(Club Chrome MC 2) All Dogs Bite (20 page)

He turned to the man in the hallway and the relief was evident in his eyes as he said, “How’d you know? Thank God.”

“It was something I discovered a few days ago. I found a plane ticket to Florida in Peaches’ name but Roger didn’t know anything about her taking time off from The Rusty Chain. Then, I caught Peaches and Monica talking after you’d left. Didn’t seem right. When I saw them hustle your girl into a car, I knew I had to follow and see what they were up to. Although, damn, I never pegged Peaches for a traitor.”

“Me either,” Bronx said, genuinely disappointed. He’d liked Peaches.

“Are they…dead?” Delainey managed to ask, trying to avoid looking at the blood slowly oozing onto the dingy carpet.

“Yeah,” Bronx answered, untying Delainey’s hands before going over to check the bodies. To the man he asked, “What happened?”

“I couldn’t take the shot without endangering the girl. So I waited for the right moment. Your girl provided the right distraction and I popped off Monica. Monica accidentally popped off Peaches.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked fearfully. “You just murdered someone.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Pyro said. To Bronx, he said, “Take your woman and go. I’ll clean up here.”

“You sure?”

“Go.”

Delainey sensed a deep respect between the two men but she didn’t have time to argue because Bronx was hustling her onto his bike. She hesitated, not quite sure if she ought to ride a motorcycle when she was pregnant but she realized she didn’t really have a choice. “Drive safely,” she told him sternly and he surprised her when he nodded gravely and the look in his eyes told her he wouldn’t do a thing to jeopardize their safety. She shouldn’t have been touched but she was. Until she remembered that he was a cowardly bastard who’d broken her heart and walked out of her life without so much as a
fuck-you-very-much-thanks-for-the-chips-and-dip
and she glared. “You may take me home but you may not stay. You hear me? We’re nothing, as you made so abundantly clear.”

He nodded and she climbed on the bike to gingerly wrap her arms around him. Goodness, that felt nice. She’d missed this. No! Do not fall victim to his charms, yet again.
He’s a card-carrying asshole and proud of it, plus he almost got you killed!

In spite of her protests, Bronx insisted on walking her up to her apartment and then once she’d assured him she was safe, he ignored her and did a perimeter check inside the actual apartment, which was the size of a postage stamp so unless someone was hiding in plain sight, there really wasn’t anywhere that would work as a good ambush spot.

“You can leave now. I’m quite safe,” she told him stiffly. Her wrists ached from being tied for too long. She rubbed at the chaffed skin and he immediately went to her side to gently inspect her wounds. “I’m fine,” she told him when he lingered on the reddened skin. “You can go now.” He shocked her by bringing her wrist up to his mouth and brushing the sweetest kiss across the abraded skin. Her heart stopped and then began fluttering erratically. “Why’d you do that?” she asked, desperately wishing he was being a jerk instead of so incredibly sweet because her resolve was weakening.

“Because…” he stopped, his head hanging low as if ashamed but needing to say something before he lost his mind. “Because I thought I’d lost you.”

“You did lose me,” she reminded him softly, tears pricking her eyes. “Remember?”

He shook his head. “Every day. I remember everything. And I wish I could take it all back.”

Tears stung her eyes and she ground them out. “That woman…you slept with her?”

Here was that moment he’d dreaded since that terrible day. Time to come clean. If he were ever to earn Delainey’s trust, he’d have to be honest with her even when he knew the truth would likely kick him in the nuts. He drew a deep breath. “At one time, Monica and I were casual fuck-buddies. I never felt a thing for her. It was just…convenient. And then when I knew I’d lost you…there were a few times I messed around with Monica but trust me when I say that I couldn’t do it anymore. Tonight, before I realized she was there to fucking rob me, I told her she had to take the couch because the idea of being close to her made me want to puke.”

“I guess I can’t be hurt because we didn’t have any kind of commitment—“

He grabbed her hand and held it tightly. “Be mad,” he told her in earnest. “Rage at me if you need, too. I will take every harsh word, every tear, because you deserve far better than I could ever give you but know this…you changed me, Dee. I never knew the beauty of committing, nor did I want to, until I met you. I was fighting it, tooth and nail, because I didn’t think a woman like you would ever come into my life and then when you did…I got scared. I’m not scared anymore.”

“What if you get scared again?” she whispered.

“I have nothing to fear with you in my life,” he answered with complete honesty. “You are my rock. You are everything I ever wanted…but was too afraid to hope for. Please, Delainey…please don’t shut me out even though God knows, I fucking deserve it for everything I’ve put you through.”

The breath evaporated from her lungs and she fought to stay strong. “You don’t get to come in here and act like the hero as if you didn’t crush me. I spent weeks in my bed, unable to function. Zoe was the one who came to pull me out of my funk and that’s when I discovered I was pregnant. Zoe was the one who took me to my first doctor’s appointment. Do you hear me? Not the father of my child, but my best friend. Where were you? Why didn’t you come back? You just abandoned me.”

He had no words to defend himself apparently and he didn’t even try, which was a good thing because there was nothing he could say that would change what he’d done. But it wasn’t what he could say, but what he could do that would melt her defenses completely. He sank to his knees and gently pulled her to him, his head resting on her belly as his hand framed her hips. “I don’t deserve a second chance. I know I don’t. God help me, I’ve used up all my get-out-of-jail-free cards but I will do anything to be a good father if you’ll let me. Give me a chance to at least be a part of my child’s life in a way that my parents never gave me. I don’t want my child to ever believe that I didn’t want them.”

Oh, not fair
. Tears crowded her sinuses and she sniffed them back. He glanced up with hope and longing and she wondered if she was being an emotional wreck because of the hormonal overload from the pregnancy.
Or it could be that you’ve had one helluva traumatic night, too
. Right. Oddly, she wasn’t freaking out about the fact that she’d just witnessed two people dying right in front of her. Maybe it was because those bitches had left her tied up in a back storeroom all night and had threatened her baby. Maybe she was a little bit cutthroat after all because she felt nothing but relief that they were dead. Who knew? All she knew was that in spite of her hot words, Bronx was her Achilles heel. She couldn’t help herself, she allowed her hands to curl into his dirty blond hair, taking a moment to savor the feel of him holding her and then she heard her own voice in her head when she’d counseled Zoe.
Grab your opportunity. Don’t let fear stop you
.

Times would be hard. He was a felon. She was hardly a millionaire and although she made a decent living, suddenly providing for two extra people would put a strain on her budget. But those were paltry reasons to push away the man of her dreams, right?

“And what about me?” she dared to ask. “Do you want to be a part of my life, too?”

He rose and pulled her in for the deepest, most soulful kiss she’d ever experienced and she knew without needing to hear the words that he loved her. Everything he’d said before,
that
had been the lie. He’d always loved her and now he was ready to embrace what that meant.

“I love you, Bronx Eugene Harris. From the moment you crawled through my window in the dead of night with a bullet hole in your side, I knew you would be mine.”

She must’ve uttered the magic words. He shocked her when he hoisted her in his arms with a grunt and a promise in his eyes that made her bones shiver. “You really should raise your standards,” he advised in a low tone and she answered by tweaking his nipple hard. He chuckled with sultry promise, saying, “You shouldn’t start the engine if you’re not ready to drive.”

“Who said I’m not ready?” she countered with cheeky boldness, loving the way he manhandled her and yet held her with such care. And the fact that he was so strong! Damn, her man was like Hercules!

Her man.

Yep. She liked the sound of that.

Bronx wasn’t perfect, but neither was she. She knew in her heart that Bronx saw her for who she was and loved what he saw. That was enough in her book. Oh, and the fact that he made her toes curl until they cramped when he did that thing with his tongue on her lady parts. Yeah, she definitely liked that part.

Now, she just had to figure out a way to introduce him to her parents…

Well, that was a headache for a different day. This moment belonged to her and Bronx — and she was going to savor every second.

-Epilogue-

Perfection. Absolute perfection. That’s what he held in his arms. His tiny daughter waved angry fists as if trying to punch him in the nose, her little face scrunched as she prepared to squall but all he saw was the most beautiful thing ever created. He turned to Delainey, sweat plastering the hair to her head, looking as if she’d been dragged behind a speedboat, and a swell of love so profound rocked his boots. “She’s amazing, just like her mama,” he told Delainey with tears in his eyes. “Gorgeous.”

“That’s awesome,” Delainey said, exhausted. “I’m just glad she’s out. I never want to do that again. Ever.”

Bronx just grinned at his new wife because he’d already made up his mind, he wanted lots of kids. Loads of them. At least five. And he was going to be a real hands-on daddy, too. He wanted to help with homework, teach them to ride bikes, and teach them how to take care of themselves. But as he stared at her little fingers and toes, he was overwhelmed by the miracle he and Delainey had created together. He would do anything for this little bundle — and her mama — and he didn’t know how it’d happened but the blessings in his life were beyond his wildest imagining.

Shortly after Monica and Peaches had “disappeared,” he’d handed the club over to Pyro and left his outlaw motorcycle life behind but he’d been adrift. If he were being honest, times had been rough. He’d almost gone back. But Delainey being the crafty one in the relationship, she managed to talk Jax and Hunter into opening a non-profit organization, a watch-dog group, for social services and he now served as the president. The name, Gage’s Watch, seemed appropriate. And now, he was damn near respectable. In fact, for the first time ever…he’d bought his first monkey suit. And he looked damn good in it judging by how quickly Delainey had torn it off and ridden him like a wild she-beast in heat.

Yeah, life was pretty good. Oh, and nothing had been sweeter than watching good ol’ George and Millie Almanza, the foster family from hell, getting arrested. After a subsequent investigation, cops had found more than enough evidence to put those fuckers away for a long time and that was more satisfying than he ever would’ve thought it would be.

But as good as all that was, staring down at his daughter was the best blessing of all.

Sweet Ava Jade.

Who knew all it would take to neuter this dog was a tiny slip of a girl…who looked just like her mama.

And he wanted four more just like her!

He glanced over at Delainey who might very well lop off his tender parts after an eighteen hour labor if he tried telling her that and thought…well, maybe he’d wait a bit before springing that news on her. Bronx pressed a kiss to Ava’s delicate crown and made a solemn vow just between them.

I will never let a moment slide to show you how much I love you. I promise.

Ava let out a lusty cry and he laughed at her spirit. Yep. Life was pretty damn good.

And it was his time to enjoy it.

***

-EXCERPT-

Kings of Asphalt

The roadside bar reeked of cheap whiskey, spilled beer and bad judgment but Zoe Delacourte wasn’t about to turn tail and run even though her knees were practically knocking together like two castanets in the hands of a Spanish dancer. This was her chance, her big break, her opportunity to show her editor that she could deliver the real deal, a solid story the readers wanted to read about. Maybe even a Pulitzer. Okay, maybe not a Pulitzer but this was some serious journalism and she had chops to prove.

Okay, so technically, no one knew she was doing this but all the more reason to make it count. Fortune favored the bold, or so they say. Time to put that saying to the test.

She’d been blessed — or cursed, depending on how you look at it — with a nose twitchy for information. Her mom called it downright nosiness but whatever, that quality was exactly what was required in the newsroom and when she happened to run across a small blurb about an execution style murder on the west end of the city that sent her nose to tingling, she couldn’t ignore the urge to scratch further. A little inquiry here, a little digging there, and she’d found quite a few tantalizing leads that she couldn’t help but try and chase down for the bigger story. The problem? No one wanted to touch it. Not that she blamed them. Not even the cop reporter wanted to dig into a possible retaliation hit between the two most notorious motorcycle clubs, The Kings and the Road Dogs, for fear of ending up on the wrong end of a bullet but where others saw a one-way ticket to the morgue, she saw a golden opportunity to finally make her mark.

From her furtive digging she managed to dig up two names: Jax Traeger and Hunter Ericksen. Bad boys to the core, Jax and Hunter seemed to be running The Kings, while she wasn’t sure who was calling the shots for the Road Dogs, possibly a guy named Bronx, no last name that she could find. The guy who ended up dead was a member of the The Kings, which meant she wanted to get to Jax and Hunter and see what she could get out of them by way of intel. But it wasn’t as if they were just going to spill their guts. She had to be crafty, real sly-like to get the goods, which brought her to the current reason why she was wobbling on too-high heels into The King’s known clubhouse, Bad Whiskey, squeezed into a skirt too tight with her breasts pushed nearly to her chin, and risking everything by going deep under cover for the story. That’s what real journalists did — not like the paper-pushing wimps currently occupying space in the newsroom. What happened to the golden age of investigative journalism? What happened to digging down to the bone of a story to suck out the marrow? What happened—