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“’Sup, Rock?” Z answers.
“Can you touch base with Loco? He needs someone today and I’m busy.”
He groans. “Jesus, I’m stretched thin here as it is. He needs to hire some of his own people and stop this shit.”
“No kidding. He threw in the reminder of how much he helps with Ironworks as an incentive.”
“Fuck. Wrath and Murphy are out. They’re at Sully’s place and then Wrath’s meeting with the bank about Furious.”
“Teller’s got Alexa.”
“You can’t trust Ravage to behave. Look what a pain in the ass he was at dinner the other night.”
We go back and forth and finally decide Stash gets to go play hooker bodyguard for the afternoon. I doubt he’ll be too upset about it.
“Sorry, baby doll.” I toss my phone in the middle console, not giving a fuck who needs to get ahold of me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“What are you reading to her tonight?”
We’re having a girl!
Rock tips the book my way so I can see the front. “Machiavelli? Seriously? Not Good Night Moon or something more fetus appropriate?”
I could stare at his handsome face smiling up at me all night. “Nah, this is a classic map of how to achieve power.”
His answer amuses me. I’m not terribly surprised, though. “Are you grooming our daughter to take over the MC?”
Another feral grin. “Maybe.” Slowly the laughter slips away. “No matter how much we shelter her, our daughter’s going to grow up in a brutal, unfair world.” He waves a hand in the direction of the clubhouse. “And I don’t just mean the MC.”
I wait for him to continue, expecting him to say he’ll murder anyone who hurts his daughter or something along those lines.
When he remains silent, I say, “Lately, I think it’s worse on the outside.” At least inside the confines of this club, I’m protected and cherished as I know our daughter will be.
He hums a grave sound of agreement. “I want her to grow up believing nothing is unavailable to her because she’s a girl.”
“Oh,” I breathe out.
I reach for him, running the back of my hand over his bristly cheek. His internal struggle is clear. Maybe more to me than him. It’s the same one I struggle with sometimes now that I’m a part of a world that openly values women as property.
“And,” he adds, a sly note creeping into his tone. “Anyone who puts his hands on her without her permission is getting fucking murdered.”
“Ah, I was wondering when you’d get to that.”
His savage expression slips away and he rubs his hand over my belly again, pushing my tank top out of his way. “I should tell her the story of the lonely, unapologetic criminal who seduced the sweet, innocent lawyer.”
Laughter bubbles out of me. “Maybe when she’s older.”
He spreads soft kisses over my tummy and stares at my bump with so much love.
Perfectly content in this moment, I reach down and run my fingers through his hair. “Rock?”
“Hmm?”
“We haven’t talked about baby names yet. What do you think of calling her Grace?”
“My mother’s name?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Would that be…if you don’t…”
“No, I love it.” He presses another kiss to my belly, then kisses his way up my body to lie down next to me.
He strokes his fingers over my cheek. “You’re already giving me such a wonderful gift.” His voice comes out husky with emotion and I swoop in to kiss him.
He presses his forehead to mine, creating a cocoon of safety. I slide my hand over his, entwining our fingers and he kisses my knuckles. “Any thoughts on middle names?”
Actually, I have been thinking about it a lot. I lean over and pick up my copy of The Second Sex off my nightstand. “Simone?”
His lips curve up in recognition, but his gaze slides away. “I think that book was banned by the priest at my mother’s church.”
“Oh, really?”
He shrugs, but his eyes remain distant as if he’s lost in the past. “She was a rule-breaker.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Grace Simone North?” He rolls the name off his tongue a few times, testing it out. “I like it. It’s different but simple.”
“Easy to spell too.”
I run my fingers through his hair while he rests next to my belly, reading softly to the baby. His voice rumbles through me, lulling me into a peaceful, happy state.
Probably the most content I’ve ever been.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Bricks has a garage full of bikes to be worked on when I finally drag my ass in the next morning.
We’re having a girl!
Impending fatherhood gets more real every day.
Grace Simone.
I can’t wait to hold her in my arms.
“Everything okay, Prez?”
I wipe the goofy grin off my face and adjust my mind to work time. “Yeah, it’s good. How’s it going here?”
“Backed up.” He runs a hand through his hair, a sign he’s nervous about asking me something.
“Spit it out, Bricks. What’s the matter?”
“My family. Down in Puerto Rico. House is still a mess. I need to go down and help my ma out. Fix shit up.”
I’m not a complete inconsiderate ass. I’ve asked him a few times now if he needed to go visit and help out. He just couldn’t work it into his schedule with the kids. “Yeah, of course. You need help?”
“Jesus Christ, I think you got enough going on here, Prez.”
I laugh, because, yeah, I’m a little busy, but when a brother needs help, it’s hard not to offer. “Okay. You need money?”
He hesitates before shaking his head. “Nah, I’ll be fine. Winter and the kids are coming down too.”
“Shit, you’re coming back, right? I can’t afford to lose you.”
He chuckles. “You fuckin’ kidding me? After a few days of hard labor and guilt trips about all my wasted potential, I’ll be more than ready to come home.”
The throaty rumble of a truck that can only belong to Teller rolls down the quiet street, and pulls into the driveway.
“Teller gonna help us out?” Bricks asks.
Teller has lots of talents. Art isn’t one of them.
“Doubt it.” No, Teller’s bringing Carter by to see if he wants to learn how to do some custom paint work from Bricks.
Teller couldn’t have picked a better day to bring by his almost-brother-in-law. The timing of Bricks’ trip couldn’t be worse, but no way am I stopping him from doing what he needs to do for his family.
If he can get Carter up and running, it’ll be easier to absorb the loss of Bricks. And honestly, I have enough work that Carter can stay on when Bricks returns.
Teller swears the kid is trustworthy. I guess we’ll find out. He behaved well on the trip. Didn’t give anyone lip that I know of. Maybe Carter’s just mouthy with Teller because he doesn’t like him molesting his older sister every five seconds.
“Hey, Knucklehead,” I call out.
Teller’s mouth curls into a smirk because he knows the nickname’s said with affection. Most of the time.
“Hey, Prez. You remember Carter.”
“Good to see you, Carter. Thanks for coming over.”
He shakes my hand but has trouble meeting my eyes. “Hi, Mr. North.”
I haven’t suggested he call me anything else yet. Mr. North works fine.
“You did some good sketches down in Florida. Some nice paint work at the one show. Think you’re up to doing it on a more regular basis?”
“Here?” He steps back, gaze darted between Teller and me. “For you?”
“Yeah,” I answer slowly, amused by his reaction. “Bricks is leaving me for a couple months—”
“Couple weeks, Prez,” Bricks interrupts. “Jesus.”
I lift my chin at Bricks to let him know I’m messing with him.
>
“I’m slammed right now. Need another talented artist.”
He cocks his head and crosses his arms over his chest. “If I fuck up, you gonna cut off my fingers?”
Teller smacks him in the back of the head. “What did I tell you?” he mutters.
When I stop laughing, I grin at the kid. “Think you’re gonna fuck up that often?”
“No.”
“Few things can’t be unfucked, Carter.”
He seems to think that over. “I guess.”
Teller shoots a pleading look my way, as if he’s worried I might kill Carter this afternoon. He shouldn’t be so worried. I kinda like the kid. He’s got a brain-to-mouth malfunction that rivals Teller’s when he was younger, no doubt about that. But I prefer honesty and Carter doesn’t sugarcoat a thing. I’m not sure he even knows how.
