I rolled us over, and my legs tangled with hers. “Pretty sure keeping your man satisfied is damn important.”
“Is that so?” she laughed.
I nestled my face in her neck and pressed a kiss behind her ear.
“Then I would assume it’s as important for you to keep me satisfied, right?”
“Possibly,” I whispered.
She wrapped her arms around me, and I lifted my head. “Are we really gonna do it again?” she said dryly.
“You mean fuck?”
She giggled and nodded. “Yeah, that.”
I squinted and shook my head back and forth. “Hour nap and then round two?” I suggested.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled up to press a kiss to my lips. “That is the best idea I’ve ever heard.”
I rolled over onto my back and pulled her to my side. “Nap, fuck, then eat? Yeah?”
She nodded and sighed. “Sounds like a perfect night to me.”
She quickly fell asleep in my arms, and I stared up at the ceiling.
Not even a week ago, she was locked up a room and I was trying everything I could to get her back. Now, she was back home, and that was where she was going to stay forever.
*
Chapter Twenty-Six
Kimber
You, me, and the Kings of Vengeance...
“What?”
“I’m gonna go key his car. Come with me.”
I watched Quinn walk toward me and plastered a smile on my face. “We are not going to do that, Fancy. It’s against the law.”
“Fuck the law. He still hasn’t called me,” she huffed.
Quinn pressed a kiss to the side of my head and sat down on the tailgate of the truck next to me.
It had been a full week since the shit with the Rolling Devils, and I was at the clubhouse watching the dilapidated building take shape before my eyes.
“Why don’t you come here. Quinn has a cooler full of beer, and we’re about to order pizza.” I needed to distract Fancy before she ended up in the back of a police car.
“How is drinking beer and eating pizza going to make me feel better,” she growled. “Keying the bastard’s car is the only think that is going to help.”
“Fancy, look, babe. If this guy can’t even take the time to call or text you, then he sure as hell isn’t worth getting arrested over.” I had yet to figure out why the hell Fancy was so hung up on this guy.
“I don’t want beer.”
I rolled my eyes. “Then stop at the liquor store, get what you want, and then drive your ass to the clubhouse.”
She huffed into the phone. “Fine. But you better order a pizza with onions, pineapple, black olives, and pepperoni.”
I curled my lip and tried not to gag. “I’ll order a small of that crap because I know you’re going to be the only one who eats that.”
“Add anchovies.”
I put my hand over my mouth. “You just made me throw up in my mouth, Fancy.”
“Order it. I’m pulling into the liquor store now.”
I jabbed the end call button and set the phone next to me.
“What the hell is going on with Fancy now?” Quinn asked.
“You mean aside from wanting me to order the most disgusting pizza in the word?”
Quinn chuckled and nodded. “I heard her say anchovies so I’m sure that shit it going to be disgusting.”
I nodded and grabbed my beer. “Yeah. She was wanting me to come with her while she keyed some guys car.”
Quinn raised an eyebrow at me. “You sure Fancy hasn’t already been drinking?”
I shook my head. “God knows. She’s hung up on that guy still.”
Quinn put his arm across my shoulders and pulled me into his side. “So we’re gonna get her drunk and stuff her full of pizza?”
I laughed and rested my hand on his thigh. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” I leaned my head on his shoulder and sighed. “It’s really starting to come together.”
Quinn had pulled Dyno’s truck into the middle of the warehouse to give me the optimum view of all the work going on. Today was the first day of actually building and not just tearing down old walls and junk.
The plans Quinn had shown me boasted twelve bedrooms, a huge living room area that would have a bar, three pool tables, large couches, and a big ass TV, then three rooms that would be used for meetings and whatever else an MC would need.
I was still learning the ropes of everything an MC was, but I was finding out Quinn was the perfect teacher.
“Yeah, this place is going to be pretty amazing by the time everything is done.”
I looked over at Quinn. “Is this everything you wanted before with the Rolling Devils?”
He squeezed his arm around me. “Yeah, baby. Though back then, I was too naïve to see they weren’t what I wanted at all.”
“But now you’re building what you want.”
He nodded. “Sure am, baby. And I’m doing it with you right by my side.”
“Like a good ol’ lady, right?”
“Damn right.”
I turned toward him and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
He grunted and turned his head. “Kiss me like you fucking mean it before your girl gets here and steals you away from me all night.”
I smiled wide. “Only temporary, though. You know you’ll have my undivided attention in bed tonight.”
“Damn straight,” he muttered. He kissed me hard, and I moaned into his mouth. His fingers delved into my hair, and I relaxed into his touch.
“This is our lives now, Kimber,” he whispered against my lips.
“You, me, and the Kings of Vengeance?” I asked.
He nodded his head. “Exactly, baby.”
*
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dyno
Whoa there...
“Beer run.” I grabbed my keys off the makeshift table and shoved them in my pocket. “Any other shit you fuckers need?”
“Chips,” Sledge called.
“Get me a bottle of whiskey.” Rhino pulled a fifty out of his pocket and handed it to me. “Get the good shit.”
I shoved the money into my pack pocket. “Can do.” I pushed open the front door and shielded my eyes from the bright sun.
The door bumped into a woman, and she took two staggering steps back.
I reached out to catch her from falling and pulled her to my chest. “Easy there, sugar tits.”
And that was when the pretty little thing reared back and punched me square in the nose.
The End
About the Author
Winter Travers is a devoted wife, mother, and aunt turned author who was born and raised in Wisconsin. After a brief stint in South Carolina following her heart to chase the man who is now her hubby, they retreated back up North to the changing seasons, and to the place they now call home.
Winter spends her days writing happily ever after’s, and her nights with her hubby and son. She also has an addiction to anything MC related, her dog Thunder, and Mexican food! (Tamales!)
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Coming Soon
Clash
Fallen Lords MC Book 6
March 29th, 2019
Shutdown
Nitro Crew Series Book 4
May 29th, 2019
Nickel
Fallen Lords MC
Book 1
Chapter 1
Karmen
I couldn’t find a box big enough to fit him in.
Well, that makes me sound like a murderer or something. Nickel, the man in question, is still very much alive, I assure you. I should probably go back a little bit and explain.
My father went to prison when I was thirteen, and I can’t remember my mother. She left before I could even have a memory of her. He always told me we were better off without her. Things were rough for us, but we always had each other. Well, I had my dad. My dad had me and beer. I can’t remember a time I didn’t smell hops on his breath.
I went to my first day of preschool and asked the teacher why her breath didn’t smell like my dad. That ended up with my dad in the principal’s office for an hour and me crying the whole way home while my dad yelled at me. That was the last time I ever mentioned my dad’s drinking to anyone. I was a fast learner and caught on quick. One mess up, and I never made the same mistake again.
The night my dad went to prison, I was at home, like normal, while he was out at the bar three miles down the road. He regularly walked to the bar and stumbled home, but that night, there was a severe storm predicted to blow in, so he decided he would take the truck. That decision changed my life and made me see everything in a whole new light.
I was sprawled out on the living room floor, watching TV, when there was a loud pounding on the front door, and I figured it was my dad. It was normal for him to forget his keys and bang to get inside.
I opened the door to two police officers, with my grandma, Vivian, standing behind them. I only saw my grandma at Christmas. I knew the second I laid eyes on her, something was not right.
It seemed my father had decided to call it a night after drinking almost a twenty-four pack of beer and tried to drive home. In that three-mile drive to the house that had no turns or curves on it, my father had managed to hit a soccer mom in her minivan with her three children in the back. Only one child survived.
The police told me I had to go with my grandma until they figured something out. Meanwhile, she stood behind them, arms crossed over her chest, tapping her foot impatiently. After they were done, my grandma barged between the two police officers and started firing off orders about packing a bag and getting all my stuff ready to go. We weren’t going to stay in the “hell hole” anymore.
While I was packing up my things, completely in shock, I heard my grandma down the hall, bitching and moaning about having to take care of me. I knew then and there that things were never going to be the same.
After she hauled me over to her trailer—that was not much better than the “hell hole” I used to live in—I begged to see my dad. Every day, she told me, and I quote, “I couldn’t see the bastard yet.”
Two weeks after I went to live with Vivian—she hated when I called her Grandma—I finally got to see my dad. After I was searched, I was led to a room with a glass wall and partitions separating small stools that faced the window. I was told to sit on the stool furthest to the left and wait. Vivian sat in the corner, pissed off that the guards said she had to be in there with me, even though I honestly didn’t want her there.
It had taken ten minutes before my father walked through the door. He looked the same as the last time I had seen him, except for the orange jumpsuit he was wearing. He sat down on the other side of the glass and picked up the phone. He motioned his hand for me to do the same. I put the receiver to my ear and held my breath.
“Hey, baby.” He always called me baby. I couldn’t remember him ever using my real name unless he was serious, and serious didn’t often happen with my dad.
“Hi, Daddy,” I whispered.
“Everything going okay over at Vivian’s?”
I nodded but didn’t speak.
“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t plan for this to happen.” My first thought was, what a stupid saying. Who the hell plans to drink twenty-four beers and then plow a family off the road? There’s probably a very short list of people who plan for something like that.
“It’s okay.” What else was I supposed to say?
“I think I’m going to be in here for a while.”
I nodded again, because it finally hit me. Seeing my father behind a thick glass wall in an orange jumpsuit was hammering it home, that life as I knew it was about to change. A tear I had been holding in streaked down my face and landed on the small ledge in front of me.
“Don’t cry, baby.” His eyes were on me, watching the tears I was so desperately trying to hold in finally run down my cheeks.
“I don’t know what to do, Daddy,” I wheezed out. My tears were coming fast and furious now. I was five seconds away from becoming an emotional, blubbering mess.
“You don’t need to worry. Vivian is going to take care of you. I had the police call her as soon as they could,” he said, trying to reassure me.
I was unable to talk. I tried wiping at the tears, but by the time I whisked them away, new ones were falling, taking their place.
“Karmen,” he sternly said into the phone. I glanced up and found him staring at me. “Handel’s don’t cry, Karmen. Dry your tears. Nothing can be done now but to go on and make the best of the situation we are in.”
I wiped my eyes again, willing the tears to stop. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the Kleenex Vivian had pressed into my hand as I walked to the door before. My father’s words rang in my head. He always used to say, “We need to make the best of our situation.” He would always tell me that when we would run out of money or had to find a new place to live.
“I don’t know how to go on, Daddy. Vivian doesn’t want me there,” I hiccupped into the phone.
My dad shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what to tell you, baby. We both have to do things we don’t want to right now. I wish things could be different, but they can’t.”
“I know,” I whispered. I didn’t want my dad to worry about me when he was in prison. I’d have to keep my fears to myself about living with Vivian.
“Go on, I need to talk to your grandma now.” I nodded my understanding. “I love you, Karmen. Please don’t forget that.”
“I love you too, Daddy,” I whispered. I hung up the phone and quickly dashed out of the room before I started crying in front of him again.
After my grandma spoke to him, we went home, where she started making dinner and told me to sit at the kitchen table so we could have a talk.
“We need to get a few things straight, Karmen,” she said, lighting a cigarette and blowing a puff of smoke in my direction. “Your father told me you said I didn’t like you. Is that right?” she asked, staring me down.
I nodded my head yes because there was no point in lying.
“It’s not that I don’t like you, Karmen, it’s just that I am well beyond the age of taking care of a teenager. I’m upset with your father, not you.”
“Okay.”
“I think we will get along just fine if we both just stay out of the other one's way. I know you are thirteen years old and more than capable of taking care of yourself. Lord knows you have been taking care of that sorry excuse for a father since you were old enough to talk.”
I didn’t argue with her because she was speaking the truth. I couldn’t remember when my dad and I had switched roles. I had been taking care of him since I could remember.
“All right then, that’s settled. Now, why don’t you run to your room and work on your homework or whatever,” she said, dismissing me with the wave of her hand, as she turned to the fridge.
I didn’t need to be told twice. I slammed my door behind me and leaned against it and slid down.
After I wrapped my arms around my raised knees, I rested my chin on them. I was so angry and upset at my father, but I had no one to talk to about it. I closed my eyes and banged my head on the door.
“It’s not fair,” I said to my barren bedroom.
Vivian had only given me a mattress on the floor to sleep on and a three-drawer dresser.
I had boxes sitting in the corner of things I used to have in my room, but I didn’t want t
o take them out of the boxes. Taking all my pictures and possessions out of the boxes made this real. As long as I lived out of those boxes, this was all just a bad dream.
I thought about how putting everything in boxes made things better and decided to start putting everything I didn’t want to feel into a box. The first thing I put in my little boxes was my anger with my father.
Opening that box in my head and placing that anger inside and then slamming the lid on top helped. I didn’t have to feel that anger anymore.
Every day, for the past twelve years, I filled my tiny little boxes. Sad because I was all alone? Put it in a box and don’t think about it. An “A” on my math test and Vivian ordering me to go to my room when I tried to tell her? Put it in a box and don’t think about it.
All through my teenage years, I had probably thousands of tiny boxes that I neatly put on a shelf and never thought about again. It even worked well into adulthood. Things always fit nicely into the boxes.
Everything except for Nickel. As much as I tried to shove his gorgeous smile in the box, I could never forget about it.
Almost a year ago, his grandmother was transferred to the nursing home I worked at as an RN. Every week, on Tuesday at nine o’clock, he would come in and visit her like clockwork.
I still remember the day he appeared in her room while I was checking her blood pressure. He waltzed in as if he owned the place, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since. His grandmother was one of my favorite patients. She was sweet but had a smart-ass streak to her.
Every Tuesday, he would hold up a bakery bag and insist on me staying and having a snack with them. He would track me down if he didn’t see me in her room and ask me how my day was going.
He always had a leather vest on that had his name, Nickel, on it and a huge patch on the back that was the insignia of the Fallen Lords. All I knew about the Fallen Lords was that they were a motorcycle club, and they rode bikes everywhere they went. I was seriously oblivious to everything he was.
Drop a Gear and Disappear (Kings of Vengeance, #1) Page 13
