC, it was only supposed to be for a good time. She loved getting passed around and used by all the brothers, like the night I was stupid and drunk.
Some things haven’t changed for her.
Me? Well, I sure as hell learned my lesson.
So why am I trusting Marcie to let Ren sleep over with her this weekend with her failed track record?
Because he’s only four.
He doesn’t understand that Mommy is a former crackhead, alcoholic, lying piece of shit. He loves her and misses her, so it wouldn’t be fair for me to keep him away from her, now that she’s well and truly sober.
If that’s actually the case.
At least I made sure she’s living in a decent apartment in the good part of town. How do I know? Because I’m the schmuck who’s paying a thousand bucks a month for it, plus all the utilities.
I watch the digital readout on the breathalyzer, waiting for it to process the results. Marcie passes with a .00. Thank God.
“Told you," she says smugly when she leans over to see the results.
“Don't make me regret this,” I warn her with a glower. “If you screw this up, I’m done with you for good. You’ll never see him again.”
“He’ll be fine! Stop being such a grumpy bear," she says with a pat to my shoulder. Then she yells out, “Ren, baby, are you ready to go?”
“He doesn’t like when you call him baby,” I remind her before a tiny, dark-haired replica of myself comes trudging into the living room.
With his duffle bag slung over his shoulder, he looks at Marcie and says, “I’m not a baby. I’m almost five.” He even holds up his palm, as if worried his mother isn’t smart enough to comprehend the number. Some days, I have the same concern.
“You’ll always be my little baby boo boy,” Marcie says, before she wraps an arm around his shoulder and leans down to kiss his cheek. My son immediately reaches up to wipe her bright red lipstick off his face and then smears it on his jeans.
So maybe he isn’t as fond of his mother as I thought he was. He’s learning she’s not all flowers and sunshine, like she pretends to be on the occasional days she visits him. Sometimes I think my kid is way too smart for his own good.
“You still want to go and stay with Mom for the weekend?” I ask him, just to be sure, or maybe to try and talk him out of it.
“Yeah, I guess so,” he answers with a shrug.
“We’re going to have so much fun!” Marcie tells him.
And that’s exactly what I’m worried about.
“Call me if you need me,” I tell Ren, and point to the watch on my wrist, indicating his own blue, plastic one. Not only can we call each other and send simple texts on the LG Gadget made for kids his age, but I’m also able to track his location through the app on my phone. That damn watch is going to be the only reason I’ll be able to sleep tonight.
“Love you, Dad,” Ren says when he comes up and wraps his arms around my waist.
“Love you too, buddy,” I reply, hugging him back and ruffling his hair when I pull away.
I follow the two of them out of the house to grab his booster seat from my truck and put it in the backseat of her car.
“Have fun and I’ll see you Sunday,” I tell Ren before I shut the car door, even though I know I won’t have any fun while he’s gone.
Sure, I leave him at daycare Monday through Friday, occasionally with my sister when she’s home from school, and Nancy, our neighbor who babysits for me at nights as needed. After all, it really does take a village when you’re a single father. But I don’t worry as much about Ren when he’s with any of those individuals. Probably because none of them have ever shot dope into their arms while they were breastfeeding my baby boy…
After I wave goodbye and Marcie drives away, in the car I also bought her, I head back into the empty house that’s now far too quiet.
Sitting down in my favorite brown leather chair, I pull out my phone to check in with my sister and to see what everyone else is up to. It’s a Friday night and I have nothing but free time on my hands. No one to take care of, nothing to cook or clean, no laundry to fold. It’s just me and my lonesome.
Through a series of texts, Audrey says she’s still enjoying her summer break before she starts her last year of college a few hours away at Westchester, an all-girls Methodist University. She visits me and Ren occasionally on weekends, but since she has her own apartment on campus she shares with a roommate, she prefers to stay there year-round. And I like knowing she’s safe and sound, miles away from the MC’s reach.
Even after all these years, I’ve kept my role in the Savage Kings from her. I’m her big brother who she looks u
p to. She doesn’t need to know how I earn a living. Audrey still thinks I’m a mechanic, fixing cars all day, every day, to pay for her tuition. I don’t have any intention of supplying her with the truth.
Next, I message Torin and find out he’s staying home with his very pregnant old lady and kid, which I expected. Coop is working at Avalon, of course, and the rest of the single guys are probably getting drunk and planning to get lucky at the clubhouse.
I even call up Maddox, the prospect I’ve been sponsoring for nearly two years, to check in on him.
“Yes, sir? What do you need?” The kid answers his phone right away, sounding out of breath.
“Just making sure you’re staying out of trouble,” I tell him with a grin.
“Yeah, Eddie has me…unloading…cases of beer…”
“And let me guess, he’s making you hit the Asylum, Avalon, and the Carousel.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. That should keep you busy for a few hours.”
“Are there any, um, updates for me?” he asks.
“Be patient,” I respond, knowing he’s wondering if and when he’ll get patched into the club.
Prospects have to put in at least one full year, but we can’t be too careful in our vetting after the shit that went down with our former psychotic prospect, Holden. I’m almost certain the guys will vote Maddox in, it’s just Torin I’m a little worried about.
After finding out Holden was a rat who had a hand in the murder of his wife Kennedy, then nearly abducted Lexi, I thought it would be best to ask our president to vote on Maddox’s patch after his second kid is born and everyone is healthy and well. For the past few weeks, Torin’s been mostly MIA from the club, which everyone expected. He deserves some time off. The man is stressing the hell out with Lexi coming up on her due date. I want to give him some time before adding any more shit on his shoulders, like patching in a young, new member who he’ll ultimately be responsible for.