But the tears didn’t come. Instead, I looked at the amazing man before me in disbelief. “I’m such a selfish asshole.”
Apparently Rev hadn’t been prepared for my response because he burst out laughing. “No, you’re not,” he argued.
“Yes, I am. This is such a happy day for you, not to mention we’re in the middle of lockdown because of Mendoza.” I shook my head. “You’re too good to me. In fact, you shouldn’t marry me.”
“Just because you think you’re a selfish asshole?” he asked almost teasingly.
“No. It’s just…The way you kissed Wyatt’s head…the way you are with Willow.” I exhaled an agonized sigh. “I can’t give you the children you want…the children you deserve.”
“We don’t know what the future holds.”
I shook my head. “I can’t have a baby, and we can’t adopt. No judge would give us a child with your background.”
“Hmm, so I guess we’re both a little to blame?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I protested.
Rev wrapped his arms tighter around me. “Annabel, none of us know what tomorrow holds. But I do know that we’ll have a child one day.” When I started to argue, he said, “I’ve done a lot of reading on surrogacy, and I’ve talked to some of the girls in the club. When the time comes, we’ll have a baby. You have to believe that.”
I jerked my head off his chest to stare into his eyes. The conviction in them gave me hope. I shouldn’t have been surprised that he was already thinking ahead for us—that was just his way—but his confidence gave me hope.
Just like we would weather the Mendoza storm together, we would make it through the child issue. Somehow, someway. I just had to have faith.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: MENDOZA
Mendoza was close. So very, very close. Roja would soon have what was coming to her. As his car crossed the state line into Georgia, the ever present mix of rage and desperation reached a new volatile level as it surged through him. The one thing that had pushed him through the bullshit of the last few months was revenge. Revenge against the man who had taken Roja. Revenge against Roja for daring to leave him.
And in the last two days, he gotten wind of a plan that had caused his desire for revenge to escalate farther than he had ever imagined.
This Hells Raiders biker—this madre chingado—had dared to infiltrate not only his compound, but to cut him off at the knees by having him alienated from his cartel brothers. Who the fuck did he think he was to approach Rodriguez for protection for his club, himself, and most importantly for Roja?
The asshole would pay. He would pay with his life and with Roja’s, but only after he had been tortured to where he would pray for death. And Roja would watch every blow until the time came for her to suffer her own dose of justice.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: REV
Two days after Wyatt’s birth, I had Boone and Crazy Ace open up the main gates on the compound. Deacon, Bishop, and Mac followed me as I zipped onto the main road. I had received a call the night before from Hector Rodriguez himself. He was more than willing to take the guns off our hands, and he had set up a meeting with us at noon with some of the men in his operation.
Although the January cold bore down hard on us, I couldn’t help enjoying the sunshine and the freedom of being outside of the compound. Our contact point was about two miles from the compound, which was to put us Raiders at ease of not being far from home. We pulled into the parking lot of a rather run-down Mexican restaurant, which I’d previously had no idea was involved in any dirty dealings.
When we stepped inside the restaurant, my eyes quickly scanned the room. A waitress hurried up to us. “Come with me,” she said.
“Guess she knows we’re not here for the food,” Bishop mused.
We were led to a back room that had once been used for private parties. Two men sat at one of the tables. They roseto their feet at the sight of us. “Please come in. You’re very welcome,” the older of the two said.
When I stood before him, he offered me his hand. “I’m Hector’s cousin. He flew me in to meet with you.”
After shaking his hand, I introduced him to Deacon and the others. As we sat down, beer and bottles of tequila appeared from several waitresses. I took a beer to ease some of the tension I couldn’t help feeling.
Since you never wanted a paper trail of your dealings, everything was done verbally. Your word was your bond, along with a handshake.
“So I’m to understand that the Georgia chapter of the Raiders offer us first dibs at guns, and your shipments will come to us in Juarez via your brothers in the El Paso club,” Hector said.
“That is correct,” I replied.
Hector glanced at the still nameless man at his side before turning back to me. “I understand you ask for no money in return.”
“That is true.”
