Page 51 of Triplets for the Rival MC

Cyrus kisses my temple quickly. Hunter squeezes my hand. Shelly wraps an arm around me and guides me back into the clubhouse. The noise outside resumes immediately. I can hear Flint shouting orders, our men repositioning, tightening our defenses.

The safe room door shuts behind us with a heavy metallic thud. I’ve never been in here before, never needed to. The room is reinforced with concrete walls and no windows. Emergency supplies are neatly stacked along shelves, and bunk beds fill the rest of the space. I sink into one of the few chairs.

My hands are shaking now as the adrenaline crashes hard, and I realize just how dangerous the situation was.

Shelly kneels in front of me. “Breathe.”

I try. My stomach feels tight. I press both palms against it instinctively.

“They’re okay,” she says gently, following my movement. “Stress won’t hurt them.”

I feel exposed, cursing myself for insisting I face my father. I showed them how valuable these babies are. He called my babies his heirs. Now to him they’re currency, leverage. If I’d stayed inside, if I’d kept my mouth shut, he’d have assumed it was just one, and not one of the Ghost Riders’ children. He’d have written them off as he did me.

The silence is frustrating. I wish I knew what was happening outside. Have they truly left, or was it a trick? I imagine guns raised. I imagine my father changing his mind and charging back in.

Tears sting my eyes. I hate that I’m scared. I hate that he can still make me feel small.

Shelly squeezes my hands. “They won’t let anything happen to you, or the babies,” she says.

I know that, I trust that, but trust doesn’t erase fear. These babies make me feel powerful, but they also make me vulnerable, make us vulnerable. I close my eyes and pray.

Please let them be safe.

Please don’t let this be the day everything burns.

Chapter 28

Hunter

Two Months Later

Hospitals always make me uneasy. Too bright, the smell of antiseptic mingling with sickness, the sadness palpable. They’re always either too quiet or too noisy for the wrong reasons. It’s rare to be in a hospital for a positive reason, but today’s check-up was. Tori squeezes my hand as we walk her out through the sliding glass doors, six months pregnant and radiant despite the exhaustion that’s settled deeper into her bones these past few weeks. The ultrasound showed three strong heartbeats again. The doctor smiled benignly, unaffected by how monumental this moment was, as if it were routine—which I guess to her it was—as we watched in awe the miracles we had created on screen.

Cyrus walks on one side of Tori, one hand steady at her lower back, the other holding her arm firmly. I hold the other, helping her along. Her belly is massive now, throwing off her balance as she struggles to walk under the weight of the three babies growing bigger every day inside of her. Flint stands just in front of us, while Drifter and Smoke hang a few paces behind. We came light today, without a full crew, but the guys came as backup just in case. It’s just a precaution, though. Hospitals are neutral territory.

Since the confrontation at the clubhouse with King, we’ve been anticipating an attack that’s yet to materialize. Sure, there have been fights, and both sides have gained some ground. We’ve heard rumors of defection among the Raging Bulls ranks. King is getting weaker, losing allies. We’re starting to think he hasn’t attacked us because he can’t. He knows he would lose. However, that also means he might be getting desperate, and desperate men make reckless decisions.

The late afternoon sun hits my eyes, making me squint and shield my eyes with my hand, as we step into the parking lot. Heat shimmers above the asphalt. The air smells like summer and distant rain.

“They’re getting stronger,” Tori says with a smile, as she rubs her belly.

“Like their mom,” Cyrus murmurs, lifting her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it.

I grin and lean down to kiss her temple. “You hungry? Because I’m starving and craving some pie from that diner on the way back.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re always starving. I’m the one who’s pregnant, shouldn’t I be having cravings?”

“You still crave us,” I reply, waggling my eyebrows. While our sex has changed to accommodate Tori’s pregnancy bump and become more gentle, it’s no less passionate and still frequent.

Tori smacks my arm playfully, shaking her head. “Tease. Fine, let's get food on the way home.”

Flint chuckles under his breath as he pulls on his gloves and swings onto his bike. I mount mine beside him. Drifter and Smoke fire their engines up. Cyrus helps Tori into the passenger seat of the SUV before circling around to get in the front. For obvious reasons, Tori hasn’t been able to ride on the back of our bikes for a while now. Flint takes the lead on the road back, with me on his right flank. Smoke and Drifter follow behind the SUV. We ride in a convoy fit for our queen.

We pull out of the hospital lot, and for the first ten minutes, it’s peaceful. I relax as I ride, glad that the babies are safe and growing normally, enjoying the rumble of the engine beneath me and the wind whipping past, with nothing but open road stretching ahead. Then I notice the first vehicle.

A black truck merges onto the road, cutting Smoke and Drifter off too closely, coming behind the SUV. Then another joins behind that. I glance in my side mirror. My sixth sense tingles.

“Flint,” I say through the comm.