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I fight the twinge of fear that passes over me when I drive into the parking garage of my building. I have to remind myself that Nero is out of town and therefore his goons aren’t around to grab me. At least that’s what I tell myself. Too late, I realize I should have met the girls at their apartment instead. Glancing around the space, I don’t unlock my door until I confirm no one is around. I’m near the stairwell, so I only need a minute to leave the car and dash upstairs. I don’t relax until I’m safely inside my apartment.
“Mama,” Shayna greets me as soon as I close and lock the door. All my children have keys to my apartment.
Both girls wrap their arms around me, and we stand like that for several minutes. Each just taking in the love that we have for each other. Shayna and Sasha are twins, not identical, but paternal. Although you wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at them. Sasha’s eyes are a little more almond-shaped than her sister’s, while Shayna’s face is a little fuller. They both share my dark hair and dark eyes, just like their half-brother Hex. None of my children look like their fathers.
“We were hoping you’d come alone,” Sasha says as we disentangle from each other.
“Who did you think I’d bring?” I ask in some surprise.
“Neither Hex nor Dixie let you out of their sight very often,” Shayna chimes in.
“They’re both busy,” I acknowledge. “Although, I would have come regardless,” I continue when I see them share a look. “Hex is not the boss of me. Neither is Dixie. They’re just overprotective.”
“Which is why we didn’t agree to move into the clubhouse when Hex offered,” Shayna says.
“Can you imagine?” Sasha says with a little shudder. “He’d lock us up in one of their rooms and leave us to die alone and unwanted.”
I chuckle. “He’s not that bad. But yeah, you would definitely lose your freedom and independence.”
“I sometimes think we’ve lost our mother,” Shayna says, going to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of wine. “We hardly see you anymore.”
“Not his fault. Or at least not all of it,” I protest. “Not Dixie’s either,” I continue when Shayna opens her mouth. “I offered to stay at the clubhouse until they had it livable. They’re almost there. Although they could use some help finishing up the last rooms.” I say looking at Shayna, who is shaking her head.
“Decorating an MC clubhouse is not exactly the type of project I want to put on my resume,” she protests.
“You don’t have to put it on your resume, but Hex would gladly pay you for the help. You’ll get experience and you’ll get paid for it. They’ve done most of the work, but they could use some help to give it a little personality.”
“I’ll think about it,” she says. “Now let’s order, I’m starving.”
I pull out the pile of delivery menus I keep for when I don’t feel like cooking. We select the Chinese restaurant a few blocks over and place our order.
While we wait, we drink a glass of wine each while the girls regale me with stories.
“My last date was someone I met at the coffee shop. He went on and on about how women expect a man to spend a small fortune on them before they’ll consider having sex. He ranted and raved for forty-five minutes. I knew he was trying to guilt me into saying yes when he finally wound down enough to ask me to go back to his place. I said no, of course. This set him off. He screamed at me about how I was just like the others before he stomped off,” Shayna says.
“That’s nothing. The last date I went on didn’t happen. Never even got out of the front door. My date sent me a text that wasn’t meant for me. He meant to send it to his buddy. He told the guy to wish him luck and that if he scored with me, that he’d owe him ten bucks for banging the most chicks that week,” Sasha says.
“What did you do?” I ask her.
“I wrote him back and told him he’d be better off trolling a bar for some hard up chick with beer goggles.”
We laugh as the girls try to outdo each other with horror stories from their dating lives. They’re both in college with graduation in their sights. Shayna’s studying interior design while Sasha wants to be a lawyer. Both girls are intelligent and excited about their futures. Neither seems interested in getting married. I know most mothers would push their daughter to find a husband, but after my experience with men, I’m rather hoping they don’t rush into anything.
We’re still chuckling when the buzzer rings to let us know our dinner is here. I grab the bottle of wine to top off our glasses as Sasha opens the door. Her screams are the only warning I get before six men rush into the room. I watch in horror as they take out syringes and slide them into my girls. My heart races as I watch them go unconscious, just as oblivion takes me over.
Coming out of oblivion takes much longer.
I hear men’s voices and my first thought is that I’m back at the clubhouse. However, I quickly realize that I don’t recognize any of them and the tenor of their voices is wrong. But the sound of one voice has my eyes flying open in fear.
“You’re awake, good. Let’s get this started,” says the man who I hate more than any other.
“What do you want, Maxim?”
“Can’t a man want to spend time with his wife?”
“Not you. What do you want?”
He smirks at me. “Nothing from you, but I thought capturing you would grab my son’s attention.”
