by V. Theia
He was a big man. Lean with a slim build under his dark navy suit, but right there in Rider’s office with the door closed to the noise of the club he looked broken inside.
He’d asked Rider for a quick word.
Never had he suspected what he’d said next.
“I know Zara was never backpacking. And I know this because her passport is where she left it at home in the safe with our passports. Something bad happened to my girl, didn’t it, Rider? Something bad happened to her the whole time she was gone…”
What could Rider say? He would never betray his girl’s confidence. Never. He’d take her agony and ordeal to the grave and have them on a constant nightmarish loop.
He sighed and looked at Jerome. There was no words of comfort and he didn’t want to lie to the man.
“I just … I needed someone to tell me I wasn’t going mad. I wasn’t always the best father, Rider. I pushed her too hard, wanted things for her she didn’t want. I see that now and for a long time I was so angry with her thinking she’d just taken off irresponsibly.”
He did the only thing he could do.
Listened and poured them both a stiff glass of whiskey from the bottle he kept in his bottom drawer.
“I blamed myself for her leaving college before her graduation. I pushed her too hard. Then I found the passport and it all clicked into place. We thought it was drugs.” This Rider knew already. “Every time she’d call she’d sound so lost, so different and she wouldn’t tell us where she was, just she was having a great time backpacking. Zara wouldn’t know one end of a tent from the other. I tried to find her, Rider. I did, my PI came up with nothing. I haven’t told Alice and I know you won’t say anything, son.”
Zara would lose her fucking mind if she ever suspected her well-constructed lie to protect her parents from the truth was as see-through as rice paper. All her good work towards her healing would be for nothing, because her main concern was always keeping her parents in the dark to what happened to her those three years of captivity.
She lived easier now than she had two years ago.
Knowing her father suspected what he did would set her back to square one and Rider would sacrifice a lot to not have that happen.
The two men shared nearly half a bottle of malt whiskey between them in silence, the minutes ticking by before Jerome spoke again.
“I wish so much, Rider, that I’d been a different father. Let her go to the college she wanted, not pushed her towards a career she hated. Maybe then… I don’t know what happened, but it’s in my gut when I look at her. My girl suffers.”
“Jerome. You’ve seen Zara now, right? Does she look sad to you? Miserable? Uncared for?”
“She looks happy.” He agreed.
“And I think you know by now I’d kill anything that stopped her from being happy.”
“It’s oddly comforting, son. Terrifying. But comforting.”
Jerome never once pried into Rider’s business, but he had to assume, Jerome being the big shot lawyer he was, that he would have looked into Rider and his club the moment Zara told her folks about him.
He was fine with that.
No one saw anything Rider didn’t want them to see.
So, whatever facts on the Souls were on the surface, it was just that. It was never the full truth.
Sure, Jerome would know of their reputation. That was a given. But he’d also seen Rider with Zara and how he took care of their daughter.
“Then you know I’m true when I say it. Zara’s happiness, our kid’s happiness is my priority. Let’s leave the past where it belongs.”
The older man sighed and folded his body over his clasped hands. “You’re right. You’re right, I know. I just wanted to say it out loud to someone who would understand. Her mother and me are grateful we could come for the holiday, if we haven’t said.”
Rider flashed a half grin. “You did, and you’re welcome any time. We’re gonna need babysitters soon.”
He understood the sickening look on Jerome’s face and that was from the man only speculating what could have happened to Zara. Imagine how he’d look if he truly knew his girl’s ordeal and how she’d survived like a fucking gladiator.
Rider had most of the facts and he regularly still had the urge to dig those motherfuckers up and kill them three times over for the hurt and suffering they’d caused.
Nothing could wipe away Zara’s past. If only he fucking could. He’d burn the world to ash if it would help her.
All he could do was walk forward holding her hand and be there if the nightmares came crashing down around her.
Rider was strong enough for them both.
That included doing as Zara wanted and protecting her aging parents from the truth.
“Do you love my daughter?” Jerome asked at the door when he was composed enough to re-join the party.
Rider arched his brow in a are you fucking kidding me way.
He chose the path less violent by answering. “Yeah, I do.”
“Curious then, why you aren’t married.” The man grinned and side-eyed Rider.
A teasing quality in his timber.
Because the guy was nearly in tears minutes before Rider allowed himself to be verbally poked by Zara’s father, by replying. “Fuck knows, man. That’s on Zara. She keeps turnin’ me down.”
“You know, her mother turned me down twice too. I have faith in you, son.”
Jerome gave him a supportive pat on the arm and walked ahead.
Rider wasn’t stupid.
He knew why Zara would always smile and tell him no to his proposals.
And he was a patient man.
A very patient man when it came to his Icy-girl.
Shifting his mind back into Prez mode for a second before re-joining the party, he fished out his phone to send a text to Snake who was on his way with the library girl. Seemed that job had taken a personal twist for his bodyguard. He then contacted Arson to make sure he still had his eyes on Texas. Arson replied that T hadn’t moved out of his apartment all day.
That whole fucking shit-storm gave him an ulcer.
But for tonight he set it aside. Tonight was for his girl.
He found Zara near the bar talking to Capone—Rider was surprised the guy had even rocked up to the party because everyone knew he hated the holidays—plus there was Tag and Tag’s latest piece of the day hanging off his belt loop. Tag looked about as excited for the fawning as he would having a ball removed.
Arms circled around Zara from behind, he rested his chin on her shoulder as she melted into him. They stayed like that for quite a while, exchanging conversation, content to just hold her.
Rider laughed low and dirty in the back of his throat watching the excited spark light up his old lady's snow colored pale blue eyes. She was bouncing their baby in her arms, but her nosy gaze was watching Snake and his girl across the room.
Or the girl of the moment he was sniffing around.
Rider didn't take much notice of the women his boys screwed around with.
Not like Zara did.
She kept a mental flow chart or some shit like that.
She was collecting chicks like it was her mission in life to rival his MC with her own squad.
She was so fucking cute.
“You realize you look like a shark circling, ready to pounce.” He asked, leaning an elbow on the bar, he grinned at Harper when she turned those wide baby blues on him and she gave him a gummy smile in return. It never ceased to amaze the love he felt rolling around his chest for his daughter. When she reached out her chubby arms to him, he straightened and plucked her from Zara, letting Harper snuggle into his neck where she promptly fell asleep drooling on him.
“Hush it you. They look serious, don't they?” She murmured, coming to his other side she too burrowed into Rider and that love fired through his ribcage.
His hand curled around her and touched her growing belly. Fuck him, he’d put another baby in his Icy-girl and he was damn proud.
Having h
is two girls was about the best feeling in the world.
And as much as he worshipped his woman for every obstacle she was still fighting to climb over—and for the times she turned those love filled eyes on him, and for the want inside of him that never quietened down. And all the times he wanted to spoil her ... he still wasn't getting involved in whatever scheme she was cooking in her pretty head to ensnare Snake's woman to her gang.
No fucking way.
Wasn't it bad enough he had to endure girls nights together with Ruby and Luxe and now his sister, it was wall to wall chicks all the time in his house.
Then his mind took him to the three years she was alone in a den of psychopaths and all the shit Zara had endured. Not only did it bring the murderous rage to his gut as it always did, but it pinched his heart.
She'd been alone and now she hungered for friends.
He kissed her forehead, holding Zara a little tighter.
He’d do whatever the fuck she wanted.
“Having a good time, Icy?”
She sighed and leaned deeper into him, just like that she found her place. The smile in her voice. “Oh, the best. We should do this every year, Rider. Can we?”
He’d give her anything to keep the happiness in her pale eyes.
His priorities altered the day he set eyes on her again and it would always stay that way.
“Absolutely. Never know,” his voice downshifted just for the shell of her ear. “We might have a third kid next year…”
Zara elbowed him.
But she didn’t say no.
“This was never on my Christmas list. But it was exactly what I wanted.” – Preacher
December 23rd
If you took away the glitz, the catered food, the festive rock ballads and Arson serenading Ellie, one of the in-house groupies, under the shrub of mistletoe hanging from the high ceiling, this party would, Preacher thought, appear like any MC party.
It was hopping.
Not quite like the old, wilder days.
He cracked a half grin standing back watching, tugging on a fat Camacho wrapped cigar, an offering from the Mexican’s to the club. Big crate of them arrived just this past week and since Rider had no ties to the Mexican cartel he had to wonder what they wanted this time.
“Those things will kill you, Asher.” His sweet wife chided coming up to his side holding a plate of finger foods and a virgin cocktail he hoped.
He took the glass, sniffed it, sipped it and handed back the orange juice before stubbing out the cigar.
He would never smoke around her.
“Lotta things will knock me off my perch, beautiful,” drawing her in, he squeezed her shoulder.
She looked fucking spectacular in glitzy gold with her hair in tight corkscrew curls tumbling past her shoulders. And she’d worked some glitter magic with her eyes she said was festive.
Fuckable.
Loveable.
His.
“Smoke will get you faster if I don’t.” She warned smiling.
“Just one for the holidays.” And meant it.
Preacher had a million more reasons now to keep his feet on the mortal coil.
No longer was he a man with no future or focus, bouncing from day to day, going from one drunken night to the next.
He had her.
He had family.
“I have something to tell you.” Ruby announced in a tone of voice that as a former soldier would have alerted him that something bad was about to happen.
He looked on and didn’t see nothing much of danger, only she was nibbling her red lips.
The same lips he wanted to chew on.
The same pair of lips he kissed off under that same mistletoe an hour ago.
But he knew his lady.
She had secrets because her chocolate eyes were dancing with mirth and love.
Preacher kicked up a brow and waited.
Unable to not touch her, he twirled a bouncy curl around a long finger.
She smiled a little. Dropped her loot on top of a table.
“Come with me.”
Through the crowd she held his hand and Preacher followed.
Checking out his wife’s perfect, swishing ass.
Down the long hallway.
He could guess they were going to her tattoo room.
He was a dirty man with a healthy libido for his wife after all, so his mind went nowhere good, as he smirked and palmed her lush hip.
When the door closed behind them he had to ask. “Got some holiday seducing in mind, beautiful? Lay it on me, I’m ready, I’ll take it like a man.”
Story of his hard dick life.
He could be out of his jeans and shirt in seconds if that’s what she wanted.
His Ruby only laughed and instructed him to sit in her leather chair, before she climbed on his lap.
Scooting her in, he laid a soft kiss on her forehead.
She got tired early in these late months of her pregnancy, he’d take her home soon and get her cuddled on the couch with one of her movies.
“You know how we said we’d wait to find out what the baby was…”
“Yeah. Your idea. I was all for it.”
“Right, right. So. A thing happened, Asher…”
The way she kept dropping in dramatic pauses he felt the inside of his cheeks twitching.
At first sight this woman had captivated him. He knew Ruby believed in a higher being, not sure if he did. But he always got the sense they were aligned in each other’s lives just at the right time.
Because each day felt like a piece of heaven.
Even those darker days, he couldn’t complain, not with Ruby at his side.
Gently, because he was so much bigger than her and sometimes didn’t know his own strength, he tickled her ribs. “The Priest’s don’t have secrets, remember, Ruby? You know the punishment for it.”
“That secret was necessary, Asher.” Said a squirming, laughing Ruby. “It was your birthday!”
“You know the sex of our baby, don’t you?”
“Yes.” His poor girl looked so repentant and excited at the same time.
Kissing the tip of her nose, Preacher’s throat felt thick.
Not that he wasn’t ready for fatherhood. Sebastian had given him a full year’s worth of practice. And if he could deal with that little cockblocker he could deal with one tiny baby.
Wait.
Fuck.
His eyes narrowed.
“I just thought. We’re gonna have two little cockblockers in the house, Rubes.”
Dropping his head to her shoulder, the biggest MC guy in the place whined a groaning noise of despair.
“Just thought of that did you, tough guy?” Oh, he loved that curling sweetness in her voice. It was a verbal hand-job and a balm for his heart.
Any wonder he was crazy for his Rubes?
None what-so-fucking-ever.
“Spill it, wife. We gonna have more little dicks in the house, or two princesses?”
“Aww, sweet man.”
“Never am I sweet, Rubes.” And he showed her his horny, rakish wanna do her on the floor look, making her laugh and tug on his pointed beard.
“Get ready for son number two, Asher.” She squealed then held her breath, watching him speculatively.
And all Preacher could think was; holy fuck.
“Are you disappointed?” She chewed the corner of her lip. Fingers going down his beard. “I know you said early on that you thought we were having a girl…”
“Rubes.” He crushed her mouth, had to kiss her and he didn’t stop until his heart restarted.
They were having a boy.
Holy fuck.
Preacher was already 18 years ahead helping his two boys choose their motorcycles and leather cuts.
Now he’d have to wait to give her the car, because a son topped it all.
“I’m fucking thrilled, Ruby. A boy.” His name was chosen months ago. “You know a girl would have given me a heart attack. I don’t
think there’s enough bullets to chase off horny boys and I don’t care if it’s fucking sexist, no little punk would get near a daughter of mine.”
“Because you’re a horny punk, that’s why. You know what they’re thinking.” She teased him.
“Exactly.” And then. “A boy, Rubes.” A grin as wide as the Rocky Mountains split his face and he hauled her in closer, probably squeezing the life out of his smaller wife. But when Preacher got to feeling the things, he needed his Ruby close because she was everything good and his anchor to sanity.
Into her neck, with his voice thicker than it had been a minute ago he said.
“Can’t wait to meet our Tanner Shane, beautiful.”
“Happy Holidays, my love.”
“The Nightmare before Christmas swore a lot more in Spanish.” – Luxe
December 23rd
Grinder was married to a volatile woman.
He’d known this on the day they’d exchanged their vows and rings in Vegas.
He’d known it the day he’d watched her lose her shit on a blondie in a bar and almost chewed her up and spat out bitch bones on the floor.
His woman was formidable with a temper a mile long.
There were innumerable clues to his Luxe’s temperament.
And each one Grinder loved.
But not when the moody OG Mexican beauty was turned on him.
Because when Luxe got mad at him, she didn’t yell.
She didn’t throw the twenty buck plates around the kitchen.
She got quiet.
She got so damn quiet a ghost town would have been scared.
And Grinder felt like he was going insane.
Stomping through the doors of the MC with his leather boots covered in snow and his face etched in irritation for being late, he was greeted with drunk bikers, loud music and no kiss from his thief even though she was here, and she knew he was on his way because he’d texted and let her know.
Z-girl had done good with the party, but he didn’t take much of anything in except scan his gaze looking for the wife who hadn’t spoken much of anything to him in two-fucking-days.
Two days.
She was a machine.
One small mistake and now his wife acted like he didn’t exist.
