Page 16 of Devil's Own: Roughneck

I meet Cutter and Reaper outside on their bikes. “Casualties?”

Reaper, the nordic mountain of a man, nods.

“Any idea who they took out?”

“Duke said one of the younger ones. Toad. But Boss got clipped shoving his goddamn wife to the pavement. She’s the general manager of their club. For all we know, they were aiming for Boss.”

“Goddammit!” I shout. The rest of the brothers converge on the tarmac and Vlad doesn’t need to say a damn thing. We haul ass out of the lot.

Where is the enemy coming from now?

And when is it going to end?

6

Once he left me, I lay down on Rough’s bed. The mattress is kind of lumpy and I can’t settle my mind. We aren’t in love. What we have isn’t that. But I’d be lying to myself if I said that whatever this is between us doesn’t have the potential to turn into love. Not that I’m an expert in the concept. There has been one person in my life I honestly, truly love in a way that it would take more than I have the brain space to fathom for me to stop loving him. That’s my son.

I loved my mom, but she wasn’t a great mom. She had her issues and maybe if she’d lived, I’d have cut ties for my own peace of mind. I loved my brother when we were kids. I think I could feel love for him again, but that remains to be seen. But Rough? We have definite attraction. Definite chemistry. And in the couple of days I’ve known him, I’ve come to care for him in a way that if something happened to him, it would gut me.

Yet I sent him off to take the backs of bikers who’d been shot at in a drive-by. Guns. Bullets. This is real life for him, his brothers, and their old ladies. Do I want to put myself through this for the time being?

Think before answering, Gee.I roll to tuck my hand under my head on the pillow in the direction where Rough should be lying next to me on his side of the bed. Nothing we talked about. Somehow, we just adopted bedsides.

The sight of his empty pillow makes my gut clench and I reach my hand out to rest where his thick, dark hair would rest. Even if I don’t know if we’ll ever fall in love, I know down to the depths of my soul that I’ll never tire of looking at him, and I’ll never tire of lying next to him—preferably on a more comfortable mattress. I’ll never tire of having our quiet little heart-to-hearts. And let’s not even get into the mind-blowing sex.

All that being said, the answer isyes. Even living with this fear of whether or not he’ll come back to me safe, I know that I’d be much worse off if I gave in to that fear and gave up on seeing where we have the potential to go.

Okay. I lie here for a bit longer tossing and turning, then finally I just can’t any longer and sit up, sliding on my shoes before leaving his room. The room looks relatively clean, but I wouldn’t walk around in the common room barefoot without a recent tetanus shot and a preemptive dosing of a strong antibiotic to stave off whatever caused my feet to stick to the floor as I walked through there earlier. I shudder thinking about it.

I expect to find a relatively empty common room. But what I find are two women—beautiful women—sitting on the stools up at the bar. Both wear pajama-type outfits—one woman has on a V-neck T-shirt and black leggings, whereas the other wears a nightshirt that fits her form and looks like a baseball shirt and slippers. One has this flawless light-brown skin and the prettiest wild, corkscrew curls that fall past her shoulders. She’s the one in the leggings and must hear me when I walk in the room because she turns her head to me and wow—her eyes are the bluest blue. The other woman has long, thick, black hair hanging in a ponytail down her back. She’s petite. She’s feeding a sweet little baby with a bottle and loving all over her.

“Hey,” the first woman says to me wearing a big, bright-white smile. I bet she pays a whole lot to have a smile that vibrant.

“Hey,” I answer back.

“You’re new here,” the second woman says to me and she’s definitely of East Asian ethnicity. And the baby she’s holding looks like her clone. Was there even a dad involved?

“I am. I’m Gia.”

“Cool to meet you, Gia,” the first woman says. “I’m Dusty, Reaper’s wife.”

“I haven’t met Reaper,” I tell her and she smiles at my answer like it’s no big deal. It’s at this point that I notice where her hands rest lightly on a sizable baby bump under her T-shirt. “But I’m looking forward to it.”

“I’m Aja.” The other woman introduces herself. “And this is my little mini-me, Freya.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“She is.”

“Mom?” At the sound of my son’s voice, I move my head around to see where it’s coming from. He’s over on a black leather lounge chair that’s seen better days. There’s a half-naked woman on his lap.Oh, brother.“What are you doing here?”

“You better be wrapping that.” I point to his crotch region. “I’m not ready to be a grandma at thirty-three.”

“Jesus, Mom…” The woman laughs as he gently shoves her off his lap to jog over to me. Then she spreads back out in the chair he vacated.

Aja looks between Waite and me. “He’s your son?”

“Teenage mom,” I admit. I’m not ashamed. He’s a great person, one of the best if I do say so, and that’s on me. I claim that win. Then I ask my boy, “Aside from getting familiar with the young woman in the chair, what are you doing here?”

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