Controlled Burn- To Publish

by Lani Lynn Vale

  Dean followed me, and I looked over at him.

  “You fuck this up and I’ll kill you.”

  “I won’t fuck this up,” I lied.

  ***

  An hour later, I was watching my almost brother-in-law beat the shit out of Barrett and Jensen with his bare hands.

  He hit the man in the face with a power punch and then followed it right up with a second shot and then a third.

  “This is going to raise some questions,” Griffin said, his tone bored.

  He wasn’t bored.

  None of us were.

  We’d just been through months of pure hell. We deserved this and so much more.

  That was what The Uncertain Saints were about, and although Dean wasn’t an actual member of our small band of misfit bikers, he was definitely fucked up enough to be one.

  “You ask him yet?” Peek asked, his arms crossed over his chest, too.

  “Nope,” I said. “I’ll ask him once we get July out of the hospital.”

  “You think he’ll say yes?” he asked.

  I nodded my head.

  “Yeah, I think he’ll say yes.”

  Without another word, I turned to Dean and said, “Visiting hours open up in an hour. If you leave now, you’ll make it in time to take a shower and head there.”

  Dean stopped instantly, looked at his watch and nodded.

  “Thanks.”

  Without another word, he left, leaving both men, heads hanging, to us.

  “You ready for me now, Barrett?” I asked him.

  Barrett lifted his eyes.

  “Good enough,” I said, then roundhouse kicked him in the face.

  ***

  “Have a good one,” the cop that booked three of the newest prisoners said.

  I gave him a nod and left the building, smiling as I went.

  Two down, one to go.

  Barrett, Jensen, and his brother were all under heavy guard and would be for a long time to come.

  It was obvious that neither Barrett, Jensen nor his brother were the masterminds behind this operation, so in order to get that information out of them, the prosecutor offered the brothers a plea deal. It wasn’t great news, but if we could get what we needed out of them to bring down this entire operation, it would be worth it.

  In the meantime, I had an operation to infiltrate.

  Chapter 22

  Some days I stay inside because it feels too peoplely out there.

  -July’s secret thoughts

  July

  Everything hurt. My hand most of all. Why did it feel like it was burning?

  I groaned and tried to shake it, but that only managed to intensify the burning sensation a thousandfold.

  I moaned and pried my eyes open, the light above my bed assaulting my eyes.

  Since when did I have a bed?

  I turned my face to take in the bed, and my breath stalled in my chest when I saw Dean—at least I thought it was Dean—at my bedside. The man now sported a very sexy, full beard.

  He was sleeping so soundly that he was snoring, and I couldn’t help it, I had to wake him up.

  “Dean!” I yelled.

  Well, tried to. It came out sounding more husky than I’d intended, but it had the same effect.

  He jolted, standing up and looking around almost frantically.

  “You look like a caveman,” I informed him.

  His eyes, wild and worried, came to me.

  “Fuck me,” he breathed, dropping down into the seat. “I’ve fucking missed the hell out of you.”

  I smiled at him.

  “If I never see another cow again in my life, it’ll be too soon.”

  He blinked.

  “What?” he asked.

  I decided to wait to tell him about the cows at a later date, instead focusing on the fact that I had no hand.

  “I have no hand,” I enlightened him.

  He blinked, all traces of sleep gone from his eyes, and then nodded. “You don’t.”

  “What about my feet?” I asked “I was afraid they’d have to take my feet, too,”

  His eyes went scary, and I lifted my arm so I could touch his face.

  He grabbed my arm before I could get much further than a couple of inches off the bed, and then untangled the IV lines from around me before helping me bring my hand up to his face.

  “Your foot will need some physical therapy,” he admitted. “It went through two surgeries, but they believe it’s going to be okay.”

  Relief poured through me.

  Confusion and pieces of memories churned inside of my hazy brain, but, I was happy.

  Happy that I was here to tell Dean in the first place.

  “Okay,” I said, closing my eyes. “I feel like I’m forgetting something.”

  Something important.

  But my eyes were so heavy, and now that I knew Dean was here, I felt safe for the first time in a long time.

  My only hand moved to my belly where it was more comfortable, and my head started to list to the side as I began to drift off.

  Right before I fell asleep again, I suddenly remembered what I’d forgotten earlier.

  My baby!

  ***

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” the doctor said for the fifth time.

  I looked at my doctor, then back to Dean, and again stood my ground.

  “I’m going. Whether you want me to or not. I’ll sign whatever forms I have to to get out of here. I’ll come right back. I just need to see her!” I said urgently.

  The moment I’d remembered my baby, I’d been hell-bent on seeing her, but even I knew that I was in no shape to go see her. Dean brought me a picture every time he visited her in the NICU. I had waited 5 days, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I need to see my baby girl.

  Baby girl.

  The smile that overtook my face at the thought of having a girl was enough to convince the doctor.

  “You can’t lift your bed any higher than you have it at right now,” he started listing. “You can’t hold her. You can’t get out of bed. You can’t remove your IV. If I receive a report from the NICU that you did anything other than lay there and look, I’ll get an order signed for all to know that you’re not allowed to go over there again. Do you understand?”

  My lips thinned and my eyes narrowed, but I nodded.

  I’d do just about anything, and Dean hadn’t said a single word during my argument with the doctor.

  He was like Switzerland. Neutral and refusing to side with either party.

  “Fine,” the doctor snapped. “Consuela, you will accompany her anywhere she goes, and you will listen to your instincts. If you feel that she’s overtaxing herself, you will bring her back immediately.”

  I grinned widely.

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  He rolled his eyes and left the room, leaving Consuela, my nurse, and Dean.

  “Let’s go!” I yelled, my eyes once again going to the clock on the wall.

  According to Dean, I had less than an hour until visiting hours closed in the NICU, a full two hours earlier than they closed in the ICU where I was at.

  Where I wouldn’t be for long, according to the doctor. I’d actually be on a different floor, one that specialized in rehabilitation, had there been any rooms for me to move into.

  According to my doctor, if I was well enough to argue with him, I was well enough not to be in the ICU anymore.

  “Let’s go, people!” I yelled. “Time’s a wastin!”

  Dean’s smile broke out over his face, and I was struck once again, for the fifteenth time since I’d woken up and seen him at my bedside, how handsome he was with a beard.

  It would break my heart when he had to shave it off to return to work. Beards were, according to Dean, a no-no with the fire department. Something about masks not sealing correctly, or something to that effect.

  “I’m ready,” Consuela said, unlocking the
wheels of my bed.

  Dean pushed from the end of the bed, and suddenly I was moving out my door, and down the hallway.

  “Faster,” I ordered.

  Dean snorted while Consuela gave me a ‘be good’ look.

  I closed my eyes as elation tore through my body.

  And five minutes later, as I saw my daughter for the first time, joy surged through me.

  “Oh, God,” I breathed, tears coursing down my cheeks. “She’s beautiful!”

  Dean’s eyes came to mine, and something so significant passed between us that I was left short of breath.

  “She’s fucking perfect.”

  ***

  “It’s time for you to tell me,” I ordered my man.

  Dean looked like he’d rather do anything but. Thankfully he understood that this was important to me.

  “Raven’s okay,” he started. “She’s being looked after by Wolf.”

  I closed my eyes and breathed deeply.

  “And Barrett…Jensen?”

  “Jail.”

  There was finality in those words, and I wondered if I could get any more information out of him than that.

  “Are you…”

  “No,” he said blankly. “I can’t. If I talk about them, I get angry. And when I get angry, my fists feel like hitting something.”

  I closed my eyes and blew out a breath, knowing that was all that I would get out of him…today.

  Tomorrow, however, was a new day.

  And if he wouldn’t tell me, I damn sure knew my brother would.

  ***

  A few weeks later

  “July…” Dean grabbed a hold of my arm. “This is not a good idea.”

  I turned and glared at him. I didn’t care if he was right.

  That bitch had come onto him. Again!

  And it had to fucking stop!

  “You need to let me do this. I realize that you didn’t sleep with her. I trust you…but I don’t trust her. She’s going to try and try and try, and one of these times she’s going to put you into a compromising position, and I’m going to have to kill her. Then you’ll have to bail me out of jail, and I don’t look good in the color orange.” I snapped. “Now back away.”

  Dean sighed, and then did what any sane man would do. He let me have my way.

  He watched while I walked across the parking lot, hands fisted because he still had trouble letting me go too far from him.

  I knew it would be like this for a while. I’d only been back for a few weeks, and in those weeks I’d given into Dean’s demands, knowing he needed me to stay close because he was worried I might disappear again.

  Marching into the diner that Alexa still ate at every week even though she knew that Dean and I would be there at the same exact time, I walked right up to her and stopped in front of her table.

  She was just getting up, her face dejected—likely because she’d hoped to see Dean, and hadn’t.

  Though, we’d been late today due to the fact that Dean had come home and caught me in the shower, bent over, washing my girly bits with soap.

  After Dean was finally done with me, we’d missed our usual dining time by about forty-five minutes.

  Alexa froze the minute her eyes locked on mine, and her mouth turned up into an almost automatic sneer.

  “What are you doing here.” She bared her teeth. “Where’s PD?”

  “I want you to stay away from Dean.” I told her. “I want you to stop making advances toward him. I want you to let us live our lives.” I stared at her. “He’s mine. He’ll never be yours. Admit defeat and bow down gracefully.”

  “You don’t even let him be him.” she crossed her boney arms over her chest. “He goes by PD; don’t you know?”

  “He goes by PD to those that don’t know him like I do…you know…intimately.”

  She growled, then tried to win back ground.

  “He didn’t even remember your birthday,” she said snottily. “Remember? That speaks of not caring that much about you, to me.”

  I looked at her with a bored expression on my face.

  “He remembered my birthday,” I explained to her. “He told me just a few days ago when I found out about your rude ass trying to offer him a blow job when he was worried sick about me. I was ready to beat your ass right then and there, but then I realized something.”

  She glared at me.

  “What?” She sneered. “That you’re missing an arm and it wouldn’t be a fair fight?” A wide, malignant smile widened her lips. “Or is it that you’re too fat?”

  I might or might not have lost it then.

  “I’m not fat,” I told her bluntly. “I’m still losing the baby weight…baby weight that Dean had an integral part in putting on my body in the first place…something that you’ll never ever experience.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and then dropped down to my belly.

  I’d been wearing loose shirts for the last few weeks, but since I’d woken up this morning and decided that I was no longer fighting the inevitable, I finally broke down and tried on one of my old shirts.

  And I looked damn cute in it, even standing next to the whore-eyed beauty that tried to steal my man while I was busy living in hell.

  Though, I had to admit, I did fill it out a little more than I had previously.

  “You’re lying. I’ll bet that was all a big fake,” she reached for my shirt and tried to snatch it away from my skin.

  To do what, I didn’t know, but I would never know.

  Mainly because Dean was there, shielding me in his large, comforting arms.

  “Don’t you ever…fucking ever…touch my woman again. Or you’ll wish you never did when I’m through with you.” Dean hissed.

  “PD…” she reached for him.

  And that’s when I clocked her.

  Damn it felt good to be a gangster.

  Epilogue

  If you kiss her just right, you won’t have to rip her panties off her. She’ll rip them off herself.

  -Words of wisdom

  July

  12 months later

  I pulled my car over to the side when I saw Dean turn the corner of the street behind me. Frantically, I reached for my phone, crying out in relief when I found it on the first reach into my purse.

  I’d found that being one handed seriously sucked when you were in a rush.

  Most times, with enough patience, I could get anything done.

  I’d learned to feed, dress and clean myself. I could cook. I could drive. I could do almost anything—I just needed to take my time.

  It was when I was in a hurry that things started to get difficult.

  With the way Dean was running toward me, I’d have to hurry or I’d miss my chance, and let’s just say I wasn’t very good under pressure.

  When I finally got YouTube pulled up, I typed Rocky into the search bar and grinned manically as the song started to play through my new car’s speakers.

  The car that had all the newest bells and whistles on it…the one Dean had forced me to get.

  The minute I saw him in my rearview mirror, less than a couple of feet away, I jacked the music up—still impressed as hell at the bass in the new Yukon—and smiled widely at the man that looked in the window at me like I was fucking nuts.

  “Turn that off!” he yelled over the music.

  I shook my head and kept pace with him.

  Reflexively, I looked down at the speedometer, and nearly gawked when I saw he was running ten miles an hour.

  “You’re running so fast!” I yelled at him. “You really are Rocky!”

  He tossed me an impatient look, sweat pouring down his face, and then did something I never thought he’d do.

  He lifted his hand in the air like Rocky did once he reaches the top of the stairs, and I burst out laughing.

  “Go park before you wreck your new SUV,” he said impatiently.

  I giggled, turned the music down, and
then pulled around him to go park at my project house.

  It was the first time I’d been back since I’d lost my hand and was crucified—and I was nervous as hell.

  I’d had a long road to recovery, and when I was finally okay to be on my own two feet, I had a brand new baby with a lot of medical issues to care for.

  It was hard to believe that it’d been a year since I’d had her.

  Then all nervousness flew out the window the minute I heard my Adrienne crying in the backseat.

  Adrienne was a year old now, but she was a little behind developmentally.

  She was a little bit of a thing, too. It was hard to see my baby with all of these problems that stemmed from the fact that she was premature.

  She had asthma. She wore glasses. She wasn’t crawling yet, but by the way she was rocking on her hands and knees, it was coming any minute.

  At first we thought she’d have to have open heart surgery due to a hole in her heart when she was born, but over her one hundred and eighteen-day neonatal intensive care unit stay, the hole decreased in size until, eventually, it was closed completely. All on its own.

  Getting out of my SUV, I walked to the back door and opened it to find a very unhappy Adrienne staring at me.

  “What?” I asked her softly.

  She screamed louder, and I sighed, backing up until Dean arrived.

  “Sorry,” he laughed as he reached inside to get Adrienne out of her car seat.

  See, Adrienne had a thing. She liked waking up in the arms that she fell asleep in. Meaning if she fell asleep in Dean’s arms, she liked to wake there, and if she didn’t, we knew to expect her to be grumpy when she woke up

  It also meant that whoever had been holding her was the one to get her out of the car seat, or she’d let you know how unhappy she was with you.

  She also didn’t have a clear favorite. She loved both of us the same, but she had that one quirk that sometimes made her difficult to handle.

  I loved being a mother, though.

  It was, however, hard to do at times with one hand.

  I’d managed it, sure, but it wasn’t easy.

  One didn’t know how hard it was to put a diaper on a squirming baby until you had to do it one handed.