Chapter Six. #2
“Thank you for the call.” I hung up, sitting down heavily. Would the hard knocks stop coming?
“Mama?” Laila asked as she came and sat beside me.
“Aunt Shirley died,” I said, stunned. Grief once again raised its ugly head. Shirley had been my dad’s younger sister and, like me, the black sheep. According to the lawyer, Shirley had left me everything. Lucky me—that wouldn’t give me my aunt back.
“Oh no. Who’s next?” Laila cried and burst into tears. Shirley had remained a constant in our lives, visiting at least twice a year for a minimum of two weeks at a time. She always came for Christmas, too, and timed one visit to coincide with the twins’ birthdays.
I wrapped my arms around Laila and shook my head. I wondered how much more pain and grief we’d have to endure. Life kept kicking us, and I was tired of being its toy.
“She left us Crook House,” I said, and Laila looked up and wiped her tears away.
“Aunt Shirley did?”
“Yes. No doubt that will piss off my mother and father. And those spoiled brats of theirs.”
“Mama, are you considering returning to America? Do you believe things might improve there?”
I couldn’t answer that honestly. Since the day I flew out, I’d not returned. Now I would have to, to sort out Shirley’s estate.
“Denmark’s your home, I won’t force you into anything,” I replied.
“Mom, people are judgmental here. Let’s just go. Sell up and leave.”
“Call a family meeting,” I murmured. This wasn’t something I’d make the kids do without talking it through with them first.
May 2025
“Thanks,” I said as I exited the lawyer’s office in a raging mood.
I’d had the appointment, and everything was signed over bar one thing.
Aunt Shirley had owned a lot of jewellery, and it was missing.
The lawyer had informed me there was a security box in a bank, and Shirley had left the contents to me, but they didn’t have the key.
For some unknown reason last year, Aunt Shirley had given Magic custody of it.
Totally pissed off, I got in the car and slammed a hand down on the steering wheel.
A woman passed by, stared, then scurried away as I glared back.
Starting the engine of the mint condition nineteen sixty Thunderbird Convertible, I was silently cursing.
It had been Aunt Shirley’s—her pride and joy.
It was buttercup yellow with a white roof and beautifully kept.
Damn Magic. I’d not thought about him for a decade. Okay, that was a lie, maybe an occasional brief reflection on what he’d missed out. But the love I’d felt had died a long time ago. Vulcan had given me everything I needed and then some.
I wondered if Magic still owned the bar and, checking the time, I drove out towards it.
Strangely enough, it wasn’t far from Crook House; they were a five-minute drive from each other.
As I approached, I spotted the bar in the distance and frowned.
It looked different from memory. It had been expanded and recently painted.
The sign read ‘Magic’s Bar’ in bold red letters, and I guessed Magic still owned it.
I parked up and saw the line of Harleys outside.
Guess it was once again a biker meeting place.
That made sense. Magic had always liked his bikes.
I entered and gazed around. It was half-full even this early in the afternoon.
Several guys looked up and dismissed me, but I ignored them as I headed towards the bar counter, where a woman stood.
“What do you want?”
“Magic.”
“Who’s asking?” she demanded, and I recognised the protectiveness in her face. Magic’s woman? She wore a name tag that said Alice. Cute.
“Ain’t here to cause trouble for you, honey. Magic has something of mine. I need it back.”
“Magic isn’t here, so you’ll have to wait,” Alice replied.
“Fine.” I yanked out a stool and sat down.
Alice looked bemused. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting.”
“Magic’s not around,” the woman repeated.
“So, I’ll wait.”
“Magic’s on a ghost hunt.”
I stared at Alice in amusement and began laughing. “Wow, sweetheart, that’s reaching. I don’t care what you are to Magic. Honestly, I’m not here to cause trouble. I want a key, and then I’ll crawl back into the woodwork.”
“No, seriously, Magic is on a paranormal investigation,” Alice insisted.
“Whatever.” I settled in and held her gaze.
“Babe, is there a problem?”
A tall biker leaned toward the woman.
Alice smiled, leaned over, and gave him a lingering kiss. Okay, possibly I was wrong about her being Magic’s old lady.
“Hey, honey,” Alice cooed, and the guy grinned briefly before losing it as he turned to me. He wore a Hellfire MC cut, and his name was Diesel.
“Magic isn’t here.”
“Then I’ll wait.”
“Be a long time. He’s not even in the state.”
“What? I need something Magic has.” I was shocked. Were they telling the truth? Was Magic really away, or were they lying to protect him? I looked around. Was Magic holed up somewhere, laughing at me?
“Phone Magic,” a man ordered, and I stiffened. It may have been seventeen years, but I recognised that voice.
“You sure?” Diesel asked. He glanced at the figure behind me.
“He’ll want to know she’s here. Call Magic, Alice.” Onyx stared blank-faced. He recognised me, just as I knew him.
Alice pulled out a phone, gave me a look, and punched in a number. She placed it on the loudspeaker so I could hear it.
“Magic,” Alice said.
“Baby girl,” Magic boomed, sounding happy to see her. My heart clenched as I heard his voice for the first time in nearly two decades. As much as I tried, I couldn’t control the flinch.
“There’s a lady here. Says she knows you and needs to talk,” Alice whispered, holding my eyes. Puzzlement crossed her face; she’d seen my reaction.
“Okay, tell her to come back.”
“Magic, she called you—”
“Jefferson Lincoln Carter, get your ass back here,” I ordered, losing my temper. I needed that key, and I was tired of playing games.
“What’s her name?” Magic gritted out.
“You know who I am, asshole,” I retorted, annoyed at these games.
“What’s her name?” Magic roared.
“Jody Srock. Now get your ass here!” I snapped, irritated.
“Alice, baby girl, get Diesel to lock her down until I get home. That woman doesn’t escape me this time!” Magic ordered.
Diesel moved forward, and I knocked his hands away from me and offered a dark glare. Determined to control this, I snarled at the phone. “Nobody is locking me the fuck down, Jefferson, so move your hairy butt to South Dakota.”
With that threat, I reached out and cut the line. Angrily, I got up off my stool, and Onyx and Diesel moved towards me. “Don’t bother trying to stop me. I’ll come back tomorrow when he’s home.”
“You’re going nowhere,” Diesel growled.
My phone rang, and I looked down to see Diesel snatching it. I stamped on his foot and answered.
“Mor, hvor er du? Oskar og Lars har vaeret i slagsm?l” Laila cried.
“Tak skat, husk det, Tal Engelsk.” (Thank you, honey, speak English.)
“Fine! Mom, where are you? Oskar and Lars have been in a fight. Can you come to the playing field?” Laila repeated her words in English.
“Okay, sweet girl, I’m on my way. Where are the others?”
“Encouraging them,” Laila sounded annoyed.
A groan escaped me as I grabbed my bag and eyed Diesel and Onyx with warning. “Tell Viggo, Henrik, Jesper, and Jerrik I will kick their ass if they start shit.”
“Yeah, like they’re going to listen to me.” Laila cut the call.
I didn’t say a word but marched past Onyx and Diesel without a backward glance.
◆◆◆
Oskar and Lars stared at the wall with pursed lips. Neither one of them was apologetic in the slightest. Lars had a black eye, and Oskar a split lip.
“Well?” I demanded.
“They thought we couldn’t understand them because we came from Denmark. Of course, they were wrong. They weren’t aware our moms were American,” Lars replied.
Still annoyed, I shook my head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Far, (Dad) said, if somebody started shit, you ended it. We did that,” Oskar stated.
I was unable to argue. And Oskar refrained from mentioning that Aster and I had expressed similar sentiments.
Ultimately, I couldn’t argue. Laila stood looking disgusted, and I grinned. “Was it over you?”
“Yes. A boy I liked talked to me and…” Laila lost the plot and began ranting in Danish.
I was more than fluent in the language and hid a smirk at the names she was calling her twin and cousins.
While not related through blood, Aster, Kanon, Vulcan, and I had been family.
I was Aster and Kanon’s children’s aunt, and it wasn’t just a respectful title.
Now I was their legal guardian and adoptive parent.
“Mor! Are you going to allow Laila to rant?” Lars demanded as Laila threatened to wait for him to sleep, drug him, and insert a spiky tube into his urethra.
All the boys clasped their groins and winced.
I let Laila continue for another minute before I performed a slashing motion.
Laila released a wordless growl that made them all pale, then stomped off towards my car.
“We won’t all fit in that,” Jesper said as Laila climbed into the front passenger seat.
“No, honey, you won’t. You, Henrik, and Jerrik get in. You three can catch the bus home as you planned!” I ordered Oskar, Viggo, and Lars. They looked grumpy, but tough luck. Maybe they’d learn not to fight. Who was I kidding? They were their fathers' sons.
“I’m never going to get a date!” Laila wailed.
“Good,” Jerrik piped up from the back.
“Boys, I’d keep your out-of-date macho thoughts to yourself. Otherwise, I will let Laila loose on you.”
“But Laila’s our cousin and adopted sister. Lars said, as the only girl, we have to look out for her and be mean to anyone who wants to be her boyfriend,” Jesper stated sweetly.
I caught his gaze in the mirror. Aster’s youngest was so sweet… and a little shit. I knew damn well what Jesper was doing. “Honey, if Laila needs protecting, I’m sure she can kick them in the balls. If not, then she gets close, looks sexy, grabs their balls and twists.”
The boys made a mewing noise, and I swapped grins with Laila. Mission accomplished.