Page 82 of Chief's Addiction

Two weeks ago, Memphis had practically been a ghost, doing everything she could to go unnoticed. Now she was sitting in a crowd of rowdy bikers, still a little quiet but she was getting there.

We watched as Memphis leaned forward to grab a napkin, and Killer’s massive hand slid down across her lower back, steadying her. The gesture was so unconsciously protective that it made my chest ache. For all his terrifying reputation, which I didn’t doubt for a second was true, the club’s enforcer handled Memphis like she was the most prescious thing in the world.

Mac and I both sighed. Seriously, these guys were something else. watching the same thing that I was.

“Rage won’t even let me carry the laundry basket anymore,” Mac complained good-naturedly, patting her barely-there bump. “Says it’s too heavy. Can you imagine what he’ll be like when I’m really showing?”

I laughed, picturing the tattooed giant hovering over Mac like a mother hen. “Mason’s been the same way. You’d think every bone in my body was broken.”

“Men.” Mac rolled her eyes, but her smile said something else.

Across from us, Foxy was animatedly telling some outrageous story that had everyone howling with laughter.

I’d taken an immediate liking to Mason’s sister. She had a sharp wit and took absolutely no shit from anyone, especially her brother.

“And so there I am, right, covered in sap and halfway up this big-ass tree when out pops this tiny little head.” Foxy motioned to the baby raccoon in her arms.

Memphis giggled and then froze, her eyes going wide as if shocked by her own reaction.

Every head at the table turned toward her.

Even Killer looked surprised, a rare grin spreading across his usually stony face. The sight of his pearly whites against his dark skin transformed him from the scary-as-shit enforcer to one handsome devil, in an instant.

“There it is.” His deep voice was soft as his thumb stroked Memphis’s arm.

Memphis ducked her head, embarrassed by the attention, but I could see the smile she was fighting.

The back door banged against the clubhouse, and my heart did a little flip at the sight of Mason and Beckett walking toward us.

They had their heads bent close together, talking intently, and there was something suspicious about their body language that made my eyes narrow.

They were up to something.

Mason caught the look on my face and winked, his lips curving into that little half-smile.

Jesus!

It really should be a sin for one man to be so damn sexy.

He swaggered over and when he reached my table, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to my temple. “You ready?” he asked, his eyes bright with something I wasn’t so sure had anything to do with our plan.

I nodded and leaned to the side, grabbing the folded papers I’d been keeping there all afternoon, out of my pocket.

My hands shook like a leaf as I held them out to Beckett. “These are for you,” I said, suddenly feeling nervous about the whole thing.

Beckett frowned, confused as he opened the document. “What is—” His voice cut off abruptly as he began to read. “Adoption papers?”

A hush fell over the pavilion as everyone turned to see what was going on.

I’d been nervous about doing this so publicly, but Mason had insisted that the club was family and would want to be part of this moment.

“You guys really want me?” Beckett’s voice cracked, eyes shining with unshed tears as they darted between Mason and me. “For real?”

Before I could stop them, tears welled up in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. I’d promised myself that I wasn’t going to cry and there I was with the waterworks.

Mason reached for his sunglasses perched on top of his head and covered his eyes as he cleared his throat. The gravity of the situation was hitting him too. “You’re already our kid,” he said gruffly. “This just makes it legal.”

I reached out to take Beckett’s free hand. “The choice is yours, and no matter what you decide, your home is with us.”

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