at our little estate outside of Kodack. Writes up a story, tossing in the same tired info about Jacob’s death or the scandal of our MC and mafia ties. All it does is reinforce what a good decision we made when we finally left Hollywood behind.
“At least it would’ve been easier to call you when I was out on the road.” I brush my thumb over her cheek. “Touring would’ve been a hell of a lot easier if I could’ve called you whenever I wanted instead of always searching for a fuckin’ payphone.”
“That would’ve been nice.” She wrinkles her nose. “You know some jackass would’ve stolen your phone and published all the risqué photos I sent you.”
“Wait.” I roll over and grab her little silver phone and flip it open. “I can’t get you to send me a nude now.”
“Yes, I have.”
“Those barely qualify.”
She clamps her hand over her mouth and laughs. “I’m afraid I’ll end up accidentally sending one to the kids or my dad or worse, your dad. You just know I’d do something like that.”
“Yeah, don’t send me nudes.” I pull the sheet back. “I prefer the live version.”
She rips the sheet out of my hand. “I’m cold.”
I glance at the magazine again. “Are you sorry you left?”
“Not for a second. We have everything that matters right here.” Mallory strokes her fingers over my chest. “I’m happy exactly where we are.”
“So am I, little dove.”
Our home. The life we’ve built. I wouldn’t trade any of it.
My heart’s where it belongs. Right in Mallory’s hands.
I click off the bedside lamp and spoon her soft little body, pulling her as close as possible.
“Sweet dreams, little dove.” I press a sleepy kiss to her temple.
“You’ve already made all my dreams come true,” she whispers.
“Then I guess we’ll have to come up with some new ones together.”
EPILOGUE
2 years later…
Devil Demons MC clubhouse, Western NY
CHASER
“What’d you find out?” I ask Tally as he steps into my father’s office.
He closes the door before answering. “Lost Kings seemed to have cleaned house. Ruger supposedly went nomad.”
“Bullshit.” My father grins.
I don’t find that as amusing as Dad seems to.
“They opened a charter downstate,” Tally adds. “Sway’s running it.”
That wipes the smile off Dad’s face. “They’re going to make a play for more territory.”
“You think they’ll encroach on us?”
My father runs his hand over his chin, staring at the wall for a few seconds before answering. “That kid’s in charge now, right?”
“He’s hardly a kid,” Tally says.
“We’re just getting old.” I sit up and punch Tally’s shoulder.
Tally laughs and punches me back. “Speak for yourself.”
“He came up under Grinder,” I say. “Follows the more gentleman outlaw approach. Rock won’t push into our territory.”
“You want to bet your patch on that?” My father nods to the Vice President stitched into my leather cut, right over my heart.
I’ve run into Rock plenty of times over the years. I know he served time for his club, and never snitched. Loyalty—an important quality in our life. Not always easy when you’re faced with a long prison stretch. He got out and from what we’ve heard, worked hard to clean up his club. Still takes care of Grinder and his old lady too. Do I want to bet my patch that he won’t attempt to expand into our territory? Not particularly.
“They’ve got their own issues with Vipers MC right on their border.”
“Fuck the Vipers. They’re as bad as the Silver Saints. Both need to be put to ground. Permanently,” my dad grumbles.
“So bloodthirsty, Pop,” Tally jokes.
“Wolf Knights MC is right up in their neck of the woods too, right?” Dad asks.
“Jesus Christ, old man,” I grumble, “Do I look like the Rand McNally of outlaw clubs to you?”
“Knowing all that shit’s your damn job.”
“Yeah, Ulfric’s of the same mindset. Old school. Their club’s small, anyway.”
“We should invite ’em both to visit. Feel ’em out. See who’s up for helping us get rid of Tyler’s crew once and for all.”
“You really wanna declare war on the Silver Saints, Prez?” Tally asks, all traces of humor wiped off his face.
“They’re getting bold. Basically declared war on our Toronto brothers. Again.” My father’s pissed-off glare turns my way. “Your daddy-in-law ain’t been real helpful there.”
Ah, yes. I study the ceiling for a few minutes. Acting as the middleman between my club and my father-in-law never loses its appeal.
“Call Rock,” my father says. “Use the excuse that you want to congratulate him on his new position. Remind him you’ve known him since he was a