Joker (Hell's Ankhor #8) - Aiden Bates Page 0,77

back over to me and Dawson with a wide grin on his face.

“I think they’re happy with the event so far,” Joker said.

“Wait until they get to the desserts,” I said.

Joker glanced at Dawson, and his face fell a little bit. But then Dawson cleared his throat and extended his hand to shake. “Hey, Joker. Great event.”

“Thanks,” Joker said. He shook his hand, albeit a little tentatively, his brow furrowed.

“Sorry about that night,” Dawson said with a grimace. “At Ballast. I was being a real asshole.”

I blinked. I was grateful that Dawson was apologizing, but honestly, I hadn’t expected it. Especially without me pushing him to do it. But here he was, cringing at Joker like he was expecting a slap in the face. Part of me thought he deserved that.

But then Joker just nodded, a small smile curling his lips. “I wasn’t exactly a pinnacle of good behavior, either,” Joker admitted. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Hey!” a familiar voice boomed. “Heard there was a party today!”

“Dad!” I said as my parents approached the event. “Glad you could make it!”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” Dad said. He and Mom had gone for the costume-you-can-build-from-your-closet route, and were dressed up as what I thought were perhaps… mobsters? Dad’s suit jacket was a little tight on his shoulders, that was for sure.

Mom smiled. Her hair, the same deep red color as mine, was pulled into a tight bun. “Of course not. And we wanted to meet some of the guys that are funding your business, too. Heya, Dawson.”

“Hi, Mrs. Mulhollen,” Dawson said. “Good to see you.”

Joker looked a little pale under the curious, warm eyes of my parents. I wrapped my arm around his waist and tugged him close. “Joker, these are my folks,” I said.

“We’ve heard a lot about you,” Dad said.

“Oh, uh, please, it’s Lawrence,” he said.

“Do you prefer that?” Mom asked. “Or would you prefer Joker?”

Joker rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, uh, Joker, I guess.”

Mom smiled and patted his forearm. “Then Joker it is. This is a lovely event. Easy to see how much fun the kids are having.”

“Joker!” Patrick called. “Come here, I want to see your bike!”

“I think that’s your cue,” I said with a grin.

“Yeah, they can be, uh, a little demanding,” Joker said. “But they’re great.”

“You’ll have to come by for dinner sometime soon and give us the scoop,” Dad said.

Some of the anxiety in Joker’s face eased, and he nodded. “Sounds great, sir, I’d like that.”

“Joker!” Patrick screeched.

“Go,” I said. I leaned over and kissed him, brief and chaste, but Joker’s face still turned pink. Like he hadn’t expected me to do that in front of my parents. But I’d wanted to show him that I hadn’t been blowing smoke up his ass—my family would accept him, too.

Joker nodded at me, dumbstruck, and then turned to my parents. “Nice to meet you both,” he said. Then he grinned widely, and hurried toward the bikes, where Patrick was waving both arms frantically over his head.

As he walked away, Mom sighed happily. “He seems sweet.”

“He does,” Dad agreed. Then he pinned me with a knowing look. “And you seem happy.”

“I think I am, Dad,” I said. Standing here in the parking lot, with my family, watching Joker and the club guys interact with the kids—I felt like a real member of the community. Like we were building a community ourselves. And I wouldn’t have this without Joker at my side. “I really think I am.”

25

Joker

I smoothed my hand down Brennan’s bare chest. I really thought I’d never get used to this—he was so gorgeous, strong, tattooed, dusted with dark red hair. And I loved seeing him sprawled out on my sheets, with his arms crossed behind his head, drawing my eye to the curve of his biceps and his big, warm smile. I was straddling his hips, and both of us were down to our boxer-briefs, but there was no urgency there. There was always a buzz of arousal when I was with Brennan, but now I knew he wasn’t going anywhere. I could relax and take my time.

And I liked having him here, in my room, in the clubhouse. Sometimes it was more convenient at Brennan’s—I could be as loud as I wanted, for one—but something possessive inside me thrilled at seeing him in my bed. Especially now. This wasn’t just a place I crashed because it saved money on rent. The clubhouse was my home. Really, truly my home. And I wanted to share it