wall between the kitchen and living room had been torn down, making a great room that was gonna rock. The finishes had been done on the demolished wall days ago.
Now the island and cabinets had been put in, as had the backsplash tile. Warm wood. Chocolate subway tile. The low-backed, bucket-seat stools in coffee leather with chrome legs were under plastic in the living room, ready to go around that island when it was done.
They had the black granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances to put in, also the handles on the cabinets.
Then Janna’s kitchen would be done.
It didn’t match her gray velvet beachy living room. But she’d wanted her kitchen warm and the two spaces to be unique.
So that was what she got.
“Hey, honey.”
He turned at her call to see her bouncing down the hall toward him.
His gaze fell to her left hand where there was a rock that he could see, since that fucker could be seen from outer space.
“They got the tile done today!” she cried excitedly about two seconds before she threw herself at him.
Beck caught her.
“Yeah,” he muttered and kept doing it when he demanded, “Kiss.”
She got up on her toes and he felt her hair brushing his hands at her waist when she gave it all up for him.
After he got done plundering her mouth, he lifted his head.
“Where you wanna go for dinner?” he asked.
She scrunched her face. “It’ll be good when this is done so I can cook. Feels like I haven’t made you crinkle cuts in a year.”
He grinned at her.
Then repeated. “Where you wanna go for dinner?”
“Monsoon?”
He wasn’t a big fan, though the samosas and rice and kebabs didn’t suck.
But his woman loved Indian. That was her favorite restaurant.
“You got it,” he replied.
She beamed at him.
“Get your coat, baby. Weather’s good, we’re on my bike,” he told her.
Another beam then she pulled out of his arms to bounce away.
Ten minutes later, Gerard Beck was on his bike, his woman pressed to his patch at his back, and he was taking her to get her some food.
He could not say he didn’t have a care in the world.
He’d murdered two men.
He’d beat down a good woman.
He’d also aimed his club to an honorable path as well as righted three wrongs, and even if one of those wrongs was not erasing the fact he’d beaten down a good woman, he’d earned the love of another.
So he suspected he was doing all right.
And his brother might be proud.
But he knew his woman was.
So that worked for him.
Rebel
Six weeks later . . .
The cheer could probably be heard in China.
I was right there with them.
Tack was best man.
Rosalie gave the bride away and stood as maid of honor.
It was done outside Tack and Tyra’s place, up in the foothills.
In the end, it was Big Petey who looked like he was glowing the whole day.
But I couldn’t say his new wife Renae didn’t look all kinds of happy.
Rush
Two weeks later . . .
You really couldn’t give Hop shit that a vine of jasmine was brushing his hair as he sat on the edge of a bench stuffed with bright cushions, with his guitar on his knee.
Rush, with his father standing next to him, wouldn’t have thought to give shit anyway when she rounded the path and moved toward him with Diesel on one arm, Maddox on the other, while Hop sang that song.
It’d be a lot later when he’d notice the dress, which was a pale shade of pink Elvira would tell him was blush, with pretty lace at the top that dripped down into the filmy, wide skirt. He didn’t even notice the cleavage from the deep V or that she had her hair all bunched up in braids at her nape with a fat one framing her face.
All he could see was that face.
His girl’s beautiful face.
And the love for him that shone there.
Also, she was smiling like a huge fucking goof.
It was Molly, standing opposite him, that let out the first sob.
Essence kicked in with the next.
Amy’s came after that.
He couldn’t tell after that because Rebel had kissed Maddox’s cheek, then D’s, and D was putting her hand in his.
And that was when Rebel became his.
He didn’t have to say the vows.
But he said them.
He didn’t have to listen to her saying them.
But he listened to every word that came from her glossy lips.
That gloss got all over his mouth when he kissed his bride.
And it was crazy fucking surreal, bending with his