“Sounds good, Prez.” Truck tipped his chin up, hand stroking down Vanna’s arm.
Bane gave him a grin. “Sure does.”
***
Bane
Next morning, it wasn’t the rumble of bikes that woke him, although he somehow knew the sound had been appearing off and on since right around daybreak.
No, it was the fucking donkey, braying his fucking head off.
“Remind me why we let Gunny keep Randy?” He tightened his arms around Myrt. She faced away from him, his little spoon, belly big enough to be uncomfortable in any other position. Bane ran a hand down her side to where the swelling started, curving around and down so he cradled their child.
He’d never had a second thought about claiming the little girl, sex discovered on the first sonogram and gleefully held over his head. Apparently, Gunny thought girls were far more difficult than boys to raise. Gender didn’t matter to Bane; he just needed Myrt and the child healthy and whole at the end of the process. Sharon might have been considerate by not sharing her near-death experience with Myrt, but Gunny hadn’t been so kind, talking at length about his ride to the hospital, finding Sharon in a fight for her life, and then after everything was all good in the end, having to go home and clean his wife’s blood off the stairs. Motherfucker.
The donkey brayed again, sounding closer.
“I think Randy got out again.” Myrt sounded groggy, and he scowled towards the window overlooking the backyard.
“Motherfucker.” The last time the donkey got out, he’d tried to mount a motorcycle. It had been all Bane could do to pull Monday off Gunny that day, the big men trading blow for blow over Monday’s pride and joy, his Shillelagh. “I’ll go catch him and lock him up.” Gunny had built a tiny barn right on the property line, barely big enough for the donkey and a few chickens. Dude had even built a stile over the fence, so the kids could come and go easily. “Motherfucker.”
Running footsteps preceded a thudding fist on the door. “Bane.” It was Luke. “Randy’s chasing the chickens again.”
“I’ll be right down, son.” Their transition had happened organically. After hearing the way their father had treated them, he’d vowed to do right by both boys. Calling them son had only truly stuck after the therapist they’d gotten for Thad told Bane and Myrt the younger Threadgill boy felt like he’d gotten lucky to have such great parents. It had taken Bane only an instant to catch on, Myrt a little longer, but watching the understanding bloom on her face, the look of love and devotion to her brothers replaced by a mother’s fierce protection—he’d known in that moment she was going to be an amazing mother to however many kids they had, starting with their two boys.
“Okay, Dad.”
Bane was smiling when he pressed a kiss to Myrt’s bare shoulder. “No panties today, baby.” She wasn’t an exhibitionist, but both of them liked the thrill of him able to touch and caress when they wanted. “See you in a bit. Get some more shut-eye if you can.”
“The big ruckus is at Vanna’s. Our house is overflow for the kids. Marian’s promised to be in charge of them today. I finished up all my prep yesterday, so I literally have nothing to do.” She snuggled her pillow, voice muffled as she finished with, “Love you, Bane.”
“Love you, too, baby.” He flicked the covers over her, passing a hand over her hair, cut shorter now, but still able to be tamed into a braid for their rides.
Jeans on, he opened the curtains a sliver and looked out over the backyard and clearing in the adjoining woods. Tents populated the circle of trampled grass, bikes parked nearby. The prospects hadn’t understood their task at first, cutting down perfectly healthy trees and grinding the stumps down into the ground. Using the downed trees to create rough benches and stools had brought the idea closer, and then Bane had treated the area like a golf course green, using a blowtorch on the weeds so there was no delay in liberally applying seed. This exact scene was what he’d had in mind. A place between his and Truck’s homes where friends and family could come on little or no notice, a place to gather for club events—a place for his brothers to bond.
He spotted Randy a couple hundred yards from the outskirts of the clearing, fluttering wings telling him the donkey was still chasing at least one chicken. It would only be a matter of time before the damn thing saw the tents, some of which were exactly the right size to attract the donkey’s attention. “Fuck.” Shoving his feet into boots, he yanked on a shirt and grabbed his cut from the hook near the door. “Fuckin’ Gunny. Motherfucking donkey.”
Myrt’s laughter chased him down the stairs.
***
Myrtle
Hand pressed against her side, she made her way down the stairs, careful to keep her skirt close to her legs with her other hand. Not that there was anyone to catch a glimpse if she happened to flash skin, but good habits were practiced even if unneeded in the moment. Or something like that.
Once on the main floor, she looked towards the living room, unsurprised to find the couch, chairs, and floor full of bodies as kids of all ages watched cartoons on their large TV. Turning to the kitchen, spanning the back of the house with the dining room, she glimpsed Marian standing at the sink. Leaning against the counter next to her sister, she looked through the window, seeing people milling around in the clearing. Their backyard was set up with various games, and it looked like several couples were making good use of the oversized Connect Four game Bane had made mild fun of when she’d offered the suggestion. He’d been in favor of the cornhole boards and croquet game, both of which were sitting unused at the moment. She yanked her phone from her pocket and snapped a picture, then texted it to him with a smiley face. It was only a moment later he responded with a devil’s grin, and she shook her head as she slid the phone back into her pocket, fingers taking a moment to trace along the edges of the other item she’d stashed there.
“You want some water or juice, sister?” Marian bumped her shoulder gently, the way her sister did everything.
Myrt stifled a sigh as she shook her head. “I’ll have to pee enough as it is, no reason to overwork the bladder today.”
Living under their father’s thumb for so long had left its mark on Marian. Before Myrt had left for Sallabrook’s farm, her sister had been quick-witted, first to make a joke or join in on a game. During the years apart, the sisters had grown into women without much contact, but the woman Bane had rescued had been nearly unrecognizable. Even after these months without the constant threat of unreasonable retaliation, Marian hadn’t come out of her shell much. Only around Sharon and Gunny’s children and their brothers. Bane kept telling Myrt it would happen, but she found herself impatient with the slow process. The happiness she’d found made her want to help Marian with the same. She deserves it.
“I’m going to head over to Vanna’s. You need me to do anything before I go?” Myrt leaned against Marian’s shoulder. “Thanks so much for helping out with all the kids today. I’m glad we can give them a place away from the adult party, and Bane and I appreciate you so much.”
“It’s nothing.” Marian’s shoulder shifted with her shrug, and Myrt straightened. She shuffled closer so they were pressed tightly all along their sides. “You’re clingy today. Everything good with the baby?”
“Yeah.” Myrt stroked along the top of the beachball containing their little girl. “She’s quiet, actually. Not so much imitating Thad today with her kicking.”
Marian laughed softly. “That boy’s found his calling.”
“Yes, he has.” Myrt turned and on impulse pushed to her toes to angle over her belly and plant a kiss on her sister’s cheek. “Love you, Marian.”
Marian’s chin dipped to her neck, and she plunged her hands into the soapy water in front of her. After a moment, she nodded. “I love you, too.”
Out the door and down the stairs, Myrt was careful with each step. Even though the path between the two houses was three times as wide as previous, and flattened with the feet, dirt bikes, and most recently a golf cart Tr
uck had bought for Vanna, she didn’t want to trip and wake up her daughter. Her back had been aching since she woke, and the more time the little girl slept, the less she’d spend kicking Myrt’s bladder and ribs.
Halfway there, she saw a group of men approaching, no familiar faces in the midst. After knowing so many of the club members for this long, she had no fear inside her, no matter the men looked and dressed rough. They wore a mix of patches, the colors on the front of their vests telegraphing their direct alliances.
“Ma’am,” one man said, tipping his head. He was in the FRMC, but not the Baker chapter.
“You’re Bane’s old lady?” The question by another from a different club had all the men stopping where they were, caught in mid-stride.
“I am,” she responded proudly and moved to the side, intending on passing them. “Have a good day.”
“We can carry you.” The first speaker looked at the other men. “Wouldn’t take but a couple of us, fireman’s chair.” General rumbles of agreement sounded, and Myrt shook her head.
“I walk this path every day, boys.” It didn’t matter they were all older than her, she’d found herself unable to call a group of the men anything but boys. Her boys. Bane’s boys. Bane’s brothers.
“And today, you ride in style.” She studied the nameplate on his vest and realized her mistake. Horse was Bane’s brother, and except for Blackie, the closest to him from the Longview chapter.
“How would that work, exactly?” Myrt palmed her skirt, lifting the hem a fraction of an inch. “I’m not dressed for lifting.”
“No lifting necessary, just sitting.” He clasped the other man’s wrist and threaded his arm over a shoulder in a way that illustrated the fact they were creating a chair for her.
How do I turn them down without offending? She huffed out a tiny sigh. I can’t. Stepping closer, she turned and smoothed her skirt down the backs of her thighs, ensuring they’d touch nothing they weren’t expecting. Damn Bane and his early morning orders. “Okay.” She laughed nervously. “I’m ready.”
The men moved, and their arms scooped her up. Myrt squealed and threw an arm around each man’s neck, being lifted higher than expected as they stood with her in their arms. The group around them chuckled, and Horse leaned his head close. “Nothing to fear, Little Mouse.”
“Oh my God.” She wished she felt secure enough to release her death grip on their necks, so she could cover her blazing face. “Blackie hates me.”
“Far from it, little sister,” the other man offered. “Way I hear it, you’re the queen he always wanted for his boy Bane. I see it now. See it and understand.”
She glanced ahead and found Bane standing next to Mason and Blackie, Truck at his shoulder. They’d turned to view what had become a procession, men and women filtering out from the field of tents to join them. She was struck with an idea and whispered it to Horse, who laughed as he agreed. A couple of terse exchanges with the other man—she glanced down to see his nameplate said Einstein—and the plan was set.
Gunny walked into view, Randy trailing by his lead rope. “Motherfucker tried to hump Blackie’s tent again. I don’t know what the man has hidden in there, but this asshole seems to like it.” Myrt shook her head and tried to ignore the fact that she was being accompanied by a donkey with his dick reeled out, currently slapping his own belly in excitement. “Myrt, heard you were thinkin’ about doin’ somethin’. Shoulda told his brothers first, woman. We all want to be there.” He dropped his head as he tapped on his phone with one thumb, the other hand still wrapped around Randy’s lead. “Got ’em comin’ in now. We got your back, Momma.”
It was an endless couple of minutes before the men carrying her stopped only feet away from Bane. He’d turned to face them, one hand shoved into his pocket and the other propped on a hip. He was grinning widely, shaking his head. “Myrtie, doll. You got you quite an entourage.”
“Wasn’t intentional.” She released her hold on Horse and slipped her hand into the pocket of her skirt. “But I don’t mind the ride. Made me feel like a real princess. Thank you, boys.” Neither man moved, and she grinned as the expression on Bane’s face turned into confusion. “I’ve got something to ask you.”
“Yeah? Ask away, baby.” He took a step closer, one slow step that felt like he was stalking her. “I’m all ears.”
Fingers fisted around the object, she took a breath. Vanna had appeared and was leaning against Truck’s shoulder. Sharon stood nearby, frowning at Gunny. Monday, Coolio, and the rest of the local chapter stood behind Bane. The gang’s all here. “A few months ago you reminded me how being with someone didn’t mean they had a claim on me. I was glad at the time, because it gave me permission to shuck all the notions I’d had drilled into my head. Now, though, I find myself with a different feeling. See…” She shrugged, releasing her hold on Einstein to fold her hand across her belly. “Florida doesn’t have a common law marriage law, either.”
Bane approached several strides, rocking to a stop only feet away, gaze fixed on her face. From this position she was slightly higher than him, and she shuffled a bit. “You can put me down now,” she told the men who’d been her personal carriage, and smiled as they settled her feet firmly in the grass and dirt. “Bane, my sweet William, I don’t want to know there’s an easy out. I want to be tied to you. So…” She held out her trembling hand and stretched out her fingers, palm up. The sunshine glinted off the gold circle. “Would you do me the honor of marrying me?”
“Oh, fuck yeah.” He closed the distance and pulled her hand to his mouth, already sliding the ring into place on his hand. “Fuck yes, woman.” Arms around her, he fitted her side against his front, swaying them back and forth. “Kiss me, Myrtie.”
She lifted her face and closed her eyes, unsurprised when his kiss was long, hot, wet, and possessive.
Everything she’d ever wanted was tied up in this man.
So lucky.
~ ~ Fini ~ ~
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING
In Search of Solace!
I truly hope you enjoyed this crossover story tying things together even tighter between the Rebel Wayfarers MC and the Texas-based Freed Riders MC. Thanks for takin’ this trip along with me.
~ML
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Raised in the south, Wall Street Journal & USA TODAY bestselling author MariaLisa learned about the magic of books at an early age. Every summer, she would spend hours in the local library, devouring books of every genre. Self-described as a book-a-holic, she says "I've always loved to read, but then I discovered writing, and found I adored that, too. For reading...if nothing else is available, I've been known to read the back of the cereal box."
Want sneak peeks into what she’s working on, or to chat with other readers about her books? Join the Facebook group! bit.ly/deMora-FB-group
deMora’s got a spam-free newsletter list she’d love to have you join, too: bit.ly/mldemora-newsletter
~~~~~
My Rebel Wayfarers MC and the Neither This Nor That MC series do cross over, along with the Occupy Yourself band books, so readers have a couple of choices. The series can be read independently beginning with RWMC, OYBS, and then NTNT without too many spoilers. There’s also a crossover between my RWMC world and Lila Rose’s Hawks MC world. Or they can be read intertwined—in chronological order.
Here’s the recommended reading order if you want to follow according to timing:
Mica, RWMC #1
A Sweet & Merry Christmas, RWMC #1.5
Slate, RWMC #2
Bear, RWMC #3
Born Into Trouble, OYBS #1
Jase, RWMC #4
Gunny, RWMC #5
Mason, RWMC #6
Hoss, RWMC #7
This Is the Route of Twisted Pain, NTNT #1
Harddrive Holidays, RWMC #7.5
Duck, RWMC #8
Biker Chick Campout, RWMC #8.5
Watcher, RWMC #9
Treading the Traitor’s Path: Out Bad, NTNT #2
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br /> Living Without, Lila Rose’s Hawks MC: Caroline Springs #4
Shelter My Heart, NTNT #3
A Kiss to Keep You, RWMC #9.25
Gun Totin’ Annie, RWMC #9.5
Secret Santa, RWMC #9.75
Trapped by Fate on Reckless Roads, NTNT #4
Bones, RWMC #10
Gunny’s Pups, RWMC #10.25
Not Even A Mouse, RWMC #10.75
Road Runner’s Ride, RWMC #12.5
Never Settle, RWMC #10.5
Fury, RWMC #11
Christmas Doings, RWMC #11.25
Gypsy’s Lady, RWMC #11.5
Tarnished Lies and Dead Ends, NTNT #5
Going Down Easy
No Man’s Land
In Search of Solace
Cassie, RWMC #12
~~~~~
Also by MariaLisa deMora
Neither This Nor That MC romance series
Legends are born from moments like these. Folktales spun around a single point in time so perfect, you can almost hear the click resonating through the universe as things align. Meet Twisted, Po’Boy, Retro, and Ragman, good old boys from southern states who have many things in common. First, is a bone-deep love of the biker lifestyle. Second, would be their love of the brotherhood, and knowing that you trust the man at your back. Finally, these men have the love of a good woman. None of these come without a price, and it is our pleasure to journey along with them as they discover the blessings that can be won, and lost along the way.
This is the Route of Twisted Pain
Treading the Traitor’s Path: Out Bad
Shelter My Heart
Trapped by Fate on Reckless Roads
Tarnished Lies and Dead Ends
5-Star Reviews for the stories of the NTNT MC series
This is the Route of Twisted Pain
"This is the Route of Twisted Pain is an exhilarating, gripping romance novel contrived of incredible world building, complex yet relatable characters, and a unique, captivating plot.
Gifted storyteller MariaLisa deMora beautifully balances exciting suspense, fast action, intriguing secrets with delicious, blazing hot romance scenes.
In Search of Solace (Rebel Wayfarers MC) Page 26
