Epilogue 1
1.5 years later
Life is a strange and unpredictable thing. It’s wild and raw. It’s tough and infuriatingly imperfect—and for the first time in my twenty something years, I am loving every minute of it.
Since killing my mom, I’ve felt like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. My smiles and laughs are genuine. I no longer have nightmares, and I know I’ve found the place I belong. Not only am I the motherfucking queen to my king, but I feel like I’ve found a new family with the people closest to Rocco.
Gray and Gunner have become great friends, and, at times, despite only being three years younger than me, almost like fucking pseudo kids. Especially the former who’s really pulled himself together, but is still way too cocky for his own good. Fuck, he struts around like everyone is here for his entertainment. At least he tries. And when I can be bothered, I like to remind him of his place and the fact I can still kick his ass.
Since I don’t want to stroke his ego, I never tell him that it’s getting harder to beat him when we spar. If it wasn’t for Cain and Rocco training me, I wouldn’t stand a chance. But so far, so good.
Gunner is so different. While he’s as cocky as his pal, he’s more shy but also genuinely wants to make people happy. It’s one of the reasons I love seeing him with Rose, who hangs on his every word, practically worshiping him in silence.
“Are you ready?” Rocco asks, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet.
I pout and frown. “Now? I almost beat Gunner—”
“Like fuck you did,” Gunner laughs, his eyes crinkling. “I think you meant to say you almost beat Gray.”
Gunner quickly ducks out of the way as Gray tries to slap the back of his pal’s head.
Rose lets out an exasperated sigh. “I almost have you all beat, so shut up.” Then she looks up at me. “If you leave, do I get your chips?”
“Nuh-uh,” Gunner says, shaking his head. “That’s fucking cheating.”
Laughing, I follow Rocco, and we’re almost at the door when I look over my shoulder and yell, “Rose can have my chips and my Royal Flush.”
Ignoring the curses and giggles, I lean against Rocco, who wraps his arm around my shoulders.
“Nervous?” he asks.
The scar on his face moves every time he speaks, and I don’t mind saying it’s sexy as fuck. Though it’s been a year and a half, I’m still mesmerized by it. Or more accurately, knowing he suffered that to set me free, that’s the real turn on.
“Why would I be nervous?” I ask. “It’s just a meeting.”
He chuckles. “With Dante, Baz, and Cain.”
Yeah, when he puts it like that, I’m not exactly thrilled. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Cain, and I always will. Baz and Dante are another story, though. They’re nice enough, but every time they’re around, it’s like their presence sucks all the air from the room. Without them even uttering a word, you know you’re looking at people who are willing to go to great lengths to get what they want.
Luckily, what they want is justice. They just prefer to dole it out themselves rather than put their trust in a broken justice system. I swear, there’s a story there I haven’t heard yet.
“I’ll be fine,” I say.
We walk the rest of the way to Dante’s office in silence. When we get there, Rocco holds the door open and ushers me inside first. It’s such a small gesture, yet it makes my heart fucking swell.
“Such a gentleman,” I teasingly whisper. Then I wave at Cain. “Hi loco.”
He grins and lights up a cigarette. “Mi peque?o salvaje,” he greets. “Are you ready to leave Rocco and run away with me yet?”
I laugh and Rocco lets out a growl that’s anything but playful. “I told you to fucking stop that.”
Cain shrugs. “And I told you I wouldn’t.”
Baz gives me a nod. “Cara.” That’s the extent of his greeting.
“Can we get started? I have shit I need to do so I can get back to the UK,” Dante gripes.
As I take a seat next to Rocco, Cain turns to Dante. “I still don’t know what the hell is wrong with the Christmas presents I bought for the girls. They’ll need to learn to defend themselves eventually, and I even bought the knives in girly colors and had them engraved.”
Dante pinches the bridge of his nose, while Baz coughs to hide his laugh.
I cock my eyebrow at Cain because, as far as I know, the girls are only kids. So I can see how knives might not be appropriate.
But I’m thankful that Cain was interrupting the awkward hellos. Not that I’d ever admit it out loud, but I think I might be on Baz’s and Dante’s shit lists.
The first time I met them wasn’t the day we killed my mom, that’s just when I found out who they really are. During my three years in lockup, I saw them at least four times a year. Each time, they wanted me to say my killing was under duress, which I promptly refused.
I’m not sure why, but it was important to me that everyone knew I stood by my action, and I might have used colorful language and made a few suggestions of where they could shove their scheming.
If I’d known who the two men were, I might have held back on the insults. Then again, it’s possible I wouldn’t have. Even when I didn’t know their names and places in the Santa Cruz criminal world, I knew they were somebody. Especially since they were allowed to show up with presents that the guards didn’t search through, and we were always alone with no cameras on.
“Let’s get down to it,” Baz says, looking straight at Dante. “Call the fucking vote.”
Dante turns his head to Rocco. “You’re sure? It’s not too late to change your mind.”
I place my hand on Rocco’s thigh and squeeze, silently giving him my support. This is the first meeting I’m attending, and he made it clear I’m only here because he wants me to be a part of it, which I get.
“I’m sure,” Rocco says. “So let’s vote.”
“All those in favor of Rocco expanding the Diamond Crew by creating an MC to take over here in Santa Cruz.”
Baz, Dante, and Rocco immediately say yes. The only one not speaking up is Cain. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.
“No.”
I can’t help laughing at how predictable that is.
“W-what?” Rocco sputters. “Why the fuck not?”
For fuck’s sake, sometimes my husband really is fucking clueless.
“It has to be unanimous,” Dante says. “So let’s hear your misgivings.”
Cain just shrugs. “I don’t want to.”
And there it is, the thing these men are too stupid to see. Cain doesn’t want to lose Rocco, and I’m apparently the only one who saw it coming a mile away.
I squeeze Rocco’s thigh harder and murmur, “Talk to him.”
My husband looks quizzically at me, but I’m not going to spell it out for him. If he wants this, he needs to convince Cain. If he can’t, how the hell can he lead an MC?
It’s not like I have doubts. I know Rocco can do it, just as I know he’s the right man for the job. But that doesn’t mean he can skate through it. As a leader, he should have known Cain was going to object—and more importantly, why.
“What the fuck, Cain?” Rocco thunders, sounding equal parts confused and annoyed. “What exactly is your problem?”
I bite down on my lip and run my hand up Rocco’s thigh, very deliberately grazing his junk. If he wasn’t wearing jeans, I might even have had some fun here at the table. But alas, that’s not happening.
Cain slaps his hands onto the table and stands so abruptly his chair falls over. “I said I don’t want to. And we all know I don’t do anything unless I feel like it.”
As Rocco leaps to his feet as well, Baz and Dante snicker, and I roll my eyes because that’s both the truth and a lie all in one. Cain has a knack for finding a reason to want something, and as he says, if he doesn’t, then he… well, then that’s just not happening.
Like when Rose, Alana, Gray, and Gunner made a bet with him to dye his hair green and have it like that for a job. If Cain hadn’t wanted that, it wouldn’t have happened. The crazy fucker had a lot of fun with it, though.
When Rocco hurls an insult across the table and Cain just shrugs it off, I can’t keep my mouth shut any longer.
“Have you tried asking him nicely?” I ask Rocco as I study my nails. “Without swearing?”
Baz chuckles. “I’d pay good money to see that.”
Dante grins at his pal. “I have a feeling Cara’s about to give us the show for fucking free.”
As I look at them, they both wink and smile in my direction. Huh, okay, so maybe I’m not on their shit lists after all.
Rocco takes a deep breath and runs a hand down his face. The tips of his fingers almost caress the scar, and my pussy throbs.
“Why don’t you want to?” he asks. This time he sounds genuinely perplexed.
Cain throws his hands up in the air. “Everyone is fucking leaving. Dante’s fucking playing full-time nanny across the big ocean, and now you want to tinker with bikes. No.”
And there’s part of the reason Cain’s refused any involvement and leaves the room whenever Rocco talks about the MC.
Dante nods thoughtfully. “That’s not the entire reason.”
“Of course not,” Rocco barks. “What else?”
“You’re bloody blind,” Baz says with an exasperated sigh, and I nod in agreement.
Looking at Cain, I say, “You’re running the Diamond Crew when Dante isn’t around, right?”
He nods.
“And if Rocco’s leading the MC you two will need to work on your communication issues.”
Both Dante and Baz murmur their agreement, and Dante reminds us once again that he has things to do. Something with needing to find a specific pair of shoes or Caitlin will never forgive him. Brat.
“Cain,” Dante prompts, but his second in command just shakes his head.
Having had enough, I speak up. “Rocco, why the hell did you never ask Cain to join you?”
My husband looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “Because Dante would fucking kill me.”
“He could try,” I mutter as I palm the knife strapped to my thigh. Then I look up at Rocco. “You could still ask and let it be Cain’s choice.”
“Is that what this is about?” Rocco asks Cain. “You want a fucking invitation?”
Men!
When Cain just shrugs looking at Rocco, like he wants to fucking pummel him, I sigh. “Am I going to run the MC with you if you get their approval?” I ask as I gesture between the other three.
“Of course,” Rocco answers immediately.
“Cain.” I wait until he looks at me. “Do you want to join the MC with us?”
He beams at me. “Why, Cara, thank you so much for asking. But no. I have no interest in riding bikes and getting oil all over my clothes.”
I open my mouth, ready to give Cain a smart ass reply, but Dante beats me to it. “Can we do another vote now?”
Once Rocco and Cain are seated, Dante calls for another vote. Like before, he and Baz are quick to say yes.
“Fine,” Cain mumbles, still sounding put out. “But I want a fucking open invitation.”
“That was never a fucking question you idiot,” Rocco retorts. “You’re not getting rid of us that easily.”
Though he does his best to hide it, Cain looks relieved.
Now that Rocco and I officially have the Diamond Crew’s blessing, we leave and head back to our beach shack.
“Are you ever going to let me ride that thing?” I ask Rocco when I get off his bike.
The look of horror on his face is priceless, and I still can’t tell if it’s real or not.
“Absolutely not. You’d ruin her within seconds.”
I cock my brow. “Her? You’re telling me the bike is a she?”
He grins and takes my hand as we walk into our house.
“Home sweet home,” I call out.
It’s hard to believe how much I love this place now, but I can’t imagine living anywhere else. I know that I have to once we get the MC going, but I’m secretly hoping it isn’t anytime soon. I’m not ready to share what we have here with other people.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Rocco says as he walks into the bathroom and starts running the tap while picking up his razor.
We have another job tonight, and at the mere mention of it, I’m itching to dole out punishment to the fuckers. These aren’t the main players, so Rocco says it’s going to be a quick in and out. I say the bastards deserve to scream for hours.
I walk over to the bathroom and lean against the door frame. “I know,” I say.
Looking around, I’m again reminded of the weeks Rocco slaved away. He pulled out all the tiles and redid the entire floor with vinyl.
If that doesn’t say love, I don’t know what does.
“We have time to get dirty first.” Wiggling my eyebrows, I slowly walk backward. “Unless you can’t catch me.”
Rocco drops his razor and lets out a playful growl that goes straight to my clit. “You better run fucking fast, Killer.”
I squeal and spin around, running for the back door. But before I can reach it, Rocco wraps his arm around me and hauls me back against his hard body.
“Finders keepers,” he rasps.
Not in the mood to delay my gratification by fighting him, I arch my back and glide my ass over his cock. He growls and moves his hand to my bare thigh, sliding it up under my skirt.
He chuckles as he skims the knife. “I should have known you had it hidden here.” Then he continues, trailing his fingers up my inner thigh so slow I can barely stand it.
“Hurry up,” I hiss. “I want you inside me.”
The moment I show my impatience, Rocco stops moving. “Beg me,” he demands.
I shake my head.
“That’s okay,” he rasps. “I can wait.”
It’s frustratingly true. Rocco is way too patient for my liking, especially when it comes to denying me. Last year there was a time I thought I could outwait him, but after two days I admitted defeat and begged him to finally let me come. While it was the best orgasm I’ve ever had, I’m not sure it was worth it.
“But I can’t,” I retort. I bite down on my lip to stop myself from letting my temper get the better of me. “Please touch me again, mi rey.”
Rocco groans and thrusts his cock against my ass before pulling me into the living room, where he immediately sits down on the couch.
“Strip for me, Killer.”
The heat in his eyes has me gasping, and wetness spreads between my folds. Fuck, how can he turn me on with his look alone?
When I nod, he pulls his phone out of his back pocket and puts some music on. As the sensual tones reach my ears, I sway my hips to the beat.
The leather crop top I’m wearing has a zipper between my tits, and I reach for it. Slowly lowering it until my breasts spill out.
“No bra,” Rocco rasps, licking his lips as he undoes his jeans.
I’m so transfixed by watching him lift his ass and pull his pants and boxers down that I forget to breathe. His cock juts out proudly from his body, bobbing as he pulls his shirt over his head.
“Fuck,” I breathe when he stands completely naked in front of me.
“Not yet,” he smarts, sitting back down. He wraps his hand around his length, stroking it slowly. “And not at all if you keep me waiting.” His husky tone causes a shiver to work its way down my spine.
I close my eyes, centering myself as I become one with the music. I palm my tits, pinching the nipples before sliding my hands down my flat stomach, all the way to my skirt. Rocco’s eyes stay on mine as I unfasten the skirt, letting it pool at my feet.
After stepping out of the fabric, I turn around so my back’s to Rocco. I bend all the way until my palms meet the floor. Then I pick up the skirt, doing it slower than I need to so I can taunt him with the view.
“Keep the boots on,” Rocco rasps. He loves my thigh-high stiletto boots almost as much as I do.
I throw the skirt to the side and drop to my haunches. My hands go to the soft globes of my ass, and I spread them as the sound of Rocco jerking off becomes louder.
“Mi rey,” I moan. “Come play with me.”
I barely have time to breathe before he’s behind me, wrapping my long hair around his fist.
“Get on all fours. Now.”
Moving while he holds my hair like that isn’t easy, but I manage. And I’m rewarded with his fingers sliding between my folds.
“Rocco!” I cry out as he moves two digits inside me.
He picks up the pace, fucking me so good with his fingers. As he curls them inside me, I begin to shake, unable to hold back.
“Come on my fucking hand, Killer,” he demands, and I do.
As the orgasm tears through me, Rocco replaces his fingers with his cock, sheathing himself in one, hard thrust.
I’m fucking soaring. Instead of coming down from my orgasm, it feels like his movements build on it. I move one hand between my legs, eagerly finding and rolling my clit.
Rocco moves his free hand to my shoulder, holding me in place as he fucks me with long, hard strokes. He pulls almost out before slamming back inside me.
“Your pussy feels so fucking good, Killer,” he groans. He pulls on my hair and uses the other hand to pull me up so my back is to his front and I’m almost sitting in his lap. “Ride me until your pussy squeezes the cum from me.”
My breath hitches and I begin to move. Rocco nuzzles against the crook of my neck, nibbling and licking the skin. My body is hot, and I’m covered in a sheen of sweat.
I’m close, so fucking close I can practically taste it. I cry out his name over and over, until I come again, and my pussy squeezes him.
“That’s it, Killer,” he growls. “Cara… so… oh fuck.”
My legs turn to jelly and I can barely stay in place as he comes deep inside me. Rocco turns my head to the side, and I eagerly kiss him when our lips are only a breath apart. Unlike our fucking, the kiss is soft, his tongue caressing mine with lazy strokes.
Without breaking the kiss, he lifts me up and cradles me against his chest as he takes us into the bathroom. I cling to him as he begins to fill the tub.
“I love getting dirty with you before we clean up,” I giggle, feeling so happy I don’t know how I’m containing it.
Rocco chuckles and puts me down. “And I love seeing you punish people, which you’ll miss out on if we don’t hurry up.”
“Can’t wait,” I say enthusiastically.
“Mi castigadora,” Rocco rasps, and I raise my brows in surprise at him using Spanish words I haven’t taught him.
Especially that one since it means ‘my punisher’.
“Tu castigadora,” I agree.
Your punisher.