Epilogue
EPILOGUE
BUTCHER
I t should be a happy evening.
Earlier today, Smoke made Quinn his old lady.
And after a hard day working on their apartment over the bakery, we’re all cleaned up and back at the clubhouse to celebrate.
I smile as Ember, Raven, and Quinn pose for a photograph, their backs to the camera, looking over their shoulders to show off their matching Property of leathers.
I mean, that’s what you hope for your men.
Strong women who know their worth and who understand the love and honor that goes with a property patch.
Atom fucks around with the phone, turning it left and right and pretending he’s being one of those fancy fashion photographers.
Smoke stands with his arm around Wraith’s shoulder, laughing as he does.
A trio of men finding their fucking happiness.
But there’s something not right in my world.
I can’t find happiness in this anymore.
There should be peace for a while.
But there’s a tension in me, like a string pulled too tight that’s about to fray and unravel.
Maybe I’m the cause of it all.
Because King is a natural leader of the New Jersey chapter.
I see the way he is with his men.
I see how different they all are but have also witnessed how close they are.
I mean, every MC brotherhood is close.
You have to be.
It’s a test of honor and loyalty to even join.
But there’s a synchronicity between the New Jersey Outlaws.
Like they know what the others are thinking.
They each know their role, their strengths, even their weaknesses.
They know who to deploy against any situation.
I feel like I’ve spent my whole life making up shit as I go along.
Being lucky, more often than not, that I made the right call.
Living with the consequences of making the wrong ones.
“You okay, Butcher?” Grudge asks.
He sits down next to me at the bar, nursing his beer.
As my vice president, he should be the man I confide in most.
And yet, he isn’t.
I might be doubting my own skills, but there’s no reason to let anyone else know.
The last thing I need is the men doubting me because I’m doubting myself.
Although, the way I behaved with Atom and Ember probably has them scratching their heads already.
I love this club; I made it my life for thirty years.
I put it ahead of my wife.
I put it ahead of my daughter.
I’ve put it ahead of every other opportunity I’ve ever been given.
It’s all I have.
Every ounce of myself is tied up in it.
And yet, I feel as though I might have given it all I can.
“Yeah. Big night for Smoke, eh?” I tip my glass in his direction, just as Quinn walks up to him and twirls in front of him.
If I know those two, they’ll probably go find some quiet corner to fuck.
Hopefully, one where I can’t see Smoke’s ass beating double time.
Grudge nods. “Bold man. You think you’ll ever bite the bullet again?”
Vehemently, I shake my head.
“Fuck, no. Ember arrived three nights before I turned eighteen. While other eighteen-year-olds were out celebrating, I was changing my first diaper. Love Ember. Loved Ember’s mom, gave it a shot. But this life, this club, it means you don’t have a lot left to give a family.” I shrug, uncertain why I’m telling him all this.
“Priorities blur. Not going to put myself in a position where I need to choose, ever again. Plus, I’m not getting any younger. Got my own way of doing things. You?”
“Never again.” Grudge grins as if I’m speaking his language and clinks his drink to mine.
“To open road, open bars, and open legs.”
I huff a laugh at the toast. “Yeah, to all that.”
I swallow a large chug of whiskey and look around for one of the club girls.
Any’ll do. Not that I really feel like fucking.
I just feel like getting out of this room, and a woman is the only reason that it can happen without someone coming to disturb me in ten minutes.
I see Karlie and Isla.
The two of them will do.
Hell, for the first fifteen minutes, I won’t have to do a thing because they’ll play with each other while I pretend to watch.
“Prez,” a prospect says.
“There’s a woman at the clubhouse gate asking for you. Said to tell you that the bloodstain came out for the price of a wet-vac hire.”
My dead heart thuds.
A single drop of anticipation.
Greer.
Memories of that night strike me.
Of being stripped of my cut in the van and being bundled into a car too small for my frame.
Of leaning on Greer as she helped me into her house.
Of letting her operate on me on her dining table and having her stitch me up and care for me and control my fever.
Of telling the brothers to not come get me yet.
Of pretending there was heat around her house to keep them away.
Of tearing myself out of her warm bed, away from her warm body.
Of making the much younger surgeon a promise.
Then breaking it.
“Let her in. I’ll meet her outside the clubhouse.”
Club life isn’t for everyone.
The fewer people who know who she is to me, the better.
She already risked herself for me.
Being an accessory to the club comes with a price.
As I walk outside, I find there’s a bubble of excitement in my belly at the thought of seeing her.
Suddenly, it matters that I didn’t shower this morning and there’s whiskey on my breath.
She’s not in her car, but a black one.
And when she pulls up outside the club, she doesn’t smile when she sees me.
God, I forgot how pretty she is.
All that white-blonde hair is bundled up in a tight braid and covered by a black ball cap.
The brim does little to hide the sharp cheekbones and wide blue eyes.
But even in the half light, I can see the shadows beneath them.
“Greer,” I say, “you shouldn’t have come here.”
She glances around and takes a step closer.
“Is there somewhere we can talk? Privately?”
I glance around the deserted lot in front of the club with nothing but lines of motorcycles and trucks.
“Here is as good as any. It’s packed inside. You doing okay?”
She huffs.
“Since the day you woke up, crawled out of my bed, and just left?”
I point to the clubhouse.
“You clearly knew where I was.”
“I don’t chase men across the state.”
I look at those fat lips, wanting to feel them on me again.
Although the surgeon might be closer to a navy bootcamp officer in tone, when she came apart in my arms, when she trusted me enough to give her the orgasm she couldn’t find anywhere else, I wondered for a moment if anyone else would ever do it for me again.
“Then, why are you here?”
“The men you were fighting—is it over?”
I shake my head but figure the truth will get her out of here faster than anything else.
“For now. Will take a lot to come back from what we did. But this is my life. Not sure it will ever really be over. Why?”
“Is there any way they could possibly know about me?”
I shake my head.
“Not unless you were followed tonight.”
“I borrowed a friend’s car and made sure I wasn’t followed. Hence the hat and clothes.”
The black makes her look like she’s about to break in through the ceiling of an art museum and steal some shit.
“So, they can’t possibly know about us?” she asks again.
“No. And you should go to make sure it stays that way. I’ll always be grateful for your help, and I’m sorry for leaving without a word, but it’s better that people don’t know there’s a link between us.”
Greer looks up at me and sighs.
“Thanks for being honest with me.” She hands me a card.
“Stay safe.”
“Who was that?” Catfish asks, joining me outside the clubhouse as she gets into the car and pulls away.
“Dr. Greer Hanson.”
“So, the mystery doctor really does exist.”
I watch her disappear down the dirt road to the gate, knowing she’s always going to carry a small piece of me with her.
Once she’s out of sight, I open the envelope.
Dear Butcher,
You should know I’m pregnant.
You don’t owe me anything.
It was a risk we took.
But I’ll keep the two of us safe.
Greer
“Fuck me,” I growl.
I never thought I’d want another kid.
But the idea of Greer carrying mine sets something feral loose inside me.
And there’s no way I’m letting her disappear from my life.