Page 24

Birdie wasn’t playing around when she said that sex between us meant nothing. She’s pretended all week that it didn’t even happen while I’ve been following her around with a pout because she took my favorite toy away.

So wicked to only give me a sip of paradise instead of a full feast.

Who even does that?

My queen, that’s who.

Of course, she’s pretending she’s not that, too.

But we both know there’s only one woman I’ll ever get on my knees for.

Honestly, I’m a lucky bastard that she even let me have of her what she did, and I know it.

Doesn’t mean I won’t pout about it some more, though.

Fuck. The sex with her was just as hot as it was in the past. The changes to her body, seeing the evidence of where she carried my kids, sent me into spasms of awe.

Every tiger stripe just begs for my tongue to trace it.

The scar from her c-section needs my kisses.

The delicious fucking curves have my palms tingling with the need to grip them tight as I pound into her.

I want to watch her thighs jiggle with each thrust, and I want to hold her mom pouch lovingly in my hands.

I want to devour every inch of thickness my little mama carries now.

Something about that day finally snapped her out of that fucking haze Frankie’s phone call put her in.

I’d like to take the credit for it. I mean, my cock is pretty magical.

But that credit is all hers. She’s always been one of the strongest people I know.

Birdie just needed someone to strike the match to set her ablaze.

I catch her hand occasionally reaching to her neck and satisfaction fills me when those goddamn pearls aren’t there for her to latch onto.

Her fingers will curl into a fist and fear will strike for a second in her eyes before she blows out a breath.

Each time she doesn’t have them to hide behind, the more strength she grows.

I don’t fool myself into believing she’s healed. Shit doesn’t work that way. But I’m happy to know that she’s a work in progress. She’s heading in the right direction.

There will be a day when her laughter isn’t as hard to pull out, a day where she’ll give it freely. Until then, I’ll keep trying and live for the ones I’m blessed with.

Each day that she fights away the darkness, I’m battling my own, right alongside her. I’m joking with my brothers more. The members who weren’t here in the past don’t understand the significance, but the ones who were here do.

My light has returned to me.

Birdie lost sight of who she was under Frankie’s thumb. It’s time for her to find herself again. To figure out who she is when she’s not his fucking punching bag.

“Hey, little mama,” I murmur.

I kiss the top of her head and step away, knowing she won’t let me get any closer to her right now.

I lean against the counter and watch her as she whips up lunch for herself and the kids.

That’s something else that’s changed this week.

She doesn’t worry about me. Most men would be upset with that, but after the hell she’s been through, I’m just fucking happy she’s finally taking care of herself.

I’m not helpless. If I’m hungry, I know how to make myself something to eat like a big fucking boy.

“Are you ready to talk about shit?”

Her back straightens at my question, but she doesn’t turn to face me. “Nope.”

“Are you ever going to be?”

“Maybe.” Her shoulder lifts in a half shrug. “Maybe not.”

I growl, frustration gnawing at me. How the fuck can we move forward and work through shit if she won’t even fucking talk to me about it?

She quirks the corner of her mouth upward when she peers over her shoulder at me.

Narrowing my eyes, I take in the mirth in her eyes. “You’re being a brat.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

She hums, turning back to the stove. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

Closing the distance between us, I cage her in with my arms. My heart does a little patter when she leans into me, her head resting under my chin. “Tell me you’ll talk to me. Tell me you’ll listen to what happened seven years ago.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

I almost snap and tell her she owes me every explanation as to why she kept my kids from me for six fucking years. Instead, I take a deep breath and swallow my anger.

“Not over that, no.” Wanting to get out of here before this conversation escalates into something neither of us is ready for, I step away. “I’m going to head to the clubhouse and check in with Cypher. Are you and the kids good?”

“Yep. Are you going to be home for dinner?” she asks.

“Depends on what Cypher has to say. I’ll let you know.”

She nods and when she says nothing else, I take that as my sign to head out.

I give the twins love before heading for my bike. Rage churns hotly in my chest as I toss my leg over the seat and bring the engine roaring to life.

There’s so much shit I have to say to Birdie, but I don’t want it done in a fit of anger.

I’ve always been so careful in the past to make sure I never came at her with it.

Everyone else? I don’t give a fuck if they caught the sharp edges of it, but never my little mama.

Never my queen. We fought. It was hard not to when two dominant personalities came together, but nothing that burned either of us too harshly.

Not until the Steel Slayers MC started their war with us.

I fly through the streets, letting the freedom of the road cool my anger. It doesn’t go away completely. There’s still something that pierces sharply in my chest. I’m almost at the club when I understand what it is.

Hurt.

Her keeping the kids from me hurts me. Now that I can identify the emotion, I realize that my anger is a front for what I truly feel.

Scowling, I rub at my chest, demanding the feeling to go away. I don’t like it.

Cypher better fucking have something for me because this restlessness in my soul is about to break free. I don’t give a fuck who’s going to get caught in the crosshairs when it does.

I give Kraken a two-fingered salute as I ride through the opened gate.

My phone rings as I’m climbing from my bike, Cypher’s name flashing over the screen. I send it to voicemail as I stride inside.

“Tell me you got something for me,” I demand when I join him at the bar.

“That’s what I was calling for. Found some fucked-up shit and a possible location.”

As soon as he tells me that, I give a sharp whistle and call for my council members to meet me in church.

Not all of them are here, so their proxies step in for them.

Malice runs his toy around the room, searching for bugs.

He gives me a nod, letting me know we’re in the clear.

When the table is full and Tomcat has the club computer in front of him to record the minutes, I call for the club meeting to begin.

“What do you have?” I ask Cypher.

“Frankie is one nasty motherfucker.”

“Already know that.”

“Right. Since Birdie told us about the conversation she overheard that day, I put some feelers out on the dark web and the underground networks. Frankie Sullivan has his hands in some very rotten pies. Not only is his entire business a fucking front for a trafficking ring, but it’s one that has caught the eyes of Venatori Nocturnus. ”

Curses go around the room as Cypher says the name.

They’re less notorious here in the States than they are abroad, but they’re widely known in our circles.

Their identities have always remained anonymous, and the dark web is the only way to reach them.

Cypher has said that even then, it’s not actually them you’re put in contact with.

Information about the people under the masks is scarce.

What we do know is that is there are always five of them and they hunt the dark dredges of society. Human traffickers, mostly.

“They’ve not caught them yet, obviously,” I state.

“No, but it won’t be long before they do.”

“I want Frankie. I don’t give a fuck who gets the other pieces of shit he’s dealing with.”

“Thought as much, which is why I reached out to my contacts for help. It’s going to cost us.”

I shrug. “Pay whatever they request as long as they get us Frankie.”

His fingers fly over his keyboard and his brows furrow in concentration.

Seconds later, his laptop pings. His eyes move across the screen before peering back up at me.

“Fifty K up front. We’ll pay the remaining nine-hundred and fifty thousand within twenty-four hours if they produce satisfactory results. ”

Pretty Boy nods when I ask him silently if we have it. “Business is booming, baby. We’re good to go.”

I give Cypher the go ahead.

Cypher accepts their price and leans back in his chair. “I’ve got two locations. The home he shared with Birdie. I don’t know if he’d be dumb enough to stay there, but we should probably check it, anyway. He hit at an address on the border of Georgia and Florida, too.”

“Right. Joker, get us a run organized. Let me know if we’ll be dealing with any other clubs, so I can see if we have contact with them.

Malice, rotate everyone’s bikes through Saint’s Garage and make sure they’re ready to roll.

Cyanide, Manic, and Butcher head to the armory and check our inventory.

Crate everyone’s preferred weapon and whatever others you all think we might need.

Monster and Basilisk, since you all are sitting proxy for D-Bag and Gavel, make sure you fill them in on what they need to know.

You’ll be riding out with us along with them.

Basilisk, I don’t want to put you in a cage, so pick two people to ride in it for you. ”

“Understood. Blackjack and Ducky can take the cage,” Basilisk says.

“Heard. Savior, can you bring them in here so we can fill them in?”

The clicking of Cypher’s keyboard keeps us company while we wait for Savior to return. My fingers drum against the table and my leg bounces rapidly.

What the hell is taking so long?

The three of them stroll inside and I straighten in my chair.

As soon as they’re standing around the table, I jump into it.

“Blackjack, you and Ducky will join us on the next run. We need you in the cage. Let Cyanide, Manic, or Butcher know what weapons you want crated. We don’t know how messy this will get. ”

“Understood, Prez,” they acknowledge.

“I’ll make that the brothers who stay back know to be on alert until we give them the all clear.”

“Should we go on lockdown?” Malice asks.

Undoing the bun on my head, I shake my hair out.

“No. I don’t think it’s necessary. Not yet.

As long as we’re not attacked by a horde, I have all the faith in our brothers to protect our people.

If you’re leaving partners behind and want someone stationed at your place, go ahead.

” I knead my shoulder, trying to ease the tension that sits in knots on them. “Does anyone have anything else?”

When no one says anything, I dismiss the meeting with a crack of the gavel against the sound block.

They file out of the chapel, and I sigh, resting my elbows on the table. My fingers dig into my temples to ease the headache that drums a warbled beat inside my head.

“You okay, brother?”

When I lift my head, Cyanide is staring at me in concern.

“So much shit is up in the air with your sister. She’s refusing to talk about the past. Hell, I can’t blame her.

Not really. We all fucked up. Me more than most. But, fuck, brother, how the hell am I supposed to make shit right if she won’t speak about it?

And the twins. I’m angry she kept them from me.

Hurt, mostly. That’s something I don’t know what to do with.

I understand I betrayed her, but to keep my kids from me? ”

“You haven’t asked her why she did?”

I shake my head. “I’ve been more concerned with getting her healed than about the way I’m feeling. I was hoping we’d get to it, but I don’t know, man.”

“Birdie and Valkyrie have always been stubborn, but this is more than that. You’re right, we fucked up, and it’s on us to make amends for that.

Even if they refuse to speak to us about it.

We have to show up. Prove to them we got their backs.

They’re going to need to know that while the club comes first most of the time, they’re just as important. ”

“Yeah.” I sigh again. “I just have to figure out how the hell to do that more than what I am right now.”

Cyanide curls his fingers over my shoulder. “You’ll figure it out, brother. Have no doubts.”

“What about you? Either of them giving you the time of day?”

Pain flares in his eyes before he blinks it away with a shrug. “Naw. It’ll happen when it happens. I’m going to keep showing up.”

“They’re here. That’s the most important thing. We have all the time in the world now that they’re home.”

“Yeah,” he replies quietly, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans and strolls out of the chapel.

My shoulders are heavy with all the shit resting on them.

It’s a weight I’ve carried for longer than I’d like to admit.

Especially now that the nightmares of my childhood are back.

It’s taking everything in me not to drown the demons out with a bottle of whiskey.

I refuse to lose myself to the bottle. I’ve seen the hell that does to a person when Piston lost himself to it after Tater, Birdie’s mom, died.

It was years before it finally took him.

Well, the bullet to his throat did that, but he would have had sharper senses if he wasn’t drunk off his ass.

Birdie is refusing to face our past. I didn’t have a playbook for when I had her in my life again. It leaves me unsure on how to navigate this tenuous relationship I have with her now.

I need to step back and recalibrate. Change directions or something.

The ashes of the love we shared still smokes. It’s like the still warm coals of a fire long put out. All it needs is a little fuel and a spark to have it reignite.

If the only thing she lets me have of her right now is her body, well, it’s not exactly a fucking hardship.

My dick can be the match that lights the fire.