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I shook my head. “You’d be surprised.”
He mulled on that for a moment. “Fuck, man, I don’t want my kid growing up like I did. What if Bliss has a boy?” He groaned. “Fuck, worse, what if she has a girl? Bliss already has me wrapped around her little finger. How much worse will I be with a daughter?”
I couldn’t help the smile. “She’d be a hell-raiser. Especially with Scythe and Vincent and Nash around to influence her. Give her twenty years and she can be your VP, just like you were for Army.”
He smiled at the thought. “I kinda fucking want that, you know? A biker princess.”
I grinned. “That would be sweet.”
War jerked his head toward me. “What about you?”
I frowned. “What about me?”
War finally tossed a fry in his mouth while raising his eyebrow at me suggestively. “You gonna knock your little pixie up anytime soon?”
I flushed hot at the thought of Rebel’s taut belly rounding with my baby. My balls tightened at the idea of wrapping my arms around her from behind and feeling our child move beneath her skin. Shit. The rush of longing hit me so hard I could barely breathe.
War raised an eyebrow. “Damn, Fang. Quit staring at me like that before I get pregnant.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Fuck off.”
But the image wouldn’t go away.
I wanted her pregnant. I wanted a family.
I tried in vain to push the desire away, because if I knew Rebel at all, it was that she would despise the idea of settling down and having a kid. Sure, she was thirty, and excited for Bliss’s baby, but that was one she could give back.
Rebel was never going to be a woman I could tie down with a house and rugrats. Her size wasn’t the only reason I called her Pix. She was wild and free and magical. Just like pixies.
It didn’t matter what I wanted. All that mattered was her.
She would always be enough. She always had been everything I ever wanted. I was only getting all up in my head because War had put stupid ideas there. I shoved food in my mouth to avoid talking about it anymore.
War did the same, both of us eating in silence, lost in our own thoughts.
Eventually, when there was nothing left between us but crumbs, War glanced outside. “Sun’s just about gone. You ready to do this?”
I scrunched up my napkin and threw it onto the table. “When you are.”
War jerked his head toward the door, signaling to get going. We both tossed a few bills onto the table, then scooted out from beneath the table.
In the parking lot, we got into the white, unmarked club van, and headed for the Sinners’ house.
War gave nothing away, staring straight ahead, eyes on the road in front of us.
I did the same. My pinkie finger twitched, though.
I wasn’t sure if it was because I was on edge about coming back here. Things hadn’t exactly gone well last time.
Or if I was jumpy because all I could think about was my woman holding a baby whose eyes were the same color as mine.
Fucking War. Corrupting me with his sappy family life bullshit. That wasn’t in the cards for me, no matter how sweet it seemed.
War pulled up at the end of the desolate street in the shittiest part of Saint View. Most of the houses around here were abandoned, too old and run-down for anyone to live in, apart from guys like the Sinners who had nowhere else to go while they tried to etch out a place for themselves in this world.
Broken glass glittered in the moonlight, and piles of rubble lay between the houses that were left standing. Danger whispered from deep shadows.
We were one of them.
