“Oh, he won’t do anything stupid. I’d assume he’s a little attached to the balls between his legs to do anything that’d hurt my girl.”
Josie’s body jostles in my hold as her laughter breaks loose, carefree and unguarded, surrounded by our closest friends. But a shiver runs down my spine, sending an unpleasant ache to my balls.
We’ve all heard the story about Silas walking in on Harlow torturing the last mayor’s son for attacking Lexi. It’s club lore at this point, passed around in hushed voices and dark humor whenever she’s around. It’s precisely why she has a place among us, more than any old lady ever has. She’s just as sickand twisted as her husband. It’s probably why she caught his eye in the first place.
“Plus, you gotta keep an eye on that one for me.” Harlow nods to Lexi, who looks miserable. “Make sure my nephew doesn’t decide to come when I’m states away.”
Lexi huffs out an annoyed sigh, her free hand rubbing the full swell of her nearly due stomach. Sweat beads along her hairline, and her patience is clearly wearing thin in the August heat. “I love you, Lo. But this little boy can come out as soon as he damn well pleases. Being a beached whale in August is fucking terrible.”
“Swear jar, mommy,” Sienna pops up out of nowhere, grabbing onto her mom’s leg. Her voice is small but fierce, her chin tipped up as if she’s enforcing sacred law.
That damn jar’s got me a time or two. Josie and I never tried something like that with Haley because it’d be pointless. Her mama’s got a vocabulary worse than some of the guys, and I’m certainly no better. Having a baby didn’t change that.
“Worth it.”
“Deal,” Josie finally answers Harlow.
The trust in her voice is the hard-earned and solid type. The kind that doesn’t come easily in our world. The close relationship these three share is something Josie has always needed. I’m grateful my wife doesn’t have to shoulder the stress of being a president’s wife alone.
The last two of our party arrive, engines cutting off as the lot finally settles. Pierce nods his departure before scooping his daughter up and leading his family back to their car. He and Tank are in charge of the compound while we’re out of town, and I know I’m leaving it in good hands. That knowledge eases some of the tension knotted in my traps.
Swinging Haley into my arms, I drop a big, noisy kiss toher cheek that makes her giggle and squirm in my hold. She smells like sunscreen, dirt, and the faint sweetness of whatever candy she likely negotiated away from Chopper. Her laughter lights up my world, and now that Josie’s finally agreed to having another baby, I can’t wait for that joy to double.
“You’ll be careful?” Josie asks, her dark eyes drill into my gaze.
There’s history in that look. Every ride, every close call, every goodbye that might not have been temporary, filters through them like b-roll.
“Always am.”
“You’ll call when you stop?”
“Always do.”
“You’ll come home to me.”
Haley wiggles from my arms, and I put her down while staring at my wife. I commit the sight of her to memory. The curve of her lopsided smile, the strength and determination in her eyes, keeping it together for my sake, the way she always holds it down for our family when I’m out on the road.
I lean down, capturing her lips, her grip in my shirt tightens, and her body presses dangerously into mine. The world narrows down to just us. My cock stirs, and since I don’t want an uncomfortable ride, I draw back.
“Always, mama. And when I get back, you better be peeing on a stick and telling me I’m gonna be a dad again.”
Her teeth bite into her bottom lip, but her head shakes in exasperation at my comment, even as a smile threatens to break through.
“Well, at least you have proper motivation to get back to me in one piece.”
“Call Pierce if you need anything while I’m gone. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
I leave my girls on the burning pavement and head for my bike. Heat radiates up through the soles of my boots, the sun glaring off the chrome and paint of the bikes before me.
There’s nothing different about this rally. We go every year. Same highways and backroads across the southern states. Same faces from other chapters of the Vipers. Same rituals and business conversations that are better left to the air than physical proof.
Engines fire up in unison, the lot filling with thunder as the bikes come to life beneath us. I swing my leg over the seat and settle in. The vibration rolling up my spine grounds me in the routine, but I’m still restless for what’s to come.
Helmets slide on, gloves tighten, and with a few sharp nods, we fall into formation, our muscle memory taking over. Tires crunch as we roll out, slow and deliberate at first, then smoother as we hit pavement, the pack stretching into its usual staggered line.
The wind greets us the moment we pick up speed, hot and heavy, tearing at my cut and roaring past my ears like it’s trying to drown out my thoughts. We ride straight through town, engines purring between brick storefronts and faded signage along Main Street.
