Page 45 of Triplets for the Rival MC

“I love you too. All of you,” I add, turning my head so Hunter can kiss me too. “Speaking of which, where’d Flint go?”

He ambles back into the room, devastatingly handsome and unselfconscious, his cock swinging proudly. “Thought you might want a bath,” he says with a thoughtful smile.

Now that he’s suggested it, I want nothing more. “Oh god, how gross that must have been, fucking while I’m all gross, I’m a sickly, sweaty, bedridden mess!” I groan, feeling a tinge of mortification.

Cyrus chuckles. “Not at all,” he assures me, kissing me on the forehead.

I smile back at him, appreciating his kindness. “You are too sweet.” I allow them to lead me to the bathroom and gently help me climb into the tub.

Cyrus sponges my back and insists on washing my hair, a strangely romantic and tender gesture, even for him. “I could get used to this,” I say with a sigh, sinking back into the bubbles.

“Good, because we’re gonna spoil the mother of our babies rotten,” Flint says, looking at me with so much love it aches.

I smile wryly at them. “You’re going to be insufferably protective, aren’t you?”

“You betcha,” Hunter grins.

I’m sure I’ll find it irritating at some point, but right now, being protected and pampered sounds divine. “How did I get so lucky to find not just one love of my life but three?” I muse aloud.

“We’re the lucky ones,” Cyrus assures me.

I tilt my head, raising my eyebrows. “You might not be saying that when there are three screaming babies and three lots of dirty diapers to change.”

Flint chuckles. “We’re not afraid of dirty diapers or screaming. Plus, with four of us sharing the load, it will be a walk in the park.”

I frown, worried they’re underestimating how difficult triplets will be. Perhaps Cyrus senses this as he assures me, his expression serious. “And even when it’s not, we have each other for support. We can get through this as a team.”

“I know,” I reply, squeezing his hand. “These babies are going to have the best dads ever.”

“And the best mom,” the guys echo.

They’re so confident that all of my fears and doubts evaporate, if only for now, and I allow myself to enjoy the simple pleasure of a warm bath and a wholesome night in with the men I love.

If the guys can forgive me for my betrayal so easily and embrace the challenges of parenthood with not one but three babies, then I know that whatever comes our way, we can get through it together.

Chapter 26

Flint

I feel restless with anticipation as I enter the clubhouse. The air hums with energy and excitement. Every light is on, casting a golden haze over scarred wood floors and patched walls layered with decades of history—old rally posters, faded photographs, framed patches from brothers long gone but never forgotten. The bar gleams under fresh polish, the smell of beeswax mixing with the less pleasant ones. Even the bikes outside have been scrubbed and polished to a shine, chrome catching the late-afternoon sun.

The atmosphere is light. Lighter than it’s been in weeks. Amidst a war, we all need something to celebrate. Tonight is all about Tori.

I can barely pay attention to what the prospect is telling me; my eyes keep drawing to her. Tori stands at the far end of the room, near the bar, one hand unconsciously resting on the gentle curve of her stomach, the other holding a soda that she sips between smiles. Her morning sickness finally passed. She’s twelve weeks pregnant and showing now—the swell is undeniable beneath the fitted black dress she’s wearing—triplets, of course, show far sooner.

Hunter is at her side, leaning down to murmur something that makes her laugh. Cyrus stands on her other side, quiet and steady as ever, one broad hand resting possessively at the small of her back. My chest tightens at the sight of them. Of her. She’s glowing. Not in some soft, fragile way, but with strength and certainty. As if she finally knows who she is and what she wants. The dark circles that haunted her weeks ago are gone. Her skin is flushed with health. Her eyes are bright. She wears pregnancy well; I don’t doubt that motherhood will suit her even more.

Mine. Ours. Today, Tori’s officially going to be recognized by all as our old lady. She isn’t keen on being called old, she jokes, but she understands the significance, the importance of this day. To us bikers, the commitment is as solemn as any marriage vows.

My attention is diverted by the clubhouse door swinging open, and Screw limps in like he owns the damn place. “Well,” he announces loudly, slapping the frame for attention, “if this ain’t the best reason to get shot I’ve ever seen.”

Laughter ripples across the room. Screw still walks with a noticeable limp from the bullet he took to the thigh. Hank follows behind him, Shelly holding onto his arm, supporting him in more ways than one. He’s slower now, showing his age; his shoulder is still stiff from where he caught a bullet himself. They both look rougher than usual, thinner, maybe, but the important thing is, they’re alive.

Screw throws an arm around two club bunnies draped in tight denim, with big hair and red lipstick. “Doctor says everything’s working fine, if you get my drift,” he adds loudly, waggling his brows. “Tested it thoroughly.”

“Your fucking cock is the last thing I want on my mind,” Red mutters from the bar, gesturing to the barman for another drink.

Drifter chuckles into his beer. Smoke just shakes his head.