Chapter Thirty-Nine
HER brEATH WARMED the center of my chest, slow and steady, her cheek pressed against me like she’d glued herself there in her sleep. Sheets were tangled round our legs, early mornin’ sun bleedin’ pale gold through the curtains.
Sable was still out cold, and I didn’t dare move.
My arm curved round her bare back, hand spread low across her spine like my body was tryin’ to memorize every damn inch of her. Maybe it was. Hell, maybe I was.
I stared up at the ceilin’, but my head was still back in the dark—her lips on mine, her nails diggin’ deep in my shoulders like she wasn’t the least bit afraid to want me. Wasn’t afraid to take what she needed.
No woman ever gotten to me like this.
Wasnt just the sex—though, Christ almighty—but the way she looked at me after. Like I was hers. Like she wasn’t scared of what it meant.
I ain’t never had that before.
I eased a hand through her hair, slow, careful not to wake her yet. Softer than it looked, thick and wild. She sighed in her sleep, curled tighter into me, slingin’ a leg over mine, skin to skin.
My chest ached. Not the hurtin’ kind, the kind that reminded a man he was feelin’ somethin’ he thought was buried six feet deep.
How the hell’d she tear through every wall I’d spent years buildin’?
She stirred, fingers flexin’ against my ribs. Took in a deep breath like she wasn’t ready to leave her dream. Then her lips parted, voice soft, barely there.
“Zeke…”
I dropped my gaze. Her eyes still shut, lips flushed and full, stealin’ the rest of the air from my lungs.
“Yeah, baby,” I rasped.
Her lashes lifted, and when she smiled at me—fuck if it didn’t wreck me clean through.
“You’re still here,” she whispered.
“Not goin’ nowhere.”
She shifted higher against me, body pressin’ to mine, mouth findin’ the corner of my jaw, slidin’ lower. Her hand skimmed down my stomach, nails draggin’ just enough to make me hiss.
I caught her at the nape, pulled her into a kiss, slow, deep, the kind that spoke promises a man couldn’t put words to. She hooked her leg over my hip, breath catchin’ when I rolled her with me, heat sparkin’ all over again—
And that’s when the damn door creaked open.
“Momma, I—” Zara’s little voice cut off quick.
I froze. Sable went stiff beneath me.
Zara stood in the doorway, hair stickin’ up every which way, clutchin’ her stuffed animal. Her big eyes blinked wide, then narrowed, suspicion lightin’ fast.
Shit.
I sat up quick, draggin’ the sheet over us. Sable grabbed it too, cheeks burnin’, hair a wild mess.
“What is it, sweetheart?” she asked gentle, like nothin’ was wrong.
“I’m hungry,” Zara said, shufflin’ further in.
Sable cleared her throat, clutchin’ the sheet to her collarbone. “Okay, go on back in your room with Malik, and I’ll be there once I’m dressed.”
Zara tilted her head, then giggled at me. “Malik said you liked our Momma!” She hugged that stuffed animal tighter, gave us a look far too grown for her age, and marched right back out, door clickin’ shut behind her.
Silence.
I glanced at Sable. Her hand flew up coverin’ her mouth, eyes wide, then she broke. Quiet laugh first, then harder, buryin’ her face in the pillow.
I couldn’t help it, I laughed too.
“Well,” I muttered, “there goes round two.”
Sable shook her head, still grinnin’, cheeks pink. “Next time,” she managed between laughs, “we lock the door.”
“Next time,” I agreed, kissin’ her shoulder. “And darlin’, there’s sure as hell gonna be a next time. I’ll make damn sure of it.”
***
THE SMELL OF eggs, bacon, and burnt toast hit me before I even stepped in the kitchen.
Mornin’ at the clubhouse never been quiet, chairs screechin’, forks clinkin’, somebody bitchin’ the coffee’s too strong while a prospect laughed like he owned the place.
A couple of the boys sat hunched at the counter, eyes red as hell, shovelin’ food like they was tryin’ to hold on to it.
Fiona set another plate of them mouthwaterin’ biscuits down in front of ’em — that woman could bake her way outta any trouble.
Josie was at the stove, sleeves rolled up, lettin’ Malik stand on a chair to flip pancakes.
Kid’s tongue stuck out in that serious way kids get when they’re tryin’ not to mess up.
Both hands on the spatula, Josie guidin’ him like they was runnin’ the world.
Every time he landed one halfway decent, he smacked his back and hollered “chef,” and the kid lit up like somebody lit a match in him.
Zara sat at the table with that stuffed bunny tucked under her arm, brows all scrunched up like she was studyin’ her eggs harder than a math problem.
And Sable — Christ. She was leanin’ on the table, hair twisted up into a messy knot, wearin’ one of my old T-shirts that barely skirted the top of her thighs.
When she looked up and caught me in the doorway, that soft little smile tugged at her mouth, and just like that, the racket around us got muffled, like somebody turned the world low.
That look done me in proper.
“Hope you hungry,” she said, noddin’ at Josie and Malik. “They been busy.”
“Always,” I grunted, leanin’ my shoulder against the frame and takin’ it all in. This — whatever this was — felt too clean for my kind of life. Too easy. Like somethin’ you didn’t get to keep. Still, hell if I wasn’t clingin’ to it anyway.
We shoved in at one of the long tables, all elbows and crumbs.
It was messy as sin, Malik droppin’ his fork twice, Zara complainin’ her toast was “too brown,” and me burnin’ my tongue on coffee that tasted like old oil.
One of the brothers limped through moanin’ about a scrap last night, a sweet butt stumbled past in yesterday’s heels fussin’ about a lost charger.
But settin’ there with Sable and them kids, I wouldn’t have traded it for quiet and order if you shoved money in my face.
Plates cleared, most of the noise dyin’ down, Sable leaned in close. “You got plans today?” she asked.
“Thought I’d run down to the garage. Talk to Gearhead ’bout that custom build we got brewin’.”
Malik’s head snapped up, eyes hittin’ me like stars. “Can I come?”
I paused. Kid usually stayed back, kept to hisself. This here was brave.
“Yeah,” I said, grin tryin’ to crawl out. “Yeah, you can.”
Zara pouted, arms crossed. “That ain’t fair.”
“You and me’ll do somethin’ tomorrow,” I promised.
Sable kissed her on the crown. “We can go for a walk by the water.”
Zara scrunched her nose, then melted into a smile, her face turnin’ whole damn near like her momma’s. “Okay.”
The ride to the garage didn’t take long; ten minutes or so. Malik hung on tight the whole way, little hands clutchin’ my sides like he was afraid the world might shake him loose. I kept the throttle easy, let the wind do the talkin’.
Gearhead was bent under the hood of some old Chevy when we rolled up, grease streaked up his forearms. He gave us a nod without liftin’ his head.
“Brought good company,” I said, jerkin’ my chin toward Malik.
“Prob’ly better conversation than you,” Gearhead muttered, never missin’ a beat.
Malik grinned.
I showed him round the shop, bikes, tools, the sharp tang of oil and hot metal hangin’ in the air.
He asked quiet questions at first, then got bold.
When I let him heft a wrench nearly as big as his arm, he held it like it was treasure.
Careful. Respectful. Kid got steadiness in him, same as his sister got fire.
Later we sat on an old tire out back, away from the hum and the radio. He played with a stick, scratchin’ patterns in the dirt, and I drank from my water bottle.
That’s when he said it, small and thin.
“My real mom… she used to be nice like Sable.”
I didn’t answer. I just kept lookin’ at him, let him know I was listenin’.
“She was pretty. I don’t remember her voice too good, but she used to sing sometimes.” He twisted the stick between his fingers. “Papa Gabrial… he said she was bad. Took me away from her.”
His voice broke. “He killed her.”
My throat tightened. No kid oughta be carryin’ that.
Malik stared at the dirt like he could burn it up with his stare. “I think Sable’s gonna die too. Papa Gabrial’ll take her away for bein’ bad.”
That stabbed straight to someplace I kept locked up.
I let out a slow breath. “That ain’t gonna happen.”
“You don’t know that.”
He looked at me then, and what I saw in them small brown eyes was an old man’s fear trapped in a boy’s body.
“You’re right,” I said. “I don’t know everything. But I do know this, Sable’s strong. Stronger’n most men I ever met. And she ain’t standin’ alone no more. She got me. She got the club. We don’t let our own walk out the door without a fight.”
His jaw shook, lips quiverin’ like he was tryin’ not to let the tears loose.
I nudged his shoulder. “You one of us now too, you hear? Nobody lays a hand on our family.”
He sniffed, wiped his nose on his sleeve, then leaned his small frame against my side without a sound.
I put my hand on his shoulder and watched the road beyond the lot. My head kept churnin’ over the things I couldn’t say out loud.
’Cause Malik was right about one thing.
Gabrial don’t forget.
And he sure as hell don’t forgive.
Only this time? He’s fixin’ to walk into a war he don’t rightly understand.