Haunt (Bayonet Scars #6) (22 page)

“All that stuff happened and you stayed clean,” I say quietly. It’s not more important than Chief— my best friend’s father, nor is it more important than the boy who took a bullet to the back of his head while trying to keep Holly and Mindy safe. It’s not even more important than Michael Mancuso wailing on his sister who happens to be half his size. I wasn’t here to live through every awful day the rest of them have. I can barely imagine how bad it’s been, but I know the details. I know the reason Mindy doesn’t sleep through the night, and why Holly is so attached to Ian even though she’s with Grady. And I know that my man has never dealt with trauma well. The first time he went off the rails was when he met his dad for the first time at nineteen. It wasn’t just bad, it was awful. I didn’t know he could be that cruel or hate himself that much. One fight when I’m eight months pregnant, one stupid lie he never should have believed, and we broke up. Not five minutes later and he has his dick down some bitch’s throat.

One thing I know for certain about Wyatt Strand is that he doesn’t deal well when shit hits the fan. And maybe my man staying clean isn’t as important as everything else the club has gone through over the past two years, but it is to me. It is to my children. Because while we weren’t here, dealing with the hell the Fort Bragg charter has been through, I know my man. And now, without a single doubt, I know he’s going to stay clean. Because if he can deal with everything else, he can and will stay away from all the shit that tried to destroy us all those years ago.

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

“How’d you do it?” Wyatt levels me with a flat expression. I reach up and cup his face in my hands. His growing beard is rough beneath my touch and tickles at my fingers, but I don’t waiver. I prod, asking him again.

“All that shit, all those pills, and lines on mirrors never did dull the pain. All it did was drive you away. I knew, somehow, that Z was mine, but he deserves better. I’m just a piece of shit biker without an education and a rap sheet that would kill several trees to print out. But every fucking day, especially now that you and our kids are here, I remind myself that there’s something to live for. I just had to get sick and tired of being sick and tired first. And then it was easy, letting myself be selfish enough to want you and work on my shit so maybe, one day, I could have you.”

“You’re not a piece of shit,” I whisper, pulling myself closer. “Clara’s your mom, not because she had to be but because she chose you. I’m your woman because I chose you too. Zander and Piper didn’t get to choose you, but I know damn well they would if they’d had the choice.”

“You’re still in trouble for that shit you pulled back there,” he grumbles, his voice softening. I smile up at him and kiss his cheek.

“You can spank me later if it makes you feel better.”

“What would make me feel better is you keeping your cute fucking nose out of club business.”

I sigh. That’s not going to happen. Growing up, I remember my dad confiding in my mom and asking for her help all the time. The Detroit charter rarely made a move without Cindy Wallace having a hand in it. My grandpa, Forsaken’s founder, and my grandma were the same way. Mary Wallace, my grandma, is the reason Forsaken only gives out the old lady title after their women have been unanimously voted in by every member of their charter. She did it for a reason— she didn’t want brothers sharing state secrets with some bitch they’d drop the next day. Grandma’s a smart lady. You protect the patch, you protect the family. Best way to protect both is to be selective about who wears the warrior tattoo and who rocks the patch.

“We need to have another history lesson?” He shrugs me off, but I don’t let it get to me. Instead, I move back onto my knees and place my hands on the tops of his thighs. My man needs a little love right now. Licking my lips in anticipation of his sweetness, I reach out and pull down his zipper. He leans back on his hands and appraises me.

“The old ladies exist for a reason. You remember Bloody Mary, don’t you?” My voice is light and playful as I pull his hard cock out of its confines. I tease the base with the tips of my fingers while referencing my grandmother and the nickname she earned during Detroit’s war with a club in Toronto.

“Babe, please don’t talk about your grandma with my dick in your hand,” he says on a laugh. There’s a smile in his eyes and voice that wasn’t there a minute ago. I wrap my hand around his cock and slide it up and down with a smile on my face. I wonder if he can see it— the love I feel for him. How much I want him and not just now, but forever? Does he know how broken I was before? How much it pained me to be away from him?

Wyatt reaches out and wipes away the wetness in my eyes. He gives me a smile that I know nobody else gets. This is mine. He smiles differently at our kids, especially our daughter. But those smiles are a little brighter. My smile is something more grounded. A little deeper, no less important. Just beautiful and strong and it means so fucking much that I can’t even put it into words. After all these years, so many of them apart, and all the damage we’ve each suffered, I still get this.

“Why are you sad, Mugs?”

I could tell him the truth. All the happy, sappy shit that’s going around in my head, but that takes us off course, so I don’t.

“Bloody Mary earned her name for single-handedly saving half of Detroit during the Toronto war. I know you remember this shit, but I think you’ve forgotten why it’s important. You do
not
run into battle without your woman by your side. You do
not
treat me like I’m something precious and defenseless.”

“Babe,” he says, but I narrow my eyes at him and squeeze his dick enough so that he stops and freezes.

“Not wise to piss off a woman when she’s got your dick in her hand,” I warn and go back to my speech. I continue my ministrations on his dick, using the precum to spread it around the tip, and lick my lips. His dick twitches in my hands and I smile. “I’m only your woman because you earned me. You have the privilege of belonging to me and I have the honor of being yours, but do not underestimate the bitch you belong to or what I’m capable of. Not ever.”

Before he can say anything, I lean down and take him into my mouth. It’s a dirty trick, sucking his dick so he won’t argue, but it’s incredibly effective. It doesn’t take long for his body to tense and his breathing to be labored. I wish I could see him, but from this angle, it’s impossible. All I can see is my name, inches above his dick, right at the top of his light brown curls, as it stares back at me. I know the signs that he’s about to come even though I can’t see his face. I sneak a hand into his boxers and gently cup his balls as I take him to the back of my throat and moan around his cock. Thick, warm liquid fires into the back of my throat. I greedily suck it down and when he’s done, I made a show of licking my lips and swallowing. He grabs me roughly, pulling me onto his lap. His still wet cock dampens the crotch of my jeans. I buck into him and watch as his lazy expression heats up.

“Tell me I’m coming to New York.”

He’s silent, but I don’t rush him. While I wait for my man to come to the inevitable conclusion that he’s going to give in, I rub myself against him. His dick softens only halfway and stays like that before slowly hardening again.

“I miss your dick, baby. I want you inside me.” He attacks my mouth, kissing me roughly. A slow, quiet fire slowly builds as I continue to rock against him. He clears his throat and moans softly.

“You’re a manipulative bitch.” Despite the words he uses, his tone is soft. There’s no heat behind the statement. Another sign that he’s coming close to giving in. “You gonna withhold pussy until I give in?”

“No,” I say and take a deep breath. “But I’ll make you a deal. You take me to New York and when we get home, I’ll give you another baby.”

“Fuck,” he says quietly. His eyes search mine, like he’s making sure I’m not lying to him. Family means everything to this man. Even when he was fucked up, he loved what we had and wanted our son. He was just too sick to be good for himself, let alone us.

“I love you, baby. I just want the father of my children safe and sound and at home with me.”

There’s a long, frustrated pause before he concedes. I can see it on his face when he says, “Christ, now Ruby’s going to want to come. You do realize you just fucked me with the boys, right?”

CHAPTER 20

February 2016

2 months to Mancuso’s downfall

“This isn’t necessary,” Zander whines from beside me as he watches the baker work her magic on the cake. Amber thinks I’m crazy, but I swear the kid’s grown in the last three months. I’ve measured him so many times that any time he sees a measuring tape now, he turns heel and rushes the other way. He’s fourteen, so he won’t say it, but I know he likes the attention. I remember being fourteen and wanting nothing more than to have a dad. I used to think even a shit dad would be better than no dad. Sure, this shit right here embarrasses him to no end, but deep down the little fuck loves it.

“Is this right?” The baker, a young girl around nineteen or so, turns the cake toward us. She gulps nervously as we stare down at her work. Once again, she’s done a good job. The cake she’s just finished was a last minute addition to our order. My boy’s birthday was back in July, but I wasn’t there. Not for his fourteenth or his thirteenth. Not for any of those fucking milestones. Either I had a straw up my nose, my dick in some strange pussy, or I was already passed out to the point of oblivion. One of the very things I remembered through all that shit I put my body through was his birthday. I think I remembered him being mine too, but I couldn’t bear the thought of facing it. Not if she was going to lie to me again and not if I was wrong. Even at my darkest point, the idea that maybe she was wrong or lying and he was mine after all, kept me alive. Only fucking thing, if I’m being honest.

I nod my head and tell her it’s cool— because it is. Piper’s cake has some kind of pink pig character on it. Amber ordered that shit. If it were up to me, her birthday cake would look a lot like Zander’s— white and black with red icing piped atop the chocolate cake and vanilla frosting. The baker is talented as fuck. I asked her if she could draw a Harley on the damn thing and she fucking did. I even got her to draw Forsaken’s Nordic warrior in the corner with HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Z written at the top of the Harley. Zander mutters a few words of indifference and hops from foot to foot, but I can see the excitement in his eyes. Cheyenne, Grady’s daughter, comes home from culinary school today. She’s going to be damn pissed when she sees I had somebody else bake for us— especially when she sees the Forsaken symbol on it— but the girl doesn’t have time to be whipping up shit for us. Plus, Grady
still
hasn’t told her that Holly’s pregnant and they need time to connect and shit. I don’t know that he will drop that bomb right now since Holly’s been spotting, but he fucking should. Chey’s a tough girl— has to be to be in love with Jeremy— she can handle it.

“Great, I’ll just pack both cakes up and you’re good to go.” She shoots Z a sly smile that leaves a blush on her cheeks. I spy my kid’s reaction to it. He smirks at her like he’s the grown ass man that he isn’t and leans in, saying as smooth as fuck, “Thanks, babe.”

She blinks at him, blushes again, and rushes off to get the cakes ready to go. I stare at my son with a mixture of pride and shock in my heart.

Memories of being only a few years older than him fly through my brain. I was eighteen the day I met his mom, also the first time I kissed her, and the day I walked up to Thumper-Fucking-Wallace and told him I wanted to prospect for his club and I wanted to make his daughter my girl. Looking back, I’m surprised Thumper didn’t murder my ass on the spot. I’m even more surprised that Amber’s mom didn’t beat my ass for it. I guess they figured any kid that ballsy and stupid was worth taking a chance on. It wasn’t long after we met that I started prospecting. She gave me her virginity the day I started earning my top rocker. I was the thing every parent of a teenage daughter fears.

Fuck
.

Karma sure is a bitch and if Piper grows up to be anything like her mother, I’m in for some major trouble. I have to fight my every instinct to keep my mouth shut and not tell the kid that we’re about to have a talk about wrapping his dick. I’ll just lay that shit on him later tonight so when he’s all grossed out and pissed off he can do it in his room alone and not let his grouch fuck up his sister’s party.