For this.
For children who can laugh without fear. For families who can breathe.
For one evening where the biggest danger in my home is Marcello giving too much frosting to a group of sugar-hungry children.
“Is Micah here?” I ask, looking around for the young man with locked-in syndrome.
“He’s actually in your security room with your men,” Spike says with a laugh. “Apparently, he wanted to see how different security is here compared to the compound.”
“Vastly, I’m afraid,” I say with a sigh. “After Los Fantasmas attacked, I increased our security protocols. It’s hard to even receive a letter without three people checking it first.”
Spike studies me for a moment, the amusement fading from his face.
“But your family is safe,” he says softly.
I glance around the room.
At the children laughing.
At Marcello leading his chosen taste testers toward the kitchen.
At the Shadow’s women relaxing and talking as if this house has always belonged to them too.
At Spike standing beside me like a brother instead of an ally.
My throat tightens, but I swallow it down.
“But my family is safe,” I agree with a nod.
And for a man like me, that has to be enough.
“I don’t wanna hear it, Sunny,” I hear Bones say. “It’s not safe. One wrong move, and you and that damn bike will be smashed under a semi-truck. You’re taking it back.”
“I most certainly am not,” Sunny says, standing as tall as she can while glaring up at her man. “I am a grown woman, and I can make decisions on my own. The bike stays.”
“Don’t think I won’t tie your ass to our bed,” Bones growls.
“Dang it, Jack, why do you have to make things so freaking difficult?”
Bones doesn’t say anything for several moments. He just stares down at her, the hard lines of his face easing as he cups her cheeks in both hands.
“Baby,” he says, his voice lower now, rougher. “The thought of you getting hurt tears me up inside. If something happened to you, I wouldn’t survive it.”
Sunny’s shoulders soften.
“But I’m being safe,” she says with a sigh. “I’m not being reckless on the thing.”
“It’s not you I don’t trust, Sunny,” he says. “People are idiots behind the wheels of their vehicles. One wrong move. One quick look away. They could miss you until it’s too late and hit you. It terrifies the hell out of me.”
“Ugh,” she groans, but there’s no real heat left in it. “Fine. I’ll send it back. But I want a four-wheeler to drive around the desert with.”
“Thank you, baby,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss her gently.
I look away to give them their moment, but my chest tightens.
There’s something almost painful about witnessing that kind of love. Not because I resent it. I don’t. I would never begrudge them the kind of devotion that makes a man tremble at the thought of losing his woman.
But my arms ache with the memory of having someone to hold.
