Page 6 of Heart of Stone (Stoneheart MC #1)

ANDI

I wake to a kink in my neck, drool on my cheek, and the sounds of a fussing baby.

Groaning, I rub my neck and straighten. Full darkness has fallen, and I can tell the hour is late based on the movements of the crowd partying across the street.

The music pounds out of speakers, no less loud than it was hours ago, but the crowd moves to it differently.

They no longer stand in clumps laughing and talking and occasionally dancing—now they move in time to the beat, grinding against each other.

I glance down at my watch, noting it’s just a fraction before two in the morning.

Ugh.

Yawning, I scrub a hand over my face, pick up the baby monitor, and head inside.

The small rental has only two bedrooms, which means three kids plus an adult is a tight squeeze.

After last night, when he woke the twins twice, I moved Adam’s crib from the twins’ room to the main bedroom, tucking it beside my bed.

I’m not sure why Amanda didn’t have him in her room, but it sure makes for a quieter night.

Adam kicks his little legs when he sees me, his chubby cheeks pulling into a gummy grin. I grin back, chuckling at the smell emanating from his crib.

“Pee-youh!” I whisper, waving my hand in front of my face. “Stinky boy. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Once his diaper is changed, I lay him against my chest and poke my head into the twins’ bedroom, finding them fast asleep.

They might look identical, but they’re wildly different kids. Amy sleeps sprawled out, a toy clutched in one hand, while Abby is curled into a tiny circle, her blanket tucked under her chin.

Grateful Adam hasn’t woken them, I make my way into the kitchen, cooing softly to my little cousin.

“You ready for some milk, little man?” I ask, bouncing him on one hip as I pull the third-to-last pouch of breast milk from the freezer. “Let me defrost this, and?—”

The lights in the house blink out, washing us in darkness. Unfortunately, the music across the street continues to pound, which tells me this particular blackout is isolated to us.

“Shit.”

Adam gurgles in agreement.

“It’s fine,” I say lightly, pulling my phone from my pocket and switching on the torch. “It’ll just be a faulty fuse. Let’s check it out.”

I carry Adam outside to the fuse box, and by the light of my phone, I attempt to reboot the power to the house.

Nada.

I’m not sure which diligent electrical employee is up at bumfuck o’clock on a Saturday morning, but it looks like I should have prioritized sorting through Amanda’s bills instead of spending the day at CPS.

“Damn,” I mutter, adjusting Adam in my arms. “This is fine. The hot water will still work. It’ll be cold showers tomorrow, but we should be fine now.”

Back in the kitchen, I twist on the hot water, only to find a small drip squeeze out before fading to nothing.

They’ve shut off the water too.

“What the hell, Amanda? Who did you piss off at the utility company? Okay, deep breath, we can work this out,” I say to Adam, starting to feel panic claw up my throat. “How long does it take for milk to defrost?”

Adam chooses that moment to squeal, beginning to gnaw on a tiny fist. He screws up his face, and I know we’re about to descend into World War Three.

Damn.

“Does your momma have a grill? I could boil water. Or maybe we could make a fire. Or maybe?—”

A loud crash followed by laughter interrupts me.

I glance over at the door as Adam continues to fuss.

Could I? No. That’d be a terrible, horrible, no-good idea.

Adam’s little body jerks, his face turning red as he screws up his brow.

“Okay! Excursion time!”

I grab the baby monitor and tuck it into the pocket of my cutoffs. Snagging his bottle and the frozen milk, I lock the house tight and power-walk across the street.

The drunks in the front yard don’t pay me any notice. The two young guys stationed near the bikes, however? Yeah, they clock me before I even hit the sidewalk.

“Yo,” one of them says, stepping into my path. “You can’t bring a baby in here.”

I tilt my head back, wondering what I did in a past life to deserve the misfortune that’s dropped on my head over the last three days.

“Hi, I’m not actually trying to bring a baby to the party—that is—I mean—” I juggle Adam and tug the bottle from under my arm. “I need to borrow your microwave. Or stove. Or kettle. It won’t take long—just a few minutes to heat up his milk.”

The biker kid with his Prospect patch stares down at the bottle like it holds shit.

“You can’t do this at your place?”

I shake my head. “Ah, no. Appears there’s some kind of power issue.”

Adam chooses that second to let out a screech, letting the world know exactly how hangry he is.

“I’ll pay you,” I say, desperate to avoid the forthcoming meltdown. “Please. It’ll just take ten minutes to?—”

“We all good here?” A hand settles on the curve of my lower back.

I twist, holding Adam close as I stare up into the eyes of yet another biker—the same one who’d yelled at me when I had my freak-out.

Oh, shit.

His glower makes it very clear he isn’t pleased to see me.

“You,” I murmur, my chest tightening.

He wears dark, worn jeans, thick boots, and a once-black shirt that’s faded to grey. On his chest sits a leather cut, the patches just visible in the dark. They read Stoneheart MC, Sergeant at Arms, and Hawk.

I’ve been around enough bikers at the shop to know what those, and the other patches I can’t yet make out, mean—this guy is club through and through.

A flush burns hot under my skin, the memory of him catching me on the front lawn crashes back with humiliating clarity. He’d seen me—raw, unsteady, completely unraveling. My stomach twists with shame and embarrassment.

No one sees me so vulnerable, so uncontrolled. They can’t. I don’t let them.

But he did. And I hate that he did.

I can’t meet his eyes, not fully. Not when I can still hear the sharp edge in his voice and feel the judgment in his gaze. I shift Adam in my arms, a weak distraction from my discomfort.

Hawk’s jaw clenches, his gaze dropping to the baby in my arms.

“You bringing a baby to a biker’s party?” Hawk asks.

I shake my head, stepping away from his hand and moving backward to give us space.

“No,” I reply, trying to get a grasp on my emotions. “I’m bringing a bottle to my neighbor in hopes you might be able to warm it up for me.” I hold up the frozen milk. “I just need to zap it in the microwave for a few minutes, otherwise he’s gonna freak.”

Hawk looks from the frozen bag to Adam, then meets my gaze.

“You can’t do this at your place?”

I swallow. “It appears we’re without power. Or water.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw, and for a beat I think he’s going to refuse me. “Follow me.”

Practically wilting with relief, I trail him, trying to keep my shit together as Hawk picks his way through the crowd, ignoring the revelry around us.

He might be immune to it, but I can’t ignore the multitude of sins playing out before me. Music swirls around bodies grinding into each other—some naked, some barely clothed. I watch as a couple fuck openly, his dick sliding into her pussy.

I duck my head and cover Adam’s eyes, protecting him from seeing something that he absolutely shouldn’t at this age. Or any age. Maybe I can convince him to be a monk cause goodness knows I’m not equipped to have a conversation about sex with horny teens.

We walk up the porch steps and enter the old farmhouse. I have a moment to appreciate the high ceiling and gorgeous wood flooring before we’re sucked back into a crowd—one that’s less loud but more decadent than those outside.

The music is dimmed inside, and I whisper a silent prayer of thanks that I don’t have to worry about Adam’s hearing.

We walk down a long hall, and I smell the muddy scent of weed, sweat, beer, and sex.

We pass rooms full of people chatting, laughing, arguing, and—in some instances—fucking.

I’d assumed the house was only slightly larger than my own since its street frontage isn’t large even though it has a second story, but I’m proven wrong. The house stretches backward for what feels like forever, merging a new addition with the old farmhouse.

We enter the kitchen, and I find I don’t quite know where to look. Half-naked women lounge across counters while men stand around shooting shit.

“Oh! A baby!” one of the women squeals, bouncing her way over to us—her breasts echoing her movement.

She’s a striking redhead, her hair a cascade of fiery curls streaked with hints of silver, the kind of wild, unapologetic hair that seems to match the energy she radiates.

Fine lines frame her eyes and mouth, softening the bold red of her lipstick and the playful sparkle in her gaze.

Freckles still dust her cheeks, a lingering trace of youth on a face full of warmth as she beams down at Adam.

Adam squeals happily—forever enthused by attention.

I smile awkwardly, holding him as the gorgeous woman claps in front of us, making silly faces.

“Ginger, get your ass back here,” one of the bikers barks. “She’s baby-obsessed. I swear.”

She laughs, tossing her hair. “Just one more? Please?”

I blink, surprised that with a body like hers, she could have any kids.

“No. We’re both too fucking old,” the biker says, holding his arm out for her to slide under.

“Microwave is there. Use it,” Hawk interrupts, crossing his arms over his chest.

I do as I’m told, quickly warming Adam’s milk.

“Oh, did your microwave break?” Ginger makes a moue of sympathy. “That sucks. You need me to take him while you do that?” She wiggles her fingers at me.

“Ah, thanks but I think he’s okay.”

The biker with his arm wrapped around her sighs heavily. “You gonna talk babies all night or pay me some attention?”

She elbows him playfully. “Maybe. Unless you have a better option for me?”

He pulls her into him, catching her mouth with his for a deep kiss.

I flush, glancing away as I watch the timer countdown.