He returned less than five minutes later with a pregnancy test.
I raised a brow. “Do you bikers just keep these lying around?”
“With how fast so many of the Kings have been falling for their old ladies lately?” He chuckled. “Yeah. We do.”
I laughed softly, took the test, and we waited together in nervous silence. When the result appeared, it was unmistakable.
Positive.
Levi’s entire face lit up with pure joy. He pulled me into his arms, kissing me deeply as his hand spread protectively over my stomach.
“You’re pregnant,” he whispered against my lips, his voice thick with emotion. “Carrying my baby.”
The possessiveness in his tone was matched by the overwhelming love in his eyes. He kissed me again, slower this time, like he was savoring the moment.
Tears of happiness slipped down my cheeks as I held him tight. This was more than I had ever dreamed of.
EPILOGUE
CENTURY
Six months later
Redline Speedway was packed. Engines screamed around the permanent road course, the sound ricocheting off grandstands filled wall-to-wall with spectators, sponsors, crews, racers, old ladies, prospects, and enough locals to make the place feel like the whole damn town had decided to come watch horsepower burn through asphalt.
Timing boards flashed above pit lane, crew chiefs barked orders into headsets, and mechanics moved with tools in hand. I’d spent most of my life chasing that edge between control and disaster, and tonight, with one of my fastest bikes waiting in staging, I should’ve been locked all the way in.
Instead, I kept looking at my wife.
Saylor stood in my pit wearing my property vest over a fitted black maternity top that stretched over the round curve of her belly, my rings on her finger and my kid riding high and proud inside her. She had one hand braced at the small of her back, the other resting protectively over the baby, and even from twentyfeet away, she looked like every dream I never knew I had until she walked into The Burnout.
Her cheeks were flushed from excitement, her hair was swept back from her face, and she was laughing at something Jana said while Savannah handed her a bottle of water and a snack. The old ladies had surrounded her with folding chairs, fruit, crackers, and enough unsolicited pregnancy advice to fill a pit manual, and Saylor looked amused as hell by the whole thing.
But I didn’t like her standing that close to pit lane.
Didn’t matter that Redline Speedway was locked down. Or that Shifter had security tighter than a bank vault, with three prospects assigned to keep idiots away from the old ladies without looking obvious. Didn’t matter that Saylor was perfectly safe, capable of telling me to stop being ridiculous, and absolutely stubborn enough to keep standing if she wanted to stand.
My woman was pregnant, wearing my patch, and glowing under track lights beside machines built for speed, and every protective instinct I had was chewing through my patience like a pissed-off dog through a leather glove.
Edge appeared beside me, looking toward Saylor with that lazy grin that meant he’d noticed way too much and planned to be annoying about it. “You know staring at her belly won’t make the baby arrive faster.”
“Wasn’t aware I asked for your medical opinion.”
“You didn’t.” He folded his arms, his shoulder brushing mine as his gaze moved over the pit. “That’s what makes it generous.”
I grunted and looked back at the bike, pretending for half a second that I cared about the final checks more than I cared about Saylor shifting her weight from one foot to the other.Did her feet hurt? Was she too tired to be here?
Chief had already gone through the machine twice, and I’d done it myself before that because nobody touched my buildswithout me knowing exactly how and why. The bike was perfect. Responsive, fast, tuned down to the breath, and built to eat the road course clean. I trusted the machine, my hands, and my skill. Yet my focus still kept dragging back to my wife like my body knew where the real center of gravity was.
“You’re twitchy,” Edge observed.
I shot him a look. “You got somewhere to be?”
“Watching you pretend you don’t want to wrap Saylor in bubble wrap and carry her to a padded bunker is the best entertainment I’ve had all week.”
“Fuck you.”
Edge laughed and wandered off before I could decide whether knocking him into a tool cart would improve the evening. It probably would’ve, but Saylor caught me watching and tilted her head, that amused teacher look settling over her face. She said something to Savannah, then made her way toward me with one hand on her belly and the other lightly skimming the edge of her vest.
