I was out of my mind and to prove so, I even invited her to my patch party. Yeah, I invited Kitten to my pussy party. Who the fuck does that? This guy right here. And you know what? Best fucking decision of my life. I can say that now, almost two years later.
Most brothers in my MC look back at the night they got their colors as a turning point in their life because they finally became one of the Satan’s Knights. I look back at that night and I forget all about the patch I received because that was the night I first took Kitten. I took her up against the wall of the Satan’s Knight compound and put Pea inside of her. Not intentionally of course, but yep, you heard me right—I knocked up Kitten.
I didn’t find out right away and if I’m being honest, I was a dick, both before and after I found out about the baby. I stopped talking to Kitten after the night at the clubhouse, and thinking back now, I have no idea why. The best I can come up with is I was scared. Yeah, scared, because I was feeling all sorts of shit I wasn’t used to and I was starting to think about Kitten, morning, noon and night.
I think I had a nervous breakdown after I found out we were having a kid and that she had already named it Pea. I was scared shitless to become a father, to be responsible for a little human—for eighteen plus years. But I wasn’t about to let Lauren do it by herself. I wasn’t going to be a deadbeat dad, nah, not me. I would own that shit.
Own it.
These are the two words my brother and my best friend, Bones, said to me after I told him I was having a kid. These are the two words I live by, and the two words I want scribed on my tombstone when I drop dead.
Kitten moved in with me and we played house for a while. I bought a refrigerator and she covered it with our baby’s sonogram photos. Life was good. I had my Kitten, and we were having a Pea.
The motherfucking Chinese had to go ruin my shit. Fucking Sun Wu and the Red Dragons, those motherfuckers threatened to take everything I loved from me—my Kitten and my Pea.
They would’ve succeeded too if it wasn’t for Bones. My best friend stepped into the line of fire when Sun Wu’s men shot at Kitten. He jumped in front of her saving her life. That bullet would’ve killed my Kitten and probably my kid.
It killed Bones.
He saved them and I didn’t even get a chance to thank him. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t look at my son or Lauren and think of the brother God didn’t give me but the one I chose. We named our son, Eric after Bones, and both Kitten and I tell him stories about the uncle he never got to meet.
Join an MC they said.
Take the detour.
Find your heart and own that shit.
I pause, pushing the carriage past the park gates and pull off my sunglasses to check out our surroundings. There are a couple of kids playing in the sandbox but the little kid with the fisherman’s hat looks like he has that shit on lock down, claiming the three babies with dresses all for himself.
His parents need to teach him how to share and spread the wealth.
I turn my attention to the sprinklers, ready to introduce my son to the love of bikinis but the bigger kids run that part of the playground.
“All right, Eric, time for you to learn how to woo the women,” I say, eyeing the empty swings before looking down at my son who’s rockin’ a pair of sunglasses just like mine. “Don’t look at me like that, I know they’re empty but give it a few minutes and they’ll be lining up to swing with us,” I promise. “Just follow my lead and I’ll have you ten play dates by the time your mom’s finished getting her nails done.”
He leans forward grabbing a fistful of Gerber Puffs and throws them at me.
All right, he’s not a believer—but he will be.
I push the carriage to where the swings are and unlatch Fort Knox. I swear you need to be a brain surgeon to take a kid out of a carriage. Forget about opening this fucking thing—I had to watch a YouTube video just to unfold it. Thank God, Kitten is meeting us here, otherwise I would strap this fucking thing to the roof of my truck.
I place Eric in the swing, tighten the seat belt, see now, this one isn’t so bad, one click and my boy is set. Watching as he curiously looks around the playground I push him. After a few pushes a smile makes its way across his face.
That shit never gets old.
Watching your child’s eyes widen in wonder, smile in joy as he decides he likes the new experience—it’s fucking incredible. Something I almost didn’t get the chance to experience.
“You like that, don’t you?” I grin as he giggles. That sound is contagious, causing me to laugh as I watch him cheer with every high the swing takes and clap his hands with the lows.
A mother walks up next to us and places her daughter in the swing next to ours.
“Showtime,” I whisper into Eric’s ear. “Now, the trick isn’t getting the girl…it’s keeping her once you’ve got her. You need to keep it fresh, excite her when she least expects it and always make her know how much she means to you. I’m not saying you have to marry the first girl you nab, but if she’s the one you love, always make sure you tell her. Never let her wonder—that reminds me,” I say, pulling back the swing for a second to whip out my cell phone. I swipe my thumb across the screen and compose a new text message.
Me: Roar.
I grin watching as the little gray cloud appears and two seconds later my phone chimes.
Kitten: Meow. XOXO
It chimes again when I’m about to put my phone away.
Kitten: I just finished drying my nails. Where are you guys?
Me: By the swings.
Kitten: Did Eric get any dates?
Me: Still working on it.
Kitten: LOL. See you in a few.
I pocket my phone and lean close to Eric.
“Mommy’s on her way,” I say, giving him another push and watch him eye the girl on the swing next to him. “That’s my boy! Get her Tiger!”
The girl squeals and Eric doesn’t take his eyes off her. Her mom pushes her higher, and she turns to Eric and sticks her tongue out at him.
“Oh, the little vixen is playing hard to get,” I hiss, pushing Eric a drop higher.
“How old is he?” the mother asked.
“He’ll be one next month,” I reply, biting back the cringe as I ask her how old her daughter is, preparing myself for the math equation. “How old is she?”
“Seventeen months and three days,” she replies proudly.
See, math equation. Why couldn’t she say the kid was one?
“Nice,” I reply, leaning into Eric’s ear. “She’s a cougar.”
“There are my boys!”
I turn around at the sound of Lauren’s voice and smirk as she completely brushes past me and goes straight for our son.
“There’s my little guy,” she coos, reaching for him.
Knowing the drill, I pull my baseball hat off my head and run my fingers through my hair. It’ll take Kitten a good ten seconds of lovin’ on our boy before she even realizes I’m here. She takes him out of the swing and brings him against her chest, showering him with kisses—totally ruining his game.
Her blue eyes zero in on me and her grin widens as she leans forward, covering my mouth with hers. I wrap my arm around her waist, slide my hand into the back pocket of her jeans and press her against me, sandwiching Eric between us as I kiss her until he wails.
“Hi baby, how was your afternoon?” she asks me, setting Eric down on his wobbly feet and taking hold of his hand. He just started walking and takes more falls than he does steps but he’s determined.
Determination is something our kid has in spades.
He was a fighter from the day he took his first breath.
“It was good. We went for lunch, had some pizza, a few beers and now here we are.”
I grab the carriage, follow her out of the swing area as she and Eric lead the way. My eyes dip down to her ass, which has gotten slightly rounder since Eric was born, her breasts are bigger too—not that I’m complaining. I’m an as
s and tits kind of guy, well, not really, I’m just a Kitten kind of guy. Anything she’s selling, I’m buying.
“I saw a pretzel stand over there. Why don’t we go feed the ducks?” she asks over her shoulder, running after Eric as he found his groove and has taken off toward the pond.
“I’ll grab the pretzel,” I offer, pushing the empty carriage along to the pretzel guy. I order a pretzel and two hotdogs, one I scoff down before even making my way back to Lauren and the baby. I hand her the hotdog, but she shakes her head, taking a bite of the pretzel instead. Breaking off a piece of pretzel, she crouches down next to our son and hands it to him, showing him how to feed it to the ducks waddling around them.
Watching Lauren with Eric was like watching a dream come true. We talked a lot about dreams, it was Lauren’s thing, and I might sound like a pussy but it was becoming my thing too. I loved the nights we lay in bed after screwing each other senseless where Lauren would tell me all her dreams. Her dreams became my dreams, and I vowed to make our dreams come true. Every last one of them, and after all her dreams come true, I’ll make her dream some more.
“Let’s have another,” I blurt.
“Another what?” she asks as she breaks off another piece of the pretzel. “There is plenty here,” she adds, naively holding up half of the pretzel.
“Let’s make another baby,” I clarify, pulling off my sunglasses and turning my hat around so when she lifts her head and stares into my eyes she’ll see I’m serious.
Eric tugged on her hand, wanting to go closer to the ducks and she lost her footing for a second. She lifts Eric into her arms as she rises to her feet and pins me with her wide baby blues.
“Are you serious?” she questions, Eric on her hip, trying to lean down and feed the ducks some more. I swear my heart fucking threatened to explode.
I nod, clearing my throat before flashing her a grin and wiggling my eyebrows in suggestion.
“Come on, Kitten, let’s make another Pea,” I coax, stepping closer to her and taking her hand, pulling her against me. “Think of all the fun we’ll have trying.”
“We didn’t have to try too hard for Eric,” she reminds me. “What if we get pregnant right away?”
“Even better,” I say, bending my head to kiss her neck. “I love it when you’re pregnant, you’re fucking insatiable.”
She swats my shoulder.
“Watch it,” she warns.
“Right, I forgot. You’re ducking insatiable,” I correct, appeasing her of no cursing in front of the baby rule. We duck a lot around here.
She laughs.
Best ducking sound ever.
What do you say, Kitten?” I ask, pulling back and bending my knees so we’re eye level. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she stares back at me silently for a few moments.
“I hope you got enough sleep last night, Tiger,” she teases, her lips spreading into a smile. “It’s going to be a long night.”
Cupping her chin with my hand, I bring her mouth to mine, smiling against her lips as I kiss her.
“Bet your ass it is.”
Yeah, there was going to be a whole lot of ducking going on for Kitten and Tiger.
Chapter Six
I pull my bike into my driveway, cutting the engine as I stare up at the house I never thought I’d live in, never wanted to live in, until Lace. She’s got me doing a whole lot of things I never thought I’d do again; laughing, smiling, girl even has me dancing out on the back deck at night. She strung lights along the fence and some nights I find her dancing beneath those twinkling lights. I stare at her for a few moments, basking in my angel’s glow and then her eyes find mine and her smile widens, lighting up my whole fucking world.
She drags me out of the house and forces me to wrap my arms around her and dance. Sometimes we dance to our song, ‘Leather and Lace’, other times she chooses a different song. It depends on her mood and where her head is at. If it’s our song that’s playing, I know she’s struggling and I give her all I’ve got. I try to take her out of the darkness that inebriates her, like she’s pulled me from mine, time and time again.
I am a recovering addict, someone who used to think the only thing he had left in this world was poison. I used drugs and alcohol as a crutch to get me through, to numb me from the pain and bring me to the state of oblivion I craved. Lacey stormed into the Satan’s Knight’s clubhouse one night, trying to escape her own demons, and the girl I had protected since she was fifteen, became my sole purpose for breathing.
One night.
That’s all it took for her to get underneath my skin.
She reminded me of the man I was before my first wife, Christine, died. The man before the corruption, the man before the bottle of Johnny Walker, and a syringe full of heroin. She showed me I could still be the man I used to be, that he was still alive buried beneath the leather. It was because of Lacey I realized how badly I wanted to be that guy again and how much I didn’t want to quit life.
As much as I’d like to say Lacey is the reason I stay clean—she’s not. Sure, having her in my life, being the man she loves, it’s all part of the equation but it’s not everything. It shouldn’t be either. I stay clean for myself because I want to be the man who keeps her. I want to be the man who gets to write her story with her. I want to be better because I am more than a needle and a bottle of booze. I stay clean because I want to live.
I’m an addict but I’ve found a new addiction, one that will bring me to my knees and one that will keep me breathing—I’m addicted to Lacey’s smile.
That smile is the only addiction worth having.
Her happiness is the only high I crave.
I climb the front stoop, hoping when I open the door it’s that smile that greets me. I fit my key into the door and pause as I hear the music blasting through the house, a grin plays across my face.
I’ve gotten used to smiling.
Something I hadn’t done in years.
It’s the little things we take for granted. The little things that we forget make life worth living.
I open the door, kick it closed with the heel of my boot and follow the sound of the music. It’s not our song that she’s playing, which means Lacey’s maker is silent today.
Her maker is her mind.
Some people believe God is their maker; that He controls Heaven and Earth, but for my Lace, her maker is her mind. Lacey is bipolar and her mind controls her. While I have a sponsor who talks me off the ledge, Lace has a bottle of Lithium.
I know what you’re thinking—they’re fucked.
But we’re not.
Each day we wake to a blank page, we pick up the pieces of our shattered souls and write our story. A story that portrays hope and the struggles of life.
I freeze in my tracks as I reach the kitchen and spot her dancing to the beat of the music, singing along to a tempo of her own. Girl can’t sing for shit but she can move.
Goddamn can she move.
Prancing around in nothing but one of my black t-shirts—fanning, she was fanning the charred something or other on top of the stove—she’s the most beautiful sight a man like me ever saw.
The girl can’t cook either but that doesn’t stop her from trying. I think that’s what I love most about her. No and can’t are two words that are not part of her vocabulary. It’s the resilience rooted deep in her veins that makes her who she is.
Lacey doesn’t need a hero.
She’s her own goddamn hero.
And if there is something she wants to conquer, step the fuck out of her way because she will leave her footprints on your back as she walks right over you to get what she wants.
It’s fucking incredible to watch.
Sneaking up behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist and drag her body against mine, causing her to squeal happily.
“You’re home,” she says, turning in my arms as she wraps them around my neck.
“I’m home,” I murmur, bending my head to take her mouth. My lips skim her
s back and forth before taking her lower lip between mine. Slowly, I coax her mouth open, slide my tongue over hers, getting high off her taste.
“Goddamn, girl, you make me never want to leave,” I growl against her mouth, pulling back slightly to cup her face with my hands.
I only let you leave because you promised you’d always come back,” she whispers, reminding me of the vow I made to her when I was released from prison.
I’ll always come back for you, girl.
I press another kiss to her lips before glancing over her shoulder, at what I assume is supposed to be dinner.
“You cooked.” I clear my throat, raising an eyebrow. “New recipe?”
“Yeah, but it’s the last time I use that website for anything. I swear I followed the directions perfectly.” She turns, frowning at the blackened meal.
What’s it supposed to be?”
She laughs before sinking her teeth into her lower lip and lifting her eyes.
“If I said blackened chicken would you believe me?”
Slapping her ass playfully, I smirk, unable to stop myself from squeezing he lace covered cheek.
“Babe, you know I love the way you look in my shirts but I’m running out of clothes,” I say, fingering the hem of my shirt before fisting the back of it. I pull her against my chest and grab a hold of her hips, pressing that sweet ass of hers against my strained cock.
“You love it,” she accuses.
I do,” I admit, brushing her hair over her shoulder and pressing my mouth to her neck. “But I can’t take you to dinner dressed in my shirt,” I add, reluctantly releasing her with a groan. “Go get dressed. I’ll take you to that Asian place in the mall you like.”
“But what about the blackened chicken?” she teases, throwing me a wink.
“Can’t even feed that shit to the hungry, Lace,” I say. “Go get dressed while I clean the latest disaster to strike the aqua kitchen.”
“One day I will make something that knocks your socks off and you will beg me to cook,” she says pointedly as she struts out of the kitchen.
I didn’t doubt it.
I know better than to underestimate her.
The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition Page 161
