 Photo by Jared Sluyter on Unsplash  Chapter 1
STRAFE “Just stay the fuck down, man,” I grunt in his ear, driving my fist into his chest. “Fuck you, cunt,” he spits back, using his elbow to try to push himself up off the sticky floor of the seedy South Side bar. Sighing, I straighten, aiming a kick for his jaw. Spit, blood, and at least one tooth goes flying out of his mouth. He lies gasping on the floor, the fight leeching out of him. “You should have stayed the fuck down,” I sneer. Getting a kick into his ribs for good measure. “And stay the fuck away from our strippers. You want a hooker, find one elsewhere.” “I just asked the question!” he whimpers, curling his hands protectively around his stomach. Yeah. He did. Repeatedly. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. Then he followed Susannah home and tried to force himself on her. Thank fuck her boyfriend stopped him and called us to complain. He’s left his junk open by protecting only his stomach. Normally, I have morals when it comes to a guy’s junk, but this fucker was almost a rapist. Morals don’t apply. I don’t go for the obvious kick. He might move. That would be a shame. Placing my booted foot against his cock and balls, I grind the heel down while he yelps like a puppy someone kicked. Fucking awful sound coming from a dog. Kind of beautiful when it comes from scum like this. “You come near any of our girls again; you’ll be eating a bullet.” I stomp down on his balls again, and he squeals, rolling around, tears streaming down his cheeks. Shoving away from him, I nod to the bartender - who called us to let us know the fucker was here - and stride out into the September sunshine. The heatwaves off the Mojave aren’t too bad today. It’s getting milder, heading toward winter. Snatching my phone out of my pocket, I shoot Bruiser a text. STRAFE: Fucker is sorted. Shouldn’t come near the girls again. BRUISER: Good. What about the other job? STRAFE: On it now. Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I throw my leg over my rig, turning off onto Cactus. It’s a long street running almost the length of the South Side. I lived on Rattlesnake. I live on the other side of the city now. But the Hawks are always all over the South Side. I don’t let it bother me anymore. My cunt of an abusive stepfather isn’t worth the time. The house on Cactus is like many here in the South Side, dilapidated and on its way to being condemned. Like many houses over this side of San Remo, especially this close to the trailer park, the wooden fence is dotted with bullet holes. What sets it apart from the others is the shape of those bullet holes. They’re not your usual spray or random potshots. These are deliberate. Some spell words. Fuck you. Fuck off. Private Property - I appreciate that one. Others are actual pictures. There’s a fairly decent outline of a truck. Another of a voluptuous woman. No wonder Bruiser’s been watching this place. These are incredible in their precision. Parking my rig outside the holey, decorated fence, I keep my hand on the butt of my gun, striding up to the front door and hammering on it. It opens, but only enough for an eye to peek through, a chain keeping it secured. “What?” the grizzled old-timer snaps, a bright blue eye staring at me. “Looking for the kid with the gun.” I jab my thumb over my shoulder at the fence. The eye swivels past me, taking it in and huffing a sigh. “No Hawks in the house. I’ll send him out to you.” “Much obliged.” The door snaps shut again. Turning, I sweep the street with my eyes, glancing over as the door opens again, and a young guy with a few colorful tattoos on his arms and a blonde buzzcut walks out, the door snapping shut behind him. “You the shooter?” I squint at him. He crosses his arms over his chest, looking defensive. “I haven’t been involved in any shootings, boss.” Smirking, I jab my thumb at the fence. His blue eyes follow it, and he smirks as well. “Oh. That. Yeah. Not allowed to shoot in the house.” “The neighbors don’t mind?” “They fucking hate it.” “You got a ride?” “No.” Fucking hell. “You’re not riding bitch on my bike. Get yourself to the clubhouse in an hour.” The kid nods, his eyes following me as I stride off the porch, back to my rig. I don’t have to wait long for an old truck to pull into the clubhouse compound, parking near the café. The kid slides out of the passenger seat. The driver slides out too. Around the same age as the kid, maybe a year or two older. This one has dark hair, a short, dark beard, and a few monochrome tattoos. They approach where I’m leaning against the side of the auto garage. “Brought back up, huh?” I nod to his companion, who looks on edge. The kid shrugs brazenly. “I don’t know why I’m here. I wasn’t walking in alone.” “This way.” I jerk my head around behind the clubhouse. They follow apprehensively. I don’t blame them. For all they know, they could be being led to an execution. They aren’t. We follow a cleared path through the huge redwoods, stopping at the shooting range, maybe a hundred yards into the forest. “Creepy place to put a fucking gun range,” the dark-haired companion grunts. “Trees kill the sound,” the kid grunts back. “The cops don’t know this is here.” My eyes turn to the companion. We thought that might be the case, but how the fuck would he know? “Interesting observation,” Bruiser rumbles, crossing his arms over his chest, looking up from the range of guns he has laid out in front of him. “Names?” “Leo Banner,” the kid says, his eyes wide. “Keiran Cartwright.” “Well, Keiran Cartwright, how do you know what the cops might or might not know?” He stays silent, his lips pressed together, swallowing and turning his eyes to the gun range. The kid, Leo, glances at his buddy. “He did two years training as a cop.” “Shut up!” his friend hisses at him. Leo shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets, turning to Bruiser. “He don’t run with the cops anymore, though.” Bruiser nods, eyeing them off. Then he shrugs, gesturing to the guns. “Let’s see what you got then, kid.” Leo hesitates, but I nod when he glances at me. He steps up, running his fingers lovingly over the guns. They finally close around a Glock 19. Picking it up, he barely takes time to aim, firing. The paper ripples. Middle of the forehead on the target. Placing down the Glock, Leo selects the Colt 45, checking the cylinder, lifting his hand almost lazily, and firing. The paper ripples again. “Missed,” Bruiser grunts. Leo glances over at him with a smirk. “Did I?” Bruiser’s eyebrows shoot up at the cocky question. “Guns down,” he snaps. Leo replaces the revolver, stepping back away from the bench as Bruiser strides forward of the firing line, moving to inspect the paper. His eyebrows raise, and he turns around, where Leo is eyeing him coolly. Bruiser strides back to him, jabbing his finger at the Springfield XD. “Hit it again. Same spot.” Fucking hell. He hit the same spot twice? The exact spot? That’s insane. Grinning, Leo picks up the Springfield, keeping his eyes on Bruiser as he lifts the gun. His eyes dart to the target for all of two seconds before he looks Bruiser dead in the icy blue eyes and fires. The paper ripples, no change to the single hole. The ex-cop kid is smirking off to the side now. Bruiser is starting to look impressed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that look on the Lieutenant’s face. Even when he’s watching his wife play with her flick knives, he doesn’t look impressed - he just looks turned on. “The Ruger.” Lazy shot, rippling paper, no sign of another hole. “The Sig.” Another shot, no change to the rippling target. Both kids are smirking now. Bruiser studies Leo intently and nods to the bench again. “Let’s change it up. Ruger rifle. Same spot, same target.” Leo hesitates for the barest second, Bruiser looking smug. He thinks he’s got the kid here. Picking up the rifle, Leo takes about two seconds longer to aim it than he took with the handguns and fires. Fucking hell. I think he’s hit it. Bruiser’s eyebrows raise a fraction of an inch. “The Uberti.” He hits that one too. Bruiser gets him on some of the semi and automatics, and the kid hits every single one. He’s a fucking freak. Finally, he lays down the Honey Badger rifle at Bruiser’s command. The man comes striding back with the sheet, handing it to me. The edges of the single bullet hole are hot to touch, having been burned so many times by hot lead. “Clubhouse,” Bruiser grunts, jerking his head and taking the target sheet back from me. I lead the boys back to the compound and into the clubhouse. Aric glances up from the bar and jerks his head to the double doors leading to the chapel. Nodding, I steer them behind him into Holton’s office. Bruiser appears after a moment, handing the target sheet to Aric, whose eyebrows shoot up. “What weapons?” “All of them,” Bruiser grunts. Aric’s eyes dart over Leo and land on me. I nod my agreement. Aric whistles low, studying Leo before turning his eyes to Keiran. “Who is the ring in?” “Ex-cop.” The dark-haired kid tenses at Bruiser’s grunted words. Aric studies him, snorting, turning his eyes back to Leo. “You. Bullseye,” he says. Leo blinks, staring at him in surprise. “What do you do with your life?” “Just this and that.” Keiran snorts. “He shoots, and he pumps gas.” Leo throws him a murderous glare. “Better than being a drop-out cop sleeping on his mama’s couch.” Aric snorts, drawing their attention back to him as they fall silent. “You ever thought about prospecting?” he asks Leo, whose mouth drops open. “Uh. I never really thought about it.” “You got any reason you would want to steer clear?” “Uh. No. Well…I live with my stepdad’s father. He has a rule. No Hawks in the house.” Aric nods, drumming his thumb on the table. “And if we sorted you with a place?” Leo’s eyes shine. “I’d say yes in a heartbeat.” “You go pack your shit. Come back here tomorrow, and we got a room upstairs for you and a vest with your name on it.” “Y-yes, sir.” “Get out.” Leo nods, shoving to his feet, his chair tipping. Bruiser catches it as the kid throws his buddy a sharp glance and leaves. Keiran swallows nervously as Aric turns his eyes to him. “Why ex-cop?” “SRPD is corrupt as they come.” Aric doesn’t bother to smother his snort. “Everyone knows that. Surely you knew it going in?” Keiran shrugs. “I thought it was just… South Side talk.” “You thought the Hawks had put the word out that the cops were dirty to discredit them and when you finally landed there, you found out just how filthy those fuckers are?” “Something like that. Yeah.” “Why’d you want to be a cop.” He hesitates, wiping his hands on his jeans. “My moms got shot in a drive-by. She was in a wheelchair for years before she died. They never caught the people responsible. I guess I wanted justice for someone, even if I wouldn’t get it for her.” Aric nods, looking thoughtful, still drumming his thumb. “You got a problem with the Hawks?” “No. You don’t do drive-bys. If anything, wherever you go in South Side, crime drops. They’re all scared of you.” “Good.” Aric smirks, pointing his finger in the kid’s face. “Still chasing that justice?” He straightens in his seat. “Yeah. I am.” “You need a place to live too?” “Nah. I got a place on Juniper.” “You come back tomorrow; there’ll be a vest with your name on it too. Now fuck off out of my clubhouse.” “Thanks.” He’s gone in the blink of an eye. Killer strides in, eyebrows raised. “Two?” “Crack shot and an ex-cop.” Killer snorts. “Of course you offered them both a vest. What names?” “Leo Banner and Keiran Cartwright,” I supply. Killer nods, whipping out his phone to type them in. “Bullseye and Justice,” Aric grunts, an amused smirk crossing his face. I snort. Of course that’s what he’s calling them. Killer nods, wandering back out to organize their name patches. Aric turns to me, drumming his thumb again. “I want a call from Nan tonight.” “Will do.” Saluting him, I shove out of my chair, heading for my rig. That’s an excuse to fuck off and hang out with my wife if ever I heard one. Chapter 2 STRAFE Nan comes out of the laundry when I walk into the spacious living room. “Steve, you’re home early.” “Got a job for you, princess.” Grinning, I cross to her, tugging her against my chest, my lips brushing hers. She laughs, reaching up and snatching the backward baseball cap off my head, throwing it over my shoulder. “I was wearing that.” “Too bad.” Her eyes dance with mischief. “I have a hankering to fuck a biker.” Fuck yeah. “Can the job wait?” “It can so fucking wait, princess.” Grabbing her waist, I throw her over my shoulder. She protests, squirming, so I smack her ass. Nan yelps, stopping her movement. Shifting her weight, I carry her bridal style. She snakes her arms around my neck, nibbling on my earlobe as I take the stairs two at a time, up to our fucking huge bedroom. I kick the door open, striding across the white carpet. It’s almost the size of our old studio apartment…so I got a California king. I lay her across it, shucking my clothes while Nan eagerly shimmies out of her little black sundress. Pushing her shoulder, she smiles at me as she obligingly lays down. I cover her body with my own, my lips sliding up her exposed throat, sucking on her pulse point. My hand creeps down, parting her folds and stroking her clit. My middle finger slides into her inviting wetness, curling to find her G-spot, pressing against it. Nan gasps, her eyes flying open, her hips pressing up to keep my fingertip pressing against the right button. “Steve,” she whimpers, mewling as I flick her clit with my thumb, stabbing my finger against her G-spot again and again. “Gonna need to hear it, princess,” I breathe, nipping at her pulse point. “You’re a smart man. You’ll figure it out,” she sighs. Oh, princess. That’s a dangerous game to play. My thumb curls back against my palm, abandoning her clit. I keep up my assault on her G-spot, but it’s not enough to tip her over the edge. I know it. She knows it. She glares up at me. “What the fuck, Steve?” she hisses. I grin down at her. “You wanted to fuck a biker, princess. This is my pussy. I’ll play with it however I want.” “You better give me my fucking orgasm!” “Maybe. In my own sweet time.” “Fuck you!” “Oh, you’ll be doing that soon enough. Patience, princess.” Another whimper rips out of her. Nan lifts her hips, trying to grind her clit against my hand. Sneaky little thing. “You know what I want.” She keeps glaring, her lips pressed firmly together. I grin down at her. I’m in the mood to take my time tonight. No skin off my nose to keep teasing her. Nan cracks first - like always. Her hips stop bucking, which means she will capitulate and give me what I want. “Steve.” Her voice is gentle, soft, perfect. “I need you.” “Need me to do what, princess?” “I need you to make me come.” My lips tug into a smug grin. Knew it. “And why is that?” “Because you’re the only one who ever has.” That’s right. Growling, I snatch my finger out of her pussy, lining my cock up and slamming balls deep. So fucking good. A feral snarl rips out of me as I start to pump. We are over near her nightstand, so as I lean down to capture her lips with mine, I reach over, tugging open the drawer, feeling around until I find my favorite toy - Nan’s vibrator. Flicking it on, I break the kiss, pressing my forehead against hers, bracing with my other hand, my hips driving forward. Touching the vibrator to her clit, I hammer into her. “Come for me, princess.” She moans, thrashing her head from side to side until her pussy muscles clench around my cock, milking me as she comes with a sigh. So fucking good. I keep the vibrator pressed against her, slamming into her again and again, using her still tight muscles to milk my cock dry as I come. NAN Steve tips to the side, his breath shuddering out of him as he flicks off the vibrator, holding it out to me. With a grin, I take it, sliding off the bed to go and clean up. When I get back to the bedroom, Steve has dressed, holding out my black sundress. I slide it over my head, giggling as Steve slaps my ass, wrapping his arms around my waist, his chin resting on top of my head as he walks me out of the bedroom and back downstairs. He lets me go, moving to the kitchen table, his hand reaching for my laptop. Shit. I don’t think I deleted my browser history. “Can you get me some iced tea?” I blurt out. Steve’s hand freezes, and he glances around, his eyebrows raising. “Not coffee?” “I need to rehydrate after our extracurriculars.” Chuckling, Steve drops his hand away from my laptop, crossing to the kitchen. I slide into the chair, flipping it open and quickly clicking away from the furniture page. The pictures of bassinets and cots disappear, a blank search engine logo in their place. Placing the glass of tea beside me, Steve pulls over a chair, crowding my space. “What does the club need?” “Leo Banner and Keiran Cartwright. New prospects?” Seriously? “Aric didn’t have them checked out when they started hanging around? Sloppy of him.” “Not hang arounds. Aric invited them to prospect.” My eyebrows shoot up. That’s…big. And different. I eagerly start scouring the internet for information. I want to know what makes these two so special. Chapter 3 NAN Steve wanders out of the master bathroom, smelling like toothpaste and aftershave. I’m already tucked up in bed, my iPad in my hands. Turning to me, he slides into bed, his tattooed fingers stroking my arm. “What are you looking at, princess? Why didn’t you want me to look at your laptop downstairs? Are you buying us another house?” My eyes snap across to him. I knew he picked up on that. Perceptive bastard. “How do you see everything?” I complain. Steve shrugs, still stroking my arm with the backs of two fingers. “I don’t see everything, just everything relating to you.” Aw. That’s so sweet. Sighing, I tap my fingers against the edge of the iPad. He still hasn’t craned his neck to look. He won’t invade my privacy like that. He’d just tie me to the bed and sexually torture me until I crack. Again. “I’m not buying a new house. I like this one. I was just thinking about redecorating.” Steve keeps stroking, nodding his head, his eyes moving around. “Not this room? I like this room. It looks like our apartment.” Okay. Swoon. “Not this room,” I agree. “The room across the hall. “Why that one?” Steve is frowning, his eyes staring at our closed bedroom door. He would be looking straight into the smallest bedroom, across the hall from us if it was open. “Proximity?” “You’re gonna have to break that down for me, princess. What’s wrong with it? What would you change?” Taking a deep breath, I turn the iPad to him. “I was thinking of something like this.” STRAFE Nan wants to redo the smallest bedroom. The one I keep telling her to make into an office. The Hawks have been giving her more and more hacking jobs. She needs a nice space. I like the kitchen table, but I don’t want her to feel chained to that room. She turns the iPad, and I glance at it. My eyes lock on the picture there. It’s a kid's room. Like. A nursery. With a crib and a mobile, and a rocking horse. My eyes dart to her face. She is watching me carefully, her face giving nothing away. I can see a hint of apprehension in her eyes. I mentioned kids when we first got married. Nan brushed it off, saying she wanted to wait until she was thirty. She’s twenty-five now. I laughed it off, saying I was happy to wait. “It’s a little fucking preppy, princess. Like something Lena would make Aric put in their house. I always thought our kid would have something cooler.” “Cooler?” Her eyebrows raise, and she glances at the picture, but her shoulders sag about an inch with relief. “Yeah. Like, a fucking awesome truck mural. Fuck off with the rocking horse. We’ll get a little rocking motorbike. Then we’re talking.” “And the mobile?” I frown at the little animals. “Get birds. Birds of prey.” “Hawks?” she drawls. I grin up at her. “Yeah. Hawks. That’d be awesome.” “What if it’s a girl?” Why would that change my design scheme? “I’ll paint the motorbike pink.” Nan giggles, dropping the iPad. I reach for her immediately, snagging her hair and pulling her face down so I can kiss her thoroughly. Letting her lift her head, she sighs, her fingers brushing over my collarbone. “You’re not mad that I’m pregnant? I know I said we’d wait another five years.” “Princess, I asked about kids after the wedding,” I remind her. “Well, yeah. But that was so I would get my guard up and refuse.” “Was it?” I smirk. Nan hesitates, glaring at me. “Like I pushed for a house out here, and you got your guard up…and bought one.” Nan’s mouth falls open in outrage, moving without sound coming out. “You tricked me!” she gasps at last. I grin up at her, stroking her jaw with my thumb. “I merely planted the seed. We were always going to do this on your schedule, princess.” “With a little nudging from you.” “Exactly.” I grin up at her, flipping her until she’s lying on her back. I shove up her silky pajama top and press my lips against her still flat belly. “When you’re old enough, we’re going to get you a motorbike.” “What if it’s a girl?” My eyes find Nan’s. Oh yeah. I press my lips to her belly again. “And you won’t be letting any boys on the back of it until you’re thirty.” Nan giggles as I pepper her stomach with kisses. When I move south, the giggles give way to moans. I know the perfect way to celebrate our growing family. With one hell of an orgasm. She’s earned it with her perfect surprise. The End.  Photo by Nadine Rupprecht on Unsplash  Chapter 1
HOPE My curse of being a light sleeper continues. Sharp, shooting pains through my abdomen wakes me. Inhaling deeply through my nostrils, I stare at the framed wedding picture on my nightstand, illuminated by the light from the streetlamp filtering through the chink in the heavy damask curtains. It’s my favorite picture from our wedding. Jacob is seated astride Gray’s shoulders, clinging to his short hair. I’m laughing up at him as he gives me a gummy grin. Gray has one hand holding Jacob’s ankle, the other curled around my waist, and he is looking at me with so much love butterflies erupt in my stomach every time I look at this picture. So, of course, I made sure it’s the first thing I see every morning. Another shooting pain catches me unawares, dragging my attention away from the beautiful photograph, my breath hissing out between my teeth. Gray murmurs something in his sleep, rolling over and throwing his arm over me, his hand automatically finding my stomach, caressing it. I smile, the pain receding. The first time the baby kicked when Gray’s hand was like this, he woke up like a kid on Christmas morning. Now, a kick won’t wake him, though he does stroke my belly in his sleep, which is just adorable. We’re having a boy. I’m glad Jacob will have a little brother. Technically a cousin, but I can’t think of Jacob as anything other than a son, so…brother. Gray doesn’t know. I was so excited when I found out, but Gray left the room and refused to let me tell him. I would have thought my control-freak husband would have been dying to know, but no. He’s excited about the surprise. Another contraction hits, and I close my eyes, willing it to be over. They’re still pretty far apart and irregular. No need to wake anyone up. I know I won’t get any more sleep, but everyone else should. Slowly easing myself out from under Gray’s hold, I slip out of bed, sneaking into the bathroom in the darkness. Closing the door firmly, I hit the light and blink in the sudden brightness. The dark spots clear, and I open the drawer where I stashed my pregnancy pads, slipping one on. Hey, I’m a nurse. I know if contractions have started, it’s only a matter of time until my waters break, and no one wants to have to clean up that mess from the carpet. Least of all me. I flip the light off, tiptoeing back into the bedroom. Gray is still fast asleep, so I let myself out, peeking into Jacob’s room on my way past. He’s still fast asleep as well, clutching his daddy’s old teddy against his face. He and Alfie Bear are inseparable. I’ve caught Gray watching him play tea parties with the bear with suspiciously bright eyes more than once. I have also seen him playing tea parties with Jacob and Alfie Bear more than once. The sight was unbelievably adorable. Let’s just say there’s a reason I’m about to have a baby. Softly closing Jacob’s door, I pad my way into the kitchen, flipping on the coffee machine and frowning as I add decaf coffee to it. I miss real coffee. The decaf is okay to drink but does absolutely nothing for my exhaustion. My phone is charging on the counter. Sighing, I pick it up, tapping out a message to Lena. She’d kill me if I only let her know at the last minute that the baby was coming. I’m pouring my mug of disappointing coffee when my phone buzzes with a reply. Seriously? It’s the middle of the night. Why isn’t she sleeping? LENA: OMG!!! YAY!!! I’m on standby. Let me know when you’re about to go to the hospital, and I’ll wake Aric to come over and look after Jacob. HOPE: Why aren’t you sleeping? LENA: 6 months pregnant. Remember? The heartburn is real, and my sleep is non-existent. Ouch. I’m so glad I never had heartburn. The constant tossing and turning were bad enough to disrupt my sleep. Collecting my mug, I take it and my phone and curl up on the couch, flicking on some late-night cooking show. My bag is packed and waiting at the door. The nursery is all ready to go. There’s nothing for me to do but wait. I’m learning what it feels like when a contraction is coming, so I quickly put my mug down, holding my stomach and doing my breathing exercises like they showed us in the birth class. It’s going to be a long night. KILLER My fingers close on empty sheets. What the fuck? I’m upright before I’m even fully awake. Where the hell is Hope? Shoving out of bed, I stride into the bathroom, but it’s empty. Fuck me. Snagging sweats and a shirt, I hop along the hallway, tugging them on, stumbling to a stop when I get to the living room. My heart calms down because Hope is curled up on the couch, some cooking show flickering on the TV. “Love? Is everything okay?” She glances up at my words, offering me a tired smile. She’s always fucking tired these days. I know I wanted a baby badly, but I feel like a fucking ass seeing what she’s going through with the pregnancy. They never tell you that it’s hell for your wife. Probably because if they did, you’d never let her do it. “The contractions woke me. I’m okay,” Hope whispers. Contractions? Fucking hell. I’m across the room in three strides, sinking to my knees in front of her, my hands caressing her huge, round stomach. “Contractions? Shit. Do we need to go to the hospital?” Hope smiles down at me, stroking her fingers through my hair. “Not yet. They’re…oooh!” Her fingers tighten painfully in my hair, her face contorting with agony. My breath hisses between my teeth - half from my hair being pulled, but mainly from seeing how much pain she is in. Hope pants a little and relaxes, her fingers releasing my hair. “They’re getting more regular, but they’re still about ten minutes apart. We don’t go to the hospital until they are five minutes apart, or my waters break.” Right. They said that at the birthing classes. Standing, I sit on the couch, tugging Hope against my side, dropping kisses in her hair. “What do you need me to do, love?” “Just this,” she sighs. “I’ve already texted Lena. She’ll wake Aric when we’re ready to leave. My bag is at the door. Jacob is asleep.” She grins mischievously up at me. “I wouldn’t say no to a foot rub.” Smirking down at her, I slide along the couch, Hope eagerly turning to her side as I pick up her foot, holding it in my lap and massaging it. I’ve got fucking good at this. Hope’s feet were one of the first things about her to swell. I was terrible the first couple of times - she spent more time laughing at me tickling her than relaxing - but now I’m a fucking foot-rub pro. “That feels amazing, Gray,” she whispers, her eyes closing, her cheek leaning against the leather of the back of the couch. Grinning, I keep rubbing her feet, the flawlessly coifed woman on the screen showing how to make a perfect soufflé. Seems finicky. Just fucking buy one. Chapter 2 HOPE Moaning, I do my breathing exercises, flexing my fingers. “That’s five minutes again, love. It’s time.” My eyes fly open, fixing on Gray at the other end of the couch, my feet in his lap as he holds up the timer on his phone. He’s right. That’s four in a row at five minutes apart. It’s time. “You call Lena. I’ll go check on Jacob.” He pats my feet, lifting them out of his lap as he leaves the room. Picking up my phone, I dial Lena’s number. I was hoping to last until the sun came up, at least, but that’s not going to happen. “Hope? Is it time?” Lena doesn’t even let me get a hello out when she answers. “Yeah. If it’s not too much trouble?” “Too much trouble? Are you fucking kidding me! Aric! Get up!” I giggle into the phone, Lena’s answering giggle sounding in my ear. “Baby time?” Aric rumbles sleepily at the other end. “Baby time for Killer and Hope,” Lena agrees. Probably a good thing she clarified. Aric would have gone crazy in his sleepy state if he had thought their baby was coming so early. He would have had Lena at the hospital before she could explain they needed to be here. “We’ll be there in ten minutes,” she assures me. Hanging up, I carefully climb to my feet - a hard task these days. “Easy, love. I’ve got you.” Gray is at my side, one hand cupping my elbow, the other curled around my waist as he helps me stand. I bite back a smile. “Still not breakable,” I murmur to him. His answering chuckles brush against my ear. “Always breakable to me.” “You’re just feeling guilty because you did this to me.” “Guilty as charged. If I could feel everything for you, Hope, I’d do it in a heartbeat.” My heart aches at the sincerity threading through his words. “I know you would, Gray.” I wrap my arms around his waist, turning as his arms come around me. I tip my head back, and he presses his forehead against mine, our eyes burning together. “I love you so much, Hope. You know that, right?” His eyes are suspiciously bright. “Are you going to cry when you hold your… baby?” I catch myself just in time to stop myself saying son. He grins at my teasing tone. “Love, I’m going to sob like a little bitch.” I grin widely, leaning back to take in his whole face. “I won’t tell a soul.” “Fuck ‘em,” Gray grins back down at me. “They can know. I don’t give a shit.” My nostrils flare, and my fingers tighten on the back of Gray’s shirt as another contraction rolls through. Gray’s arms freeze around me, his fingers massaging circles on my lower back. “Breathe, love. I’m here. It will be over soon.” Nodding, I let out a ragged breath, pressing my forehead against his chest. “Lena and Aric will be here soon. Then we’ll go to the hospital. I called the doc from the hall. He’s on his way to the hospital.” A hammering at the door has Gray stepping away from me. He crosses to it, opening it and grinning as Aric bundles Lena into the room. “Trust you to have a fucking kid on the coldest night of the year,” Aric snaps at Gray. Lena ignores them, rolling her eyes and hurrying across to me. She gives me a hug - slightly awkward when both our bellies get in the way - and grins at me. “Good luck! We’ll bring Jacob to the hospital after.” Lena glances over her shoulder, rolling her eyes again as Aric glares at her, imperiously pointing at the couch. Sighing, Lena drops onto it, snagging a throw rug and settling it on her lap. “Happy?” she snipes at Aric, who glowers back. “Ecstatically.” He sounds more sarcastic than happy, but I catch a ghost of a smile as he turns to collect our bags, ready to take them out to the new SUV the boys from the garage delivered last week. They had already installed a baby carrier across from Jacob’s booster seat. Gray waves to Lena, helping me into my coat. It doesn’t close at the front anymore, but it will do. My eyebrows shoot up when he sets my knitted cap on my head and wraps a scarf around my neck. “Seems overkill to go to the car,” I mutter. Gray shoots me a glower to match Aric’s and pulls on his leather jacket, wrapping an arm around my waist to help me outside and down the porch steps. My breath catches as we step off the porch. Gray’s insistence on the warmer clothes makes sense now. Snowflakes drift lazily from the sky, swirling around prettily. “It’s snowing,” I breathe in wonder, tipping my head back. “It’s a good sign,” Gray murmurs in my ear. “Snow in the desert just in time to welcome our baby.” I grin up at him as he walks me to the SUV. I didn’t know he had it in him to be so poetic. KILLER Doc Menzies is waiting for us at the hospital. He has a wheelchair for Hope. She looks like she’s about to argue. I open my mouth to tell her to sit down, but the doc beats me to it. “You’re my patient now, Hope. You do as you’re told.” Huffing a sigh, she grips my hand tightly, carefully lowering herself into the chair. I carry her bag, holding her hand as Doc Menzies wheels her along. “I’ve got you set up in here.” He leads us into a private room with its own bathroom. Setting the bag on the bed, I turn around, just as Hope speaks up. “My waters just broke.” Fucking hell. This is getting real now. My eyes snap to her crotch, but I don’t see any water. The videos they made us watch in the birthing classes made it seems like an entire whiskey bottle’s worth of liquid was going to come out. “I put a pregnancy pad on,” she tells Doc Menzies, who smiles down at her. “Good idea. Let’s get you to the birthing suite. The midwives can check you out and get you comfortable. Now, should I call an anesthetist?” Hope starts to shake her head as I glare at her. We discussed this. She was rabbiting on about doing things “naturally”, I think she should get an epidural, stubborn woman. “Not yet,” Hope says firmly. Doc Menzies nods slowly. “You know as well as I do that you’re rapidly approaching the point of no return, Hope.” I think that’s when it’s too late to have an epidural. Hope shakes her head again. Fuck that. A nurse comes in, squealing and hugging Hope - they must have worked together when Hope worked here. My fingers close around Doc Menzies upper arm, jerking him toward me. “Get the anesthetist. I want them on standby,” I growl. Doc Menzies has worked for us for a long time and doesn’t even blink. He grins and nods. “She’ll meet us there. I’ll page her now.” Good. Hope’s not the only one who can be stubborn. Chapter 3 HOPE My contractions are getting stronger. Sucking in air isn’t doing much now. I feel like I’m being ripped in two. My stomach contracts too. Oh no. “Um,” I squeak. Jolene, one of my old colleagues, takes one look at my face, holds up her hand to stop Dr. Menzies from pushing the wheelchair, and has a sick bag to my mouth right as I hurl. “Love?” Gray’s voice sounds concerned as he crouches down, taking my hands. I finish being violently ill and lean back, feeling clammy and shaking. “I’m okay,” I croak at him. His worried brown eyes search my face, moving up to look at Dr. Menzies over my head. “Perfectly normal. Just the pain.” Gray’s hands squeeze mine, our eyes locking again. “Please, Hope. Having an epidural doesn’t make you any less strong.” My heart thumps. I know it’s hard for Gray to see me in pain. But I’m not pushing back on the epidural because of any silly notion about it not being a “real” birth if I have medical intervention. No. I just know the statistics. I know what can go wrong. “I’m scared,” I whisper. Gray’s hands tighten again. “I’ll be right here. The doc will make sure they’re the best.” My breath leaves me in a whoosh. I love this man so much. I love that he automatically knew what I was scared of. I love how well he knows me. I have no idea what I did to deserve him, but whatever it was, I’m so glad I did it. “I’ll try.” Gray beams, looking relieved. He stands, still crouching, leaning in to kiss me. At the last second, he veers off, pressing the kiss to my clammy forehead instead. Right. Vomit. I tip my head back, looking into Dr. Menzies’ reassuring eyes. “If I have an epidural, can I brush my teeth after?” “I’ll fetch a toothbrush myself.” “Okay.” I can do this. We start moving again, and I’m wheeled into the comfortable birth suite. I relax immediately as my eyes land on the anesthetist waiting beside the bed. Dr. Azzopardi. She’s the best anesthetist in the hospital. She also looks like she got dressed in a hurry. I don’t think she was on call tonight. Doc Menzies must have called her when Gray called him. Gray lifts me onto the bed, and Dr. Azzopardi approaches, a warm smile on her face. “Sorry about this. You look like it was the last thing you were expecting,” I murmur as she leans over me. “Oh, I’m being well-compensated, don’t you worry about that. You just relax. You’re having a baby.” I nod as she starts to run through what I already know - everything that can go wrong. Gray listens carefully to her, glaring fiercely, his hand tight on mine. “I need you to confirm you understand the risks and are happy to proceed, Hope.” Dr. Azzopardi is looking at me expectantly. Gray squeezes my hand again. “I understand,” I choke out. She nods, positioning me on the bed and handing me a pillow to hold and hunch over. It happens more quickly than I thought it would. We have to pause for a contraction, but then I’m lying on the bed, contractions feeling less and less painful with each one. “Perfect,” Dr. Azzopardi beams at me. “I’m going for a coffee. Someone will page me if I’m needed again, but hopefully, this will all be over before you need a top-up.” Yeah, I hope so too. KILLER Thank fuck for epidurals. I had no idea all the shit that could go wrong with them, but Hope is resting comfortably now, and she got to brush her teeth. Doc Livingstone, her OBGYN, arrived at some point to assist Doc Menzies. I have mainly ignored them, stroking Hope’s hair and speculating what the baby will look like as she giggles at me. I’m just guessing. I’ve never seen a newborn before. Hope has, so I think the giggles mean I’m completely wrong about everything. Doc Livingstone does something between Hope’s legs and beams across the bed at us. “Fully dilated, Hope. When you next feel the pressure of a contraction, I want you to push.” Hope nods, squeezing my hand. I grip back as they position Hope’s feet up in the stirrups, and she grunts, frowning in concentration. Doc Livingstone smiles over at her when Hope relaxes. “Well done, Hope. But I need a little more. How about your husband drops your hand. In the next contraction, I want you to grip your knees with both hands and really push. If your face isn’t red, you’re not doing it hard enough. And push down, like you’re going to the bathroom.” Fucking hell. TMI, Doc. “If I don’t hold her hand, what do I do, Doc?” I’m thrown a wry smile. “Hold her shoulders. Gripping her knees will bring them off the bed. Just support her there.” Hope leans forward, gripping her knees, and I slip an arm behind her shoulders, holding her up. She grunts with the exertion of her pushing, and this time, Doc Livingstone beams at her. “Perfect. A few more like that, and we’ll be crowning.” Hope is panting, nodding along. She reaches for her knees again, her face screwing up, slowly turning red. “Good, Hope!” the doc cheers. I hope this means it’s going to be over soon. Even though I know she’s not in pain, this is fucking hard to watch. Hope pushes a few more times, and then the doc looks at me. “Well done, Hope. The baby is crowning. Did you want to watch this bit, daddy?” Fucking hell, do I? Hope reaches for her knees, starting to push. Fuck. Yeah, I do. Stepping to the side, I crane my neck, my eyes locked between Hope’s legs as the baby’s head appears. I can see the shock of dark hair, and the head is a bit misshapen, but that’s it. “No more pushing, Hope! Just pant, pant, pant!” Still gripping her knees, Hope pants as the doc instructs, and the baby slides out straight into the doc’s hands. She grabs it, flipping it over as a small cry sounds out. I don’t need to hear her congratulations, it’s a boy. I can fucking see that. My son. I sniff, wiping away the tears. “Want to do the honors, daddy?” I glance over to where the doc is holding a pair of surgical scissors out to me. Right. The cord. Doc Menzies has clamped it and points to where I’m supposed to cut. It’s not like clipping paper. I wiggle the scissors, and it breaks through. Doc Livingstone places our son on Hope’s chest as a nurse takes the surgical scissors away from me. I let them, not even sparing a glance. I can’t tear my eyes away from the sight of my son nuzzling against my beautiful wife’s chest. Moving back to the side of the bed, I crouch there, pressing a kiss to Hope’s lips. “You’re a fucking warrior, love.” “He’s here.” Her voice breaks, and a tear slips from her eye. “And you’re crying.” She half laughs, smiling up at me. I grin down at her, wiping my streaming eyes with the back of my hand. “Told you I would.” “All right, Hope.” Doc Livingstone interrupts our little moment. “We’re going to clean him up, and then daddy can have a hold. We have the next bit of pushing to do.” More pushing? Hope nods like she knows what that means, letting a nurse take our son. I sit down in the armchair near the bed when Doc Menzies points to it. They clean up our son, wrapping him up in a little blue blanket and handing him to me, showing me how to cradle his head. My eyes drink in his red, scrunched-up little face. Hope grunts, and I glance up sharply. She’s pushing again. What the fuck? “Afterbirth,” Doc Menzies says from beside me. “Routine. Nothing to worry about.” Right. Birth stuff. I keep my eyes on Hope. She leans back on the bed, turning her eyes to us, smiling. “I’m glad that’s over.” She sounds exhausted but fine. Reassured, I turn my eyes back to our son. “Still thinking of a name?” Doc Menzies asks above me. “No. Simon Conrad Killen,” Hope says, my heart swelling. Jacob doesn’t carry Conrad’s name, but I wanted my son to. Hope suggested a middle name, which I like. Our son isn’t Conrad - I wouldn’t want him to be. He’s his own person - but I like that he has his name. Chapter 4 KILLER Hope is all showered, tucked up in the bed in the nice private room Doc Menzies organized for us. Simon is sleeping soundly beside her in a small bassinet on wheels. I’m pacing nervously. I called Aric to give him the good news half an hour ago. They should be here soon. There’s a tap at the door, and I stride over, opening it and peering out. Aric and Lena are standing there, Jacob beside them, holding Aric’s hand. “Is the baby here yet, Daddy?” he asks in his high, piping voice. Crouching down, I grin at him. “Yeah, buddy. He is. You ready to meet your little brother, Simon?” “Yes, please, Daddy!” Jacob lets go of Aric’s hand, flapping both his hands around excitedly. I straighten, grasping his hand as Aric claps me on the shoulder and Lena beams at me. “Twice a daddy now,” Aric laughs. “You get to learn the hard way, and the rest of us can learn from your mistakes.” Lena giggles. I flip him off. Thankfully, Jacob is straining at the door and doesn’t see me - Hope would have my balls. I lead the three of them into the room. Hope’s eyes have opened, and she’s watching us with a smile. Aric and Lena move to her bedside as she sits up. Aric drops a kiss on her cheek, and Lena places the huge vase of flowers down beside Hope’s bed, hugging her tightly. Lifting Jacob, I set him on the bed. He immediately scrambles over to Hope, hugging her tightly and pressing kisses to her face. “Good job, Mummy.” She laughs, hugging him back, but he’s spotted Simon, turning eagerly with wide eyes. Carefully, I lift Simon, cradling him as I perch on the edge of the bed beside Jacob. “This is Simon.” Jacob’s eyes are wide and round. He leans closer, slowly, his eyes locked on Simon’s small face. Right as he gets within inches, Simon yawns, his little eyes fluttering open. They’re bright blue, which is apparently common. They’ll probably go brown like me, Hope, and Jacob in the next few months. Jacob lifts a little hand, reaching for Simon’s face. “Careful, buddy,” I warn him. He nods, not looking up, his eyes still locked on Simon. “Hello, Simon,” he whispers, resting his little hand against Simon’s cheek. Simon stares at him, blinking slowly. Then he gurgles, and a tear slides down my cheek. Well, that was fucking beautiful. I glance over to the other three. Hope is crying too, beaming at us. Lena is holding her hands to her chest, looking like Christmas came two weeks early, and Aric is blinking, clearing his throat. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was trying not to cry too, but surely not. He catches me watching him, grinning and flipping me off. “Come on, angel.” Aric’s arm curls around Lena’s waist. “Let’s go get me some shitty coffee and let them have their moment. Then you can hold the baby.” Lena grumbles but lets him lead her away. I hand Simon to Hope, who cradles him and crawl onto the bed, propping myself beside her, an arm anchoring her to my side. Jacob crawls over, snuggling in my lap, his head resting against my chest as he stares at Simon. “All done for babies now?” Hope whispers, looking up at me. I press a kiss to the end of her nose. “Yeah, if you are. This is pretty perfect.” “Yeah, it is.” I rest my cheek against the top of her head as she smiles down at Jacob and Simon. We did pretty good, Conrad and me. If he were here, I know he would be saying the same thing. The End.  Chapter 1
BRUISER Walking out of the clubhouse, my eyes land on my rig, and I grin. I haven’t been able to sit on the fucking thing for a month – the worst month of my fucking life. Also, the worst month because my dick has been aching, and I haven’t fucked Wren in forever. Today’s the day. Throwing a leg over my rig, I ease down, but it’s perfectly fine. Fuck yeah. I’m back. I kick it to life, gunning the engine and roaring out of the compound, turning for the northern suburbs. After Killer, Nan, and fucking Aric bought houses out here, Wren and I finally caved, moving out of our navy blue room in the clubhouse and coming to live out here. It took fucking forever to find a house. Wren got this little wrinkle between her eyes every time she looked at a listing. She said they were all fine, but I know my wife, they weren’t fine. They reminded her of that fucking house of horrors McMansion she grew up in. This house, though? Fucking perfect. It’s an older house, two levels with wooden siding and a porch. Like something you’d see in the Midwest. Wren’s eyes lit up when they landed on it, so I put in an offer right away. Parking my rig in the garage, I stride through the house. Unlike her father’s mausoleum of a home, all the furniture here isn’t fancy and expensive looking. Wren and Lena raided every secondhand furniture store they could find. Everything is nice but more geared for comfort than to show off. Wren’s due home any minute now. I didn’t duck into her office at the clubhouse. I want to shower away the sweat and specks of blood from my day. Jogging upstairs, I run the large shower in the master bathroom, shucking out of my clothes and dropping them into the navy blue hamper Wren insisted on bringing with us from the clubhouse. Stepping under the warm spray, I tip my head back, letting the water run over my face. I carefully wash my cock, grimacing down at the metal bars through it. God, that was a fucking nightmare day. Wren bugged me for the better part of a year to get this fucking piercing. A Jacobs ladder, she called it. I finally caved, and we went to see Kayley. Worst day of my life. The pain was fucking awful. And the worst thing was, I had to be hard for every piercing. Wren sourced some Viagra, so at least I didn’t have to jack off between every piercing as Kayley suggested. That would have put me off handjobs for life. The point is, it’s done, and my dick has finally healed. I can ride – so I don’t have to tell the brothers I have mono anymore – and I can finally fuck my wife. That’s what I’m most looking forward to. Shutting off the shower, I step out, toweling myself dry and tugging on sweats and a T-shirt, padding downstairs. Wren better fucking love this Jacobs ladder after what I went through. The garage door rumbles, and I look over as Wren walks into the living room, waggling her eyebrows. “You rode your motorcycle home,” she giggles, fluttering her eyelashes suggestively. Crossing to her, I slide my hands over her jean-clad ass, gripping it as my lips tease hers. “Want to go upstairs and play with your new toy?” I growl. Wren’s eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Yes, please,” she squeals, stepping away from me to clap her hands eagerly. She darts upstairs while I follow more slowly. Fuck, I hope this is worth it. My feet stumble as I walk into our comfortable bedroom. Wren is already naked, sprawled out on the bed. She lifts a hand, her golden eyes burning into mine as she beckons me. I don’t need to be told twice. Reaching behind my head, I grab the collar of my T-shirt, pull it over my head, and drop it on the ground, shoving out of my sweats. Wren’s eyes drop to my dick, shining excitedly as she drinks in the sight while I crawl onto the bed, kneeling beside her. “Can I?” She reaches out tentatively for my dick. I nod, gritting my jaw. Here goes nothing. Her fingers brush over my dick, which leaps, achingly hard and so fucking ready to get off after a month of nothing. Emboldened by the growl rumbling out of me at her touch, Wren loosely closes her fingers around my dick, rubbing it. Holy. Fucking. Shit. My head tips back, and my eyes flutter closed. That feels amazing. Fucking better than anything I have ever experienced before. A small giggle spills out of Wren’s lips, but I’m in heaven, so I focus on the feeling of her fingers moving over my dick and the piercings. Wren keeps pumping her hand, sending jolts of pleasure through me, but I force my eyes open, bending down to nudge her legs apart with my shoulders. Kayley mentioned that Wren needs to be ready for sex with the barbells, or it could be painful for her. My tongue slides through her folds, circling her clit as she gasps, her fingers tightening around my dick, drawing a groan from me. As I flick my tongue over her clit, I plunge two fingers into her, pumping firmly. Finally, she’s nice and wet. Straightening, I remove her hand from my dick, positioning myself at her pussy and pushing inside. My breath hisses out from between my clenched teeth. I’ve died and gone to fucking heaven. This piercing is the best thing ever to happen to me. Officially. I’m so glad Wren talked me into it. WREN My eyes widen, my mouth dropping open as I breathe inward as Griffin’s dick slides firmly into me. So. Good. I can feel his dick stretching me – I missed the feeling in the last month – but I can also feel the additional pressure of the Jacob’s ladder barbells on the walls of my vagina. He bottoms out, and I moan, long and loud. The Prince Albert ball on the top is pressed firmly against my G-spot. Griffin is spurred on by my moaning, starting to thrust. Oh, god. Shit. With every thrust, that smooth metal ball is hitting my sweet spot. “Harder,” I gasp, my eyes rolling back into my head as Griffin obliges, groaning through gritted teeth as he takes his weight on his forearms, driving into me with hard thrusts, slamming into my G-spot again and again. I shatter in no time. So amazing. Griffin comes with a grunt, collapsing on top of me as my arms and legs hug him. “So, what did you think?” I murmur. Griffin chuckles, turning to press a kiss to my temple, his blonde beard tickling me. “As usual, you were right. That was the most amazing fuck I’ve ever had in my life.” “Glad you did it then?” I tease him. He growls, nuzzling his nose against my face. Lifting his head, his bright blue eyes, both warm and icy all at the same time, burn into mine. “Yeah. Glad I did it.” He rolls off me, and I whimper at the loss of my full feeling. Landing on his back, Griffin stares up at the ceiling, grumbling to himself. “Thank fuck that pain was worth it. Couldn’t ride for a fucking month. Had to tell the brothers I had mono.” Smiling at the side of his face, I reach over, remembering the undone look on his face when I first touched his dick. My fingers close around it, and his muttered complaints cut off in a pleasure-filled groan, his eyes fluttering closed as his hips buck slightly. Pumping, his dick hardening in my hands, I snuggle against him, my lips brushing over his ear. “It was the most amazing fuck of my life, too,” I whisper, drawing another groan from Griffin. “I want to do it again.” “I aim to please,” he murmurs, gripping my hips as I throw my leg over him, my head tipping back as I slide down, feeling everything. Oh, I’m never getting used to this. I have to feel it all the time. Every day. This is incredible. “That’s a beautiful sight, baby,” he grunts, his fingers tightening on my hips as I start to roll them, controlling the pace. Sorry, Griffin, but this is about me. I’m rolling my hips specifically to roll the metal ball around my G-spot. I think I’m going to come faster than I ever have, and harder too. My head tips forward, my eyes finding Griffin’s. There is no ice there now, only blazing blue fire. It’s a look just for me and never fails to excite me. Coupled with his new piercings… I shatter with a whimper, Griffin’s jaw clenching as my inner muscles clamp down on his dick, his eyes glazing over as he groans and comes. I’m so glad I wore him down and convinced him to do this. Slumping forward, his arms come around me, anchoring me to his chest. I might be insatiable, but I don’t see him complaining any time soon. The End.  Photo by Pablo Heimplatz on Unsplash  Chapter 1
ARIC I’ve had a lot of days in my life so far that could be considered the best day of my fucking life. When I was made Vice President of the Wild Hawks - that was up there. The day I met Lena, the most gorgeous woman in existence. The day I claimed her. The day I proposed to her. The day I married her. The day she told me she was pregnant - all fucking amazing days. I never imagined what is actually the best day of my life would also slowly turn into the worst. Doc Menzies squares off with me, standing between me and the gurney they’ve just loaded Lena onto. “Get out of the way, Mr. Shaw,” he warns. Not fucking happening. “I go where she goes,” I growl, my hands closing into fists. “This is pointless,” the doc snaps. “We’re wasting time. Time they don’t have.” “Then stop wasting it. Give me a fucking cap and gown, and let’s get this done.” The door behind me slides open. Fucking finally. Let’s go. Hands close around my arms. What the fuck is this? I start to shrug them off, but they tighten, more hands grabbing my wrists. Fuck that. A glance down tells me exactly who has grabbed me. One hand on my wrist reads WILD, the other FIRE. Killer and Bruiser. Those traitorous cunts. They wrestle me out of the room as Doc Menzies watches. “Let me the fuck go!” I howl, struggling against the tight hold they have on me as they drag me away from the door. As Doc Menzies and Doc Livingstone wheel the bed out, my eyes lock on the doorway. Lena is fucking pale, her eyes closed, her rounded belly sticking up like a mountain, covered in a white hospital sheet. “Calm down, man,” Killer grunts. “She’s in safe hands. Let them do their job.” “Easy for fucking you to say,” I spit at him. “You didn’t get dragged away from your fucking wife.” “That wasn’t what Hope needed,” Bruiser rumbles. My head snaps around, and my heated eyes meet his calm, icy blue ones. I stare him down. “How the fuck would you know. You aren’t having kids.” Bruiser nods sharply to me. “I know because I listen to the doc.” I start to struggle again as Lena’s gurney disappears through swinging doors. I know those ones lock. I need to find a nurse with a key card and take it off them. “Aric.” It’s said quietly, with authority. I fucking hate that my body automatically responds to the command, freezing under the hands still holding me. Dad comes to a halt beside me, Mom, Nan, and Strafe flanking him. “What did the doc say?” I’d clock the fucker, but I can see the worry etched on his face despite his quiet tone. “Placental abruption,” I grunt and am met with six blank faces. “Fuck load of blood came out. Doc says it means the placenta tore away from the uterus wall.” “So, what next?” Mom asks, her voice shaking. Nan’s arm snakes around Mom’s waist, and they cling to each other. “Cut the baby the fuck out of her, stop the bleeding, give her more blood.” Killer’s hand tightens on my shoulder while Strafe’s hand clamps down on Dad’s shoulder, and Mom and Nan let out matching whimpers. “She’s going to be okay,” Bruiser rumbles, sounding like he’s assuring himself just as much as the rest of us. “The doc is the best.” Mom recovers first, her eyes narrowing on Bruiser as she continues to hug Nan. “Should you be here? Mono is very contagious. You shouldn’t be near a newborn baby or Lena.” Bruiser shifts uncomfortably. I’m just glad something is here to distract me from whatever the fuck they’re doing to my wife. The cunt doesn’t have mono. I’ve seen people with mono. He just needed an excuse he was willing to give for why he couldn’t ride. “All cleared up,” Bruiser says gruffly. “Ask the doc. He’ll tell you I don’t have mono.” A smirk crosses Strafe’s face, his eyes landing on Bruiser. “You’ll be okay to ride then.” Bruiser shifts again. “Just waiting to be given the all-clear,” he evades. Killer nods, completely fucking clueless. “Good. You must be going stir crazy after a month being benched.” Bruiser shifts again, a flash of something crossing his face. “Definitely going stir crazy,” he mutters. I share a glance with Strafe, whose lips are twitching. He’s going stir crazy for Wren’s pussy. Strafe didn’t give me the details, I don’t know if Nan gave them all to him, but the man had something done to his cock at the tattoo parlor. I don’t want to think about that shit. It sounds painful. But Wren wore the fucker down. Dad ignores the looks flying around, brushing Killer and Bruiser’s hands off my shoulders, replacing them with his own. “Let’s go get a cup of coffee, son.” He squeezes my shoulders, and I trail after him. ARIC “Aric Shaw?” My head snaps around, my eyes locking on the tall, dark male nurse standing in the cafeteria doorway. I’m on my feet before the rest of them even look up. “That’s me.” The nurse nods warily, gesturing for me to follow him. He leads me up through a set of locked doors to an operating theater door. Doc Menzies is standing there, holding a small blue bundle of cloth. My heart is in my mouth. “Doc?” “Congratulations, Mr. Shaw. It’s a boy.” My hands are trembling as I take my son off him, automatically cradling him the way Lena taught me with Killer’s son, Simon. I don’t even glance down at him. “Lena?” I croak. Please be okay, angel. I can’t live in a world she isn’t in. “Mrs. Shaw has lost a lot of blood. We’re giving her a transfusion now. The surgery went well, with no damage. She should be fine for future pregnancies if that is something you both wish to explore.” My shoulders sag. “She’s going to be okay?” Doc Menzies smiles, nodding. “She’s going to be okay. I’m going back in. Once she’s had the all-clear, we’ll bring her to the private room. Calvin here will take you there now.” The nurse nods at the sound of his name. I follow him, feeling both relieved and numb. I don’t think I’ll fully relax until Lena is in my arms, and I can see she’s okay with my own two eyes. Calvin, the nurse, takes me to a comfortable-looking private room, similar to what Hope was in after giving birth to Simon. I sit in the armchair, still cradling the baby. My son. There’s a rustling of papers, and Calvin stands there, a pen poised. “Baby’s name?” “Ethan Mitchell Shaw.” Lena picked it. Mitchell was her daddy. Ethan was a nice name. She should be here for this. Calvin runs through some more questions, and I answer mechanically, rocking my son absently. My son. Looking down, my eyes drink in his little red face. His head isn’t misshapen like Simon’s was. He’s perfect. A little red and scrunchy, but perfect. My heart thumps. I was wrong. Losing Lena would be like losing a limb. Like losing most of my heart. But a part of my heart will always beat for Ethan, my son. I would be in a world of pain without Lena, but I would drag myself on in life for Ethan. I’d do anything for Ethan. “Mr. Shaw?” Calvin is hovering. “Usually, we recommend skin-on-skin contact, but Mrs. Shaw isn’t here.” I stare up at him, blinking in confusion. Calvin bites his lips as he gestures to the baby. “I’ll hold him while you take off your shirt.” “Take off my shirt?” “Yes. I’ll take his blanket, and you hold him on your chest. Skin-on-skin. He’s a little premature, not enough to worry about, but enough that skin-on-skin contact will help him.” Fucking hell. I let him take the baby, reaching behind me to grasp the back of my T-shirt, pulling it off in one smooth motion, and dropping it on the floor. Calvin has laid Ethan on the bed, unswaddling him. He crosses back to me, laying Ethan’s little body on my chest, covering us both with the blue blanket. Ethan nuzzles against my pecs, my hand automatically raising to cup the back of his tiny head. “My wife will be brought here soon, right?” “Yes, Mr. Shaw. I’ll go check on the timing.” Calvin disappears, and I lean back into the armchair, looking down at Ethan’s little face. He’s gone to sleep, looking completely safe. Blinking, I can feel the wetness of tears on my cheeks. Please be okay, Lena. We need you. Chapter 2 ARIC The door swings open, pulling my gaze from Ethan’s sleeping face. Doc Menzies appears, nodding to me as two orderlies wheel in Lena. They move her onto the bed, and Doc Menzies tucks the crisp white sheets around her. The last time Lena was in this place, unconscious and swaddled in those sheets, was the worst time of my life. I’m having painful flashbacks right now. Doc Menzies leaves, telling me he will be back to check in soon. The door swings shut, and I start to move slowly, not wanting to wake Ethan but needing - with a primal urge - to hold Lena’s hand. A sound has me freezing. “That’s the most beautiful sight in the world.” My eyes snap to Lena’s face. Her eyes are open, and she’s smiling faintly at me. She looks pale and so god-damn fucking beautiful. “Angel,” I croak. “How are you feeling?” “Fuzzy. Empty.” Empty. No baby. I surge out of my seat, the blue blanket fluttering to the floor. Ethan shifts his head, letting out a tiny cry at being disrupted. He has drooled on my blood-red magnolia tattoo. Crossing to the bed, I lower him into Lena’s waiting arms. “He’s perfect,” she whispers, her eyes drinking him in. “Skin-on-skin?” She glances up at me, a question in her eyes. I duck down, snagging my T-shirt and tugging it back on. “The nurse said it was good for premature babies. He’s okay. He doesn’t need any other help.” “Okay. Help me?” Nodding, I ease my hand under her shoulders, lifting her and helping her take off the top half of the hospital gown. Ethan is nuzzling her breasts, and she giggles. “Do you have my bag?” It’s sitting on the small table under the TV. I cross to it, my eyebrows raising. “I need a nursing bra,” Lena laughs. “I’m leaking.” Shit. I didn’t know that was a thing. I dig through the bag, holding up two bras. She points to the creamy one. Dropping the other, I cross to her, helping her into it, snapping the clasp at the back. “Usually, I’m doing that in reverse,” I mutter. “Feels wrong to be putting clothes on you.” Lena rolls her eyes, leaning back as I use the remote to lift the back of the bed for her. Ethan is happily latched. I drop a kiss on her lips and perch on the end of the bed, my eyes drinking in the sight in front of me. I was ambivalent about having a baby. Lena wanted one. I wanted Lena to be happy, so we had a baby. But now, this is all I want. This right here, in front of me. This is fucking perfect. LENA Ethan lets out a little cry as my nipple slips out of his little mouth. Ouch. Hope said it kind of hurt until your nipples toughened up, but still… ouch. I shift him to my other side, fumbling a little, shooting Aric an embarrassed look as he lounges on the end of the bed, watching us, love and pride blazing out of his eyes. “You’re doing amazing, angel.” His hand caresses my foot through the sheet, and I blink. Aric is beside me in a second, leaning over and brushing away my tears with his fingers, pressing kisses to my forehead. “I love you so much, angel,” he murmurs. “You’re fucking superwoman.” Aric cradles me until Ethan is finished. He steps back so I can burp the baby and reaches immediately to cradle him, swaddling him and placing him carefully back in his little wheeled bassinet. Kicking off his shoes, Aric helps me into my sweatpants and a loose cotton T-shirt - I don’t want to be in a hospital gown anymore - and climbs into bed with me, covering us both with the sheet and pulling me down on top of his chest, his lips finding my hairline. “I was so fucking scared I was going to lose you, angel.” His voice is filled with emotion, and my heart thumps. “I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper back. Aric’s arms tighten around me. “That better be a fucking unbreakable promise,” he rumbles. I snuggle down in his arms. “It is. Has anyone else met Ethan yet?” “No.” Aric’s mouth is still against my forehead, his fingers stroking through my hair. “I wasn’t letting anyone meet our son before you did.” I don’t think it’s possible to love him more than I do right now. “They can all fucking wait. We’ll let them in when you’re good and fucking ready.” Huh. Maybe I can love him more. Chapter 3 ARIC Lena let me help her shower - I’m glad since we got married, she has been less picky about letting me help her with shit - and I’ve brushed her hair into a ponytail. It’s not very neat, but I’ll work on that. She’s perched in the bed, Ethan in her arms, and nods to me, smiling and relaxed. Grinning, I cross to the door, opening it and sticking my head out. Six faces lift to look at me, from where they are scattered around the wide, white corridor. “All right. You can fucking come in now.” Mom is first through the door - because of course she is - followed closely by Nan. Dad follows them in, and Strafe pauses, grinning, his eyes darting over my shoulder into the room. “Never thought I’d see the day those two turned to each other for comfort.” I glance over to where Mom and Nan are both bending over Ethan and Lena, Dad standing at the end of the bed watching them with rapidly blinking eyes. “I guess they needed reminding that there is something more than bad feelings.” I eye Strafe carefully. Nan isn’t the only one with bad feelings. “How about you?” Strafe shrugs, lifting his backward baseball cap, rubbing his short, dark hair, and setting the hat down. “Whatever Nan needs.” Of course that’s his fucking answer. That’s always his answer. That’s the only reason he isn’t dead for touching my sister. Clapping him on the shoulder, I shove him into the room. Killer and Bruiser are hanging back but take a step closer. “We good?” Killer asks, eyebrows raised. I shoot them a glare. “I won’t be forgetting you cunts held me back when they took my wife away.” “You can thank us whenever you’re ready,” Bruiser rumbles. Fucking prick. Flipping him off, I jerk my head at the room with a grin. “Come meet my son, you fuckers.” Two matching grins break out, and they shoulder past me into the room. I snap the door shut, standing in the doorway, my eyes trailing over the room. Everyone I would consider family is here right now, all eyes glued to my son, who Mom is holding, Nan standing so close their sides are touching as she coos in his face. Strafe and Dad stand side by side, grinning and chatting, their eyes locked on their wives and Ethan. Killer and Bruiser are leaning down over Lena, talking while she smiles up at them. Her eyes lock with mine, and my heart swells. Life is pretty fucking perfect. The End. |
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