Chapter 38
STEVIE
Several months ago, Frost put in a panic room in the basement, which had me panicking.
He assured me it was only in an extreme emergency, and over time, I’ve learned to deal with it by pretending it’s not there.
During the construction of the panic room, I had a wonderful visitor keep me company.
Gears. He survived the shooting, and as he healed, we went for walks and talked out on the deck while Pirate would cut in, asking about the construction.
When I didn’t have much to tell Pirate, he’d leave Gears with me, and come back later to pick him up.
It’s been great getting to know Gears. He’s dropped weight due to my cooking and our walks, and most likely less stress.
He has cut down on time at his auto shop.
Even after he healed, he still comes over three times a week.
This rubs Frost the wrong way, thinking something else is going on between us.
After some talking and love making, Frost eased up on his concerns.
I’m in the latter part of my second trimester, and I’m doing well. So far the babies are growing at the normal rate with strong heartbeats. The doctor is aiming for a c-section at the thirty-seven- or thirty-eight-week mark, but I’m pushing for a natural birth. We’ll see how it goes.
Today, Gears and I are enjoying a sunny crisp day out on the deck.
He’s brought us salads with roasted chicken in it.
Because he’s not influenced or tempted by all the bad eating the guys do at the shop, he eats better, and has started going to the gym.
When I first met Gears, he was this big burly guy with an expanded gut.
A beard camouflaging his face. Now, he’s much slimmer, shorter hair, and instead of an ungroomed beard, he wears a five o’clock shadow.
I’m able to see his face now and he’s a handsome man.
He has beautiful hazel eyes, more green than brown.
And like Frost, I think I’ve rubbed off on him in the vocabulary department, because his has improved.
I’m pouring us unsweetened tea as he says, “Things are picking up at the auto shop. Thanks to Frost and the others for all the referrals.”
“Like Frost says, we’re family.”
The biggest grin stretches across his face. “Ya know, Rebel, it warms my heart to hear you say that.”
“Didn’t think you’d ever hear me say that, right?”
He shakes his head and I scream, surprised as Frost comes out onto the deck asking, “Say what?”
I place my hand on his chest, stand on my tippy toes to give him a kiss, and say, “That we’re family. All of us.” Frost’s eyebrow rises. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but I thought you had a customer this afternoon.”
“They canceled.” Frost plops down in the seat next to mine and says to Gears, “How are things going?”
“Great! I was just telling Rebel that business is picking up. I appreciate the referrals, Frost.”
He gives a chin nod. “We all look out for each other.”
I cut in and ask Frost, “Do you want half of my salad?”
“Nah.”
“Then let me make you a sandwich.”
“Sit down, Rebel. Feed them babies.”
This has me smiling, so I sit to eat while his hand caresses my big stomach. By now, I struggle to tie my shoes and wobble when I walk. Frost loves everything about my pregnancy. The extra pounds to the taking care of me. Every night, he massages my feet while we watch television.
Gears’ eyes shift to Frost’s hand on my stomach and he asks, “You guys know the sex yet?”
Frost and I exchange glances and I say, “Nope. We want to be surprised.”
“Don’t you think twins is enough of a surprise?” His shoulders shake as he laughs.
“Very true, but still…”
We talk about the new clubhouse and houses on this land, which has been approved. Gears has talked to Skull about buying one of the houses. The shop isn’t far, so it’s perfect for him. I hop up and give him a hug. After an hour, Gears excuses himself because he has work to do at the shop.
Frost periodically gazes at me sideways, so I ask, “What?”
“Why do you have to hug everyone?”
I climb on his lap, drape my arms over his shoulder, and respond, “Because I like hugs. When the urge hits, I don’t hold back.
” I kiss his cheek. “Besides, Gears is a good guy. He’s been through a lot.
” Frost forces out a heavy breath, and I hold his face toward mine.
“But no matter who I hug, you’re the only one for me, Frost. Can’t you see? ”
He barks out, “See what?”
“How much I love you?”
The tension in his face disappears, eyes flitting between my belly and eyes. “I love you too, Rebel.”
“Good!”
I smile as I’m about to move to the other chair, but he won’t let go.
Settling on his lap, I add, “I think we should talk names.”
“Huh?”
“Baby names.”
“Ozzy if—”
“Absolutely not. I’m not naming my child after Ozzy Osbourne.”
He smiles at my reaction. “Relax, Rebel.”
“What about Kingston for a boy?”
“Absolutely fucking not! I might be an egotistical prick, but I’m not attaching the name I suffered with as a kid to my child.”
“Relax, Frost.”
This pulls a laugh from him. We’re smiling at each other, and he tucks my hair behind my ear. I love when he does this, sending chills through my body.
I lay my head on his shoulder. “I’d like to name one of the girls Cadence, after my mom.”
Frost plays with my hair and says, “Cadence. I like it. We can name the other girl Charlotte.”
“Oh, I love Charlotte, too. Now for the boys.”
“What about Ryker?”
“Ryker. I’ll have to think on that one. What about Hendrix after Jimmy?”
“No argument here.”
We go back and forth, tossing out names until we agree on Cadence and Charlotte if they’re girls, and Hendrix and Cooper for the boy’s names.
Later in the evening, we’re cuddling in bed when we hear motorcycles approaching the house. The revving increases. Frost hops out of bed, runs to the window where something hits the outside pane and falls. He glances down to see a smoke bomb.
Frost throws on jeans, barking out orders for me to get out of the room while he grabs a blanket and his phone.
I’m clutching my stomach while we run down the stairs, and as we hit the ground floor, a motorcycle comes crashing through the glass doors in the back.
I jump up on the stair and scream. The biker zooms by, but not fast enough.
Frost punches him in the head, knocking him off the bike.
There’s a roar followed by a bang at the front door as another bike tries to break it down.
I’m in Frost’s arms as he runs down the basement stairs, slamming and locking the basement door. “Get in the panic room, Rebel.”
He punches something into his phone. Dents appear in the metal basement door. The ramming of a bike and the screeching of metal against metal has me covering my ears.
The noises subside and a voice comes through. “You fuckers think you can kill me? I’m invincible.” Frost curses under his breath, tapping something else into his phone. “Does your bitch know you’re a killer, Frost? Does she know the semen-demons come from a murderer?”
A chainsaw cuts a line down the middle of the door while Frost is busy texting someone. “Frost! Get in here!”
There’s a small gap in the door, and I see Frost’s left shoulder snap back.
Blood drips from his shoulder. I run out of the panic room, but he pushes me back, follows me inside, and locks the door.
A light clicks on, and Frost turns on four different video feeds.
They’re destroying our home. The bikers tear down the kitchen cabinets, shattering glasses and plates.
More bikers enter through the back, shattering the rest of the windows and doors by the deck.
My gaze shoots to the backyard. The deck and my greenhouse are no longer there.
I silently cry while rummaging through a first aid kit, pressing gauze into the bullet wound to stop the bleeding.
He’s pale from loss of blood. I bite my lower lip while applying additional pressure.
Over my shoulder, I catch the bikers in our bedroom, taking apart the bed, the fireplace, and tossing our clothes on the floor.
One of them dumps a can of gasoline on the pile of clothes, except before he lights it, I see Smokey and Skull grabbing it out his hand.
Smokey knocks the guy out. Skull and the other MC members show up on the feed, rushing the other bikers.
Fists clashing. Gun shots. Fallen bikers.
Frost pulls me onto his lap, folding his body over mine. “Take care of them babies, Rebel. Stop stressing.”
My head shoots up. “Stop stressing? Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve been shot. Our house is demolished. There are—”
“And we’re safe in here.” This stops me. “My brothers are handling everything, and one of them will stitch up my shoulder. I have insurance on the house.”
I cup his face. “Frost, how can you be so calm?”
He smiles. “I found you, Rebel. The rest of the things are just extras.”
We’re in an embrace when we see Smokey outside the panic room. Frost presses a button so we can hear him.
“Frost! We got some of them and the rest took off. You can come out.”
Frost punches in a code, and the door opens to the panic room. Instead of putting me down, he carries me out to his truck as we glance over the damage. It doesn’t look salvageable. In the passenger seat, Smokey stands by the door while Frost sits on the bed of the truck.
I ask, “What is he doing back there?”
“He’s having the bullet removed and then they’ll stitch him up.”
“What?”
I’m about to get out, but Smokey blocks me in, shaking his head. “Forget about it. Frost instructed me to watch you.”
“What the hell, Smokey? I’m not a child?”
He crowds the door, handing me the blanket Frost grabbed before going into the panic room. For some reason, tears sting my eyes, and I sob.
From the back of the truck, I hear Frost ask, “What the fuck did you do to her, dick?”
“If you haven’t realized it by now, your old lady isn’t good at staying put and following orders.”
He grunts, spits, and says, “Rebel, stay in the truck.”
“Again, don’t make choices for me, Frost.”
Smokey looks toward the back, nods, and moves so I can get out. This bastard of a loving man grips a bottle of whiskey while some guy is fishing out the bullet. Our eyes meet, and he takes my hand, pulling me closer.
“Why don’t you listen to me?”
I kiss the back of his hand. “Because there’s no reason for me to sit in the truck.”
We stare at each other the whole time he’s being worked on.
Afterwards, we follow Skull home, and Duchess is at the door.
Her stomach is twice as big as mine, but she’s due in a few weeks.
Like the lake house, this is a mansion. They have lots of guest rooms. One is already fixed up for us with an ensuite washroom.
After our showers, we lie in bed in quietude. Not much has been said regarding what happened. Frost is in pain, so he chases down some pills with whiskey. His arm snakes under, sliding me into his side.
“You okay, Rebel?”
A small yeah comes out, so I clear my throat and ask, “How many people have you killed, Frost?”
The room grows still, and his breathing halts for a moment before he says, “Don’t ask questions you really don’t want to hear the answer to.”
He’s right. I don’t want to know. I’d rather think of Frost as a good man who will do anything for me and our babies. I’m in too far in this relationship to worry about the body count.