Exquisite Danger (42 page)

Hell, being a bad ass was better than being a dead ass, that was for sure.

Because I was watching Smoke so intently, I noticed that the fine lines around his still swollen eyes were twitching. Holding my breath, I leaned closer, ignoring the twinge of pain from my battered body and held my breath. Sure enough he began to move a little more, soft groans rising from his lips. Hulk and Hustler both stood up, but I waved them back.

“Smoke?” I spoke in as strong of a voice as I could manage when all I wanted to do was burst into relieved tears.

“Hmm?” He grunted, then frowned. “Hurts.”

My fingers trembled as I stroked the thick stubble covering his cheeks. “Easy, you’ve been through a lot. Take a second to catch up. You’re in a hospital and you’re pretty beat up, but we’re safe.”

“Safe…safe…” He seemed to be testing the word out, and he tried to open his eyes, then closed them again. “Bright.”

Without having to ask Hustler hit the lights and Hulk closed the shades. I gave them a quick nod in thanks before returning my attention to Smoke. “Better?”

He tried again and his muzzy gaze quickly searched me out. “Baby girl.”

“Hi,” I said in a broken chirp.

“What happened?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I think it was when they tied me to that bed. There are bits and pieces after that, but nothing useful.” Grave shadows of what had to be remembered pain tightened the fine lines around his eyes. “What happened?”

Before I could say anything, Hustler spoke up in a rough voice, “I’ll tell you what the fuck happened. Swan went all Berserker Barbie on us and killed every mother fucker there, except one that Vance got.”

I swear there was anger in Smoke’s gaze and he opened his mouth to say something, but Hulk cut him off, “You’re real lucky to have such a good woman, Smoke. Without her you’d be playin’ pool with the devil right now. I expect you to use the rest of your sorry life to let her know how much you love her and how much she means to you. A woman like her is a gift from God. You better respect that gift, or he’ll take it away.”

To my shock, the anger dissipated, and Smoke sighed while I blushed at Hulk’s profuse praise. Smoke slowly lifted his good hand and placed it over mine before looking at Hustler. “Tell me everything.”

Hustler glanced my way. “Maybe we should wait until later.”

Smoke gave my hand the gentlest squeeze. “No, she stays. Swan’s a part of me, and anything you can say to me you can say to her.”

With a shrug Hustler nodded. A week ago he might have fought Smoke on revealing club business to me, but Veronica’s murder had changed him. He didn’t joke like he used to, and he was disturbingly quiet. It didn’t help that there was a rumor going around that Hustler was the traitor, and Veronica had known it, so he killed her. The very idea was outlandish, but the whole club was in an uproar knowing that someone among them was pretending to be their brother, a man they trusted, a man who still had a grudge against Smoke. I couldn’t help but wonder if the rumors behind Hustler being the traitor were started by Chief, but I brushed that thought to the side.

All I wanted to do right now was spend every moment I could with Smoke, to try and satisfy my never ending need for my man. As the guys discussed the political situation within the Iron Horse MC, I didn’t really pay attention, focused only on how vitally alive Smoke was in spite of the beatings he’d taken. Color had returned to his face, and he somehow appeared bigger, more alive than he had while he slept.

The moment Hulk left to go get Beach and Hustler left to go get a nurse, to let them know Smoke was awake, I leaned down and whispered in his ear, “We should have babies, soon.”

He blinked a couple times. “What?”

I flushed and gently stroked his curls. “Babies. I’ve been thinking about it, and I want to have them with you. Without a doubt you will be a wonderful father.”

He tried to smile, then grimaced. “Can we wait until I’m a little more healed up? I’m all for starting right now, but I’m afraid that while the mind is willing the flesh is weak.”

“I didn’t mean right this instant, dork. Just that I want to have children with you in the near future. I have it all planned out.”

The edges of his bruised lips twitched. “Do you now?”

“Yeah. We’re going to get married, then have a big reception at my parents’ place for all of our friends and family, including the club. We’ll live in your house, maybe add on some rooms for the kids and an office, then I’ll do freelance accounting work. I can either get online gigs or come work for you, like you suggested, as an independent contractor. We can do that for however long we want, and when we’re ready, I want to have at least four kids with you.”

“Four? Why four?”

“It’s a good, even number.” I shrugged, trying not to wince as the action pulled on my sore muscles. “I don’t know, it just sounds right for us.”

He gave a soft, strained chuckle. “It does.”

“You on board with this plan?”

“I am, but I want to make a couple requests.”

“Like what?”

“One, I want permission to pamper and spoil you whenever I want.”

“I can deal with that.”

“Two, I want you to promise me you’ll always come to me if you have a problem. No running off and playing hero. We’re a team, and we have to trust each other.”

“Agreed.”

“Three, I want to get married as soon as possible. We can have a ceremony later but I want you to be Mrs. Swan Santos by tomorrow.”

“What?”

Hulk chose that moment to come back in the room with a pretty middle-aged Asian nurse at his heels. She didn’t look happy to see me, and I couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t very nice to the staff whenever they tried to keep me away from Smoke, but when she caught sight of my man her smile was genuine. “Mr. Santos, it’s so good to see you awake. The doctor is on his way.”

Smoke sat up a little bit and gave her his no bullshit stare. Even with his swollen eyes and battered face, it was pretty effective. “I want a marriage license and a justice of the peace as soon as possible.”

He glanced at me as if asking if it was all right and I glared at him, then turned back to the nurse. “No, we don’t.”

Smoke made a pained noise and I turned back to him. “You don’t want to get married?”

“What? No, of course I do. But I want a real wedding, Smoke. Not here in the hospital on painkillers. Our wedding album would not be pretty. I want to do it right and we are spending the rest of our lives together, regardless of any stupid paper.” I touched his hair as gently as I could. “You own my heart, Miguel. I’m your old lady. Papers don’t mean shit.”

That familiar soft, warm, velvet brown that I adored filled his gaze as he roughly purred, “Baby.”

The nurse cleared her throat, and I glanced over at her then followed her wide eyed gaze, finding that yes indeed, a certain part of Smoke’s anatomy had made a full, vigorous recovery.

I didn’t care for the way the nurse was staring at his crotch so I covered him with my hands and said, “Mine.”

Smoke started to laugh, then groaned, and I quickly removed my hands, watching the blood drain from his face and other parts of his body. “Fuck, laughing hurts.”

The nurse recovered from the magic that is Smoke’s sexual voodoo and shook her head before saying, “Yes, well Mr. Santos you are a very lucky man. Ms. Anderson, if you could leave us for a few minutes there are some tests that the doctor will need to perform on Mr. Santos. I can call your nurse and she can help you freshen up.”

As soon as she said that, I became aware of the overall grungy level of my appearance and wanted to scrub the hell out of my hair ASAP.

“Yeah, that would be nice. Promise me I can come back?”

With a sigh, the nurse started fiddling with the machine next to Smoke. “I don’t think we could keep you away.”

I met Smoke’s gaze and fell into the warmth there, wrapping myself up in his all-encompassing, unconditional love for me.

Miguel ‘Smoke’ Santos

I stood beneath an archway of twining branches woven together and decorated with teal and silver ribbons along with, I shit you not, eight thousand dollars worth of flowers and other girly bullshit surrounding me on the soft green grass of the Anderson family’s compound. It was a beautiful early summer sunset, and the Christmas lights woven through the trees surrounding us, burned like fireflies. The perfect amount of warmth still filled the air, and the scent of everything growing mixed with the perfume of the roses, white lilacs, and orchids that decorated the end seat on each row of white-cloth-covered chairs.

It had been a long, hard winter and spring full of grief and healing, but right now, I felt like I was starting over again, like I’d been given a chance at a newer, better life.

The audience of over four hundred people all stared at me and my groomsmen, making me unusually nervous in my black tuxedo, while off to the side, a six-piece band played classical music. Even in the outdoor setting, the ceremony itself was elegant and high class, the result of Sarah’s obsessive wedding planning. Give that woman something to decorate and you better just hand over your credit card and get the fuck out of her way.

Especially when her pregnancy hormones were in full swing.

My good mood dimmed for a moment as I surveyed the audience, wondering if that mother fucker ‘Chief’ was out there somewhere, smiling and pretending to be happy for us while he plotted against me. That bastard had a shit ton to answer for. When I found him—and I would find him—he would pay. Motherfucker was slick and well connected. Right around the time we were being rescued, Cruz and his nephew Dipper, from the Iron Horse MC Austin Chapter, had been murdered, along with Donkey and Alisha up in Denver, probably to cover Chief’s tracks. Dead men tell no tales and all that shit.

Breaker and his men found all kinds of evidence in their home, including taped conversations that Donkey had made during his dealings with Chief, which had been hidden in a place where Khan could find them. Those tapes didn’t get us any closer to finding out who Chief was, but we did find out that Donkey and Alisha had turned because of some massive gambling debts they both owed. They’d also found a pair of sparkly blue shoes with dolphins on them in Alisha’s closet.

It had been a real blow to the fuckin’ chest for the club. Everyone was still wary about it, all of us wondering who else might be selling us out. Beach and I were hoping that this wedding would help bring people back together, to remind them that we’re family, and that we’re worth fighting for through the bad times to get to the good. My heart swelled with pride as I looked out over the crowd and briefly met the gazes of so many decent men and women who would always have my back, always be there for me, and for them, I would do the same.

Beach and Sarah’s four-month-old, blonde daughter, Kylie, sat on Beach’s Mom’s lap, who was crammed into the crowded front pew of the bride’s side with Mimi. Next to Mimi sat her sisters and father, the Don of the Stefano mafia family, which pretty much controlled southern Texas. Mimi dabbed at her eyes as the music for the wedding march started up. I’d met Swan’s grandfather yesterday at the rehearsal dinner that had turned into a big party. He had to be in his eighties and stood at about five-foot-two, but I believed him when he said he could make me disappear if I hurt Swan. My girl had actually gotten teary eyed at that statement and ambushed her grandfather with a hug. Yeah, that was the kind of family I was marrying into, and I couldn’t be happier.

The band struck up the opening music for the wedding march, and I took a deep breath, happy that the long wait to make Swan my wife was almost over.

There was movement at the flower-draped entrance to the giant, white-cloth-covered pavilion, easily as big as a circus tent, where dinner would be served. Three little brunette flower girls appeared, my nieces, dressed in their fancy gowns, chucking the pink and peach flower petals from their white satin baskets like baseballs. From the moment they met Swan at a family dinner my sister had hosted for us after I’d healed up a bit, they’d fallen in love with her, constantly wanting to brush her hair and do her makeup. They kind of treated Swan like a big doll, but she didn’t seem to mind. When I had my nieces over to spend the night, Swan spent the entire evening with them painting their nails, watching cartoons, and eating their body weight in brownies. Seeing her so at ease with them had been a punch to the gut in the best way, knowing that someday she’d have the same patience and love with our kids.

Next came the ring bearer, one of Swan’s young cousins from Mimi’s side of the family, a dark-haired kid who stared at my nieces. I narrowed my eyes at the way he gawked at them, not sure if he was scared or fascinated. Either way, I needed to keep an eye on him.

Julia followed them in a slinky pink silk gown that showed more of her curves than I was comfortable seeing. My brother-in-law, Tricks, was home and it looked like he was on his way to a medical discharge. His back was screwed up, and after the loss of Veronica, he didn’t have the heart to leave my sister and nieces. At the thought of Veronica, I closed my eyes for a moment and said a silent prayer that wherever she was, she was happy and I asked my parents to take care of her.

Once the girls were done flinging flower petals and settled into their seats, Lyric came out of the pavilion tent, her head held high and her long, wavy, brown hair flowing down her back. She looked cool and composed, but her flowers trembled visibly, and she kept nervously licking her lips. I fiddled with the edge of my jacket and watched as Lyric, Swan’s best friend, walked down the aisle in a silver sparkly gown that hugged her voluptuous hourglass figure usually hidden by dowdy clothing.

She’d shown up without an escort from the cult, but appeared worn down and exhausted at the party. Right now she seemed fine with a bright blush staining her cheeks and her light brown eyes sparkled. I made a mental note to get my guys to keep an eye on her tonight. With her innocence, she was like a sheep among wolves, and I wasn’t going to deal with Swan being pissed because Lyric got her heart broken by one of my friends. She glanced at my groomsmen and blushed harder, but I had no idea if she was looking at Hustler or Tom.