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All for this.
For love.
Found at the worst time in my life.
This love just might kill me.
Chapter Seventeen
Striker
I wake up with a soft, warm glow in my chest and the first light of dawn filtering through the curtains. The gentle, golden light is bright enough to highlight the sublime rise and fall of Danielle's chest as she breathes softly in and out. Her face is relaxed, peaceful, like someone has just told her that everything is going to be okay. She’s lying on her back, hair splayed out around her head like a halo, and there’s a softness to her I rarely get to see. There’s a smile playing on her lips. Lying there watching her, a sense of contentment washes over me, a feeling so foreign yet so deeply craved.
I lay there, my mind clear of the chaos that has haunted me for so long.
The room is silent except for our breathing.
It's just us; two souls who have circled each other for years, who have now found each other in the way they've always wanted. This peace, this pure contentment, it's a stark contrast to the life I've known — one filled with the hard training and deadly missions as a Marine and the heated battles on the streets as a member of the Steel Reapers MC. Here, in this quiet moment, all that seems worlds away.
With the things I've done, for the MC and for the Marines, I know it's a peace I don't deserve.
It's a peace that I won by betraying my brother.
Thoughts of Smokey and the consequences of what Danielle and I have start to creep into my mind. But I push them away, not wanting to taint this precious moment. I've learned the hard way to cling to peace when you find it. You never know how quickly you can lose it.
It can disappear with a word, with a gunshot, and leave a wound that haunts you for life.
I slip out of bed, careful not to wake Danielle, and head for a shower.
As I shave, I catch myself humming — a rare sound these days. The act feels like a celebration, a small acknowledgment of the happiness I'm feeling. Fucking happiness. When’s the last time I felt anything close to that?
After my shower, I wrap a towel around my waist and head back into the bedroom. Danielle is still sleeping, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. I can't help but notice how beautiful she looks, even in her sleep. I could watch her for hours, but I know I have to get dressed and head out soon.
I want to celebrate. I want a drink. I want to feel the morning sunlight on me and know that I'm not actually dreaming, that I heard those words she said last night — I love you — and that I really said them back to her.
What a world where I can say those words and mean it.
Still, even with that mood in my heart, my mind keeps spinning.
As I pull on my jeans and a t-shirt, I can't shake the feeling that something isn't right. It's like a nagging voice in the back of my mind warning me that danger is coming. I try to ignore it, but it's persistent, and it's only getting louder.
Dressed and ready, I watch Danielle sleep some more.
She looks so serene, so right, lying there in our bed.
It's so tempting to climb in beside her, to wrap her in my arms, to kiss her awake and then fuck her senseless, but I'm in the mood for a drink. I scribble a quick note telling her I'll be back soon, and I lean down and press a gentle kiss to her forehead before heading out the door.
Crossing the Vertucci compound courtyard, I come across a small group of the groomsmen and Michael Vertucci, the groom and Mafia shithead himself. They're seated in a circle, chatting, drinking. Their eyes linger on me, but there's no hostility, just curiosity. Whatever ill will I earned with that fight last night seems to have died with the dark. Or maybe they knew that prick crossed a line with Dani and deserved what he got. Hell, he deserved a lot worse that what I gave him.
Either way, I'm in the mood to celebrate, and when Michael gestures for me to join them, I do, and one of them passes me a beer.
"Morning," I murmur, raising my beer toward the groom. "And congratulations. Tomorrow's the big day, huh?"
Michael Vertucci grins.
And despite the paleness in his complexion that I attribute to him likely staying up most of the night partying and starting his morning with what looks like more than a few beers, there's a genuine glow in his smile.
"It is. I'm a lucky man. I can't wait to get married to my woman, to be honest with you. Fucking love. Isn’t it a damn crazy thing?"
