Page 16 of Always My Fate

Peaches

She’d slipped out of bed as quietly as she could, one hand supporting the heavy curve of her belly. The house was quiet, but she’d felt the absence beside her the moment Blackie left. Sleep had been hard to come by lately anyway—between the baby kicking like he was training for a rodeo and the constant low hum of worry about the club. She’d pulled on a light robe and then padded down the hallway, bare feet silent on the cool floor.

She knew exactly where he’d be.

The shop door was cracked open, the faint glow of the overhead lights spilling out. Peaches paused just outside, listening to the low mutter of his voice—rough, raw, full of that self-doubt he rarely let anyone see. Her heart twisted at the words drifting through the night air. “Failing as a father...screwing this one up...not enough.”

She pushed the door wider and stepped inside. “Blackie.”

He stared at her for a long minute, and she could see the argument playing out in his head on how to handle her rebellion. “Peaches. You should be in bed, darlin’. Doctor’s orders.”

“I know what the doctor said,” she replied softly, moving closer despite the twinge in her back. Her untamed curls fell loose around her shoulders, keeping her gaze steady on him. “But my man’s carryin’ the weight of the world by himself again, so the bed can wait a minute.”

She reached him, slid her arms around his waist, and rested her cheek against his broad chest. The scent of grease, leather, and Blackie wrapped around her with a strong sense of home. For a long moment he held her, body curled protectively around hers.

“I heard some of that,” she whispered. “You think you’re gonna fail us?”

Blackie let out a harsh breath, his gruff voice low. “Got five kids already runnin’ around this house, another boy on the way, and the club’s still pullin’ me in every direction. MDMC ghosts, border pressure, all of it. What if I’m never here enough? What if Daniel grows up wonderin’ why his old man’s constantly ridin’ out instead of teachin’ him how to be a decent human?”

Peaches pulled back just enough to gaze at him, cupping his scarred jaw with one hand. “Kirk Langdon, you listen to me. You are the best damn thing that ever happened to this family. You raised Randi like she was yours from the start. You’ve got Tater lookin’ up to you like you hung the moon, and the girls—Punkin and Lil Bit especially—light up the second you walk through that door. You believe any of them doubt you?”

She took his hand and pressed it firmer against her belly. “This little boy? He’s already got the strongest father in East Texas. You’re not perfect, and thank God for that—’cause neither am I. But you show up. Every single time it matters, you damn well show up. That’s what they’ll remember. That’s what I know in my bones.”

Blackie’s eyes darkened with emotion, as if his fear eased under her words. “Fuck, Peaches...I don’t deserve you.”

“You do,” she said fiercely, rising on her toes to kiss him. The kiss started tender—slow and deep, full of reassurance—but quickly heated as his hands roamed her body with careful reverence. He lifted her gently onto the edge of the sturdy workbench and stepped between her thighs.

“Goddamn, woman,” he growled against her mouth, one hand sliding under her robe to caress the swollen curve of her breast while the other stayed protectively on her belly. “You’re carryin’ my son and still lookin’ like every fantasy I ever had. So fuckin’ beautiful it kills me.”

Peaches moaned softly into the kiss, her fingers threading through his hair as the heat built between them. They kept their movements slow and intimate—his mouth worshipping her neck, her shoulders, the sensitive skin stretched tight over their growing child—until the tenderness gave way to shared, shuddering release. Blackie held her through it all, whispering raw endearments and promises against her skin.

Afterward, he rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing hard. “I love you, Charlotte. Lottie. Peaches. Doesn’t matter what name you run under, you’ve always been my fate.”

She smiled, tracing the lines of his face. “And you’re mine, Kirk. Now take me back to bed, President. Your queen needs her king close tonight.”

Blackie chuckled softly and scooped her up like she weighed nothing. The fears weren’t gone completely, of course not and she knew that, but for now, they’d been pushed away to where they belonged.

Together, they could face anything.

***

Blackie

Blackie had just carried Peaches to their bed, her soft laughter still warming his chest, when his phone vibrated on the nightstand. He glanced at the screen and muttered a quiet curse. Horse.

He kissed her temple and eased away. “Gotta take this. Belle’s calling. I’ll keep it quick.”

Charlotte nodded, curling onto her side with one hand on her belly, watching him with those steady green eyes. He stepped into the hallway and answered.

“Horse. Talk to me.”

“Prez.” Horse’s voice came through tight but controlled. “Minor shit tonight, but I figured you’d want the heads-up. Couple of unknowns rolled up near the south fence line about an hour ago. Shamu went ballistic, and my guys were on ’em fast. No shots fired—they turned tail when they saw we were ready. Left some fresh tracks and a half-assed spray-painted tag that looked like old MDMC shit. We chased ’em off property, and they scattered, but them probing that location doesn’t feel random.”

Blackie leaned against the wall, jaw clenching. “Motherfuckers. You sure everyone’s okay? Glenna? The ranch intact?”

“All good. Glenna’s inside with Shamu beside her, ready for anything. We’ve got no damage, no injuries. But those tracks were fresh and deliberate. They were testing us, probing for weak spots now that things have been quiet. My gut says it’s the same crew Ruiz is running with.”

“Goddamn it.” Blackie dragged a hand down his face, mind already spinning through options. He kept his voice low so it wouldn’t carry into the bedroom. “All right. Excellent work gettin’ on top of it fast. That’s exactly how I want the problem handled. You did right callin’ me.”