Page 44 of Devil's Work: Dark

“What’s Baby Girl want?” I ask Rae.

“Just a hot dog. I’ll cut it up. If you wouldn’t mind squeezing ketchup on the plate.”

“Not a problem. What about you?”

“You don’t need to wait on me, Dark.”

Yeah, I do. She deserves to have someone giving a shit. I bend down to kiss her. “What do you want?”

The smile she levels on me seizes my fucking heart in my chest.

“A burger and a little bit of everything?”

“Got it.”

As I approach the brothers again, they’re both fixing their women’s plates. I begin fixing one for Lacy and one for Rae.

“Who’s pussy-whipped now?” Vlad asks Sarge.

“Must be some seriously fine pussy. Look how he’s waiting on the kids, too.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I bark.

“Mumma,” Ty says. “Dark said a swear.”

Everyone starts to laugh.

My brothers are about to die.

12

RAE

After the dinner, Nic shows us inside, where we can change into our bathing suits. Ty is so excited. They’ve even roped off the shallowest area for the kids. I walk out wearing my leopard-print bikini. It has a deep neckline that ties in the front, the back, and around my neck. The bottoms tie at the sides, too. I haven’t worn a bikini in front of people since before I got pregnant with Lace.

Once all of the women are in the pool, Vlad calls out to the other men, “Fuck, we’ve got Victoria’s Secret models at our pool party.”

“Victoria’s Secret and a beached whale,” Greer says and whoa, that was the wrong thing to say. Or maybe the right thing, depending on how you take it. Sarge bounds down on where she sits soaking, bends over, gripping a handful of her hair to tip her head back, and plants the mother of all kisses on her.

“Woman, don’t make me have to spank that ass,” he says. “Never seen you look more beautiful, carrying our baby girl.” He lowers his voice. “You’re the reason I believe in a higher power, baby. You’re the wife I don’t deserve, giving me the kid I don’t deserve. Yet here you are. You’re my fucking miracle, woman. Don’t you ever forget that.” Then he kisses her again.

I don’t know their story, but it must be intense for him, a biker, to say such loving things. Dusty and Nic are walking thirst traps in their teeny-tiny bikinis. Dusty’s off-white crocheted little number pops against the warm bronze of her stunningly smooth skin. It’s obvious neither of them has ever had kids. But if Reaper doesn’t get that look off his face, Dusty’s going to end up pregnant. It’s as if he’s a lion and she’s the gazelle and that gazelle is going down.

The women continue to be open and kind, and ridiculously chatty while the brothers are more than respectful. I had no idea that bikers had it in them to be so… so…notthe stereotypicalbiker.

We hear the influx of cars beginning to pull up to the compound. We’re far enough away that it’s not too loud. The music comes at us softly. I can’t even understand the lyrics from here. It’s only when I figure someone opens the door because the music grows exponentially louder, then softens again right away, that I know Joe Elliott, the lead singer of Def Leppard, is hot and sticky sweet.

The men look rather wistfully over at the club. Dark hasn’t been to one of their parties in weeks. Not since he’d taken on our guard detail. I’m not trying to change his life. He’s been good to me and my kids from the beginning. I push up out of the warm, shallow water to walk over to him and bend down.

“Why don’t you go hang with your friends for a while?”

“You and the kids—I can’t. No. I’m fine.”

“Dark, you haven’t seen most of your brothers since you started looking after us. Go. Drink beer. Play pool. Shoot the shit.”

“You should go,” Nic says, piping up. “Vlad, you all should go hang with your brothers for a while. Greer, Rae, and Dusty—if she wants to—can hang with me. When Rae’s ready to head home, we’ll have one of the prospects escort her.”

“I don’t know.” Dark looks between me and the kids and the club. He wants to go. He should go.

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