Epilogue
Striker
Two years later
My daughter has been fighting sleep for the better part of an hour.
She’s six months old and already stubborn as hell.
June says she gets it from me.
June might be right.
I pace the kitchen with the baby tucked against my chest, one hand spread over her back while she makes another pissed-off little sound into my shirt.
“You’re tired, sweetheart.”
She squirms harder.
“Yeah. I know you disagree.”
Her blue eyes blink up at me.
Same color as June’s.
Gets me every fucking time.
I rub a hand down her back until the fight starts going out of her, her cheek settling over my heart.
“There you go.”
“Did you finally win?”
June’s voice comes from behind me.
I turn.
She’s leaning against the doorway in one of my shirts, bare legs underneath, honey-colored hair messed up from sleep.
My wife.
Almost two years and that word still does something to me.
“You’re supposed to be asleep.”
“So is she.”
I glance down at our daughter.
“She had complaints.”
“Wonder where she gets that.”
My eyes come back to June.
“Careful, Rebel.”
Her mouth curves as she crosses the kitchen and brushes one finger over our daughter’s cheek.
“You know I’m right.”
“Rare event. Enjoy it.”
She gives me a look, then leans into my side.
Bottle drying beside the sink. Baby blanket over the back of a chair. June’s coffee mug where she left it this morning. One tiny sock under the table.
There was a time when nothing in this cabin moved unless I put it there.
Now they’re everywhere.
My girls.
Wouldn’t have it any other way.
I spent a long time never thinking about this kind of life. Never saw much point in wanting things I had no reason to believe I’d get.
Then the club gave me brothers. Men I trusted at my back. Family I chose and who chose me right back.
I figured that was enough.
Then June walked into my life and proved I didn’t know shit.
Three weeks after Munn went down, I married her.
Small ceremony at the clubhouse. Sinners, McKenna, Eliana, Ruth and Thomas.
Exactly enough.
Ruth cried when she saw June, then spent the next ten minutes pretending she hadn’t.
Thomas stood beside me while everybody got settled.
“You keep staring at that door, you’re gonna burn a hole through it.”
“She’s coming through it.”
“That generally is how weddings work.”
I looked at him.
He grinned.
“Thirty-six years old and nervous.”
“Keep talking.”
Then June appeared and saved him from whatever I was about to say.
Simple dress. Hair loose over her shoulders.
Those blue eyes found mine.
Everything else disappeared.
She walked straight to me and slipped her hand into mine.
Best thing that ever happened to me.
Still is.
The old mission got reopened after Munn was taken down. Vale lived, the poisoned bottles never reached the dinner, and eventually the truth came out the way it should have years ago.
Grim had made the right call.
So had I.
For a long time, I thought I needed somebody important to put that on paper.
When they finally did, I read the report once.
Then I went home to my wife.
That surprised me more than anything.
The life Munn fucked up was gone. I’d spent years thinking that mattered.
By the time somebody handed our names back clean, I had something better waiting for me.
Now I have both my girls.
Turns out there are some things a man doesn’t know he’s missing until they’re his.
Jamie’s serving time. That’s about as much thought as I give him.
Eliana works at the shelter now. The women there trust her because she’s been where they are. She knows what it costs to admit you’re scared, and she never looks at them like they should have figured it out sooner.
June is proud of her.
So am I.
Our daughter gives one last sleepy sigh against my chest.
Finally.
“I’ve got her,” June whispers.
“No.”
Her eyebrows lift.
“No?”
“I’ve got her.”
A smile pulls at her mouth.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Probably.”
I carry our daughter down the hall and lower her into the crib. She shifts once, little fist curling beside her face, then settles.
I stay there looking at her.
Can’t help it.
Six months later and there are still moments when it hits me out of nowhere.
My daughter.
My blood.
My family.
I spent most of my life thinking those things belonged to other men.
I switch on the baby monitor, close her door, and take the receiver with me back to the kitchen.
June is leaning against the counter when I walk in.
She watches me.
“What?”
“You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Stand over her crib like you’re guarding Fort Knox.”
“She’s more important.”
The teasing leaves her face.
I come to her and hook a hand around the back of her neck.
“Nobody gets near my girls.”
“I know.”
Good.
I kiss her forehead.
Her fingers curl into my shirt.
“You happy?”
I look down at her.
Two years ago, I asked her the same question.
Now there’s a wedding ring on my hand, our daughter sleeping down the hall, and June standing barefoot in the kitchen we share.
“Yeah.”
“That’s all I get?”
My hand slides around her waist.
“Got more than I ever thought I would.”
Her eyes soften.
“I love you, Striker.”
“Love you too, Rebel.”
She lets the moment sit for maybe three seconds.
Then her mouth curves.
“You’ve gotten soft.”
My hand tightens at her waist.
“What’d you say?”
“You heard me.”
“Say it again.”
“Soft.”
I stare at her.
June grins.
“Maybe thirty-eight is catching up with you.”
“Keep running that mouth.”
“Oh, touchy too.”
I back her toward the table until the edge catches behind her thighs.
Her grin changes.
There she is.
“Still think I’m getting old?”
“I’m gathering evidence.”
“Yeah?”
“Very carefully.”
I turn her around and press her forward over the table, bending close until my mouth brushes her ear.
“Better pay attention, then.”
Her breath catches.
That’s more like it.
My hands settle on her hips while I kiss along the side of her neck, breathing her in.
Almost two years married and I still know every place that makes her shiver. Still know which sound means she’s teasing and which one means she’s done playing.
Still love that I’m the man who gets all of them.
She looks back at me over her shoulder, blue eyes already darkening.
“I like it when you get bossy.”
My mouth curves against her skin.
“Good thing you married me.”
I press her down over the table, one palm between her shoulder blades while the other catches the hem of my shirt on her and pushes it up her back.
Bare underneath.
Fuck.
“Planning this?”
“Maybe.”
“Trouble.”
“You like me that way.”
“Yeah. I fucking do.”
I kiss her shoulder, then bite down just enough to make her inhale sharply.
My hand slides over her bare ass and between her thighs.
She’s soaked.
Fuck.
June shifts against the table, already impatient.
“Striker.”
“Now you're just being greedy.”
That gets me a look over her shoulder.
My fingers slide through her, then inside, and her head drops with a low moan.
“That what you wanted?”
“Yes.”
I work her slowly at first, thumb finding her clit while two fingers curl inside her.
Her hips start moving against my hand.
“More.”
“You spent the last five minutes giving me shit about my age.”
“I take it back.”
“Convenient.”
“Striker.”
I laugh under my breath and give her what she’s asking for.
Her fingers tighten against the edge of the table as I work her harder, feeling her getting closer.
Then I pull my hand away.
June makes an offended sound.
“Asshole.”
“Thought you wanted more.”
“I do.”
“Then quit complaining.”
I open my jeans and free my cock, dragging the head through her wetness.
Her breath catches.
I push inside her in one deep stroke.
Fuck.
Two years and that first second still gets me.
June moans against the table, body tightening around me while I hold still long enough to feel every inch of her.
“Still think I’m soft?”
She turns her head enough to glare at me.
“Are you seriously asking me that now?”
I grin.
“Answer.”
“Fuck you.”
“Working on it.”
Her laugh turns into a moan when I pull back and drive into her again.
I grip her hips and settle into a hard rhythm, giving her exactly what she likes. Deep enough to make her lose the attitude. Fast enough that the table starts shifting beneath us.
June reaches back for me.
I catch her hand and pin it beside her on the table, leaning over her until my chest covers her back.
“Mine.”
Her breath stutters.
“Yours.”
That word still hits somewhere primitive.
Wife.
Woman.
Home.
Mine because she chose to be.
I kiss behind her ear and drive into her harder.
Her body starts tightening around me, her breathing breaking apart.
“Come for me, June.”
She does.
Her whole body locks beneath mine, a cry caught against her arm as she clenches around my cock.
That takes me with her.
I bury myself deep and come hard, holding her against the table while the last of it tears through me.
For a while, neither of us moves.
My breathing slows against the back of her neck.
June finally manages, “Feel younger?”
I laugh, low and rough.
“Careful.”
She turns her head.
“Why?”
I kiss the corner of her mouth.
“Night’s not over.”
Her smile comes back.
Good.
***
THE END