Thunder (Hell's Handlers MC #10) - Lilly Atlas Page 0,137

enjoying the show!”

Thunder snorted. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you take your man home and put on your own show?”

“Hmm…” Izzy tapped her chin. “You know, Thunder, that is a damn good idea.” She rose and winked. “You are more than just a hot ass and killer smile, you know that?”

He flipped her off, making Izzy feign offense as Mack giggled.

He slung his arm around her shoulders and tugged her toward the stairs. “Come on, let’s grab the kids and get you guys home.”

“They’re actually all sleeping upstairs. Cassie said she’d stay so we can just go home and get some sleep before we have to pick Kara up in the morning.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “You sure you’re cool with that? With leaving the kids here and with letting Lee stay at the hospital?” He looked down into her soft, loving gaze.

Nodding against her chest, she said, “Yes. Haven’t you heard? I have a big, crazy MC family now that I can lean on when I need them.” She rose on her tiptoes. “I don’t have to do it on my own anymore,” she whispered before kissing him as passionately as he’d kissed her moments ago.

Groaning, he nipped her lip then rested his forehead against hers. “Let’s get the hell outta here. I need to spend the next ten or twelve hours wrapped around you.”

Pleasure lit her eyes. “That sounds absolutely perfect.”

And it was. After they arrived home, and she’d checked in with Lee at the hospital, hearing all good things, they stumbled to her bed. Neither bothered to put away their clothes, tossing them in a pile on the floor.

If someone had asked him a month ago if he could ever imagine himself crawling into bed next to a naked, sexy woman and not fucking her, he’d have called them insane. But not only was that the case tonight, but he was more satisfied than he’d ever been in his life.

Makenna and the kids were free to live without fear of being discovered and dragged back to a life of abuse and dread.

The Handlers could return to business as usual without threat from the CDMC.

And Mak was his.

What more could he ask for?

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

“DO YOU REALLY think we still need a guy guarding the house?” Mak asked Thunder, as she peered out the front window. Poor Monty had been out there for hours, and it probably wasn’t even necessary any longer.

“Probably not,” Thunder said as he stuffed his foot into his boot. “But Copper’s orders are non-negotiable. And I’d much rather be safe than sorry. Once we have ID confirmation of exactly who died at the CDMC clubhouse, we’ll be able to let up on it. But until I’m one hundred percent sure Crank and Blade are dead as well as your father and husband, I’m not taking any chances. I’m not risking one hair on your gorgeous head or any of your siblings.”

Well, when he put it that way…

He cupped the back of her neck and gave her a lingering kiss. “I’m gonna go pick up Kara and Lee. Copper will be here with the other kids in a half hour or so.”

Her heart swelled with warmth and love. “You sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

He shook his head. “I’m good, babe. You stay here and make us some cookies.” He opened the front door.

“Ahh, now I see why you volunteered to pick them up,” she said as she rolled her eyes. The man was incorrigible.

He winked. “You know it.”

Laughing, she slammed the door in his face. “While you’re driving, think about ways to thank me for the cookies!” she shouted through the closed door.

His laughter made her grin stretch so wide, her cheeks ached. In all her life, she hadn’t known she could feel so light. So carefree and excited for the future.

Now that she was alone in the house, she took a breath and let the events of the previous night wash over her. So much had happened in a twenty-four-hour span. She hadn’t had a chance to begin processing. The fight with Thunder, Kara’s seizure, Kristy’s injuries, her father’s arrival in town, and the most life-altering incident, the attack on the CDMC clubhouse. Just listing the occurrences had her head spinning. No wonder she hadn’t begun to internalize the overwhelming day.

“My father is dead,” she said aloud. “My husband is dead.”

She stood there in the hallway, letting the words sink in.

Nothing. No sorrow, no elation—nothing. Okay, relief. She did feel