Page 56

Six Years Later

My eyes follow my pregnant wife around the cookout as she chases our two-year-old son, Kian, around the yard. He screams when she gets close and takes off in a fit of giggles toward his big sister on the other side of the yard.

Lyric is busy building sandcastles with her three-year-old brother, Nero, but pauses when she hears Kian’s screams. Her eyes widen and laughter spills from her lips as she opens her arms for him.

She promised us six years ago that she was going to be the best big sister ever, and she’s lived up to that promise. Lyric absolutely adores her brothers and sister.

A tug to my beard and the happy “Dada” has me peering down at the little girl in my arms. Raya, our eight-month-old, is babbling while happily and safely cocooned in her daddy’s thick arms. Most of our kids are all about their mama, even Lyric, but Raya turned out to be all about her daddy. Bailee likes to act all put out about it, but I see the happiness and love in her eyes every time she catches me with our daughter in my arms.

I fucking love keeping my wife pregnant with our babies. I love watching her body change as they grow inside her. Fucking enjoy knowing there’s proof of the love we have for each other. Bailee was born to be a mother, and I was born to fucking make her one. My kids get to have the one thing I tried so hard to give Lyric when Heather was alive—a home with two parents who loved them ridiculously.

“No, Mom, you can’t have him,” Lyric teases.

My eyes fly to Bailee, wanting to see the way she melts every time our daughter calls her mom. Bailee gets that little smile on her face as she always does when Lyric calls her it.

Bailee adopted Lyric four years ago, and I honestly think it’s been the best thing that’s happened to them both. Bailee has always seen Lyric as her daughter, but after all the shit we went through, for her to be able to say that without fear, without worrying about someone taking Lyric from her, it’s given her more life. The first time Lyric called her ‘Mom’, Bailee cried in my arms for over an hour. There’s a bond between my wife and our daughter that transcends anything I’ve ever seen before. It’s goddamn beautiful, is what it is.

A little motorcycle engine revs, and I look out to the parking lot of the club, where Blade, Phantom, and their Old Lady stand with Lena and her men as our five-year-old son, Jude, rides the miniature bike that Bailee bought him before he was even born. When we found out we were having a boy and were going over names, I knew right away the one I wanted. Out of all the brothers we lost over the years, Bozo’s death still hangs heavy over the club, especially when we see his little boy running around. A little boy he never got the chance to know. A son who looks like a miniature version of his father. When I asked Bailee about naming our son Jude after Bozo, she agreed immediately, loving the idea. She said it was an honor to let our boy carry on a name that meant so much to me and the club. Jude has become such close friends with Bozo’s little boy, Duke, that Duke is at our house nearly every night. Not that I mind. Love that little kid as much as my own.

I’m not the only one who loves that kid as my own either. I watch as Cowboy strolls up to Duke’s mama, Tessa Kate, placing his hand gently on her shoulder and whispering something in her ear as he watches Duke ride beside Jude on the bike Cowboy bought him.

Life in the club has been crazy over the last six years.

The charter we established in Ashbourne, Florida, has been running great with Rage at the helm. He’s turned out to be one hell of a President with his Old Lady at his side. They’ve had a few tussles with some rival clubs already, but nothing they ain’t been able to handle on their own. They even made a new ally in the Saint’s Outlaws MC over in Coral Cay after the two clubs had a mutual problem that needed fixing.

Shit’s been running so great between both chapters of the club that Wraith has been talking about establishing another one out west somewhere.

Brothers are finding their Old Ladies and settling down, and babies are popping out everywhere. New prospects are joining, hoping they have what it takes to become patch holders.

The Dirty Mavericks are becoming bigger and better every day, and I fucking love watching it grow.

Lyric makes her way over to where I’m standing with her sister and snuggles up to me. “Hi, Dad.”

I lean down and kiss the top of her head, making Raya giggle. “Hi, Princess. Havin’ fun?”

She’s growing faster than I want her to. Fourteen years old and her head nearly comes up to my shoulders.

“Yeah.” She crinkles her nose. “Hendrick is being mean again, though.”

Ah, hell.

The heartbreak in her tone says it all.

My girl has a crush, and I don’t know if I’m ready for it.

“Want me to beat him up for you?” I tease.

Lyric giggles. “No, Dad. I can handle him.”

I laugh. “I have no doubt, Princess.”

“Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, Lyra.”

No sooner did she show up, she’s running back into the fray with all the other kids. I grimace when she steals the ball they’re kicking about, dribbling it around the yard between her feet before narrowing her eyes at Hendrick as he comes at her to steal it away.

Fuck.

“Lyric,” I yell in warning.

My daughter looks over her shoulder at me, that devious little smirk crossing her lips, then she draws her foot back and pitches it forward against the ball.

I watch in horror as it sails through the air, aiming straight for Hendrick and nailing him right between his legs.

He goes down with a cry, and Bailee’s eyes jerk that way.

“Lyric Skye Richter, get your little booty over here right now,” Bailee orders sharply, one hand on her hip, her other pointing a finger right in front of her.

I hide my smile when Lyric hangs her head, knowing she’s just earned her mama’s ire.

“Ohh, you’re in for it now,” Hendrick snickers.

“Hendrick Walker James,” Nova barks, “over here.”

This time, I’m unable to stop the chuckle from escaping at the way both kids look chagrined at being caught.

Trouble is brewing in their future, and I’m not exactly sure how I’m feeling about it.

Wraith places his fingers in his mouth and lets out a sharp whistle. “Grub is ready. Women and kids first.”

I kiss Raya on her cute button nose. “Let’s get our beautiful mama some food. What do you say?”

She smacks my cheeks. “Da. Da. Ma. Ma.”

“Takin’ that as agreement,” I say, tweaking her curly blonde hair and walking over to the table of food.

Raya and Kian take after their mama in physical appearance. They have her blonde hair and icy blue eyes, while the rest of our kids look like they were straight up pulled out of my ass. Bailee’s chosen to grow her hair out, but she’s left it that bright red we dyed it to when she made her way back into my life. She’s sporting more ink now, turning some of her scars into even more beautiful pieces on her. She’s made all of them a part of her now, and she can meet her own reflection without flinching or doubting the beauty she sees in the mirror.

Bailee wears her scars as her badge of honor.

Lyric is helping Jude make his plate while Bailee makes her way up with Kian and Nero. She starts to grab a plate, but I take it from her gently.

“Go sit, Hummingbird.” I pass Raya off to her after I place a kiss to her forehead. “Take Raya. Got the boys.”

She cups my cheek. “You sure?”

Exhaustion lines her eyes, and I brush my finger around them, leaning down to kiss the scar on her jawline. “Sure, baby girl.”

“You’re too good to me,” she whispers.

Grabbing her chin, I hold her still. “My queen. Always goin’ to put you first. Fuckin’ love you.”

“Love you too, bossman.”

The woman is crazy if she thinks I’m ever going to do anything but put her first. I learned my lesson on that in a way I never want to experience again. I’ve got so much shit to make up for that I’ll never stop showing her how remorseful I am and how deeply in love with her I am. We’ve been taking monthly counseling classes together since the day she told me she was pregnant with Jude. She’s told me repeatedly that we no longer need them, but I think they make us stronger. They teach us to never forget how important we are to one another and how essential communication is.

Kian and Nero each grab one of my hands, pulling me from my thoughts. “Ready for some grub, my little devils?”

Nero, my quiet one, just nods while Kian, the most outgoing of our children, bounces on his feet and licks his lips.

“Yes, Daddy,” he shouts. “I sow hungwee.”

I chuckle and release their hands, pulling them in front of me as I grab plates. “Let’s get Mama’s first so she can feed your little sister.”

“Da won in Mama’s bewee?” Kian asks, his blue eyes bright with excitement.

“Yep. Mama needs to feed Zariah too.”

Lena comes over, stealing some plates from my hands. “Let me help feed my godchildren.”

“Thanks.”

We work together to get plates for the kids, Bailee, and ourselves. Her guys come over to start helping and then we’re all making our way over to the picnic table Bailee’s at with Raya, Lyric, and Jude. By the time we’re all seated, our table is full.

I lift my burger to my mouth, but before I take a bite, I glance around the backyard of the clubhouse.

Most people would see all the leather and chains and gather their children close out of fear and misunderstanding.

I see brothers by blood and by choice. I see Old Ladies who would throw down for any member of this club. I see club girls who have found safe haven amongst us, and I see prospects willing to give it all just to have a patch they’ll wear with honor and pride to represent our club.

What I see is an eclectic mix of people who have come together to make one hell of a family.