That was what you did for your babies.
Especially when you’d already let them down once in their life.
The reason Ama was fucked up was our fault. That Ink was cut up like Frankenstein was something else we could lay at the MC’s door.
Fuck.
This life.
I loved my men, loved the world we’d created together, the family that wasn’t just us and our kids but the entire club, but fuck, what I’d give to protect Ama from the harm that had befallen her.
My stomach twisted as I focused on Wolfe whose gaze hadn’t even lifted from the computer at my words. Beside him, Axe was looking at me. He had papers on his knees, but his gaze was on mine. I could see his concern. Feel it.
Wolfe, in all these years, hadn’t changed that much. He was still a prick sometimes. The only time he was soft was with me and Ama, but when he said I was being sentimental, he had no patience. Lucky for me, I had three other guys who’d pander to me when I was feeling emotional.
Hey, what about me?
The soft voice in my ear was one I hadn’t heard in too long. I had whispers of it now and then, like when things had gone to shit up in New York, Ry had told me it would work out. That Ama and her man would be okay. But to feel him here? Now?
God, it just cemented things for me.
My men.
My heart.
From this life into the next.
I squeezed Flame and whispered, “I just want to protect her. I thought she’d be safe in Rhode Island.”
“She is. It was Ink who wasn’t,” Flame replied, ever pragmatic.
Even though his statement irritated me, I wrinkled my nose because he was right. Then, I declared, “You’re never letting him take another job—”
Wolfe snorted. “You think you need to tell me that?”
Some of my tension dispersed. A part of me had felt certain I’d have a fight on my hands on that score. Where business was concerned, all the brothers were surprisingly thick-headed. While we’d stopped with the murder-for-hire game years back, Ink was good at what he did, and some of the other brothers were too. I understood that if a request came in, a specific one, asking for someone with special skills, and the money was too good to turn down, it was hard to back away from the deal.
But fuck.
They should have made Ink stop taking the deals. Shit had changed when Ama, Saint, Keys and Ink had moved North for her schooling, priorities had shifted, but our daughter’s mental health? Yeah, that was always going to be precarious.
“Stop worrying,” Flame whispered in my ear.
“I can’t help it,” I whispered, the words more wobbly than I’d have liked.
He squeezed me, and when Dagger did too, it made me smile because it actually hurt, but I was so used to it now that it just felt good.
“Come on. We need to head out,” Dagger murmured. “They’ll be gathering soon.”
“I don’t know why they’re doing it this way,” Flame complained. “It’s not like it’s legal.”
I snorted. “You can’t understand why she’d feel the need to tie them all together spiritually?”
Axe sighed. “She’s turning into a hippy.”
My lips twitched into a grin. “Ha, that sounds about right. I’m glad. She needed to chill out. If she starts—”
“Don’t need to think about her free-loving,” Dagger complained before I could say a word.
I snickered. “You knew about that before.”
“Don’t need the reminder.”
“She’s our baby girl,” Axe agreed.
“Never not gonna be our angel,” Wolfe confirmed, making my heart goddamn ping in my chest.
Throat tighter than ever now with the need to fucking sob, I barely refrained, and only did because I’d spent ages on my goddamn make-up.
I wasn’t about to have some fancy ass fuck from the Mob come down here and think we were a bunch of hicks. According to Ama, Eoghan and Inessa O’Donnelly weren’t schmucks, but shit, I had to represent us well, didn’t I?
That meant I looked a little fancy for the hobo vibes Ama was aiming for with this ceremony of hers.
My maxi dress was pretty—the guys didn’t know it had cost me over a grand, but it made my tits look epic so who were they to complain? The rich cyan danced around my legs in a way that was definitely weird for me. I was used to jeans and shorts, simple tees, not fucking dresses, but again, I had to represent. I wore raw rose quartz studs that Flame had bought me for Christmas a few years back, and my watch was a vintage Rolex that Dagger had brought me for a birthday gift last year.
Everything I wore was expensive, and yet I still knew the snooty Yankees would thumb their nose at me.
Irritation welled inside me at the thought, but I sucked it down and sucked it up.
They’d helped us when we needed them, and they were here to cement ties even further.
“Why’d you tense up?” Flame asked.
“She’s preparing herself for war,” Wolfe replied dryly, and I shot him a look, irritated that he, too, could read me so fucking well.
Huffing, I muttered, “I just know the Mob boss is going to look down his nose at us.”
“Do you really care if they do?”
“This is my home, Dagger. My world. My family. For fuck’s sake, of course I care.” Though I rolled my eyes, I shoved out of their hold, and muttered, “Game on.”
I heard their laughter as I strolled out of the office where we’d been meeting, but as I did, I hollered, “Flame, fix your fucking cut.” No way was he attending with that fucker covered in blood.
Heaving out a sigh, I headed outside. Everyone was there, helping out. It reminded me of the parts I loved about the life. Sure, there were a little more blood-and-guts than I’d have liked, but fuck, wasn’t that everywhere?
Death was the only constant, after all.
Don’t be so grim. It’s a good day. She’ll feel better after this. You know what she’s like. Liked everything in its proper place.
So people didn’t think I was nuts—more than the regular amount of nuts, at any rate—I barely moved my mouth as I replied, “Hasn’t changed all that much in all this time, Ry. Glad you know her. Just wish she knew you better.”
Oh, I have my ways.
“Fuck, I want to cry again,” I whispered, touched at the thought of him helping Ama, getting her through shit when she wouldn’t let anyone else in.
“Momma?”
Quickly blinking, I turned to my son. The little fucker was turning into a dead ringer for Flame with his bright red hair. Both my kids had that mop of fire, but Matty owned it. Seamus tended to have a buzz cut because he said he was going to have to get used to it—I knew he was heading for the Army the second he could.
Fuck.
That was the last thing I needed to be worrying about.
I reached up and shoved my fingers through Matty’s mop. The waves were all over the place, but I’d seen the women eying him up. Let’s just say both sons took after their dad. Fucking sluts wanted a piece of them, and I already knew far too much because Flame would tell me anything I asked even if I didn’t want to know the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
This life… motherfucker.
What kind of dad took their sons to a fucking strip joint at fourteen?