Page 89 of Making the King

“I think it’s very befitting of a President of a motorcycle club.” She grins and my brows shoot up.

“How do you know?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m not stupid. I have ears. I listen, and I’m pretty sure that’s what you and them,” she gestures her head back toward Dante and the others who are still talking shop, “were talking about.”

“So you’re on board with it?” I ask, hope filling my gut at the prospect of this actually working.

“Hell yes. But I do hope you will involve me in more than just being the pussy you go home to at night. If you do this, I want to do it with you. We have the opportunity to create something great. Fill a gap for more than one reason.”

I smile down at my fierce wife, “I meant what I said before. I want you by my side, Cara. I can’t do this without you.”

She grins and agrees, “I’ll be right there with you.”

“Fuck.” I press my forehead to hers, my eyes locked onto her gray pools as I squeeze her impossibly close. “I fucking love you.”

Those gray eyes, normally so confident, and well, angry, soften as they turn glassy. “I love you too, mi rey.”

“You do?” I ask as my heart does a fucking triple somersault in my chest.

“Yes. I really do.”

Our lips slam together again, claiming each other in the wake of our declarations, and I know without a doubt that although there’s a tough road ahead of us, we will navigate it together and come out the other side so much fucking stronger.

Cara

1.5 years later

Life is a strange and unpredictable thing. It’s wild and raw. It’s tough and infuriatingly imperfect—and for the first time in my twenty something years, I am loving every minute of it.

Since killing my mom, I’ve felt like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. My smiles and laughs are genuine. I no longer have nightmares, and I know I’ve found the place I belong. Not only am I the motherfucking queen to my king, but I feel like I’ve found a new family with the people closest to Rocco.

Gray and Gunner have become great friends, and, at times, despite only being three years younger than me, almost like fucking pseudo kids. Especially the former who’s really pulled himself together, but is still way too cocky for his own good. Fuck, he struts around like everyone is here for his entertainment. At least he tries. And when I can be bothered, I like to remind him of his place and the fact I can still kick his ass.

Since I don’t want to stroke his ego, I never tell him that it’s getting harder to beat him when we spar. If it wasn’t for Cain and Rocco training me, I wouldn’t stand a chance. But so far, so good.

Gunner is so different. While he’s as cocky as his pal, he’s more shy but also genuinely wants to make people happy. It’s one of the reasons I love seeing him with Rose, who hangs on his every word, practically worshiping him in silence.

“Are you ready?” Rocco asks, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet.

I pout and frown. “Now? I almost beat Gunner—”

“Like fuck you did,” Gunner laughs, his eyes crinkling. “I think you meant to say you almost beat Gray.”

Gunner quickly ducks out of the way as Gray tries to slap the back of his pal’s head.

Rose lets out an exasperated sigh. “I almost have you all beat, so shut up.” Then she looks up at me. “If you leave, do I get your chips?”

“Nuh-uh,” Gunner says, shaking his head. “That’s fucking cheating.”

Laughing, I follow Rocco, and we’re almost at the door when I look over my shoulder and yell, “Rose can have my chips and my Royal Flush.”

Ignoring the curses and giggles, I lean against Rocco, who wraps his arm around my shoulders.

“Nervous?” he asks.

The scar on his face moves every time he speaks, and I don’t mind saying it’s sexy as fuck. Though it’s been a year and a half, I’m still mesmerized by it. Or more accurately, knowing he suffered that to set me free, that’s the real turn on.

“Why would I be nervous?” I ask. “It’s just a meeting.”

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