Yawning, I massage the bruises around my wrists over my son’s shoulders. Adam takes the cue that I want to be set back on my feet. I slide down his front and land softly on the ground. Doing what moms do, I cup his cheeks and paste on the best smile I can conjure, regardless of how puffy my face and eyes probably look. He shakes that adorable head, liquid shimmering in eyes that match his father’s. He looks tired. Like he hasn’t slept in ages. He tugs at the edge of my beanie.

  “No more hair.” I shrug it off like it’s no biggy. It’ll grow back. It’s hair. It has already begun to.

  Adam frowns, a deep pinch settling between his brows. Not liking this side of him, I pull a silly face. One of the many I’ve perfected over the years when he was sad, when his not-father abandoned us, or when he broke my trust, and I forgave him as mothers do.

  The lighthearted effect works like a charm when Adam drones, “Mommm,” in the same youthful way he always has. A tear slips free and glides down the crease of his nose. I swipe the evidence away with my thumb and discard it on my shirt.

  “I’m here. Now tell me all about your time at the compound.” Weak from little sustenance, I sway on my feet.

  Ever my savior, Gunz catches me around the waist and pulls me flush against his side. If I had the mind to swoon, I would. He feels nice. Warm and… him. Safe.

  I sigh softly to myself.

  “How about we do dinner at the house tonight? We can talk then. Your mother needs sleep,” Gunz says.

  Adam acquiesces with the simple tip of his head and the shyest smile. “Big gave me a room in the clubhouse. Either of you can stop by anytime.” He chews the corner of his lip nervously, like he’s unsure if this is good news or not.

  Gunz grips my hip, forcing me to snuggle into his body. I turn into him just enough to rest my hand on his stomach, away from the injury. “He give you mine?” he asks our son.

  Rocking back on his heels and stuffing both hands into his front jeans pockets, Adam nods. “Yeah. I hope that’s okay.”

  “That’s what I told him to do, so it’s definitely okay.” Gunz reaches out to clasp Adam on the shoulder. It’s brief, but I watch our son’s eyes round in surprise at the simple gesture.

  A father giving up his room for a son he barely knows. That’s something to digest at another time when I’ve got a solid twelve hours of sleep under my belt.

  No longer wanting to hang in the clubhouse parking lot swarming with people, I keep my goodbyes to a minimum, to prevent unnecessary conversations. Adam pecks my cheek. I return the sentiment. A firm hand glues to the small of my back and guides me forth. Gunz and I wave to Bink, her giant of a man, and the group of women who’ve gathered as we slide past them, headed toward the rear of the compound, away from the chaos.

  Focused on our mission, Gunz lifts his chin a handful of times to fellow bikers we encounter. Out of politeness, I offer closed-mouthed smiles. They chin lift to me as well. The comradery feels different, settling a new yet not unpleasant sensation in the center of my chest. I like it. I think.

  It doesn’t take long to pass a row of bikes, the brick clubhouse, dog kennels, playground, and enter the rear of the estate, where all the single-story homes reside. Including his.

  Just past the entrance, I yawn loudly, lose my balance on an imaginary rock, squawk like a chicken on my descent to the ground, and am caught by a quick-footed biker before I bite the dust, all in the same breath.

  Gunz snickers, righting me. “Almost there, love.” He dusts off my side as if I’d dirtied it somehow. Thanks to him, I haven’t.

  Taking his hand into mine, I carefully place one foot in front of the other. I yawn a second time, not at all embarrassed by my lack of grace. Nope. Not me. That never happened.

  The yawn elicits another snicker from my handsome companion.

  A third yawn appears just as Gunz’s front porch welcomes us.

  Releasing my hand, he escorts me up the stairs by the curve of my back. A sense of home washes over me as we step over the threshold into his home. Cinnamon and clove. Masculine and calm.

  I sigh, freeing my first real breath in… ages.

  Finally.

  Some peace.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  GUNZ

  The house is different. Not the same as before I left. I press two fingers into the center of Kit’s back as I escort her through the living room to the bedroom… our bedroom. It hasn’t changed. The same blue comforter is on the bed. Clean and tidy, as I like it. Someone vacuumed. On Kit’s nightstand, which used to be mine, Dark Lover rests, awaiting her return. Grinning fondly at the memory of our time reading in bed, I caress the book’s cover as she climbs onto the mattress fully clothed and collapses onto her side, snuggling into the plush pillows. The sweetest of contented hums fill the space.

  Careful not to cross any lines, I prop my ass on the edge of the mattress and rest a hand on her upturned hip. My lady hasn’t talked about what she’s been through yet. None of the sisters have. I asked Blimp about Loretta and White Boy about Jade. Nada. I’ve checked in with those in charge of keepin’ an eye on Beth and Niki… still no dice.

  Not knowin’ if she wants company or to be left alone, I pull my side of the comforter over her as a shield and tuck in the edges to form a cozy burrito of security. It’s not that I’d ever do anything to break her trust. I sure as fuck wouldn’t do it on purpose if I did. But I don’t want my presence to come off wrong. I want her to wear what makes her comfortable and talk about what she needs to whenever she’s ready. I’m not gonna push, pry, or whatever the hell else people do to find out stuff that ain’t none of their damn business. Fucked-up shit happens to the best of us. Kit’s damn sure the best of anyone. Gorgeous. Smart… and finally, fuckin’ here with me. Safe and alive.

  My heart clenches to the point of goddamn pain at the thought of those dicks harming her. At what they did. At them touching this skin. My skin. Bruising it. Tying her up, cutting her hair off, and violating this body. It makes me wanna rip those bastards apart all over again with my hands. Slower this time to make ‘em feel it. To experience what my lady did. Pieces of shit.

  Nostrils flaring on a deep inhale, my jaw clenches as I release a low, agitated growl, hoping not to spook her. I hate this. Being helpless. Being here when I can’t fix it. I can’t fix anything. All I can do is be present… and you better fuckin’ bet I’m not goin’ anywhere.

  Christ.

  I rub the center of my chest with two knuckles.

  Is this how Big feels about Bink? Overwhelmed. How Dallas feels about Debbie? Addicted. Bulk and Jez? Axel and Pix? The shit’s intense.

  Set on my need to be supportive, I keep my hand still on her hip and force it to remain there, just over the blanket and her sweatshirt. No rubbing. No movement. Not because I don’t wanna do more. I wanna caress her skin. I wanna hold her and tell her it’s gonna be okay. That we’re gonna get through this. But I don’t know what she needs or how far is too far. Less is sometimes more. I’m rollin’ with that.

  No words are exchanged as Kit drifts off with me by her side. I watch her eyelids flutter in and out of consciousness until they relax long enough to slumber. Her lips part as she breathes—shallow puffs of air passing through. I remain. Watching. Ever watching. The persistent ache on my side doesn’t matter. Not here. Not now. Bonez and Doc did a bang-up job fixin’ me. Not that I expected anything less. In time, I’ll heal. We’ll both heal.

  Content, I wait. Patient. Soaking Kit in.

  There’s a tiny bruise on her cheekbone and imprints of fingertips around her throat. She’s lost a lot of weight. Too much.

  The phone in my pocket vibrates with an incoming text. I check it with my free hand, hoping I don’t disturb her.

  Prez: We need to talk. Church.

  Now?

  I scowl at the screen and lick the front of my teeth, head shaking.

  Me: I can’t leave her.

  I type out with a thumb, careful not to drop my cell, and press send. Then I gaze upon my lady. Listen to her mini snores. Be with the mother of my child. With the woman I’ve spent weeks searching for. Hoping. Praying. Fuck. Look at her. Just look… have you seen anything so beautiful? So incredible? I…I don’t think I have.

  Swallowing thickly, I get mystified just watching her breathe… in and out. In and out. Just as I did last night in the hotel. Her on one bed. Me on the other. Well, part of the night, out of respect. Once she was asleep, I was there, beside her. Inches apart, propped against the headboard. I slept maybe an hour. Enough to recharge a bit.

  Prez: I know. I’m sending Bink and Adam.

  Me: She’s my responsibility. Not theirs.

  Prez: This isn’t a request, brother.

  Asshole.

  Giving in to baser needs, I lean in and peck my woman’s bare cheek right on the yellowed spot. “I’ll be back soon, sweetheart,” I whisper, in hopes she hears but doesn’t wake.

  Kit hums adorably in response.

  I pat her hip, kiss her again, and repeat, “I’ll be back soon.” Other words, words I’ve never spoken, roll up my throat and bang around in my mouth, in my head, in that complicated organ in my chest. I ignore them to translate later when I’ve got time. When shit’s a little less real. When I can breathe normal again. Less heavy. Less… fuckin’ everything.

  I leave her without looking back. No lingering. If I don’t go now, I’ll never get outta this house. As a parting gift, I drop my Sacred Sinner ring on the nightstand, so Kit can see it the moment she opens her eyes. A reminder I’m nearby.

  Having let themselves in, Bink and Adam loiter in the living room.

  “I told him this could wait,” Bink explains, her arms crossed in frustration. Her exaggerated huff that follows is sweet and much appreciated, but we both understand how this life works.

  “Club business. I get it.” It always comes first. Always has. Always will.

  For the first time since I’ve returned, I glance around, noting the lack of life. No toys or little blankets. No sippy cups or DVDs under the television. “Where’s Janie? Dom?”

  “That’s another thing Big needs to discuss,” Bink says.

  I figured as much.

  “Why don’t you tell me?” I gesture for her to do just that.

  She nods as if that’s fine by her. “Not sure if you noticed, but while you were gone, Big and the brothers poured a concrete pad behind Bulk and Jez’s place and bought three trailers to put on it.”

  Nope. I didn’t notice. Haven’t had the time.

  “Is that where Janie and Dom are?” I seek clarification because they’ve either been relocated to provide them independence—a space to grow. Or… the only alternative… Viper has overstepped his duties, and I’ve got another thing to wrangle. He is too old and too damn wild to claim Janie as an old lady. She’s one of Remy’s. Saved from his world. Forced to bear a child as a teen, against her own will. Yet, she’s flourished here. Learned English as a second language, matured, began to heal, and has become an amazing mother to Dom. Watching her grow, and helping her when she’s needed it, has been a blessing. Her leaving at some point was inevitable. Change doesn’t bother me. But Viper… Not a chance. I’ve fucked far too many women with him. Seen too much.

  Bink twists the edge of her oversized shirt. “Big figured with Adam moving here and Kit coming home, you might need the house to yourself.” She signals to my son with the tilt of her head, then spreads her arms wide to indicate a quiet, clean home.

  “Was that his idea or yours?” I don’t have to ask to know the answer.

  “Eh… A little of both?” Bink shrugs, fixated more on the ceiling than me.

  Bingo.

  Big’s had far too much to deal with in my absence, with all the Remy shit poppin’ off. Where Janie and Dom live has never been and will never be on his to-do list. Who lives on the compound, how they live, and where they live is a Bink thing. Even as a child, she had her hands in it all. Her bitch of a mother sure as fuck didn’t care about the old ladies, even though she was one. Bless Debbie and Candy Cane for taking her in and doing their best to teach her the ways of the Sacred Sinner old lady. Look where she wound up. I couldn’t be prouder.

  “Thought so. And… Viper?” I grumble a bit… or a lot.

  Fixing her messy bun, Bink chuckles, knowing exactly why I’m asking. “He’s still in the clubhouse.” Delight sparkles in her pretty blue eyes.

  Thank fuck.

  I flip my attention to Adam, who’s focused on our conversation. “Mom’s asleep. Make yourself at home. Just keep it down. Both of you.” At that, my son says jack shit and literally drops his ass on our oversized sectional. His feet pop off the floor on impact and resettle a second later. Resting an ankle on his knee, Adam stretches his arms across the back of the sofa.

  My attention swings back to Bink. “Where’s my grandbaby?”

  “She’s with Tati, at the house. We didn’t want her getting overwhelmed with all the people and noise. It’s been a tense couple of months. You’ve been missed.”

  “Yes, it has,” I agree. “I’m gonna need some grandbaby lovin’ real soon.” Tonight, if possible, only if Kit’s keen on havin’ some lil girl company. Gotta introduce them properly. Grandpa Gunz and… we’ll figure out Kit’s title later. No need to go rushin’ things, even if part of me—a huge fuckin’ part—is itchin’ to claim. Put a… nope… Not goin’ there. Not the time. Not the place. I just got her back. We barely know each other. It’s the trauma bonding talkin’. That’s a thing. I read about it last night, at the hotel, when I was sitting in bed next to her, feelin’ far too possessive and needy for my liking.

  “That’s always available,” Bink explains, and I gotta reflect for a beat to recall what we were talkin’ about.

  Harley. Leech. My grandbaby. Right. Family time.

  Fuck. I’m a mess.

  “Good.” I extract a Dum Dum from my pants pocket, unwrap it, and shove the treat into my mouth post haste. “Now…” I wave between the two of ‘em. “I’m guessin’ you’re acquainted.”

  Bink smiles fondly at my kid and winks. He returns a similar sentiment, like they’re in on a secret I’m not privy to. “Adam’s been spending a lot of time with us. So yeah… You could say that.”

  I dunno why but hearin’ she accepts him bein’ here, and the brotherhood accepts him bein’ here, releases some sorta tension in my chest. Somethin’, until this point, I didn’t know was there.

  “Good. Good.” I nod far too many times to be considered normal. “I’m sure that’ll make Kit real happy to hear when she wakes up.” It makes me happy too, but I’m not about to say that. Shit’s startin’ to…

  Bink hugs me—quick and unexpected. Full body, tits to abs, hard squeeze, then release, step back, and smile. Big, big, sweet smile. A twinkle in those eyes. Like she knows something I don’t. Like she can read my fucked-upness. Knowin’ her, she can. Obviously. I helped raise the woman. She’s my kid. Maybe not conventionally, but my heart doesn’t care about bullshit semantics.

  “We’ve got things here. Go to church.” She two-finger points to the door.

  Go. To. Church.

  Over my shoulder, I glance longingly down the unlit hallway.

  That spot in the center of my chest throbs, pulls.

  I swallow.

  Expel heavy breath around the sucker.

  Stare a beat more.

  “She’s asleep,” I whisper to myself.

  But she’s mine to care for.

  That’s mine in there. On our bed. Under those covers.

  The first fucking thing that’s ever been just mine.

  Alright.

  I gotta go.

  Church.

  Fuck.

  The brotherhood calls.

  “I’ll be back,” I announce, then get the hell outta dodge before I do something irresponsible.

  “We’ll be here,” Bink calls to my back as I slam the door to my house shut and jog down the steps, all the way to the rear steel door of the clubhouse.

  Church, then home to her.

  “It’s good to see ya, brother.” Kai pounds the top of my shoulder as I enter the room to get this meeting over with.

  I say nothing and take my spot next to Big, at the head of the table, the last to arrive.

  Standing in front of his chair, our prez raises his arm and down comes the gavel.

  Let’s get down to business.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  KIT

  Palms wrapped around a lovely, hand-thrown mug, I blow over the top of my hot tea to make it palatable. I tuck my legs beneath me. A cozy, knit blanket strewn over them, as I sink into Gunz’s couch with one of my new favorite women and the boy I raised. They’re keeping me company after a nap. It didn’t last long, but I needed it.

  Both of my companions throw their heads back and laugh at an oldie but goodie about Adam. One he doesn’t remember, as he was too young. Yet, I do. Every minute of it.

  Bink’s amusement slows to chuckle when she speaks. “I can’t say Harley has had one of those accidents yet.” She swipes the remnants of tears from her face with the meat of her palms and discards the wetness on the top of her thighs.

  “Let’s hope you don’t need a strainer if she does,” I jest.

  Caught up in the moment, Adam chokes on his merriment, folding in half at the waist as he gasps for air, coughs a dozen times, and punches the sofa cushion beside his leg. “Fuck. Mom.” He wheezes. I chuckle more to myself at his red-faced enjoyment than the experience I had when he was a toddler. To capture a mental snapshot of this moment to tuck away for later, to draw from when times get tough, I blink. Then I blink again, just to be certain I got everything.