Shotgun, who was completely and utterly encompassed by his son as he kicked and battled and pushed for probably a good few minutes before finally tipping onto his belly.
“Yes!” Adrian crowed with laughter, startling Gage for a second.
“Holy shit, kid.” Slate laughed, clapping his hands—the brothers and other people in the room doing the same.
Shotgun still hadn’t said anything or even moved. His eyes still focused on his son with the corner of his mouth turned up just slightly into a smile.
“But wait, the show’s not over yet!” Adrian announced. Getting up off the floor, he reached for a small bag on the chair. He stuck his hand inside and pulled out an outfit. Though it took me a second to figure out just what it was, Shotgun was already striding across the room.
“Nope. Hell, no,” he announced, shaking his head at what I was now making out. It was a onesie with a fake leather vest printed on it, bottoms that looked like ripped jeans, and feet that looked like boots. All topped off with a fake mustache and beard on the top.
Adrian frowned, but it was fake.
He was hiding a smile because he knew Shotgun was going to hate the fucking outfit.
“Not on my kid, dickhead,” Shotgun growled, bending down and picking up Gage off the floor. The kid’s eyes widened as Shotgun tucked him into his elbow, so he was sitting up and looking forward as he carried him away.
My mouth hung open.
I couldn’t do anything but watch him go.
It was so damn sexy, there really was nothing else to say or do.
Not just that, though, it was the first time Shotgun had taken charge with his son. The first time he’d picked him up on his own accord and not been handed him to hold. And not just that, but the first time I’d seen confidence in his eyes. In the way he just propped Gage up in his arm and walked off with him as if he never had any damn fears about raising this baby boy to begin with.
It made my heart soar and tears line my lashes. This was the man I knew he could be. The father I knew he wanted to be.
“Only leathers this kid is going to be wearing are real ones,” he called back as he headed for the garage.
“Oh, come on!” Adrian laughed, stomping after him for a few feet and throwing his hands in the air. “Can we at least put the mustache on?”
“Get fucked, manny!” Shotgun stepped through the garage doors, kicking them shut behind him.
The rest of the boys moved back to their jobs while Slate just sat there, a wide grin on his face as he watched Adrian pack up the mat again and stuff the ugly outfit back into the bag.
“Nice play, man,” Slate complimented, forcing Adrian to look up.
“What?” He raised his brow, though it was subtle, he was not as confused by the question like he was trying to play it off as.
“You figured out how Shotgun works. You don’t tell that asshole what to do. You don’t force him into shit.” I could see it now, where Slate was going. “It’s the little shit you do. Pretending to forget you left shit upstairs, so Shotgun has to watch Gage for a few moments on his own. Talking shit to Gage about Shotgun, in front of him, so Shotgun copies and talks shit to Gage about you just to get you back.”
Adrian cared.
He really did care so freaking much.
He and Shotgun smashed heads at times, nothing ever too serious, but I knew it was because Adrian saw in Shotgun what we all saw. That ability to be the most amazing father, but that was smothered by fear. And while I didn’t see it before, it seemed obvious now Slate had pointed it out.
“Like buying the ugliest biker baby outfit you could find,” I added with a gentle laugh. “And knowing Shotgun would rather take his baby the hell away from you before he let you put him in that.”
Adrian had his ways. They were sneaky and borderline manipulative, but they were working.
When Adrian just laughed, Slate walked over and slapped him on the back. “Thanks.”
“He’s gonna be a great dad,” Adrian said, clearing his voice as it broke just a little. “He just needs the odd push.”
SHOTGUN
“Ten minutes until we close,” I announced loudly, stepping into The Green Room—what we called our gentlemen’s club and letting the doors swing closed behind