Steeling Christmas (Satan's Savages MC Series Book 6)

by K E Osborn

  It’s not that great having the heat on our doorstep all the time. Having one of their own in our ranks takes the heat off us. And I feel like having Macca on our side somehow makes up for the mistakes that were made with Hudson. Even though my brothers and I weren’t there for that, my father was, and I carry the guilt of it. The sins of the father as it were.

  “Typical, I should’ve known. Next time trust me, yeah? We’re meant to work together. You’re my VP for a reason, Steel. Don’t give me a fucking reason not to trust you again. This could have gone fucking south. We are brothers, and brothers don’t go behind their president’s back. Ever. You got me?”

  I exhale. “I only did what I know was right for the club, Gator. If you were in my shoes…” I leave it open, and a slow smile crosses his face.

  “Yeah, yeah, fucker, I know. You did the right thing this time. It worked out for everyone. Good call, brother.” He slaps my back as we walk through the giant red door and inside the compound to see Flame standing with Harley on her hip. She turns to me, her eyes bug out of her head, and she frowns racing over.

  “What the hell?” Her free hand comes out touching the side of my neck where congealed blood now sits.

  “Daddy go to hell?” Harley mutters, and I chuckle.

  “No, bubba girl, Daddy’s stayin’ right here with you and Mummy.” I lean in kissing Harley on the forehead as she giggles, her cute red ringlets framing her face while Flame glares at me.

  “Dylan, I need answers.”

  I smile knowing that when Flame calls me by my real name and not my road name, I’m in deep shit. “I’m okay, babe. We just got into some crap with some Russians and the heat. I’ll tell you all about it while I have a shower. Come with me?”

  Her hard glare softens slightly as she pulls Harley up on her hip a little more. “Fine, but I need to know everything.”

  I smile. “Yes’um.”

  Christmas Eve

  Wrangling four kids under the age of ten is a hard job for anyone. Trying to do it when they have no sense of time management is kind of impossible. But somehow we’re all in and almost at Flame’s parents’ home for Christmas Eve brunch. As I pull into the Arbor’s driveway, the kids are screaming and carrying on like they always do when they’re all together. It’s fucking noisy, but it’s a sound that I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. Not after what I just went through. Knowing my kids are all alive and happy, even though they all sound like dying cats right now, well, I couldn’t be happier than right at this moment.

  Until I look down at what the hell I’m wearing.

  “I can’t believe you made me wear this fuckin’ thing, Flame,” I grunt as I turn off the ignition for the car.

  She grins wide bringing her hand across to caress my cheek. “I love that you wore it. It means you’ve put your bravado masculinity aside for a moment, and put my feelings and my parents’ feelings before your… ego.”

  I scoff. “My ego is takin’ a massive dive here, babe. You do see this shit, right?”

  She tries to hide her laugh as she looks over the red sweater with a green Christmas tree on it and Rudolph next to a motorbike. At least, she found one that had some tie into the club on it, but still, I’m wearing a fucking Christmas sweater. She’s not much better in a matching red Christmas sweater with little elves on it. The problem is, on her, it looks fucking adorable.

  “Well, at least Mum and Dad will appreciate your effort.”

  I scoff as I open the van door. “They fuckin’ better.” I move to the back and slide open the door to let the terrors out. Jackson steps down playing his video game, not looking where he’s going. I smirk at him as I scruff his black hair. He ducks out of the way like he’s annoyed by my presence, and it only makes me chuckle more as Byron and Tyson run out chasing each other while Flame gathers up Harley.

  Here we go.

  We don’t even make it to the front door before it swings open, and Helen and Phil walk out. They’re both in stupid arse-fucking sweaters too, and I glance to Flame who raises her brow at me as if to say ‘see, I told you so.’ I grunt as Helen looks at me with the biggest of fucking smiles on her face.

  “Steel, Willow… we’re so happy you came. Come on in,” she offers immediately bypassing me, grabbing Willow and leading her through to the living room. I follow closing the front door behind me. I can’t help but notice the holy cross in the hallway. I sigh as the kids race through the halls like they’re on fucking speed or some shit.

  “I love your sweater,” Phil comments to me over the noise of the children playing, and I scoff turning up my lip as Phil grimaces turning back toward Flame and Helen. We take a seat at the dining table while the kids run around the adjoining living room. They jump all over their pristine white lounge suite, and I chuckle shaking my head. It won’t be white for long with Byron and Tyson around, we learnt that the hard way. Jackson picks up the remote turning on the television and increasing the volume to loud as he changes the channel to some western. Gunshots ring through the air as Helen gasps clutching at her chest.

  “W-Would the children like to turn that down and come and say hello?” she asks seeming horrified they just came in and made themselves at home.

  I shrug. “We can try, but I doubt they will. They’re set in their ways.”

  Helen turns up her nose as Phil places his hand on hers on the table while Byron starts to fight with Jackson over the remote. “Change the fucking channel, Jackson!”

  “No, Byron, I like this shit.”

  “Jackson, cowboys suck. We want gangsters, gangsters make things go fucking splat,” Tyson calls out jumping over Byron to get the remote, and then all three of them are in a tug of war on their pristine lounge suite to get the channel they want in as loud-a-decibel as possible.

  “Oh my word,” Helen scoffs.

  “Knock it off!” I call out as Jackson snatches the remote putting it back on the cowboys as Byron and Tyson slump on the lounge suite, listening to me and stopping their fighting.

  Flame glances at me looking a little concerned as Helen takes a sharp inhale then stands to pour some eggnog.

  “So, Willow, darling, this little girl is an angel.” Helen looks at Harley sitting in Flame’s lap who’s quietly taking in the events around her and playing with Flame’s hair.

  “She can be, she can also be a handful.” Flame smirks.

  “A fucking handful,” Harley bursts out with a giggle at the end.

  I slump as Helen and Phil both open their eyes wide. Flame clears her throat whispering in Harley’s ear then places her on the floor to go over to her brothers. She stumbles over to them as she awkwardly climbs up on the lounge suite into Jackson’s lap while he laughs at something on the television, and then she laughs at the man being violently shot in return.

  Helen shakes her head as an explosion sounds on the television, and the kids all cheer. “Fuck, yeah,” they all call out in unison.

  Helen’s nostrils flare, her colour visibly flushes to a more crimson tone.

  “Helen,” Phil warns calmly.

  I glance back to Helen, her hands clench tightly on the white lace tablecloth. Flame reaches out to her mother’s clenched hand and grips on it looking in her eyes. “Mum, let’s just have a nice pre-Christmas brunch.”

  Helen stands up abruptly. “You think you can come into my home with these wretched children and behave like this? You’re a Christian woman, Willow. This man, this biker man, has corrupted you like we knew he would. And these children…” she sweeps her hands around, “… they’re so young, so impressionable, and they swear too much for tiny things. This is outrageous, Willow. They need a better home than the one you’re obviously giving them!”

  Flame stands so suddenly her chair falls backward with the harshness of it. “The fuck did you just say?”

  “Willow!” Helen snaps.

  “My road name is Flame, and being at the club has shown me more love and support than you and Dad ever have. This man, this biker has more
compassion, more devotion, and more honor than you have in your left tit.” Helen audibly gasps. “So, don’t you dare start ranting to me about how I live my life, and who I chose to live it with. You think you’re so high and fucking mighty, Mum, well here’s a news flash, there’s more to life than pompous fanfare and niceties. There’s living… truly living. I get that with Steel and my amazing kids. Don’t you dare tell me they’re not good enough or up to your standards because to me, they’re fucking perfect.”

  I raise my brow and smirk, my cock approving of how fucking hot she looks when she’s fired up like this. “Kids, c’mon, we’re fucking leaving!”

  “Ooohhh, but we just got here!” Byron calls out in a droning tone.

  “Now!” Flame demands.

  “Far out,” the kids all murmur as they slowly jump down from the lounge suite, while I sit here stunned, angry, but also a little turned on by Flame and her outburst.

  Helen’s face hardens as she thumps her hand on the table. “Don’t for a second think that I’m going to let this go, Willow. These kids need stability. They need a firm hand. That’s something you aren’t giving them. I’m going to be taking this matter further.”

  I stand up, my pulse racing as a heat burns inside of me so insatiably hot it scorches like the fury of a thousand suns.

  Take me on—I don’t care.

  Take Flame on—I’ll be angry.

  But don’t for a second come after my kids.

  “What the fuck does that mean?” I grunt out.

  “Expect a call from Child Protective Services.”

  A cold sweat runs over every inch of my fucking skin. My palms coat in a mass of sweat as I stare Helen down. Anger doesn’t even scratch the surface of what I’m feeling—anger mixed with a vat of numbing cream. If I lost my kids, my legacies, my world would end. I can’t lose them.

  Rage. Fury. Indignation.

  Fire burns inside of me.

  It’s hot.

  I’m hot, so fucking hot as I pant for breath.

  I need to cool down, so I do the only thing I can think of, pulling this godforsaken awful fucking sweater off over my head. I slam the stupid wool down on her fucking table knocking over the container of eggnog. It spills onto the floor, but I don’t care as I pant heavily and aggressively.

  “These sweaters are fuckin’ stupid, it’s the middle of fuckin’ summer,” I yell as I turn to Flame to see her eyes watering. I grunt as I grab her hand, and yank her toward the lounge suite where our kids are currently quietly sitting. Small mercies.

  She leans down picking up Harley, and I lead the boys toward the front door.

  “I’d say thank you for brunch, but it was a waste of fuckin’ time. C’mon, Flame,” I demand as a tear runs down her cheek. I hate that her parents are constantly disappointing her. I hate that I let this happen. I should have known better. They haven’t been in our lives for two years. What made me think they’d be any sort of support for her now?

  Anger rages in me, and if I don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to say something I’m really going to regret. We storm out to the van, the kids leaving far more quietly than when they came, as they quickly get into the van. I slam the door shut while Helen and Phil watch us get into the cage. I slide into the driver’s seat watching Flame get into the passenger side, still wiping the tears from her face, and I take a second to let this sink in.

  I grab her hand swallowing hard. “It’s okay, babe. There’s no way this is happenin’. Not on my watch.” She nods as she sniffles. “Do you trust me?”

  She weakly smiles. “With everything I have.”

  Relief floods through me as I look back to Helen and Phil standing in the doorway of their home.

  If they want to wage a battle, I’ll show them how I fucking win a war.

  Sitting with Gator, Meli, Techie, and Shay, tensions are high as we try to figure out what the hell our next play is. A threat to my family I take very damn seriously and just because it’s Christmas Eve doesn’t mean I can rest easy. If Helen and Phil want to find a way to make a call to CPS, they will.

  “Maybe you can talk to Helen, reason with her? It is Christmas. It’s the time for giving,” Shay offers.

  Rolling my shoulders, I slump my shoulders. “I wish we had a way of knowin’ if she made the complaint or not.”

  “I can ask Macca, see if he can ask his contacts. I know he doesn’t like the club that much—”

  “No, we kind of have an understandin’. I think he should be okay dealin’ with us now,” I mention making Gator smirk.

  Shay nods as she walks off obviously to call Macca, but for today I’m going to spend it with Flame and my kids.

  Today’s been rough, it’s hard trying to keep a brave face on for the kids when you don’t really know what’s going on. I had a word with Macca myself, and I’m hoping we can get this shit sorted. As I sit at the bar taking in a long drink of the amber nectar of the gods, an alert sounds through the clubhouse. The lights flash blue letting us know it’s the heat. Gator walks up to me as I swipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and stand up strolling with him through the clubhouse out to the gate.

  “You know what this is about?” Gator asks.

  “Not a hundred percent, but got a feelin’.”

  The gate slides open and standing at the gate is Macca, but with him is Helen and Phil. My jaw ticks from side to side at just seeing them again, but I know in these kinds of situations, it’s best to keep my fucking cool.

  “Before anyone says anything, I’ve talked to the Arbors and before they make any statements to CPS, I told them to come and see the children in the environment they live in. To see what they’ll be trying to take them away from.”

  My stomach rolls. I feel sick. I feel fucking real raging anger. I want to punch Phil, and for the first time in my life, I want to hurt a woman too. Helen might be my mother-in-law, but she’s threatening to take away my kids. And that, that right there is eating away at my soul. They belong here. Sure, they might not be perfect, but they’re fed, they’re bathed, they go to school, and most of all, they’re loved. So they swear and run around a little loud, it doesn’t make them bad kids. It gives them personalities, but it sure as shit doesn’t mean they’re not looked after. They get everything they could ever want. They probably get more than normal kids, it’s probably why they are the way they are.

  They’re too fucking spoiled.

  Gator nudges my side, and I clear my throat. “Okay. Why don’t you come on in?”

  The tension is so thick you could cut the air with a knife. No one’s saying anything as we walk through the compound and inside the clubroom. It’s buzzing with Christmas atmosphere. Carols play through the speakers, and the walls are hung with tinsel and themed decals. The bar has stockings hanging from the ledge all the way along with all the kid’s names on them, and they’re so big they all touch the floor. Stickers of reindeer footprints are placed on the cement making it look like they’ve been traipsing through the clubhouse for a touch of fun for the kids. And to top it all off, a giant tree sits proudly up on the stage decorated in all its glory with so many presents under it, it almost spreads out into the hallway.

  Helen and Phil’s eyes are both wide in awe as they take in the clubhouse, which is far more child-friendly than I’m assuming they imagined for this time of year. Maybe ten years ago things would have been different, but we’re different, this club’s different, our priorities are different.

  Our kids come first, and Helen and Phil need to see this.

  Byron and Tyson crash into the clubhouse being chased by Trigger as they scream, laughing like they’re having the best time as they run full pelt, but making sure to hop on each of the reindeer feet on the floor as he chases them. They zoom by us, Trigger doesn’t even stop to take notice as they continue straight past us and outside. I glance over to Harley who’s on Meli’s lap with Nevada as Meli reads them a book quietly. Harley giggles, clapping along loving every minute. Helen follows my line o
f sight watching Harley with the other little princess of the club.

  The smell of gingerbread wafts through the clubhouse as Jackson strolls in with a plate of gingerbread cookies from the kitchen, and starts handing them out to all the brothers in the room. They all thank him and have conversations with him, and I watch as Helen and Phil stand back taking this all in.

  I take a deep breath as Phil pulls Helen to him. “See, I told you they were safe here. Can’t we drop this now, Helen?”

  Anxiety sweeps through me as I stare right at Helen trying to gauge where she’s at. She crosses her arms over her chest. “But what about their hideous attitudes?”

  I weakly smile. “Comes with the territory, Helen. It just means they will grow up bein’ able to take care of themselves. They won’t be walked all over or take shit from anyone. They’ll be strong. They will succeed. Do they have swearin’ issues? Yeah, probably. But if that’s their only flaw, if they’re good, kind, decent humans, then isn’t that all that counts? Plus, they have a huge family, Helen. We’re bikers, and in this life, family is everythin’ to us and this family… is massive.”

  Helen’s eyes glisten, her bottom lip trembles as she looks around taking in the kids in their surroundings once more. A tear falls down her face, and she quickly swipes it away. “Okay. I won’t say anything. As long as we can come here tomorrow for Christmas to celebrate with you, the kids and this big family… as a family?”

  I smile as Macca grins at me. I nod to him knowing our little phone call worked out just as we planned it. Flame gets her parents here for Christmas, and we get to not have to fight for our kids.

  Thank-fucking-fuck!

  “Deal,” I agree putting my hand out to shake Helen’s.

  She smiles and steps forward taking me into an awkward hug. And for the first time, I hug her back.

  “Mum, Dad?” Flames voice calls out.

  I pull back from Helen to see a shocked looking Flame. She approaches cautiously, looking over the happy scene in front of us.