Shifting Gears (Satan's Knights Prospect Trilogy Book 1)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  “Well, I guess they didn’t want the gift certificate,” Lauren comments. “Here, Lydia, give me the rag and I’ll clean this mess up. I’m sorry…boys.”

  Tearing my eyes away from Bash, I focus on Lauren and plant a smile on my face.

  “No, I’ve got it,” I assure her. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Actually,” Riggs starts. “Something has suddenly come up,” he continues, circling his expansive tattooed arms around Lauren’s waist. He nuzzles her neck and she let out a laugh. “I’m assuming you’re here because everything checked out with the doctor?”

  “Maybe,” she teases coyly.

  “Bash!”

  My eyes dart between the happy couple to the man guarding the baby. Tucking a receiving blanket over the baby, Bash lifts his head and raises an expectant eyebrow when Riggs calls him.

  “Give me the keys to your apartment,” Riggs orders as his eyes sweep over Lauren’s body. Cupping her ass with both hands, a growl rumbles free from the back of his throat. “Lydia, help Bash watch the cubs. Kitten and I have to take care of something.”

  “Riggs,” Lauren murmurs.

  “Upstairs, Kitten, up-fucking-stairs,” he hisses, giving her ass a firm pat. “Go.”

  My eyes widen and a pang of envy hits me in the gut. Whoever said the sex dies after kids should take in the Kitten and Tiger show. Watching them makes me realize I’ve never experienced that can’t keep your hands to yourself kind of passion. It doesn’t matter if these two are the only ones in a room or if it’s a packed house, Lauren is the only one who exists for Riggs and vice versa. They don’t just love each other; they live for one another and that’s not only beautiful, it’s everything. Everything that makes this thing we call life worth the struggle.

  A woman can be celibate. Hell, I’m proof of that. I can get off when I want, but I can never give myself what Lauren has with Riggs and the sad part of that realization is that I didn’t choose this life for myself. Like so many other girls, I dreamed of the happily ever after, of the handsome prince. But I didn’t get the fairytale, I got the horror story and the man who swept me off my feet, was the devil in disguise. He didn’t shower me with love and affection, he instilled fear and abuse. I can never have what Lauren and Riggs have. Not for a little while, not even for a second.

  Bash fishes a keyring out of his pocket and tosses it to Riggs. Without tearing his hungry gaze away from his adored Kitten, he catches the keys and tugs her towards the back of the bar, to the staircase leading to their temporary oasis. A crash sounds and draws my attention back to Eric and Robert and the latest mess they’ve created by throwing the empty pitcher of beer.

  “Christ,” Bash grunts. “That’s not a ball, boys.”

  “I’m bored,” Eric complains.

  “Your parents have been gone for ten seconds.”

  “I’m hungry,” Robert chimes in.

  The little bundle on the table starts to cry and Bash looks like he’s about to jump out of his skin. His light eyes find mine and mouths a single word.

  Help.

  I wish he didn’t. Mainly because seeing him with a baby is probably one of the sweetest things in the world and a memory, I’ll often revisit long after his attraction to me has fizzled and he’s moved on to find his own Kitten. A memory I’ll hang onto when I’m feeling lost and alone.

  Sighing, I shove the towel in the back pocket of my jeans and rush to Bash’s side. As I make quick work of unbuckling the baby from the infant seat, I get a waft of Bash’s cologne.

  Another memory.

  “I didn’t know prospecting meant babysitting,” I tease, trying to keep my tone light as I lift the crying baby out of the seat.

  “Yeah, I didn’t think it meant escorting Rigg’s baby mama to the gynecologist either, but guess where I went today?”

  “Ah,” I begin, drawing the baby into the crook of my arm. “That explains it.”

  “Explains what exactly because that was fucking uncomfortable as shit.”

  “The doctor probably gave her clearance to have sex,” I reply, bending my head to get a whiff of that spectacular newborn scent. “Actually, he looks older than six weeks. Maybe she started birth control or something.”

  “Wait, she needs permission to have sex?” he asks incredulously.

  “After a woman gives birth, her body needs to heal. She’s also extremely fertile,” I point out.

  “Great, so if she’s not on birth control they’re making another one of these and they’re probably doing it in my bed.”

  “Probably,” I laugh, lifting my gaze to his. “He just wanted to be held.”

  “Lucky kid,” he murmurs. “I want to be held too but a certain baby whisperer isn’t answering my texts. Any suggestions?”

  He takes a step closer to me and raises his hand, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I tell myself the only reason I’m not pushing him away is that my arms are full, but truthfully, I don’t know if I have any fight in me at the moment. I like his hands on me.

  “Not my area of expertise,” I say softly.

  “It’s okay, I’m willing to forget you’ve been dodging me so as long as you’re mine tonight.”

  “Bash—”

  “I’ve just spent the better part of the last few days with Riggs and his brood. Now, the bastard is getting laid in my bed…a bed I haven’t slept in since the night I got here. I’m tired, cranky, and I need new sheets. There’s gotta be a Walmart or something here, right?”

  “There’s a Target,” I confirm.

  “Great, after those two are done fucking their brains out and they’ve collected their children we’ll go to Target, get some sheets and then we’ll go for pizza because I’m also fucking starving.”

  “Pizza,” I repeat like he offered to feed me something preposterous.

  “Yeah, isn’t that the thing to eat around here?”

  “I’m working,” I remind him.

  He doesn’t get a chance to argue because Robert latches onto his leg and Eric starts to run circles around us.

  “Funny you should mention that,” he grunts. “Your boss seems to owe me a favor.”

  “Bash, Eric cursed!”

  “Make that ten favors,” Bash mumbles.

  “I did not.”

  “You said mother effer!”

  “No, I said mother father,” Eric hisses, stomping down on his brother’s foot. “Did you forget what Uncle Anthony taught us?”

  He stares at his little brother expectantly and when he doesn’t answer he rolls his eyes, clearly exasperated with the little guy. “Snitches get stitches.”

  Bash and I exchange a look, both of us trying to do the adult thing and not laugh at the little hellions as they continue to banter.

  “What am I supposed to do with them?”

  “Entertain them,” I reply.

  “Yeah, see, I was just going to let them duke it out.”

  I guess it’s my turn to roll my eyes.

  “Kidding,” he says, leaning closer to me. “I just wanted to see if I could get your eyes to roll behind your head. It’s sort of a goal of mine.” He winks at me playfully before looking back at the bickering brothers. “Who wants ice cream?”

  “I do!”

  “Me first!”

  “No, me first!”

  “Lord, do ya’ll ever stop fighting?” Bash questions, shaking his head. “First one in the kitchen gets the ice cream first,” he announces. The boys take off like two bandits and Bash turns to me looking rather smug. “Are you coming? Don’t tell me you don’t eat ice cream. I saw you lick the straw of that root beer float. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind seeing that again.”

  “Dream on, prospect, or should I call you Mrs. Doubtfire?”

  “I love that movie,” he says. “We should pick it up on our Target run. We’ll watch it as we lay on my new sheets.”

  He needs to stop talking because every word out of his mouth sounds perfect and I’m starting to think another night with Bash,
isn’t the worst idea.

  Stupid, stupid girl.

  But before I can make that mistake the door to the bar swings open and to my surprise Needles, who is supposed to be in Texas dealing with a family crisis, walks in.

  It’s like divine intervention.

  Message received, God, message received.

  -Eleven-

  Bash

  “Needles, what are you doing here?” Lydia questions, sounding just as shocked as I’m sure I look. The day after I arrived, the road captain of the Satan’s Knights jumped on a plane to Texas and from what I know, no one was expecting him back this soon.

  “Well, I’ll be goddamned,” he mutters, as his narrow eyes work me over from head to toe. “Wolf didn’t waste no time, huh?”

  “Looks that way, doesn’t it?” I say, fisting my hands at my sides to keep from smoothing a hand over my kutte. It still feels odd that I’m not in Charon colors and to be fair, I haven’t really had a chance to process the change. I was drunk off my ass that first night and all hell imploded the next day. I’ve been too wrapped up with being Kitten’s watchdog to even comprehend what the fuck I signed up for. All I know is when I saw Riggs break for his family inside that chapel, I didn’t give a shit if I wore red and black or white and black. I still don’t. Until the motherfucker sending Kitten those notes is put down, my place is here. Everything else will work itself out and if it doesn’t then it’s not meant to be.

  “That’s funny,” he muses. “I’ve been staying at the Charon clubhouse. Got some shit going down and Scout was nice enough to lend a hand.”

  “Scout is good people,” I say.

  “Yeah, I sense that,” he replies, tipping his chin towards the prospect patch on the front of my kutte. “Does he know about this?”

  I glance down at the patch for a second before lifting my gaze back to his and shake my head.

  “Nah, and I would appreciate it if you let me tell him.”

  He shrugs.

  “Ain’t my business,” he says, before turning back to Lydia. “I don’t got a lot of time. Is Wolf back there?”

  “Yeah, he’s been back there all afternoon. In fact, he hasn’t come out once. Pipe was there with him earlier, I’m not sure if he’s still there.”

  “Thanks,” he says then starts for the back. He stops at my side and pats my bicep. “Good luck, man,” he adds before continuing down the hall. My eyes stay on him until he’s out of sight and I make a mental note to call Scout and fill him in on my new status with the Knights. Eric calls from the kitchen, reminding me of my duty as the ice cream man and Lydia follows me, carrying the baby. As I dish out the ice cream to the boys, I find myself continuously sneaking glances at her. She looks good with a baby. Totally natural.

  Anthony starts to fuss, and she hurries out of the kitchen to grab the diaper bag. When she returns, the baby is nestled in her arms sucking away on a bottle. Her eyes find mine and the urge to kiss her strikes. I’d probably go for it too if we weren’t surrounded by kids. Oh, who am I kidding? They’ve probably walked in on their mom and dad going at it thousands of times. Poor little cubs.

  Still, I suppress the urge and dig my spoon into the container of ice cream. Pulling it out I lean across the counter and hold it close to her mouth, silently daring her to take the bait. Those crazy beautiful green orbs narrow, and I inch the spoon even closer to her grimacing lips.

  “You know you want a lick.”

  “You’re lucky there are kids around,” she hisses. Opening her mouth wide, she licks the ice cream from the spoon and, I swear to Christ, I try not to think about her tongue sliding up and down my cock. Of course, I fucking fail. Especially when she closes her eyes and moans.

  “Fuck,” I half grunt, half whimper.

  “Oooh! You said a bad word,” Robert chants. His voice snaps me out of my trance, and I clear my throat, painfully aware I’m sporting a semi in front of Riggs’ kids. Lydia laughs, a smug smile twisting on that pretty little mouth of hers.

  Needing a distraction, I pull the spoon back and help myself to some of the ice cream.

  “So, you’re good with kids,” I begin.

  The woman’s built a fortress around her. If there’s an opening to learn something about her, you bet your ass I’m going for it. Even if all I get is a snarky response and another roll of her eyes. Although, I’m hoping she gives me more of that softness she gave when she spoke of her grandma. In those few moments, she was raw and vulnerable. A side of her I’m sure she doesn’t give easily. It’s a shame really because I’m willing to bet anything that side she’s keeping under lock and key is a testament to her true self.

  Lifting my head, my eyes lock with hers.

  “You ever think about having a few of your own one day?”

  She stares blankly at me for a minute before shaking her head.

  “Not anymore.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, for one I’m thirty-two and single.”

  “Plenty of women don’t start having children until their mid-thirties. By my calculations that gives you three years to find the love of your life, marry him and get knocked up. I’d say it’s doable. We can start now if you’d like.”

  I’ve noticed keeping things light with Lydia seems to be the best way to get under her skin. She cracks under the teasing and I successfully chip away at her defenses, uncovering bits and pieces of her. With all the heavy shit I’ve been forced to deal with over the last few months, I don’t mind the humor either.

  “You know there was this silly rumor floating around here after you guys left about how your club named you Bash. They said it was because you were shy and reserved around the ladies, yet here you are offering to knock me up. I guess this New York air is bringing out your wild side.”

  Smiling, I load the spoon with more ice cream.

  “Or maybe I just needed to find the right woman,” I volley, bringing the spoon to her mouth again. This time she doesn’t hesitate and quickly wraps her lips around the spoon, expertly evading my advance.

  “You’re avoiding the question,” I accuse, pulling the spoon away.

  “I’m sorry I don’t recall the question,” she replies nonchalantly, juggling the baby with one arm as she snatches a napkin and wipes at her mouth.

  “I asked why you don’t think about having kids anymore, and yes, then I offered to give you one. I’m all about helping out for a good cause.”

  “Mommy!” Robert calls, interrupting the conversation. I turn my head just as Lauren walks into the kitchen looking as if she’s stuck her finger in a socket. Hot on her heels is the Tiger himself, and the bastard looks like he just ate a seven-course meal which I’m sure isn’t a stretch…him being the self-proclaimed ‘King of the Jungle’ or whatever it is he calls himself.

  “Guess what?”

  “What?” Lauren replies, a hint of pink twinging her cheeks as she holds out her hands for the baby.

  “Bash and Lydia are having a baby!”

  Suddenly, the baby becomes a game of hot potato and Lydia all but drops him into his mother’s arms, taking a step back and holding her hands in the air like someone is about to read her, her rights.

  “Moses, you dirty dog!”

  “No, I’m not…we’re not…they misunderstood,” Lydia stammers.

  Lauren laughs and looks back at me.

  “You work quick.”

  “Thank you,” I deadpan.

  “Bash!”

  I wink at Lydia before diverting my attention to Riggs. He lifts Robert from the stool and takes a seat, setting his son on his lap before snatching the ice cream away from me. The dark aura he’s possessed since finding that letter seems to have left him, contentment taking its place. As much as I want to spend the rest of the night with Lydia, I won’t. Not if he needs me to stand in front of his house as a human shield. I gave my word and in this world, that’s all we got.

  “You hanging around here for a while or headed home?” I ask.

  Meeting my gaze, he
shakes his head.

  “We’re heading over to Lauren’s brother's house for dinner,” he replies, silently communicating my services aren’t needed. Looks like there won’t be any pretending I’m getting a crash course in the Satan’s Knights over a game of Yahtzee tonight.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I’ll call you if…” his voice trails as he eyes his woman. “…if we get back early but take a break, Moses. Tomorrow is another day to get acquainted with the Devil. Tonight, get yourself a slice of heaven if you know what I mean.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at Lydia.

  Humor suits him so much more than fear.

  “Alright, then I’m going to grab some new linens for my bed.”

  “Good idea,” he smirks.

  “Riggs!”

  “Kitten,” he sing-songs.

  Oh, look, she’s an eye-roller too. Must be something in the water up here that’s got all the women rolling their eyes.

  “Thanks for watching the boys,” Lauren says, turning her attention to Lydia. “If you’re not working tomorrow, why don’t you and Bash come over our house for dinner? It’s spaghetti and meatball night.”

  “What do you know? She just happens to be off,” Riggs chimes in.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yeah, you are.”

  “But—”

  “I make the best meatballs, just don’t tell my mother I said that, or I’ll have to kill you.” Lydia just stares at her awkwardly and I take that as my cue to grab her hand. Pulling her to my side, I smile at Lauren.

  “Thanks, we’ll be there.”

  The silent vixen squeezes my hand rather harshly upon accepting the invitation, causing me to grimace as my eyes lock with Riggs’.

  “Phone is on,” I tell him once more before waving to the kids and dragging Lydia out of the kitchen.

  Once we’re in the clear, she tugs her hand free and shoves me away.

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Can we skip the melodramatics? It’s just dinner.”

  Target, dinner, and Mrs. Doubtfire.

  If I’m lucky maybe, she’ll let me cop a feel.

  “I’m not going to dinner with you,” she shouts. “Not now and certainly not tomorrow.”