Away from this slap in the damn face.
Away from the reminder that I didn’t fucking do enough.
“Gather this stuff up,” I ordered, rolling my shoulders back and lifting my chin. Repo and Kennedy both stepped in, Kennedy smiling softly as she started to fold up the play mat and the toys beside it. “Anything that looks like his, grab it.”
“Photos?”
My body movement stopped, and I looked back to find Repo holding a frame, a picture of Emma standing to the side, her large pregnant stomach on show. Her hands are cradling it gently, the softness in her features and the smile on her face so fucking different to the way I’d left her that last day.
This Emma was happy, excited, at peace.
The Emma I saw last week was on edge.
Scared.
Helpless.
That was not the woman I knew, and it was not the woman I would share with Gage when he was old enough to start to ask about her. He was going to know her strength, her determination, her love for the world, and him. I owed her that fucking much, at least.
“Yes. Take photos. All of them.”
Austin tossed his hands in the air. “Hey, I need to keep the area like it is—”
“And my kid needs to know that his dead mother loved him,” I snapped, adjusting my club cut, trying to ignore the way Repo and Kennedy both paused and looked up at me in surprise. “So, I’m gonna take whatever I think is necessary to make sure he fucking understands that since the poor fucking bastard is going to have to settle with me being his damn father.”
Kennedy and Repo didn’t even flinch, neither giving a damn whether Austin told them to stop or not. He wasn’t in charge. I was.
“Fine, let them take shit,” he finally conceded, scratching at his jaw for at least thirty seconds before finally speaking up again. Like he was fighting, debating with his own thoughts. “There’s something I want you to see.” He walked off, not bothering to look back or even check to see if I’d follow.
He knew I would.
Because I couldn’t not.
I wanted to piece together exactly what the hell she thought she was doing.
I wanted to know everything.
At least I thought I fucking did, but my stomach screamed no, as I stepped into her bedroom and the bright red body-shaped stain on the stripped mattress almost had me throwing up today and yesterday’s lunch. It wasn’t just there, though.
It was on the walls.
The ceiling.
I’d seen blood, I’d taken lives, been ruthless, cold, and completely shut off. But I did those things because they held a purpose. Because they needed to be done. This looked like some small child had gotten hold of a ketchup bottle and squeezed.
This wasn’t a straight-minded person who felt like they needed revenge. This was an out-of-control psychopath who lost control of themself and his mind. Who let something else take over, something they couldn’t reel in.
“This is why I’m doing whatever the fuck I can to find one thing on this asshole. One fucking thing that could possibly point to him. Because if we’re right and the husband did this, then he is out of his goddamn mind and should not be walking the streets,” Austin announced when I couldn’t find the words to fucking explain.
He was right.
This type of crazy needed to be locked up. Or better yet, fucking put down like a rabid dog.
And with my heart in my throat and eyes on the blood-splattered picture of my son sitting on the nightstand, I swore I would be the fucking one to end this asshole.
Emma deserved that much.
And so did Gage.
“We’ll find him,” Austin announced with a sigh.
“You better hope so before I do.”
AVERY
“He’s gonna be handsome.” Adrian chuckled, gently rocking Gage in his arms.
I loved this man already. He was straightforward, proactive, and far too qualified to be a nanny—or a manny as he liked to call himself. Not only was he a paramedic, he was going to school for health science and physiotherapy. Which meant he was smart, athletic, and loved babies.
He honestly reminded me of one of the boys, minus the gym junkie outfit. He could probably walk into the clubhouse and fit right in with his sharp features, ripped body, and light stubble across his jaw.
“Shake said you can have our old room in the clubhouse,” Meyah announced, moving around the room, thumping lightly on Juliet’s shoulder, trying to find a burp. “It’s bigger than the other bedrooms, so you’ll have room to have the kids in there without it being too cramped. Or you can bring them over here and have them here. There are options. We just prefer they don’t spend too much time downstairs in the boys’ space.”
“Oh, I got ya,” he answered, his grin wide as he leaned down and tugged at Gage’s bottom lip, pulling at it softly then letting it go. Gage wiggled excitedly, not knowing what the hell was going on but entranced by the bright smile looking down at him. “So, I’m just gonna let you know when my classes are, and we can work out a timetable, hours, expectations?”
“Sounds good to me,” Meyah answered, looking over for my response.
I held up my hands. “I’m in, but technically it’s Shotgun’s choice.”
The front door to the apartment opened, and Shake called out. “Girls?”
“I think we’re about to get our first reaction.”
Adrian didn’t move, continuing to tease Gage, obviously unfazed by the big biker who suddenly appeared. Shake paused at the entranceway, his eyes moving from Meyah to Juliet to Adrian then back to his old lady. “You wanna start talking before I start assuming?” Shake warned, his voice a deep growl that even had me sitting at attention.
Meyah though, waved off the sharp warning like she was shooing a fly. “Babe, this is Adrian, the new nanny.”
“Nope.”
“Yup.”
“Meyah, you did not hire a fucking man to nanny our daughter,” Shake continued, stepping through the entranceway, his eyes locked on his woman.
“It’s called a manny. And yes, I did,” Meyah answered, her eyelashes batting as she refused to back away from her man’s advancing steps. “Because he is the best person for the job.”
Meyah had balls. A pair of steel balls. Given that Shake was the VP of the club here, her uncle was a long-time member of the club in Alabama, and her father was the president of the Exiled Eight MC—and a mean motherfucker to boot—so I guess it made sense.
Who the hell was going to tell her no?
“It’s nice to meet you,” Adrian interrupted, cradling Gage in one arm as he held out his hand to the angry-looking biker standing in the middle of the room. “You must be Shake.”
It took Shake a few long seconds, his eyes continuing to glare at his grinning old lady before he turned his attention to the male in the room, ignoring the extended hand. “You married?”
“No.”
“You got any intentions of climbing into bed with my old lady and trying to run off with her and my child?” Adrian was fighting a smile, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I’m not joking,” Shake growled when he didn’t get a response.
Adrian quickly swallowed back the amused look and nodded. “Oh, I know, that’s why it’s so hot.”