Page 20 of Making Choices

Hunter knocks on the door. “Ha ha, funny.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

When he doesn’t receive an immediate response, he bangs a second time, then yells, “It’s just me. I’m comin’ in on the count of five, so I’d appreciate if you’d button up your pants and lower your weapons before then.”

I snicker loud enough for him to hear, then head back inside to try to get some sleep before lunch with my family.

4

LILY

Once the lunch mess has been cleaned up, I find myself at a loose end. Zeke’s gone. No doubt chasing more information to support his theory that my father is a rat. He’s taken Hunter, Cub, and Wyatt with him. I’m not in the mood for Toker’s unique brand of coping—getting high and putting the gun range to good use is more of a middle of the night strategy for me. The enforcers who pulled overnight shifts will be catching a few z’s while the compound is quiet after the lunch time chaos so annoying Slash is off the cards, too.

I can’t face Charlie and Crystal’s sympathy right now.

Nadia hasn’t so much as glanced my way since she fled the kitchen in tears which means I need to give her some space.

Another afternoon spent staring at the walls in mine and Zeke’s room beckons.

Yay.

“Do you know where Sander is?” I ask Delia as she exits the den with her arms full of baby bottles and Sippy cups.

The pretty dark-haired woman straightens her shoulders and tug the hem of her “Property of Tank” cut to smooth it out. I pretend not to notice when her cheeks turn red and she struggles to meet my gaze.

“He’s, uh, Sander’s, uh, sleeping in Fret’s room. I think.” Delia’s stammering is cute and annoying all at once. “I can—I can check if you’d like?”

“No. No. That’s fine.”

Being treated like the biker version of royalty comes with the territory when you’re the president’s only daughter and engaged to the VP, yet I’ve never adjusted to it. It’s part of the reason why I prefer hanging out with Nadia and the third-generation brothers. Apart from the six years my family spent in Inadale after my mum’s death, we grew up together. They’ve seen me drunk, stoned, happy, crying, and everywhere in between. It’s impossible for them to place me on a pedestal when they’ve held my hair back while I puked my guts up after a big night of drinking and karaoke.

Delia doesn’t have that history with me, so I swallow down my discomfort at her reaction, plaster a smile on my face, and pat her upper arm. “How are you coping with lockdown? Must be hard with three little ones.”

Her face manages to redden another couple of shades before she tells me, “It’s been fun. The kids are loving the extra attention.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard lockdown described as fun before.” With a conspiratorial wink, I murmur, “Come find me if you need some time without your kids. The prospects are available to babysit and I’d love to have a drink with you.”

“Seriously?” she asks with wide eyes. “I can get them to do that?”

“Of course. It’s part of the vetting process. If they can’t step up for the kids, how can they be trusted to have their brothers’ backs during a run?”

While Delia processes what I just said, I decide that I’m going to speak to Zeke about Tank. He’s a grizzled, middle-aged member of my father’s faction who’s been with the Shamrocks for twenty years or so. We never expected him to marry, let alone manage to find a girl seventeen years younger and have three children with her in rapid succession.

Seems he needs to be reminded that his wife is as entitled to the perks that come with the brotherhood as he is. I’d tell him myself, but possessing a vagina means my input would be met with laughter by some of the more set in their ways old timers. Thankfully, the younger generation—Zeke and Slash’s generation—have a more egalitarian view of women in the club so the sexist attitude is slowly dying out.

Not that it will completely change if Zeke’s propensity to lie to me to “protect me” is a true indication.

“That makes sense,” Delia says quietly. “Tank keeps telling me to make myself at home… it just—it just feels like I’m overstepping when the kids start to cry and run amok.”

“Nope.” I grin as my suspicions about Tank’s old-fashioned ways are dispelled. “This club is as much yours as it is your husband’s. That goes for your little ones as well.” Delia finally gives me a genuine smile and meets my eyes when I tug on her cut and add. “There’s gotta be some perks to balance the late nights and the days away on runs.”

“Very true.”

“So how about we get together for a drink tonight?”

Her whiskey-coloured eyes light up as she ventures in a hopeful voice, “I’m still breastfeeding so I can’t drink, but I’d be up for a trip to the gun range if you’d like to take me. I’ve always wanted to shoot a gun.”

“Okay,” I tell her with a surprised laugh. “The gun range it is. I’ll come find you an hour or so after dinner… it’ll be dark then. There’s something kinda poetic about shooting the shit out of paper targets with stars overhead.”

---