Chapter Eight #4
“Babies? Plural?” Jock smiled at her, stretching out on the couch and bringing her down to lie on top of him. “That’s a lotta things to plan for. We’ll need a list. Hell, maybe several lists.” He kissed her softly, and she stared into his eyes, tearing up when he said, “I want babies too. Plural.”
“Not today, but someday.” She leaned forwards and kissed him soundly.
“Someday,” he agreed, and then he rolled them, Silly finding herself the bottom layer in a Jock/Silly sandwich.
“Jock, is that a weasel in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?”
He responded by grazing his lips along her jaw and nibbling down the column of her throat. She shivered. He shifted to arch against her core, then off to the side, lying next to her with a whispered “I’m always glad to see you.”
The intimacy lingered, a promise of more nights behind closed doors, building their world one resilient step at a time.
***
Jock
“Brother,” he said, standing as he answered the phone.
He’d been sitting too long. “Gonna hear some questionable noises for a minute. Be obliged if you’d ignore them.
” In the bathroom, he unfastened the buttons of his fly and pulled his cock out quickly.
“Oh, man.” The stream hit the porcelain loudly.
“You’re pissing?” Twisted sounded taken aback.
“Yeah, brother. I’ve been slamming coffee all day and just got up from the couch.
Of course I’m pissing.” He finished as he spoke, giving his dick two shakes before tucking it back in his pants.
“I’m done now, if it bothered you so much, Prez.
” He turned on the water after he flushed the toilet, rinsing his hands, phone propped on one shoulder.
“And now I’m all clean again. We’re out of the unspeakable room too. Speak, my friend.”
“I’m still just in awe that Saint Jock pisses.
That’s new information. Give me a minute to absorb it.
” Twisted laughed, then sighed. “So I’ve got something to share.
But this is not me telling you to do a damn thing.
Me and your brothers will have it handled.
I just didn’t want you to hear about it after the fact, you know? ”
“No, I don’t know—you haven’t told me yet. Is it something to do with Calder?”
“On the nose. He’s been dancing around our territory since I cut him back as a prospect to Common Enemy. He hates IMC. Hates us. Would do anything to harm the club. The last bullshit he pulled was before you came down to play in my swamp.” The longer he talked, the more angry Twisted sounded.
“Okay, but he’s in jail. Unless he’s been bailed out?”
“No, judge ruled against bail on the idea Calder would be a flight risk, which I think was an astute read of the situation. We’ve just found a couple more hoses of information about his movements in the past few months.
” Noise filtered through the phone, and Twisted said, “Yes, I’m telling him right now.
Now get the fuck out of my office, Wild. Worry about your own self.”
“Did you just quote a meme at him?” Jock laughed.
“It’s a viral video, not a meme. Not the point.
Point is, Calder’s been helping a club make inroads in our territory.
I’ve been distracted and wasn’t paying attention in the right places.
But that ends tonight. I’ve got men pulled from Baton Rouge to help us deal.
But I do not need your ass in the column.
Do you understand me? I want you where you are, with your pretty little Silly and your needy dogs. You get me?”
Jock tried to unclench his jaw, teeth grinding noisily as he did. “You telling me you don’t need me, President?”
“Oh, fuck you and your feelings. Hell yes, I need you, but I do not want you on this run. Listen to what I’m not saying.”
Jock closed his eyes, listening to Silly talking lowly to the dogs, happiness in every word. He turned to look at her and found her bright eyes fixed on him. She gave him a slow smile that he’d kill to keep. “I hear you, brother.”
“Fucking finally. Now go back to your old lady. Don’t forget to grab her vest. Miss Danielle reminded me this morning.”
“Oh, shit, yeah. We’ll pick that up tomorrow. Thanks.”
“Finally he says the word. You’re welcome, Jock.”
The call disconnected, and Jock locked the screen before putting it in his pocket.
“Everything okay?”
Jock picked up his head and stared back at Silly. “Yeah, just Twisted telling me he wants me here tonight. Something with Calder’s contacts, but I’m under orders.” He grinned. “Don’t tell him it’s no hardship, yeah?”
“That’ll be our little secret.” She held out her arms. “Better get really close so I can be sure you’re still here.”
He went eagerly.
***
With Silly home, the house was warm with her presence. She was still giddy from the show, talking in exclamation points as she remembered another topic. Right now, her tattoo gear was spread across the kitchen table like a welcome ritual.
Tank was sprawled in one corner, Maynard tucked against him, both dogs watching with lazy eyes as Silly prepped her machine.
She’d insisted on inking him today. It would be the memorial for Maynard, those mismatched eyes rendered in fine lines over Jock’s heart, a symbol of survival.
“Shirt off, big guy,” she said, her voice teasing but soft as she guided him to the chair.
Jock complied, settling in as she transferred the stencil, her fingers tracing his skin with a touch that sent warmth spreading.
The buzz of the needle started, a familiar sting he welcomed, her free hand steady on his chest. It wasn’t long before he was in the welcome fog that a tattoo session brought.
Floating there in the ether, he could feel the long, deep strokes of the dark lines she was slashing across his skin.
He could also feel the heated stillness of the less painful spread of color.
“Looks perfect,” he murmured, watching her work. Maynard’s eyes stared back from the design, blue and brown, fierce yet vulnerable. “Like he’s watching over us.”
Silly glanced up, her eyes meeting his, the show’s energy still buzzing in her smile. “He is. And so are we. For him, for Tank, for each other.” She paused the machine, leaning in to brush a kiss against his lips.
Jock’s heart swelled, the knowledge that he held her love painting a balm across his soul. “Yeah, baby. You, me, the boys—and whatever comes next. You’re my family.” He cupped her face, deepening the kiss, romance blooming amid the ink and quiet domesticity.
But as she resumed tattooing, Jock’s mind flickered to the conversation with Twisted.
Which in retrospect sounded even more like a warning than it had at the time.
If Calder’s crew had ties to rivals eyeing IMC territory, then this had never been just about a dog and could spill into something bloodier.
He pushed it down, focusing on Silly’s touch, but the tension lingered, a shadow hinting at danger ahead.
A truck pulled up outside as she finished bandaging the fresh ink, the engine’s rumble a call to action. It was Ace.
“I’m going to check with him. Maybe he’s got news.”
“Be safe, baby. Come back to us.”
“Always,” he promised, stepping into the dusk, the new tattoo a talisman against the dark.