It helped that it had been a while since he’d gone on a job, and if he meant what he’d said the day Lucie had arrived, he wouldn’t be killing anyone for a long while if it meant he could potentially be locked up for it.
Shit like that mattered when you had a woman and a child.
She cuddled into him, letting him prop her up as he slipped one hand around her waist, then reached for the bottle of Patrón that was doing the rounds. As he took a sip, I cocked a brow when I realized his trusty lighter wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity.
“What is it?” he asked, tilting his head to the side as he stared at me.
“Nothing,” I replied, not wanting to raise the subject when it wasn’t necessary. I just hadn’t seen him without that damn thing for… fuck. Years. I wasn’t even sure how often he filled the damn thing, but it was constantly being flicked on and off.
“You okay, baby doll?” Flame inquired, pressing his mouth to her ear. He had to speak over the music, so that was the only reason I heard him.
She sighed. “Amaryllis had another nightmare.”
I frowned. “Another one?” I hadn’t been aware of the first, but seemed like Flame was…
When had that happened?
“She’ll be okay, sweetheart.”
“I know she will. I just… I don’t want her to be like I was.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I lost my mom, it wasn’t just her running off. It was like my dad eradicated her. I mean, it makes sense now, but back then it didn’t. I don’t talk about Ryan that much because it hurts, but I don’t want her to forget him, or for her to feel like she can’t talk about him. You know?”
I didn’t, but I could piece shit together. “Maybe we could talk about him? Like, how he was when he was growing up?”
She licked her lips and peered at us through her lashes. It was weird seeing this side of her. Little Lucie was all grown up, but her maturity level was beyond anything I could have expected. In some small way, we were all still big kids around the MC. Sure, we had deadly responsibilities, but we fucked who we wanted, drank when we wanted, smoked, partied, and lived life in the fast lane as we roared down highways at speeds that would have us arrested if the local PD wasn’t in our pocket.
Lucie had been reared among that, but she’d changed. Motherhood had made her responsible.
“You’d do that? For us?”
My brow puckered. “I’d do anything for you, darlin’.”
Her jaw clenched for a second, then she shook her head. “Why didn’t you believe me all those years ago?”
She might as well have grabbed my dagger and stabbed it in my thigh.
I cut a look around the orgy going on behind us and with a sigh, murmured, “Come on, let’s go outside, yeah?”
She shrugged, but I could see the hurt in her eyes. Saw it and wanted to scream at myself for having put it there.
This was not a conversation I wanted to have, but it was one that was way past its due.
❖
Axe
“Lucie’s back.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose as I spoke.
“Lucifer? Bomber’s daughter?” my mother squeaked.
“Yeah.” When she fell silent, didn’t utter another word, I murmured, “Momma?”
She sighed. “You and she always were like fire together.”
Christ, if only she knew. There was no way I could tell her about us sharing Lucie. No way, no how. After my pop had died, momma had turned against the MC, staying long enough for me to turn eighteen before moving over to Jacksonville.
My once sweetbutt momma had married a minister of all people. It surprised me to this day that she maintained contact with me, but I guess that was part of her new creed now—turning the other cheek and all that shit.
I wasn’t a believer, but I wasn’t about to dump on her beliefs either. I was grateful for the contact, grateful because I loved her and wanted to be a part of her life, even if that amounted to nothing more than a phone call every few weeks.
“We were… she came back with my daughter,” I told her hesitantly. I was always careful around her, careful not to upset her. After what had happened to my father? My momma had had a kind of nervous breakdown, and hadn’t kept shit together well at all.
It had turned into a habit that I spoke to her like she was glass that was on the brink of shattering. When she sucked down a sharp breath, I winced and awaited the fallout.
“She kept that from you all these years?” Jacinda snapped, surprising me with her anger.
“Wasn’t like she could keep me in the loop, momma, was it?” I chided. “Anyway, I don’t want to focus on the past. I’m focusing on the future.”
She harrumphed. “It’s the Lord’s work that you can forgive her, I suppose.”
That made me cringe but I just mumbled, “Yeah, sure. How’s Brian?”
“He’s fine. Having trouble with his knees again.”
“Should tell him to stop playing golf.”
My dad would be rolling around in his grave if he knew his old lady was married to someone who played fucking golf. Jesus.
“He won’t, plus, it’s good exercise for him.”
I kept the subject light and was relieved when someone rang her doorbell and she had to leave the call earlier than usual.
“Don’t know why you bother,” Wolfe grunted.
Twisting around to look at him, I saw he’d made himself comfortable in the doorway to my room as he listened in.
“She’s my mother. Shouldn’t I at least try?” It was a mostly rhetorical question because I was the only one of us that actually maintained some contact with my surviving parent.
He snorted. “Some mother. Left the second she could. Plus, I bet she don’t wanna meet Amaryllis.”
That had me tensing, but I wasn’t about to get defensive. Not with Wolfe. He was my brother. No, he hadn’t popped out of my mother, but to me, he might as well have.
“No. She didn’t mention a visit.”
“And she wouldn’t. She’s stuck in the Twilight Zone over in Jacksonville with that creep of a husband of hers.”
I pulled a face. “We don’t know he’s a creep.”
“Fucker looks like a serial killer.”
That had me laughing. “We’d know.”
He grunted. “True. Surprised she didn’t harp on about you marrying Lucie.”
I shrugged. “She wasn’t interested.”
“Never is. Selfish bitch.” He grunted again. “None of us were all that lucky where family was concerned, were we?”
“No, but that’s why we’re close. We made our own family.” And I wasn’t just talking about within the MC.
I watched him from my position on the bed. He stalked past me, over to the sofa, and passed the Fender guitar that was leaning against the wall to peer out at the grounds beyond.
“What’s up?” I asked him quietly, knowing he’d only shown up because he wanted to talk.
I was pretty much Wolfe’s sounding board. The man was capable of a lot of reason, but sometimes, he liked to talk shit out.