Chapter 17
Axel
Three Weeks Later
I woke to the sound of the bathroom fan humming. I thought I heard the sound of retching in the background. Bolting out of the bed, I went to the restroom to investigate.
The last few weeks had been a blur of getting the girls into school, organizing our life, and Tracey and I finding every excuse imaginable to tangle ourselves in the sheets.
This woman I love had become more like her old self.
She was now sleeping without nightmares and settling permanently into my house.
The thought of her suffering from some medical problem made my chest ache.
She’d been through too much in life to be saddled with medical issues now.
Stopping at the bathroom door, I asked, “Trace, are you alright?”
I heard another gag, and water splashing. I knocked once before pushing the door open. She bent over the sink, hair hanging in her face, her body trembling.
She looked up at me with watery eyes, “I’m fine.” Reaching for a towel to wipe her mouth, she added, “Or… at least, I think I’m fine.”
“Baby, you’re pale and shaking.” I came to stand beside her. When she straightened up, I rubbed her back. “Could it be food poisoning?”
Her eyes jumped to the counter, to an open pharmacy bag. A row of slim white boxes. And four little sticks lined up, side by side along the sink. Each of them had faint pink lines staring back at me. They were fucking pregnancy tests.
I blinked, my brain grinding to a halt. “Tracey?”
Her laugh came out shaky, almost nervous. “I wasn’t sure. I thought maybe it was stress. But I kept… I mean, we haven’t exactly been careful, Axel.”
I let out a low curse, half shock, half awe. My hand slid from her back to her stomach, pressing over the soft fabric of her tee. “Are you telling me you could be pregnant? With my child?”
She swallowed, gazing up at me with such hope. “They all came back positive.”
I was stunned. It’s not that I didn’t know where babies came from.
I just thought that when our time came, I would have to work hard at getting her pregnant.
Clearly, I was mistaken about that. I picked up one of the strips and stared into the square with the faint pink line.
“Does this mean we’re having another girl? ”
“No, everything pink does not mean girl. Would you be disappointed with another girl?”
I hauled her against me, laughing roughly into her hair. “No. Of course not. I’d love another girl or a boy. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Are you sure you want another child right away?”
“Tracey, that’s fucking incredible. We’re gonna be parents of a brand-new baby.”
“You’re not mad?” she whispered, her voice low.
“Mad? That’s crazy talk.” I held her face between my hands so I could look into her eyes. “I’m the happiest man on earth right now.”
I kissed her, hard and deep, so she would know I loved her. All I cared about was the woman in my arms and the little ones, the life we’d made together, and that good things were finally coming our way.
***
At church that afternoon, I didn’t even try to hold it back. I stood up at the end of the meeting and announced, “I’m gonna be a dad. Tracey’s pregnant.”
It was still early, but I was too excited to keep the news to myself.
The place erupted with clapping, cheers, and laughter. It felt good to finally have something truly good happen in my life. Tracey and the girls were that for me. The new baby was just icing on the cake.
Later, when we were in the clubhouse bar, Celt and Storm approached me and Tracey. Celt slapped me on the back. “You both deserve good things, brother.” Storm joined in, “Good news like this deserves a celebration. How about you and Tracey let us take you two out to dinner?”
Tracey started to protest, but Celt cut her off, “Ye can’t say no, lass. Storm hardly offers fancy dinners so you should jump at the chance.”
Gracie and Zoe joined in, hugging Tracey. They fussed over her until she blushed. Angel volunteered to babysit the girls again.
That’s how, a few hours later, the six of us ended up at a restaurant overlooking the river.
It was fancy. The kind of place with a wine list that paired with certain dishes.
Where important men come to loosen their ties after work.
This was not our usual kind of hangout, but Storm had insisted on somewhere decent.
We were seated at a nice table in the back, me and Tracey, Celt with Gracie, and Storm with Zoe.
We had the menus in front of us and I was trying to figure out what half of the dishes were.
Tracey’s hand stayed locked with mine under the table, her thumb brushing lazy circles on my skin. For once, everything felt right.
“Order whatever you want, sweetness,” I told her, as I looked over the menu. “Tonight’s all about you.”
She smiled at me. “Are you sure? I couldn’t have done this alone.”
“It’s about us then,” I told her.
I leaned in to kiss her temple. And heard a voice from the next table speak. The voice was familiar, loud, and arrogant. It was also slurred. I froze in place to listen.
“…told them it’d be easy. Stupid bikers, couldn’t balance a checkbook if their lives depended on it.”
Storm’s head lifted first. Then Celt’s brows knit, his jaw tight.
It was Richard Sterling, Bryce’s father.
He was seated just one row over. Pulling out my cell phone, I opened the camera, flipped to front-facing, and set it so Richard was in frame over my shoulder.
He had a glass of whiskey in one hand. Three men in expensive suits were sitting around his table.
They appeared to be hanging on every word.
“I got their businesses flagged, insurance canceled, and a whole lot more. I did shit to them that they don’t even know about yet.
They’ll be choking on paperwork before they figure it out.
And the best part is they think it was my idiot son.
God help him, but Bryce couldn’t tie his own shoes without help. ”
The other men chuckled, raising their glasses.
Gracie’s hand shot across the table, gripping Celt’s wrist before he could stand. Zoe touched Storm’s arm, soothing him.
Me? I just kept recording every fucking word this dickhead said.
Richard kept going, voice rising with drink.
“You know what started it? That whore daughter-in-law of mine. She called the cops, dragged our name through the mud. Got my boy arrested.” His tone dropped venomous.
“Then that same little tramp was with Eleanor when she died. She acts all innocent, but I know better. If she’d been paying attention, my wife might still be alive. ”
Tracey flinched like she’d been struck. My chest split open.
I wanted to throttle the stupid fucker for saying all that nasty shit about Tracey but also for what he did to our club.
Storm’s voice was low, controlled. “Not here. Not tonight.”
Celt said, “The bastard’s begging for it, Storm.”
“Axel’s getting it all. Stupid fucker is all but making a damn confession.”
Tracey whispered so only I could hear. “He’s wrong about Eleanor. About all of it really.”
“I know, darlin’,” I told her soothingly. “He’s just looking for someone to blame.”
Richard raised his glass again, oblivious to how close he was to getting dragged out by his tie. “Mark my words, gentlemen. The Dark Slayers will fold, and it’ll be all my doing. You don’t need bullets when you can strangle a man with paper.”
Storm leaned back in his chair. Though he seemed calm, I could see the anger in his ice blue eyes. “We have what we need,” he murmured. “Axel has it right there in his hand.”
I forced myself to breathe, to stay seated, and to keep on recording.
Richard Sterling thought he was going to break our club with complaints and audits. He hadn’t seen what we’d do when we took the gloves off, but he was about to learn.
Richard repeated himself, “They’ll drown in paperwork before they figure it out. Dark Slayers don’t even realize it’s me. They think it was Bryce.”
He leaned back in his chair, drunk on his own genius. “And that little tramp Tracey ruined my son. She ruined this family. If she’d paid attention, my wife would still be alive.”
I hated how drunks just repeated themselves. That was the kind of stupid shit my old lady didn’t need to hear once, much less twice. I didn’t move. Just kept the phone steady, catching every poisonous word.
Storm’s eyes lifted to mine and he jerked his chin at me. It was a silent question. Did you catch all that?
I gave the slightest nod in response.
When Richard finally got up and stumbled away with his cronies, I stopped recording and forwarded it straight to Harvey, with the message:
Me: You gonna handle this, or do we?
The reply came faster than I expected.
Harvey: Jesus Christ, what a gigantic asshole. Sit tight. I’ll make sure this sticks.