Skirt (Ruthless Kings MC #5) - K.L. Savage Page 0,90

and onto the boat where the scared little boy was.

“I can’t believe how healthy they sound. It’s a fucking … it’s a miracle.”

I giggle from another curse he tries to hide.

“This is going to take some getting used to,” he says. “Why don’t you go get some rest? He isn’t going to wake up anytime soon. Go eat, shower, relax. He’s safe here. Reaper is having a new electrical gate installed so what happened doesn’t happen again. Security is tighter. Breathe easier. I’ll be down here with them.”

“Me too!” Juliette says in the blue scrubs she insists on wearing. “I passed my test! I’m officially an RN!”

“Thank fu—thank fudge, I mean. I need all the help I can get.”

“You have a bad habit to break, Doc.”

“I know, I know. And I’m not even the worst one. Everyone is going to have to learn how to bite their tongues around these little ones.” Doc moves to the next child and checks their heart rate, listening closely for any inconsistencies.

“Yeah, but something tells me they won’t mind. They might be big, bad bikers, but they are softies at heart,” Juliette states, tucking a blanket under another kid.

“Don’t let them hear you say that,” Doc chides. “It will be a pissing match.”

We all share a laugh because we know it’s true, and then we quiet down when the sounds bounce off the walls. I lower my voice to a whisper, “Are you sure it’s okay to leave? Maybe he will need me. I’m nervous to leave him alone.”

Doc stands in front of me, and his broad chest takes up my view. I tilt my head back to be able to look at him, and his massive paw of a hand takes mine. “I promise. I have him. I’m not going to let anything happen to these kids. They are probably the safest they’ve ever been.”

I know he’s right, but that doesn’t mean I’m not scared; not after everything that’s happened. “Okay, but call me if anything happens. If he wakes up, screams, cries—”

“Go. It’s fine.”

“Doctor’s orders. Get on out, missy.” Juliette pushes me toward the staircase.

“Fine. I’m going. I’m going.” I amble up the stairs, as slow as possible. I look back at Aidan, sleeping soundly, then I continue into the kitchen. A few guys are sitting around the table, tired from the trip to NOLA. Tongue is even falling asleep while sharpening his knife.

Tool slaps the back of Tongue’s head and he startles awake, pressing the blade against Tool’s crotch.

Tool stands on his tiptoes and backs away. “Woah, hey now. No need to go crazy. You were falling asleep while making your blade are nice and deadly. I was just trying to help.”

“I’m going to hit the hay,” Tongue snaps, sheathing his blade as if it’s a sword. “Don’t fuck with a man holding a knife, Tool. “

“Don’t fuck with a man holding a knife, Tool,” Tool acts childish, mocking Tongue like a little boy in a high-pitched tone.

“I’m too tired to even deal with you.” Tongue stomps off down the hall and opens the door where Sarah used to sleep, slamming it shut.

“Was it something I said?” Tool questions.

“No,” Poodle says in a way that is condescending toward Tool.

I grin at their antics and make my way to Skirt’s cabin. It’s a simple chalet style log cabin. Three bedrooms, two baths, and what’s even better is that he built it himself. Skirt is a man of many talents.

I open the door, and there are a few things missing, like the couch. The hardwood floors have been replaced with foam material that look like puzzle pieces. What the hell? As I make my way toward the master suite, I see a tool box sitting near the door along with a tool belt.

There’s childproof locks on everything. He might have gone a little overboard. There’s even foam covering the vent. It warms my heart that he cares so much, but Aidan knows not to go near the vents. I unlatch the foam from the puzzle piece and carry with me to the bedroom.

Skirt is sitting on the bed, rummaging through an old tattered cardboard box. On the side it says, ‘Conor.’

His brother.

I drop the red foam piece on the ground and crawl on the bed, then wrap my arms around Skirt. “You okay?”

“Today’s his birthday. I miss him,” Skirt breaks my heart with how soporific he sounds.

“I’m sorry. Is all of this stuff his? Do you have a picture? Why haven’t I seen