Chapter 37 #2
Running out of the clubhouse, I see the club's SUV disappearing out of the compound and heading into town, with none other than fucking Cilla waving brightly at me through the passenger window.
“What the hell!” I bellow and run for my hog. What the fuck is going on here? Pres has run off with my woman and baby.
Cap has been missing of late, but he is back in time for the baby's arrival. A long line of bikes rides into town at breakneck speed. We park wherever we feel like outside the hospital and run inside.
“Where is my wife?” I bellow at the nurse sitting behind the desk, “Cilla Thompson,” I remember stating.
“Oh, she’s just gone up to the delivery ward. Level three.” That is all the nurse manages before I’m already running for the stairs. I’m not hanging around waiting for the elevator. I hear her shout, “Um, her husband is with her.”
“What the fuck!” I snarl as I climb the stairs, with Cap, Hot Rod and more behind laughing their asses off.
“You reckon Pres thinks being a godfather is like being a father, Finger?” Rides asks as we rush out of the stairwell onto the landing of the ward.
“I’m gonna kill him, Pres or not,” I snap.
“Where is my wife?” I ask a nurse as she rushes past.
“Who is your wife?” She asks walking backwards so she can continue on her way but not ignore my question.
“Cilla Thompson,” I state proudly.
“Oh, she is in room 112, just two down,” she states as she points just past where I’m standing.
Now, stepping inside the room, I am more than shocked. Tracker is standing at the side of the bed where Cilla is puffing and counting. He, however, is rubbing her back, telling her she’s doing well.
“What the fuck, Pres?” I state as I rush into the room and grab hold of one of Cilla’s hands.
Tracker shrugs his shoulders but continues with the back rub. I give him a filthy look, which, of course, the asshole ignores. This is the comedy that plays out, right up to me passing out when the baby’s head appears.
Of course, it will go down in the recorded history of the MC that Finger can torture anyone but can’t see his wife have a baby.
I hold my baby girl, and my chest aches with the love I immediately feel for her.
The room is a private suite Tracker arranged, and the brothers are crammed inside like sardines in a can.
But nobody gives a shit as everyone is celebrating the first baby of the club, and a princess that every brother will protect.
“What is her name?” Coin asks as he peers over my shoulder to get a good look at her.
“Ayla Thompson,” Cilla states proudly. “It means oak tree in Hebrew. Oak trees are believed to house spirits in folklore. A nature-inspired meaning, which suggests strength with deep and enduring qualities. I think that it is lovely to name our daughter with links to spiritual folklore, and it is for Bono, Tank, and Pyro who are her spiritual godfathers.”
Three months later, Tracker, who keeps stealing Ayla every chance he gets is watching her closely. “Cilla, is Ayla watching her ghostly godfathers?”
I stand up from where I’ve been sitting close by and watch as Ayla’s eyes follow something that I’m not seeing. When she gives a twitch of her lip, I’m not sure if it’s a smile happening or wind, but I snatch her from Tracker and bolt to our suite.
Cilla is following behind me, telling me to calm down.
It’s okay; nothing can hurt her when her godfathers are watching over her.
But the damn guffawing of Pres is really pissing me off.
The asshole thinks it’s funny that my Ayla is going to be special like her mother.
Holy fuck, another one who will have ghosts wandering around the house!
CAP
The last few months have been more than a little stressful.
Xero found the man who placed the order to take out Liam’s team.
CCDR-Combatant Commander Michael Jones. A four-star general who had his hand in the wrong pot.
Keeping himself safe, he threw a team under the bus, knowing they would walk into a trap and not walk out.
I went along and grabbed Jones, along with Xero, Collins, and Mitchell. The four of us waited until he came out of his Boys Club, and he was in the back of our van, hogtied, and tasered before he could spit.
We made sure he knew why he was taken, the names of the men he sent to their deaths. The names of the mothers, fathers, wives, brothers, sisters, and children he took them from.
He knew his kids would be without a father tomorrow, and his wife would be a widow. We cut off his hands for having had them in the wrong place. Then cut his throat and watched him die.
I can’t bring back my friend Liam or his sister Willow, but I could and did get them justice. Maybe not justice through the courts, but that would never have happened anyway. Our kind of justice made sure he paid the price for eight men's deaths.
Now, it’s time to move on, and get my hands on Ayla now and again, because getting past Tracker is fucking hard. He’s smitten with that baby, and even Finger doesn’t get a look in when he and Cilla are at the clubhouse.
Picking up Ayla, I baby talk to her. “Come to your bestest Uncle Cap...”
Before I can kiss her forehead, she is whipped out of my arms and Tracker gives me a vicious look. “I’m the bestest, and most favorite godfather and uncle...”
Cilla giggles, Mason curses and I drop my head as I place my hands on my hips. Goddamn it, we are going to have to do something about Pres.