Flame shrugged. “Yup. You love her, you want what’s right for her, but maybe you can’t give it to her… maybe Ink or Saint can. See, my MC brothers, I know they think less of me for living this way. I’m a man, I’m a biker, I should have my bitch under my thumb—”
“Any man who thinks he could have Lucie Steeler under his thumb is a moron.”
“Exactly. But, that’s neither here nor there. My point is, they think I’m weaker for it when I’m not. It makes me stronger. If I know I need to go and do shit, I know I’ve got three men at my back who will take care of the woman who owns my soul if I fuck up. I can’t even imagine the terror of having that sole responsibility.” He shuddered. “And, like I said, Jamie, we all fuck up. It’s in our DNA.
“You just got to embrace the fact that you will, and when you do, try not to do it too royally. Because we raised Ama right. She won’t let you fuck around on her, won’t let you get away with shit for too long—no matter how many guys you have to help you cover your shit up, it’s still all on you.
“And you have to face facts… do you want to live in a world without her? Do you want to be without Ama in your life?”
His words resonated with me so deeply that I wasn’t even sure how to say what I wanted to. I just stared at him, floundering, and he slapped me on the shoulder and smiled.
“Yeah, you’re doing the right thing. She’s yours, brother. Just like you’re hers. Sometimes, it’s as easy as that. Our life ain’t always simple, so when you find something pure like her? You grab onto it with both hands.”
“Why are you okay with this?” I rasped. “I’m surprised you don’t want to kill us.”
His gaze shot over to Saint, whom Ama was leaning against while they all shot the shit with Bridges. “Because some women ain’t made for normal. Some women just need more. Ama’s like her momma. For different reasons, sure, but she’s still that way.
“She’ll keep you on your toes. Don’t think life will be regular, because it won’t. Not just because of Saint and Ink, but because it will never follow an ordinary pattern.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed. “Need it spelling out, do you?”
“Yeah,” I said roughly. “You’ve had more time to think about this shit.”
Flame grinned. “True. Women like Ama and her momma are supernovas. Wherever they touch, they cause a reaction. They’re not simple people. They’re chaos bound. They take a lot of looking after, but I think you three are man enough for the job.”
“I can only try, Flame,” I rasped, and he clapped me on the shoulder again.
“That’s all we can do.”
With that, he wandered over to the table where Bridges had finally moved. Ama hustled him over to the reception desk where he settled his tab, and I watched her, watched how she moved. The way she flicked her hair behind her ear, the smile she shot him, the nervous look in her eyes as he talked about how much he loved the tattoo.
As I stared at her, the porcelain skin, the gentle chin that rounded to a point after sloping down from high, heart-shaped cheekbones, I recognized one thing—that was my woman.
Fuck, the pride that roared through me beat what I felt when I’d climbed on my bike that first time.
She’d held me while I’d grieved the loss of a sister who was dead to me, while I mourned my father who I might lose for a few more years thanks to Kenzie, and that she hadn’t cast me aside for not being ‘man enough,’ that she’d loved me through it all?
It made me want to give her the world.
It made me want to change her life. I didn’t want her to need to sleep on the fucking floor any more like a dog. I didn’t want her to wake up with nightmares.
I wanted her to feel so fucking secure that nothing scared her. That she became a force to be reckoned with like her momma was.
Hell, at that moment, that became my life goal.
My true fucking reason for existing.
To make this woman be what she was born to be.
Our sinning saint.
When she strode over to me after Bridges walked out, practically skipping with her glee, her head was tilted to the side as she saw me watching her.
The instant she was close enough, I shoved my hands in the back pockets of her short shorts and hauled her over to me.
“You look gloomy,” she stated brightly.
“Nope. Just pensive.”
That had her narrowing her eyes. “Why?”
“Just thinking about your tats.”
She stiffened. “You still want me to have yours, don’t you?”
I smirked. “Without a doubt.” I leaned down and nipped her earlobe. “I want it there. Behind your ear.”
She squirmed in my arms. “That’s gonna hurt.”
“All the best things do, babe.”
“True.” She stared up at me. “If I get mine there, then you get yours there too.”
I grinned. “Deal.”
“I have something to show you.”
“You do? Something good?” I squeezed her ass cheeks to tell her I was joking.
“Hopefully.”
She pulled away then grabbed my arm and tugged me over to the reception desk. I heard the buzzing of the tattoo machine and saw that Saint had removed his shirt and was laying down on the seat, having Ama’s name and her flower inked above his heart. The amaryllis was dripping ruby-colored blood that puddled underneath her name.
When she shuffled some papers, then dropped her sketch of my tattoo there for me, I felt my heart stop.
My first reaction?
“It’s perfect.”
My momma was there, her face pristine with the dark bob that had framed her delicate features. Her large eyes stared up at me, and underneath her chin was the egg timer. Ticking away, the sands of time disappearing too fast for her.
I gritted my teeth as the pain of loss, so recent after Kenzie’s betrayal, hit me hard.
Shaking my head, I whispered again, “It’s perfect.”
She was there, like I knew she always would be, at my side, clinging to me. She raised up on tiptoe again, and whispered back, “You’re perfect.”
I dropped a kiss on her nose. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Being you.”
❖
Saint
“What you been doing?”
I winced at my dad’s question, and when my stepmom, Dorie, arched a brow at me, I just shrugged.
“That isn’t an answer, Lawrence.”
Blowing out a breath, I murmured, “Been hanging at Ink’s place. Keeping Ama and her brothers safe.”
“I knew that. I was at the council meeting when that talk went down,” my dad argued, “but what I want to know is what you’ve been doing.”
My brow puckered. “What are you talking about?”
“I think he wants to know if you’re boning me,” Ama interjected politely, her eyes wide and her face expressionless.
Before I could choke on my coffee, Wheels, my dad, was snorting into his. “Well, I wouldn’t have put it like that, Ama.”
“Wouldn’t you?” Dorie replied with a wicked grin at him.