Their Lasting Claim: A Death Lords MC Romance (The Motorcycle Clubs Book 13)

by Goode, Ella

  “Can we come to a compromise?” he asks. I stop on the porch and look at him warily. He raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. “No tricks. I’ll drive you over to Wheels Up if you agree to call the doc and ask if it’s safe for you to work there.”

  I twist my lips as I consider his request. It’s not that it’s unreasonable, because I don’t want to expose the baby to unhealthy fumes, but I also want to nip this let’s negotiate every little thing attitude in the bud before it evolves into you can’t do anything without my permission.

  “I’m agreeing to this only because I would’ve done that anyway,” I finally concede.

  “Great. Let’s get in the truck.”

  “What about Amber?” I tip my head toward his motorcycle sitting in the drive.

  “Oh, no.” He shakes his head and backs up. “We’re not riding on the bike.”

  “Seriously? No riding on the bike the entire time I’m pregnant? That’s like eight months of being in the cage.”

  My use of the biker lingo makes one side of his mouth rise in a half smile but he still denies me. “No.”

  “Fine, I’ll ask the doctor about that too. Anything else you’re afraid for me to do?”

  “The list is endless, honey, and since I don’t want to start a fight in our front yard, I’m going to zip my mouth shut and help you into the truck.”

  I have to laugh at that. We could keep arguing but my attention is pulled away when a strange car pulls up to the curb. Out of the driver’s door appears a tall, blonde woman. Even from twenty feet away I can see she’s beautiful with an enviable figure wrapped in a short skirt, a blousy top that falls off one shoulder. She smiles at us over the roof of the car and waves gaily, like we’re old friends. Is this one of Easy’s old girlfriends? I straighten and step closer to Easy.

  “You know her?”

  He slides a reassuring arm around me. “No idea. She looks familiar though.”

  “Ugh, from a mash or something?” Not an old girlfriend, but club butt which might even be worse. I rub my hand over my stomach thinking today is not a good day for me to meet some woman that Michigan and Easy shared.

  He squints. “Nah, I don’t think so. No sweet butt would have the balls to show up at a Death Lord’s home. That is not okay and would probably get someone banned.” He steps forward, pushing me behind him in one move.

  She walks up the drive and as the distance between us closes, I see that she’s older. Her face is thin and there are small lines at the corners of her eyes. She’s very well maintained and reminds me of the pastors’ wives from Minneapolis. There’s an expensive look to her as if she gets her hair cut every month at a high-priced salon. Her curls are expertly done and frame her face in way to soften the hard lines that age and dieting has brought on.

  Easy must look better the closer she gets because her gaze is stuck on him. The hungry look in her eyes makes me stiffen and I erase any distance between Easy and me, as if by my physical proximity I can somehow ward off any interest she might have for him. The possessiveness that the two men show for me starts to make sense to me. I wish I’d sucked a visible love bite on Easy’s neck to mark him as my own. Her gaze finally moves to me and her broad, dentist-perfect smile falters with the middle of her lips flattening out momentarily as I stare stonily at her. She rallies though, stopping about six feet away.

  “Honey, don't you know who I am?” She lifts her hand and smooths some of her hair back. Honey? “It’s me. Your mother.”

  If I was a fainting sort, I probably would've keeled over right then and there but since I'm not I slump against Easy. “It's been a long time…Mom.”

  The last word sounds weird on my lips. I haven't had much occasion to use it and I can't remember the last time that I used it to address her specifically. The few conversations I had with her on the phone have not prepared me for this meeting.

  “Mrs. Bloom, I’m Easy.” He reaches out his left hand while his right tightens around the curve of my shoulder in silent support.

  “Easy? That’s an interesting name.” She’s returned to smiling effortlessly, although who wouldn't smile at Easy. He's gorgeous and generally is full of good humor although I know him well enough to see that his greeting is one of wary politeness rather than a full welcome. She takes his hand in both of hers and squeezes. “You’re with my daughter?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Is this new?” She leans around, still holding Easy’s hand in hers. “You didn’t mention it the last time we spoke.”

  “That was three years ago.” I’m uncertain how to respond and look to Easy for help. He gives a minute shrug and pulls his hand back. He waits for me to make the next move. Am I going to turn around and walk back into the house and rebuff her? Or will I accept this out-of-nowhere attempt to reconnect?

  “So, new then. Well, I’m glad to meet you, Easy. Annie, do you have a hug for your mother?” She raises her arms uncertainly and it’s that hint of vulnerability that has me lunging forward into the hug I haven’t felt for a decade. It’s almost like hugging myself. She’s tall, like me, and I don’t have to bend to hug her like I do with other women. She and I are almost the same height. Her floral perfume is heavy, though, and its rich scent brings a wave of nausea. I swallow hard to keep back the tears and bile, afraid of the strong emotions that her appearance is generating.

  “I’m on my way to work,” I blurt out. It’s just really too much. Hearing that Father is out on bail and then having Mom show up out of the blue? Learning I’m pregnant and I don’t know which one of my lovers is the father? I have a sudden need to escape.

  “Where? I was over at the church this morning and Mrs. Oak said you’d left.”

  The mention of the church and Father is too much. I turn to Easy with a panicked plea. “I have to go to work now.”

  Part of me wants to go right back inside, crawl into the big bed and hide under the covers until it all goes away—the pregnancy, my father, my mother's reappearance.

  “All right, baby,” he murmurs and gives a quick rub over the hand that I have clamped around his biceps. To my mother he says, “I got to get Annie to work here. Why don’t we all have dinner tonight. Where are you staying?”

  She flashes us another brilliant smile. “I thought it would be lovely to stay with you. That way Annie and I can reconnect. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, dear?”

  Easy interprets my wide-eyed distress perfectly. “Sorry, we’re in a state of construction and I don't feel right about leaving you home with all those tools around.” The lies roll off his tongue as liquid as melted butter and just as smooth.

  “Oh, I can’t imagine that would bother me. I came from a farm and before that I was in the commune. I know my way around tools.” She winks at us.

  Holy crap, is my mother flirting with Easy? That seems wrong in so many ways. Plus there’s nothing about Mom that says small town farm girl anymore. That’s been polished away. Easy runs a quick look over her and shakes his head. “Sorry, wouldn’t feel right about that. I’m going to run Annie to her job and then I’ve got my own stuff to see to.”

  I don't even ask Easy what it is that he’s supposed to be doing today. I’m just grateful he's getting me out of there.

  Mom looks flustered. “I haven’t checked into any hotel.”

  “You could look into Bright’s Motel. It’s on the edge of town. We’ll give you a call at 6. What’s your number?”

  Mom reels it off. After Easy repeats it, we all stand there watching each other. Finally, she gives us a tight smile and turns to get into her car. Only when the taillights of her rental are out of sight does Easy place a hand on my back and direct me to the pickup.

  “You okay, baby?”

  “That was weird, right? Her showing up and wanting to stay at the house?”

  “Nothing about your home life has been normal,” he points out.

  “I wonder why she’s back now.” I press a protective hand over my belly. “I’m going to be a good mo
ther.”

  “Don’t doubt it.” He opens the door and holds out a hand to help me up into the cab.

  “I’m not going to walk out on my kid. I’m going to be there for every recital and practice and game.” I stop talking and turn my head away. Crap, I’m so emotional over everything right now.

  “I know you are. And Michigan and I are going to be on either side of you. You aren’t in this alone.” He strokes a finger down my cheek and then gives me a hard pat on the ass. “I’ll ask my grandma if she knows why your mom is in town. If there’s gossip, she’ll have heard it.”

  The mention of his grandmother brings a smile to my face. I swing into the seat and buckle up. He takes it slow, probably in deference to my pregnant state. Usually he peels out of the driveway as loud and proud as possible.

  Easy’s grandma helped us get together and while there were others in the town who thought my household arrangement was scandalous, Easy’s family took it in stride. His grandmother went so far as to seek me out at the coffee shop one day and tell me that Easy had always marched to his own drummer and that she’d never seen him happier.

  That was in stark contrast to the reception I had gotten at the bank. I’d gone in to see if I could recover the money that my father had stolen from me but the bank officer looked at me like I was some kind of leper.

  One of my old classmates, Sara Ellerby, ended up helping me. She told me I could sue Father for fraud, but the idea of testifying against him in court had my stomach in knots. It was bad enough I was going to have to do that for the criminal proceeding. Airing out all my dirty laundry at one time seemed overkill. Might as well leave some part of my life as a mystery so that the town had something to speculate about.

  It isn’t as if I don’t want justice, it’s just that it is all cascading at once. I was prepared to testify but I’m not prepared to sue Father for fraud, deal with my mother, have a baby and set up a household with two men.

  Actually, the last one is pretty simple. Having Easy and Michigan to lean on is a relief. Out of all the changes in my life, that’s the best one and if I have to deal with all the rest to keep those two, it’s all worth it.

  We arrive at Judge’s garage in a short time. Easy helps me out and I follow him into the corrugated steel and concrete building that houses Judge’s custom car and bike business. Judge intimidates me even though Michigan and Easy are as tall and muscular; there’s an air of command around him that they don’t have. My former boss—Pippa Lang, the head librarian—has no problem handling Judge. In fact, she’s constantly challenging him, and when I worked at the library, that often ended with them locked in her office or making a trip downstairs to the basement. She’d come out flushed and he looked satisfied.

  I guess if you’re sleeping with Judge, you have a handle on him in more ways than one.

  “Hey, Annie!” Wrecker yells out. Wrecker is Judge’s only son. He was a year behind me in school and Chelsea was three years younger and their relationship rivals mine as being the most gossiped about. Chelsea and Wrecker grew up together as brother and sister. She’s Judge’s stepdaughter.

  “Morning, Wrecker.” I wave my hand at him. Out of the two of us, I don’t know who is more scandalous—Chelsea or me. Shacking up with two men is almost better than sleeping with your stepbrother in some folks’ minds. Judge and Wrecker cast long shadows but they aren’t everywhere that Chelsea goes and they aren’t able to fully shield her from the snide remarks and judgmental looks.

  I didn’t know either Chelsea or Wrecker well. They were part of the crowd my father had warned me against, and at seventeen I still paid attention to everything he said because I clung to him as my only family.

  But my eyes wandered and my heart wondered. I watched as the Death Lords rode into town, riding two by two down the street. Their loud engines set off car alarms and hormones. They walked the sidewalks of Fortune like they owned them, wearing their tight jeans and their loose-fitting leather vests full of patches.

  I'm beginning to understand that that confidence comes from their feeling of belonging. That no matter what they do, someone else has their back. I kind of feel that way now with Michigan and Easy.

  I heard about the mashes that took place out at the old granary on Friday and Saturday nights. They were supposedly full of every vice and wickedness that man could dream up.

  Having been to a couple, the gossip isn’t far from the truth. I’ve seen more couplings and in different positions than I’d ever imagined was possible. Women taking on more than just two men and men enjoying the attentions of two or three women at a time. Sometimes there’s so many bodies enjoying each other, it’s hard to tell where the group starts and stops.

  I think the pheromones in the mashes set everyone off. I don’t have any desire to be part of the group sex scenes but I won’t deny it’s easy to get turned on by watching it. At first, I was embarrassed but Michigan and Easy get so pleased when I’m turned on that it’s hard to hold onto that shame unless you try hard. And I’m trying hard to let all those prejudices from the past go so that I can enjoy everything that I have access to.

  Meaning if I get excited because Easy’s whispering dirty things in my ear while we watch a woman taking a big man down her throat, there’s nothing wrong with that. And there’s certainly nothing bad about enjoying Michigan’s big, capable hand between my legs as we both watch Easy play poker. And I’d never say no to the two of them leading me upstairs to the top floor and finding an empty room so that one of them can kneel between my legs while the other one feeds my mouth full of his penis.

  Shoot, just thinking about all of that is making me flushed and wet.

  My panties are starting to stick to me and I wonder if I should just take them off. Nothing worse than wet panties.

  “What are you thinking about, baby?” Easy growls in my ear. I catch a glimpse of myself in the long glassed-in window that separates the office from the main garage. My eyes are glittering and my mouth is half parted.

  “Stuff,” I mumble.

  “Sure you are.” He strokes a hand down my back and over my butt and I can’t stop the shiver of longing in response. His head lowers as if he’s going to kiss me which would lead to me climbing him like a tree and then we’d need to find some private place where we could both get off.

  “Annie, I’m surprised to see you,” Judge says, interrupting the eye sex Easy and I were having. He wipes his dirty hands with a cloth, one that is not much cleaner than his hands and I don't know that he gets any of the grease off. But I take his hand anyway because this is a working garage and a little grease never hurt anyone.

  “I’m going a little stir-crazy at home and thought I’d come in and start working.”

  “She’s also pregnant,” Easy adds.

  “Van Beasley!” I smack him across the shoulder, calling him by his Christian name. All thoughts of taking him to the back room and making the ache between my legs go away are replaced by me strangling him in the back room. “That was a secret.”

  He shrugs because my slaps against his rock hard shoulder probably feel like a gnat bite. “He’s your employer. Figured he should know.”

  Judge pounds Easy on the back. “Congratulations, brother. No better time than when your woman is pregnant.” He bends down and looks at me. “Don’t know that you should be working here, though.”

  “That’s what I said,” Easy replies and folds his massive arms across his chest. Judge does the same, forming a wall of seemingly impenetrable testosterone. And this makes me angry enough to glare at Easy and Judge.

  “I’m perfectly fine,” I retort and turn toward the office door. “Easy, you go on now. We agreed that I’d call you.”

  He shoots a finger at me. “First thing, you contact the doctor. And call if you need anything.” The words are supposed to be for me, but he’s looking at Judge the whole time.

  Judge nods and I roll my eyes at this preemptory activity. “I’m fine,” I repeat and leave the two behind as I stride
into the office. Outside I can see the two of them still talking. Judge claps a hand on Easy’s shoulder and then Easy finally leaves.

  Judge reappears. “It’s pretty smelly around here so you stay here in the office until you get the all-clear from the doctor.”

  “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt the baby and there are plenty of women who work up to the day they deliver.” I can hear my voice getting a little shrill.

  “Okay, fair enough. I see that you got overly protective men all over you and you don't need one more.” He grins. “Don’t expect them to let up, though, now that you’ve got their kid in your belly.”

  I make a face. “Let’s talk about what you need from me.”

  The office is full of paper. There are stacks of it everywhere. A pile that is about two feet high threatens to tumble over the side and into a waiting trash bin. In fact, as I peer over the desk, it looks like there are a few papers that have fallen into the trash. Judge places a big palm on top of the teetering stack.

  “I’ve paid all the bills but they should be filed. Last year I wasted a whole month trying to get everything in order for my accountant. That sucked so I’m not doing that again. You file everything and then start keeping track of all of our expenses and our income. If you need supplies you just take it out of petty cash.” He walks over to the steel gray filing cabinet in the corner and pulls out the top drawer. Inside is a small metal box which I see holds several hundred-dollar bills.

  “No lock on the money box?” I ask.

  Judge slams the drawer shut. “You’d have to have a death wish to steal from me.”

  Good point.

  “I suspect cleaning this office up will take you at least a couple of days, but if you finish sooner here's the parts catalogs for the engines we build. You should get to know this shit and the ordering process. Easy said you did some bookkeeping for the church?”

  “I did all the bookkeeping for the church.”

  I smile at the idea of Judge, the outlaw, paying taxes and keeping books.