Page 131 of Riot's Thorn
“Here you go.” I hand the baby over to Tinleigh and leave her to sit on a couch in the game room of the clubhouse. Riot looks between me and the baby, unsure who he should follow,so I make the choice for him. “Can you get me a glass of water, please?”
“Yeah, sure.” He moves to the bar where Dillon, one of the prospects, is tending.
“Get yourself a beer while you’re at it,” I call over my shoulder.
Tinleigh sits next to me, giving my little guy heart eyes. “He’s incredible. I miss having a newborn.”
“Don’t get any ideas. This little Pea is enough for now.” Lucky pats the back of their six-month-old daughter, Peoney, or Pea for short, who’s fast asleep on his shoulder. She looks like the most angelic child, with soft blonde curls, chubby cheeks, and pouty lips, but in reality, that kid is a hellraiser. She’s loud, and now that she’s mobile, she’s destructive.
“No shit,” Tinleigh says and then covers her mouth. “I’d better start watching my language. With my luck, Pea’s first word will be fuck.”
“Alright, alright. My turn.” Killer plops down next to her sister and steals the baby. “What did you decide to name him?”
The room quiets, waiting for the answer. We hadn’t been able to agree on a name. It’s been eight months of arguments, but the second he was born, we knew.
“Chance Lucas Wise,” I say proudly.
“Chance is so cute. I love it,” Navy says from behind the sofa. She reaches down and strokes his little fist as it opens and closes around her finger. “Oh my god. I love him already.”
“Me, too.” My cheeks hurt from how much I’ve smiled since he was born.
“Have you thought about having kids?” Navy asks Killer.
“Neither of us wants any of our own. We’re happy being Auntie Killer and Uncle Judge.”
“Lord help us,” Rigger says, making us all laugh.
“What about you, Navy?” I ask.
“I don’t know. We’re just enjoying our time together. Maybe in the future.”
The front door opens, and I peer over the couch to see Golden and his eight-year-old son, Ty, walk in. The two look like they could be catalog models, with their beautiful, symmetrical faces.
“This place is turning into a daycare,” Dutch mumbles. “Let’s cool it with the reproducing, huh?”
“Is Dutch upset he’s not the center of attention?” Lucky says, as if he’s talking to a baby.
“No, it just doesn’t feel like a biker club when the only tits I see are Tinleigh’s while she’s breastfeeding and we can’t blast our music because someone’s taking a nap.”
“I agree. It’s a lot less badass biker in here these days,” I say.
Golden sits in a club chair across from us. “Guess it’s a good time for me to tell you about the bullshit I’ve got going on.”
Rigger slaps Dutch upside the head. “You stupid motherfucker. You jinxed us.”
“Ouch!”
“Hey, Ty. Why don’t you go out back and play with Beef?” Whatever Golden has to say must be serious if he’s shooing his kid away.
“I’ll come with,” Tinleigh says, taking Pea from Lucky’s arms. “This one is due to wake up, ready to terrorize us. It’s better if she’s outside, where there are fewer things to break, now that she’s crawling. Leave it to my kid to do everything early.”
Riot steals the baby from Killer, and my heart melts. He’s so gentle, loving, and, yes, overbearing, but he’s proven to me and himself that he won’t be anything like his parents. It’s only been a day, but I already know he’s the best dad ever.
“What’s going on?” Riot asks Golden, taking Tinleigh’s spot next to me. He’s come so far from the recluse he used to be. Not only has he made an effort to include himself more, but so have all his brothers.
He rests his forearms on his thighs, staring down at his intertwined fingers. “You guys know Chaplain. I mean, obviously, you know Chaplain, but?—”
“Just spit it out,” Lucky says.
