Page 16 of Viking (Dixie Reapers MC #24)

“It is. I’ve seen it.” He shifted, turning slightly to face me.

“They aren’t my stories to tell, but some of the kids here aren’t the biological kids of their parents.

They’ve overcome far worse than losing a parent.

Abuse. Neglect. And much worse. But they came here, found people willing to put in the time and effort to help them, and now you’d never know about the darkness they battled. ”

I studied his profile, the strong line of his jaw half-hidden by his beard, the intensity in his eyes as he spoke. “I didn’t realize the kids here had been through so much.”

He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with elaborating. “Point is, Athena’s got you. She’ll be okay.”

“I hope so.” I sighed, drawing my legs up under me on the couch. “I keep thinking about what Kris would want for her. If he’d approve of how I’m handling things.”

“He trusted you with her,” Viking said simply. “That says everything.”

“He trusted you too,” I pointed out. “With both of us.”

Viking’s gaze met mine, for longer than was comfortable. “Yeah, well. Kris always did have more faith in me than I deserved.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“No?” He smiled slightly, a crooked lift of lips. “You used to follow us around like a puppy. Thought we hung the moon and stars.”

Heat crept into my cheeks. “I was a kid with a crush. Sue me.”

“It was cute.” And those words, combined with what I’d just admitted, told me enough. He’d known all this time I had feelings for him back then. My cheeks flushed even more.

His voice softened. “You with your red pigtails and that Christmas sweater your grandma made you wear for photos. You were an adorable kid.”

“Oh God,” I groaned, covering my face. “Don’t remind me of that sweater. It had actual jingle bells sewn onto the reindeer noses.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners, amusement warming his features. “I’ve always had a soft spot for Kris’s little sister with the Christmas name.”

My heart stuttered at the admission. Was he flirting, or just being kind?

Reminiscing about the past, or hinting at something in the present?

I was out of practice with this sort of thing -- dating had taken a backseat to my education and career, and now to Athena.

Not that teaching preschool was something looked at in awe in most cases, but it was a lot of work.

I still had lesson plans to make, had to keep track of how the children were doing developmentally, and if I wanted to ever be something more, then I’d known I’d need to look at grad school in the near future.

We’d shifted closer during our conversation, our knees now touching where they rested on the couch cushion between us. Neither of us moved away from the contact. The beer buzzed pleasantly in my system, relaxing me even more.

“Tell me something,” Viking said, setting his empty bottle on the coffee table. “If none of this had happened -- if Kris was still alive, if you weren’t in danger -- what would you be doing right now? What were your plans before life turned upside down?”

I considered the question, surprised by how distant my old life already felt. “I was saving for a house. Something with a yard, not just my little rental. I’d been talking to the school about taking on a lead teacher position in the fall.” I shrugged. “Nothing exciting. Just… building a life.”

“Sounds pretty good to me,” Viking said softly.

“What about you?” I asked. “Any grand plans beyond the Reapers?”

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes distant. “Been thinking about opening my own shop. Custom bikes, restorations. Something that’s mine, not just club business.”

“You’d be good at that,” I said, remembering the careful precision of his hands on the coffee maker, and I remembered him helping my brother work on cars a few times.

“Maybe someday.” His gaze returned to mine, intensity replacing the nostalgia. “When this is over, when you’re safe…”

His hand moved across the cushion toward mine, fingers just brushing my knuckles. The touch was electric, sending a shiver up my arm. I held my breath, waiting to see what came next, afraid to move and break the spell.

His phone buzzed loudly from the coffee table, the screen lighting up with Wire’s name. Viking hesitated, clearly torn, then sighed and reached for it.

“This better be important.” He scowled even though Wire couldn’t see it.

I watched his expression change as he listened, the warmth draining away, replaced by the hard vigilance I’d seen when we first arrived at the compound. My stomach tightened with dread.

“How many?” he asked, standing from the couch. “When?” He paced toward the window, pulling back the curtain a fraction to peer into the darkness. “No, keep them on it. I want to know every move. I’ll call Tempest.”

He ended the call and turned to me, his face grim in the lamplight. “We’ve got trouble. Wire’s spotted suspicious vehicles nearing town limits -- unmarked SUVs with government plates, moving in a convoy pattern.”

Fear replaced the warmth that had been building between us. “The people Kris warned about?”

Viking nodded once. “Possibly. Too coordinated to be coincidence, and we don’t get many vehicles like that around here, not unless it spells trouble.”

I glanced toward the hallway leading to Athena’s room. She was finally sleeping peacefully, clutching her stuffed animals, oblivious to the danger closing in. A fresh wave of protectiveness surged through me.

“What do we do?” I asked, rising to my feet.

“I need to call an emergency meeting.” Viking was already dialing, his movements precise and controlled. “You stay with Athena. Keep her close.”

“Should I wake her? Get her ready to… to run?” The thought of fleeing in the night with a sleepy, confused three-year-old made my heart race.

Viking paused, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. “Not yet. We’ve got time. They’re still at the town limits, and we’ve got men watching. They make a move toward the compound, we’ll know.”

I nodded, trying to draw strength from his certainty. The intimate moment we’d shared just minutes ago felt like a dream now, replaced by the harsh reality of our situation.

“Karoline,” Viking said, his grip on my shoulder tightening slightly. “I meant what I said. I will keep you both safe.”

“I know,” I whispered, and I did. Whatever was happening between us -- this tentative, fragile thing -- would have to wait. But I believed with absolute certainty that Viking would protect us with his life if necessary.

As he turned away to make his calls, I sank back onto the couch, fear a living thing in my chest. The barbecue seemed a lifetime ago now, that brief respite of normalcy swept away by the approaching storm.

I wrapped my arms around myself, listening to Viking’s low, urgent voice as he organized the club’s defenses, and prayed we’d all live long enough to finish the conversation we’d started.