by Joanna Wylde
“Fuck you,” she said, slapping at my hand and laughing. I let her pull back just enough to think she might get away, then jerked her into my arms.
“Love you,” I whispered again, kissing the top of her head. “Fuck, I can’t believe you have a baby inside you.”
“It’s scary,” she whispered. “Are we really going to do this?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“I don’t want to fuck it up.”
“Okay,” I told her.
“Okay what?”
“We won’t fuck it up. I promise.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
This time I couldn’t bite back that nervous laugh, because I had no idea. I put my hand on her stomach again and shook my head.
Holy shit.
EPILOGUE
SIX YEARS LATER
BECCA
“You’re definitely gonna fuck it up,” I told Danielle, smirking at her. She sat at my kitchen table, clutching a cup of tea between fingers white from stress. “Everyone fucks it up. The good news is that kids are strong. They bounce. You’ll be fine.”
“But I want to be a perfect mom,” she said, her voice strained. “I always thought I’d have my shit together first. I mean, things are good but we run a bar, for God’s sake. How can I work at a bar and take care of a baby?”
“How could I finish school, start a relationship with Puck, and have a baby?” I asked, shrugging. “You just do it because you have to. I promise you—once that kid is born, you’ll be way too busy and tired to worry about getting it right. If the kid is still alive at the end of the day, you win.”
Danielle rolled her eyes and flipped me off. She thought I was playing around, trying to make her feel better. Hah . . . She’d learn.
“So, Regina wants to know what kind of cake to make for the baby shower.”
“German chocolate,” she answered, picking at a fingernail. “I still don’t see why we can’t invite the guys.”
“Because Blake paid me fifty bucks to make sure he wasn’t invited,” I told her. Before she could reply, my boy, Gunnar, came tearing through the kitchen.
“Katy is trying to shoot me!” he screamed, his little three-year-old tongue twisting around the words. “She’s going to kill me!”
I caught the boy and swung him up onto my hip.
“I’ll be right back,” I told Danielle. She nodded, scowling. Probably shouldn’t have ratted out Blake.
Stepping through the door, I looked out across our small lawn toward my daughter. Our house wasn’t much—just a little two-bedroom back in one of the canyons—but we were surrounded by woods and the kids loved running through the trees.
“Katy Redhouse!” I called. “Get over here!”
She came running, and I realized she’d been playing in the mud again. The kid was coated in it from the knees down. Covered her hands, too.
“Why are you trying to shoot your brother?” I asked. She grinned up at me, a large gap in the center of her smile.
“Because he pissed off the Silver Bastards,” she said proudly. “We can’t have that shit, you hear me?”
Oh, I heard all right. I heard her father’s voice coming right out of her mouth.
“I’m pretty sure the Silver Bastards can take care of themselves,” I replied, my tone dry. “Say you’re sorry to your brother, and then you guys can play with the hose for a couple minutes. See how much of that mud you can get off without my help. Once you’re totally clean, you can have a popsicle.”
Katy and Gunnar looked at each other and started shrieking with excitement. Then they tore off around the house to find the hose.
Perfect.
Walking toward the garage, I heard the roar of a Harley engine coming to life—yet another of Puck’s fixer-uppers. The first time he’d dragged one home, I’d thought he was crazy. Then he’d turned around and sold it for three thousand bucks profit. Suddenly he wasn’t sounding so crazy after all.
I knocked on the door and pushed it open. Puck crouched next to the bike, poking at the engine until it died with a sputter.
“How’s it going?”
“Good,” he grunted. “Should be done with this in another week or so.”
“Did you know your daughter is planning to shoot your son?”
Puck stopped and looked at me, raising a brow.
“No shit?”
“Yeah, apparently he pissed off the Silver Bastards, so she’s gonna take him out.”
Puck stood, brushing off his hands. Crap. Six years together and the asshole just got sexier. Seemed sort of unfair, given that I’d gone through two pregnancies.
Puck smirked and stalked toward me. “You’re looking very sexy today, Mrs. Redhouse.”
“That’s Ms. Redhouse, and don’t try to change the subject,” I told him, biting back a smile. “You’ve got a lot to answer for. Your daughter seems to think she’s a biker badass.”
He caught me by the back of my neck, pulling me into his body the same way he had a thousand times over the years. Never failed to turn me on.
“Sounds like bad parenting to me,” he muttered, kissing along my jawline. “Doesn’t she know girls can’t be in the club?”
“She doesn’t seem to accept that logic,” I told him. “Seriously—you shouldn’t let the kids hear shit like that.”
“This is who we are,” he replied. I tried to argue, but he didn’t give me the chance, taking my mouth in a kiss so heated I forgot to think. Then his hands cupped my ass, lifting me and carrying me over to his workbench.
“The kids are outside,” I whispered. “They could walk in . . .”
“They’re playing with the hose,” he replied. “I can hear them around the house. We’ve got at least ten minutes.”
I considered the situation. Danielle still waited at the table, but she was a big girl. And he was right about the kids.
“Okay,” I whispered. Puck slid his fingers into my jeans, jerking them down around my knees. I balanced awkwardly, reaching down to take off a shoe. He caught me and spun me around, pushing me down across the bench as I started laughing.
“You should be taking this seriously, Ms. Redhouse.” His fingers reached between my legs, smoothing up and down along my opening. Then he replaced them with his dick.
“Fuck . . .” I sighed as he pushed deep inside.
“That’s the general idea. Christ, those Kegels should be mandatory for every woman on earth,” he muttered. “Your cunt’s tighter than it was before the kids, shit you not.”
I squeezed down on him hard, because there’s nothing like flattery to inspire a girl.
“Danielle’s scared she’ll ruin her baby’s life.”
Puck laughed. “You tell her that ship’s already sailed?”
I opened my mouth to reply, but he thrust into me particularly hard and my brain stopped working. Oh wow. I heard the kids shouting outside. Was Katy trying to shoot her brother again? I decided I didn’t care.
“You’re so fucking hot,” Puck whispered, fingers digging into my hips. He paused and I pushed back at him, not wanting him to stop. He reached around my body to find my clit.
“Oh crap!” I moaned, arching my back. “That’s really good, babe.”
Kissing the back of my neck, Puck started moving more quickly. Every stroke filled me and I wiggled, wanting more. I wasn’t in the mood to play around or tease—I just wanted him to fuck me. Hard.
Not a problem.
Then again, it never was. Puck knew exactly what I liked, and all too soon he had me hovering at the edge.
“Say you want it.”
“I want it.”
“What?”
“Your cock.”
“You got it, babe.”
Letting himself go, Puck pounded deep inside as I whimpered, exploding around him. Seconds later he joined me, shuddering heavily. Finally he pulled free, and I managed to stand up unsteadily, legs like spaghetti. The fact that my jeans were still bunched around my thighs didn’t help.<
br />
“You okay?”
“Great,” I replied, tugging them upward. “You think you distracted me, but you didn’t. We should talk about your daughter’s love of violence.”
“Mom!” Katy shouted. Scrambling to fasten my pants, I stumbled toward the door.
“Yeah?”
“Mail is here! Can I go check it?”
“Sure thing, baby.”
Puck had just come up behind me—wrapping his arms around my waist—when Katy tore into the garage, waving a purple envelope.
“Look!” she said. “I bet it’s a birthday party invitation.”
Reaching out, I took the card and studied it. No return address, but it had a Chicago postmark. Frowning, I slipped a finger inside and tore it open.
It was a Mother’s Day card, which seemed strange considering it was June already.
Dear Becca—I learned recently that you had another baby. Okay, so it’s been three years, but I didn’t know until now. I just want you to know that I’m happy for you and proud of all you’ve accomplished. I wish I could have been a better mother. Take care and kiss those little ones for me sometime. Love, Mom
Tucked into the card was a twenty-dollar bill.
“Damn,” Puck said, reading over my shoulder.
“Damn,” Katy echoed gravely. I folded the card closed and stuck it back in the envelope, along with the money. This marked the fourth time she’d written to me over the years, although it had been so long since the last message that I’d wondered if something had happened to her. Last time she’d sent a ten, along with a pressed daisy.
“Can I have a popsicle?” Gunnar asked, peeking his head through the door.
“Sure thing, kiddo,” Puck said. He pulled away from me to walk over to an old fridge he’d put out here. I heard the freezer drawer slide open, and then he was handing treats out to both the kids. “You want one, Becs?”
Stuffing the envelope into my back pocket, I shook my head.
“No, I’m good,” I told him. “I should go help Danielle.”
He held my gaze for a second, then shrugged.
“Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Leaving them, I headed back to the house, considering my mom’s note. Six years, four cards . . . Maybe a total of a couple hundred words.
So much for that relationship.
When I’d first gotten pregnant with Katy, I’d spent months worrying about all the things I might do wrong. In the end, it turned out to be pretty simple—feed them, kiss their boo-boos. Make sure their clothes were clean, or at least cleanish.
Oh, and fucking stick around.
No matter what else happened, I had that part covered. Guess I wasn’t my mother’s daughter after all.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This bonus scene takes place at the Northwoods Academy the same night as the raid on the Vegas Belles Gentleman’s Club in Silver Bastard.
BONUS EPILOGUE
SHANE
I floated on my back, staring up at the vaulted glass ceiling over the most beautiful pool house in the state of Idaho. Like the rest of my prison, it’d been built in the 1920s by my great-grandfather Keiran McDonogh—a monument to his wife. She’d never liked the place, or Keiran himself, for that matter. Just one of many McDonogh brides who loathed their husbands over the past hundred years, setting an example I supposed my own wife would follow one day.
Assuming I lived long enough to marry, that was.
Big assumption.
Hopefully after tonight my odds would be improving. My best friend and personal bodyguard, Rourke Malloy, was meeting with representatives from the Silver Bastard motorcycle club right now. With any luck, my stepfather—Jamie Callaghan—was dead already. I’d grown too cynical over the past four years to feel any real hope, but I guess this was the next best thing.
His death wouldn’t solve all my problems, of course. My own mother had tried to poison me once this week already. The only thing saving my ass was the fact she couldn’t risk actually killing me, which complicated the whole process. A permanent vegetative state would suit her purposes perfectly, though.
All because I’d been “lucky” enough to inherit the Laughing Tess silver mine. Now there was a fucking joke. Tess must be laughing at me specifically, because here I was, trapped in a luxurious prison just like my great-grandmother. Of course, she never had a court-ordered monitor strapped to her ankle. Lucky bitch.
Issues of personal dignity aside, that fucker chafed like hell.
The sound of a door slamming echoed through the vast chamber, and I righted myself. Roarke was back. He stood on the deck staring down at me and I could tell already that he didn’t have good news.
Fuck.
I started swimming toward him, enjoying the stretch and pull of my muscles in the water. The pool was the only thing to like about this hellhole. If I somehow survived intact and took over the McDonogh Corporation in six months, the first thing I planned to do was evict the tenants and blow the place up.
Reaching the edge, I boosted myself up onto the deck. Water ran down my back as I walked over to Rourke, who handed me a towel. I wiped off my face, then looked at him.
“Jamie’s not dead, is he?”
Rourke shrugged. “Not like we really expected it to work. According to Boonie, he’s got some serious fucking leverage. If it’s true.”
I frowned.
“What kind of leverage?”
My best friend narrowed his eyes, studying me almost like he’d never seen me before. Then he shook his head.
“It’s bad shit, Shane.”
“Do we know what it is?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“You aren’t actually related to Seamus McDonogh. Callaghan did a DNA test on your mom—I got no idea whose kid she was, but she wasn’t his. That gets out, you’ll lose everything.”
“Holy fucking shit,” I whispered. Blood roared in my head, because this was something I’d not even started to imagine. “Grandma was fucking around on him?”
“Apparently,” Rourke said. “The minute you kill Jamie, it’ll blow sky high. He’s only sitting on it because he’s still hoping to use Christine to take over.”
I looked away, trying to process what he’d just told me.
“Do we know he’s telling the truth?”
“Only one way to find out,” he replied. “You really wanna risk proving you aren’t a real McDonogh? Hell, if I were you, I’d look into exhuming the whole damned family tree and cremating them.”
Fuck. He was right. I had just opened my mouth to answer when a loud clopping sounded echoed through the entire chamber. Spinning around, I dropped into a defensive crouch. Next to me Rourke had done the same—it’d been a long time since we’d had to literally fight for our lives, but we kept our skills sharp.
I looked around, searching for whoever was in here. A spy? Jesus, this was the kind of secret men would kill to protect. Men like me.
“Come out,” I said, keeping my tone conversational. Almost friendly. “We can talk about whatever you just heard, but we won’t leave until we find you. Could be a long night, and the longer I wait the less patient I’ll be feeling.”
No response, but I thought I heard someone’s breath catch. Good, they were smart enough to be afraid. I could use fear. Rourke and I shared a glance, communicating without words. He backed toward the door, blocking the entrance as I started circling around the pool. The sound had come from this side.
There was only one exit unless our spy was strong enough to shift the heavy sliding service bay doors on the far end. Unlikely, given the fact they weighed a couple hundred pounds each and had probably rusted shut by now.
I followed the line of bright blue and gold tiles circling the deck toward the bins of aquatic equipment—foam “weights” and other shit they used for the water aerobics classes. It was the most likely hiding space. I’d almost reached them when I heard the slam of the main door opening. I turned to see a girl walk in wearin
g a two-piece swimsuit that my grandma would’ve found too modest.
She stared at me, looking absolutely terrified.
I recognized her. Lola. Lola Sanders. She was one of the few students here without a court order, probably because her parents couldn’t be bothered to do anything else with her.
Rourke slid into place behind her, closing the door with a loud click.
She gasped and spun around, all but shaking in terror. I’d never seen her any other way, actually. Lola was one of those ghostly girls who lived on the edges of our reality. She hid in her room, did all her classes online and I had no fucking idea how she managed to eat, because I never saw her in the dining room.
“Um, I’m just looking for Piper,” she said. “She was in here a minute ago . . .”
A wave of savage satisfaction tore through me. Piper Givens I could control—she didn’t have any money and I already had plenty of leverage on her. I’d avoided her until now, for any number of reasons. Not least of them was the fact that I spent far too much time imagining what she’d look like sucking my cock.
Unfortunately, that wouldn’t exactly help my cause.
“Are you and Piper close?” Rourke asked, coming up behind her so quietly she jumped when he spoke. He pushed himself into her space, raising an arm to wrap it around her shoulders and neck. Almost like a hug, but this wasn’t a hug.
If he pressed on her carotid artery she’d be unconscious in less than thirty seconds.
“We’re friends,” she replied, her eyes growing frantic. Rourke leaned in, whispering something in her ear. She gave a terrified squeak, then shook her head. He wrapped his other arm around her, spreading his hand over her bare stomach and pressing her back into his body.
He shot me a feral grin.
Guess my friend had found a new toy. Interesting, but maybe not so surprising. I’d never seen Lola in anything but shapeless sweats and giant T-shirts. For the first time I could actually see her figure—not bad. Not bad at all. Rourke enjoyed variety in his bed, something that wasn’t easy to come by here at the academy.
Lola was in for a big surprise.
“Piper, you need to come out now,” I called, my voice taunting. “I’d hate for anything unfortunate to happen to Lola. If you heard us talking, you’ll know I’m not fucking around. It’s not like you can get away, but you still have the chance to protect her. Otherwise I’ll give her to Rourke.”
