It was hard to think a one-percenter would give a fuck about siding, but to make a point? There was nothing these fuckers wouldn’t do to ram something home.
As my stomach fluttered with nerves while I climbed the few steps to the entrance, I pressed a kiss to Amaryllis’s head and murmured, “You know you were naughty, don’t you?”
“He was being mean to you,” came the stubborn retort. My lips curved, but I buried my smile in her silky blonde hair that always reminded me of Wolfe. He’d had hair this color until he turned sixteen or seventeen. It was like puberty had darkened it.
“I know he was, but he was also…” How did I even begin to explain this?
Amaryllis was having anger issues after Ryan’s death, and I couldn’t blame her. I was fucking furious too.
Who died at twenty-seven?
Who?
My husband, that’s who.
He died and left Amaryllis and me alone.
I was here, trying to pick myself up and make things better for her, all when I wasn’t sure which way was up and which way was down.
I pressed my nose into her hair and sucked in a deep breath. “You can’t hit people just because you’re angry, Amaryllis.” It was weird parroting that when I’d done it myself. I was a hypocrite, but I was trying to make my daughter less messed up than I was.
“But it feels good.”
That made me wince. Why? Because it was something I knew I’d said to my momma a long time ago.
Of course, she hadn’t been able to answer back. She wasn’t around, but I had to talk to someone.
Hey, I listen.
I winced at Ryan’s voice, which popped into my head as a reminder that I was also going fucking insane.
Dead people did. Not. Speak.
I ignored Ryan and headed up the two steps toward the entryway. The door pushed open and the immediate racket was both jarring and a relief.
I’d been raised in this mayhem. After my mom left, though we’d had a house in town, my dad hadn’t been able to stand the place.
Most people thought bikers were evil shits, and yeah, they were, but they also loved like no one else. It was amusing really. My dad had killed only God knew how many people, had gained his road name for a reason, and yet where my mom was concerned? He’d been a goner.
Each day without her had been an extended death.
I wasn’t saying that all biker marriages were made in heaven.
Fuck that.
Take Wolfe and Kim. Bleugh. I’d always hated that slut. Why the fuck he’d married a clubwhore I’d never know, but marry her he had, and divorced her in the same year too.
Some bikers beat their old ladies, others abused them in ways that the club turned a blind eye to—well, they wouldn’t when I was in charge—and then, there was the fact that most bikers were incapable of keeping it in their pants thanks to all the sluts who threw themselves at the brothers…
So, no, I wasn’t saying my dad had been an angel, because he’d been the exact opposite—she’d left him for a reason, after all. But I was just saying that he’d loved my mom in ways that few people could understand.
Myself included.
Some days, I’d craved his love, his affection, but he’d never given it to me. Whatever softness he’d had died the same day my mom had left town.
Throat thick with memories, I tuned into the cacophony as I crossed the threshold of the clubhouse.
There was some kind of Swedish death metal on the radio, and my ears winced even as my head began to bop to the music. The rage in the beat was something that called to me, but I knew it had to be hurting Amaryllis, so I scurried away from the common area—the bar where I could already see a sweetbutt sucking off a brother—and toward the ‘family’ room, which was down at the other side of the property.
Here, kids gathered and played around the TV. The bar was off-limits to them, but I knew they probably saw stuff they shouldn’t all the time—fuck, I’d seen way too many of my dad’s buds having sex. But I’d been sneaky, and Amaryllis wasn’t like that.
Yet.
Didn’t mean it wasn’t going to happen soon, but seeing what I had hadn’t messed with my head because sex in the MC was natural. Weird, I knew, but fuck, you had to be raised with this shit to understand it.
There was crap of all kinds in the family room, because though most of the old ladies and the kids lived in the town, some lived in.
Usually, the council lived in the clubhouse, and until now? Most of them had old ladies and kids.
I knew why Wolfe’s council were all single.
Me.
Of course, the rest of the MC didn’t know that, and they were about to find out.
Well, not straight away, but eventually. I was done hiding this shit. My dad had cast me out for my sins, and I was taking back what was rightfully mine, what he’d denied me because he’d known I loved five boys.
Well, fuck him.
And I hoped the devil had sent a shit ton of demons to fuck him in the ass.
Mentally flipping my father two birds, I asked Amaryllis, “Do you want to play, or do you want to go nap?” I had a feeling she’d want to play, but we’d been driving for what felt like forever, so I’d understand either way.
“I don’t know anyone.” She gnawed on her bottom lip with the one baby tooth she had left on her upper jaw.
I shrugged at her response and told her the truth. “They’ll be family soon enough.”
“Like Daddy Dagger was to you?”
My lips curved. “And Daddy Axe, and Daddy Flame, yes.”
I’d told her all the stories. The shit the six of us had gotten into as kids. We’d been best friends before we’d become lovers, after all.
She sighed and tugged at my hair. “I want best friends too.”
Amaryllis was like me in so many ways, but not like this. “You have best friends. We bought a shit ton of them with us, sweetie. If you just want to read, you can as well.”
Ama’s buds were her books. Just like with Ryan. I could remember the two of them sitting in the family room, quiet as church mice as they both read. It had driven me insane some days. I’d wanted to go out, do something, anything, and the two of them had been content to just bury themselves in a book.
I wasn’t sure if I’d been envious of their contentment or just bored.
“I’d better play nice, huh?” Amaryllis decided, without any prompt on my behalf.
“Why?”
“My Daddy’s the Prez. That means I’m in charge of the kids.”
I laughed, amused at her bossiness. “It does, does it?”
“Of course. I’m like you, Mommy, aren’t I?”
“You are, sweet pea.” And I told her what I’d been telling her since she was old enough to understand. “You’re the princess.”
I let her get down, squeezed her shoulder, and watched her head off to explore the many toys that were in this room.
The place was simple and easy to clean thanks to all the kids. The TV was big and currently blaring Nickelodeon. There were a couple of old leather sofas that were easy to wipe down, then there were around six or so chests that bracketed each sofa, and each held toys. On one wall, there was a long dining table, more of a banquet table than anything else. Kids ate there, and when they were old enough, they would do their homework there also.