“How?” I growled, but she didn’t tense.
The swing set was like an extended A-frame. Had three swing seats and nothing else. I wasn’t even sure how she’d get a cut from it.
“I was leaning against the side, watching Lawrence trying to reach the sun.” She said that so seriously that I almost believed Lawrence could reach the sun via swing. “Then, I pulled away and I was bleeding.”
I peered down at the tableau of two grown men beating the shit out of the swing set that had dared to hurt their daughter, and saw Lawrence, Wheels’ kid, was standing in the wings, watching on with satisfaction at the destruction.
The sight had me frowning. “Why didn’t Lawrence help you?”
“He tried,” she said in a small voice. “But I wanted one of my daddies.”
And she’d picked me?
My heart went BOOM in my chest, especially when she cuddled into me even more with a sigh.
Hand shaking as I lifted it, I pressed it to her head and gently stroked her silky blonde curls. She looked like Tara, Wolfe’s sister, had when she was little, before things had gone to shit after their daddy had died and she’d gotten into drugs. Shortly after, she’d OD’ed. It was a wonder Wolfe didn’t break down and cry every time he looked at his daughter, because if I saw Tara’s face every time, he had to too.
“I’m tired,” she whispered.
“Shall we find your mommy?”
When she didn’t reply, I peered down into her face and saw she’d worn herself out and was asleep. On my arm.
An hour later, I was on my bed with my phone in one hand, and Amaryllis still cuddled into me, when Lucie came in.
She looked a little flushed—had one of my brothers been teasing her?—then I saw her gaze land on Amaryllis’s leg and knew she’d heard what happened.
“She’s fine,” I assured her softly.
“Found a good mattress,” Lucie pointed out, but she was smiling now, her panic gone.
“Yeah. Apparently I’m comfortable,” I teased, grinning at her as she approached the bed, toed out of her sandals, and climbed in beside me.
“I could have told you that,” she replied. “How bad?”
“She didn’t need stitches. But we’ll need to put antibiotic cream on it every eight hours.”
“She won’t need a tetanus jab. Cut herself last year and we had to get one then.” She winced. “Probably more damage to the swing set than her.”
“Without a doubt,” I told her, amusement lacing my words. I showed her my phone and she laughed quietly at the swings I was going to order. “All wood, no metal.”
I lifted my arm so she could cuddle into me, but that meant I had to put my phone down. Leaving it on the nightstand, I let her snuggle into me, loving her soft curves as she hugged me like she couldn’t get close enough. I knew the feeling because I felt like that too.
There was never all that much silence at the clubhouse, but there was enough for the restful peace in my room to affect us.
Lucie and I didn’t talk, didn’t need to, just held one another and our daughter.
And, for the first time since I was a kid, I took an afternoon nap, which became the best sleep of my goddamn life.
9
Axe
Two weeks later
“We’re gathered here today to celebrate the life of Kid. He was a brother, and he still is. Even with his life having been tragically cut short, he dies a Rebel, and we honor him with that today.”
The words were still percolating in my head a few hours after the service.
On Rebel land, we had an area where we had a private graveyard. It was filled with way too many bodies, considering how short a time the Rebels had been around. We’d gathered there today with the intention of spreading Ryan’s ashes before we began the wake, but my mind was still out there, still playing back those moments we’d released Ryan’s ashes to the world.
Amaryllis had been clinging to Lucie all morning and afternoon. It was seven, her bedtime, and Lucie had just put her to bed. I was watching her, needing those quiet moments before the chaos of the common room took precedence over everything else. Listening to the bedtime story was soothing something inside me, something I hadn’t even known I’d needed.
I’d never thought I’d be a dad, and yet, here I was, watching Lucie with our girl.
The circle of life…
Wakes weren’t just an excuse for a fuckfest or for a party. They were the one way we could mourn with our brothers. If someone cried at a wake, there’d be no recriminations. No shit talk. We all wept into our whisky when one of our own passed. Call us pussies or just call us loyal, it was how we rolled at these events.
When a brother was taken down, I felt it in my fucking soul. They weren’t brothers of blood but brothers by choice, and that made the tie even more powerful.
It didn’t matter that Ryan had left a long time ago. Didn’t matter that the MC had moved on. Only the new kids didn’t know him, didn’t remember him. That was the punch Ryan had packed.
I remember you telling me pussies could punch harder than me.
Ryan?
What the fuck?
My eyes widened as I stared at Amaryllis and Lucie. Reaching up, I rubbed at my eyes and tried to calculate how much I’d had to fucking drink today.
Too much.
Fuck. I’d only had six or so beers.
Exactly. I didn’t keep them safe all this time for you to fuck this up, Axe. I need you to love her, to protect her. Don’t let your guard down, man.
I had to be losing my fucking mind.
More like pickling it. Shit’s coming, brother. Shit I can’t stop. Keep her safe. For me. But more importantly, for all you fuckwits. You’re nothing without her.
My mouth dropped open at the reprimand, but before I could pinch myself, Lucie was turning around and creeping off the bed. I glanced at Amaryllis and saw she was asleep. Lucie reached over and turned off the nightstand lamp, cutting off the light to the dark room.
Already, the loud, throbbing music from below was evident, and I winced, made aware yet again that this wasn’t the right place to raise Amaryllis.
Ever since Lucie had talked about leaving and finding somewhere nearby, the idea had been running through my head but we’d all been too busy to actually act on the notion.
But with it running at the back of my mind, I’d never noticed just how much sex went down on the premises. I mean, I noticed, but it hadn’t registered. It wasn’t until I had a set of little eyes to protect that I actually gave a fuck.
“Come on, she’s fast asleep,” Lucie whispered, tugging at my hand.
“You gonna sleep with me tonight?” I asked softly, as we stepped out and closed the door behind us.
She cut me a look and shook her head. “She still needs me.”
I understood that, even if I did feel petty for being jealous of my daughter.
My lips curved in amusement at the thought, but when Ryan’s favorite song came on, a total wild card of a song that I knew was only being played for his benefit, my heart stuttered.
“Wolfe,” Lucie whispered.
That made sense. He was behind “Zombie” by The Cranberries being played.
I squeezed her hand when I felt her fingers trembling in my hold.
“God, Axe, I miss him so much.”
“I do too,” I rasped, hauling her into my side so I could bury my face in her hair. “All I’ve done for so long is miss the pair of you. I can’t believe he’s fucking gone.”
“Me either.” She curled into me, her hands coming up to my chest and her nails digging into my cut. “I begged him to fight it, begged him to, but he couldn’t. It just… He was so strong. Then, one minute, he wasn’t. He got so thin, his muscles seemed to disappear. It was like something from a horror movie how it ravaged his body.” She trembled in my arms. “A-After, without him, I thought I was going to die. I’ve always thought I was strong. That I could do anything I set my mind to, but I realized the
n that I could only do that when you had my back. Without him, I was alone, so fucking alone, Axe—”
Before she could say another word, I whispered, “You’ll never be alone again.”
Her tears wet my cut, and I closed my eyes as I ran a hand over her head, trying to impart comfort where there was none to give.
“You’ve got closure now, baby girl,” I told her softly. “You’ve been waiting on this service for a long time.”
She tensed then relaxed. “I guess.”
“Closure is important. You know that. How many brothers have we lost? You can’t grieve when shit’s still up in the air.”
Lucie was quiet for a few seconds, then, she whispered, “I-I hope he’s at rest now that he’s here. He missed this place just as much as I did. This was home for both of us.”
“Of course it was. He’ll find his peace.” At least, I hoped he would. The fact the fucker had still managed to fucking talk to me told me otherwise, but I wasn’t about to tell Lucie that. She’d think I’d lost my fucking mind.
I tugged at her, prompting her to move with me as we slow-danced to a song that you couldn’t slow-dance to, but one that was for her and me.
“Zombie” was a song about death and mindless violence, about loss and fear and the human condition. Ryan hadn’t just loved the lyrics or the music, he’d loved the meaning. He was a deep fucker, and as I danced with our woman, that resonated as we moved to a song that, deep in his cups, had been enough to make tears prick the bastard’s eyes.
Rubbing my chin against her silky hair, I whispered, “Lucie?”
“Hmm?”
“I love you. You know that, don’t you?”
She released a sigh. “I do. I love you, too.”
I nodded, glad she knew that. This week was going to be a fucker, and I wanted her to know, down to her bones, that we had her back.
Tomorrow, she’d be heading with Dagger to the doctor’s surgery for her cast to be removed. Ramon couldn’t cut off her fucking finger before then. It wasn’t like she could have the cast removed with her finger missing, not without raising questions, and considering the appointment had already been set for this week, we’d seen no issue in following through with it.
Had it been me, Wolfe, Flame, or Dagger, there was no doubt that we’d have taken a saw to the cast ourselves. But Lucie needed the best care, and while that wasn’t exactly what Rutherford had to offer, it was better than us attacking her cast ourselves.
After that, we had to stage her scene of ‘death’ and hope that Carlos Rodriguez was distracted enough with his turf war that he was satisfied with the pictures Ramon sent him.
Then, we had to hide Lucie away. Flame had called in a favor with one of the ranchers who’d gone to school with us. She was going to stay in a cabin on his land for a little while. Back in the day, it had been used during the winter as a base so ranch hands could check out the terrain at the farthest points of the property.
Nobody would think to look for her there. She’d stay there with Amaryllis until we found the rat in our midst, and then we’d bring her home. She’d have to lay low for-fucking-ever. There was no avoiding that. Or until Carlos Rodriguez was taken down.
Even as I thought about it, I wondered if Dagger and Flame were intending to go down that route. And if they weren’t, maybe I should make the suggestion, because the prospect of Lucie having to hide out for the rest of her life wasn’t acceptable.
Still, targeting Carlos would bring the entirety of the cartel down on us. Easier to ship a ton of ghost guns to the Colombians who he was engaging in turf war with. Arm them up, ramp them up, and get them to take the motherfucking Mexicans out.
“You tensed.”
I blinked. “Just thinking.”
“About this week?” she asked, and her miserable tone told me that she was sad about Ryan, but also about what was going to go down over the next few days.
“It’s fucked up,” I admitted, releasing the words on an exhalation, “but we’ll get through it.”
She swallowed. “I’d run again, but—”
“No!” I growled. “No running.” My hands slipped up her arms to cup the balls of her shoulders. “Promise me, Lucie. You run now, you’ll run forever. Hiding out is better than running.”
“Isn’t it the same thing?” she demanded, staring up at me with her heart in her eyes. I felt her fear, sensed it, and wished I could take it away.
“No. It isn’t.” I leaned down and pressed my forehead to hers. “We’ll get through this. Just give us time.”
“Time? That’s all I’ll have.” She sighed. “At least I can get the factory set up. It will take a while to get all the parts. Some of them are monitored by the Feds, so I’ll have to find a way to get them to us.”
I frowned—she hadn’t told us that. “Which parts?”
“Ryan developed two ways of producing guns. Each one had a purpose.”
“Like?”
“If you knew you’d need to dispose of the weapon, he developed a gun that can be 3D printed.”
I blinked at that.
“How do you dispose of it?”
“You need something like acetone to break down the plastic we’ll use.”
“What’s the other route?”
“Smithing. We have to make them from scratch.”
For some reason, the idea of Lucie dressed in blacksmith gear had my cock hardening.
She snorted. “Do you have an erection?”
“Just imagining you in a workshop.”
A laugh escaped her. “I know my way around a forge, but I prefer the other route. I’ll be glad to teach that part and let someone else take over.”
“I can’t believe Ryan taught you all this shit.”
She shrugged. “I don’t think he wanted to, but…”
When she didn’t continue, I pulled back so I could look at her. “But, what?”
Her lips quivered before she firmed them. “I think he had headaches for a long time before he finally caved in and went to the doctors.”
Fuck.
“He was trying to keep a low profile?”
“We were always moving until we reached Lubbock and found this place where we figured no one would find us. Hell, it was in the middle of nowhere. Even if someone had, he set up all these alarms that would warn us, and by the time someone could approach the property, we had an escape route planned.”
“Jesus,” I bit off. “You lived like that for years? But who did you think was following you? I mean, fuck, we didn’t know about the cartel, so how did you?”
“We didn’t. At least, I didn’t, but...” She tensed, but deep in her eyes, I saw the truth.
“No fucking way.”
Her swallow was all the answer I needed.
She and Ryan had believed the Hell’s Rebels were a threat to her as well.
For a second, I couldn’t even process what she hadn’t said, then I pushed away from her and began to stalk off, my intention to find a bottle of Patrón at the bar.
Then I heard her, heard her broken voice. “Axe, please.”
And I staggered to a halt.
Clinging to the rail that ran down the stairs, I froze in place, trying to get myself under control. But this wasn’t on Lucie. This was on her fucker of a father.
I couldn’t turn around, didn’t have it in me, not when I felt like she’d betrayed me even if she hadn’t. I just needed a drink, just… Hell, I needed something to clear my brain.
So, instead of turning around, I raised my arm. I heard the tap of her feet in her heels, and when she clung to my side, I curved it around her shoulders.
I needed to get shit-faced, and I was pretty fucking sure she did too.
❖
Dagger
A laugh escaped Lucie as she clung to my waist. One strong arm settled against my belly, the other one, still in a cast, was a hard and cold presence at my side, but her laughter more than made up for the discomfort.
With the wind in our fac
es, the open road ahead of us, I wanted to carry on driving.
It was a temptation I couldn’t follow through on, no matter how badly I wanted to.
We were heading to the doctor’s office together to get the cast taken off, not pulling a Bonnie and Clyde without the final scenes. But getting her away from the Guerrera Cartel’s reach felt imperative. Every single one of my instincts was roaring to life alongside the gnarly growl of my hog.
Me, my woman, and my machine.
This was how it was supposed to be.
Simple.
But, as always, shit was complicated. Whenever Lucie was involved, things always turned crazily complex, and I should have remembered that, but I hadn’t.
None of this was on her, none of it. But that didn’t make me want to wrap her up in cotton any less. Not that she’d let me.
She hollered as I revved the engine and upped my speed. I needed the blast of the wind, the scream of the engine, and the change of pace to shift my focus. Thinking about this messed up situation wasn’t going to get me anywhere.
We had a plan.
We had to stick to it.
And it was beyond fucked up that I was about to take Lucie to the doctors for one injury, while returning her back to the clubhouse to sustain another—one none of us had figured out how to tell Amaryllis. Our current plan was for it to happen, then explain after the fact because there was no way in fuck we were going to go into details about this messed up shit. Not with a little girl who was still traumatized from her daddy’s death. Hell, not even if she was nineteen with a kid of her own would we clue her in to the rat’s nest the past had thrown our way.
As Rutherford beckoned in the distance, I eyed the town. It was small fry, but it was home. The place was too tiny to sustain schools or much of a working town center, and that was why most of the businesses were based in Jonsson. Before Bomber had even established the clubhouse here, he’d set up links in the larger city, which was a thirty-minute ride away.
We had several businesses that laundered our cash and added to the club’s coffers, but they pulled in nothing like the runs or the hits.
Their Sinner: Hell’s Rebel’s MC Part I Page 18
