Page 39 of Baja
Across the room, Sage, Sukie, Juniper, and Alice are at one of the pool tables, sipping on wine, laughing, and taking turns trying to land shots. My woman chalks her cue stick while Sukie tries and fails to sink her ball for the third time.
Alice leans over the pool table, lining up her stick to take her shot, and my gaze falls, taking in the way her jeans hug her ass just right. I continue observing Alice being laid back and carefree, enjoying her comfort in my world like she’s been here her whole life. For now, she’s shed the layers of armor she wears. She’s unguarded, enjoying herself.
It does something to me—something I can’t put into words. Alice is the kind of dangerous you don’t see coming. Because she makes me feel things on another level, she makes me want more.
More ofher—ofus.
More of whatever this is we are building.
The weight of my feelings hits me in the chest like it did this morning.
Alice takes her shot, the cue stick sliding through her fingers. The crack of the balls echoes through the room, followed by my woman throwing her hands up in celebration while Sage and Sukie cheer like they’re at a rock concert.
Returning my attention to the game, I glance at the cards in my hands and sigh, laying my shitty hand face down on the table. “Fold.”
“I’m out.” Harlem folds and downs the rest of his whiskey.
Salem slaps his cards down. “Fold.”
“Shit,” Juneau mutters. “Fold.”
Mystic tosses his chips to the center of the table where the cash winnings sit. “I’m callin’ your bluff,” he says, keeping his tone even.
Laredo keeps grinning. “Bold move, brother.”
“Hope you’re ready to don that speedo while puttin’ a shine on my bike, brother.” Mystic smirks.
Laredo laughs. “We’ll see about that.”
I shake my head and take another sip of my drink. The loser will never live this little wager down.
Laredo plays his hand first, a royal flush.
“Motherfucker,” Mystic hisses and lays his cards face up on the table, displaying his straight flush.
Laredo lets out a full belly laugh. “You, in a banana hammock, sudsing up bikes…” he continues laughing, “… that shit is gonna be legendary, brother.” And Mystic flips Laredo off.
The laughter dies, chatter fades, and the women abandon their pool game as the deep growl of a motorcycle roars outside, the disruptive sound announcing an uninvited guest is riding in. All of us at the table stand, drawing our weapons. Adrenaline courses through my veins, ready for anything. The women lay down the pool sticks and move toward us.
The front door swings open, and I’m looking at a man I haven’t seen in a few years. My uncle. His face is pale, etched with more pain than I’ve ever seen on him. The leather jacket he wears is torn, and blood is soaking through the shirt underneath. But he is not alone. Standing off to his side is a young, blonde-headed woman. She looks frail. Her haunting eyes scan the room. Then, I see her hands clutching her stomach.
Is she…
“Sorry to bust in on ya like this, but…” Jax’s voice cuts through the silence. He steadies himself against the doorframe.
I holster my weapon and cross the room. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. What the hell?”
My uncle grabs his side, his breathing broken. “Ran into a problem a few days ago.”
“Sit him down,” Juneau says, moving across the room.
Uncle Jax leans on me, and I help him to the nearby couch. The woman with him cautiously follows, not straying from his side. I look from my uncle to the woman as I lower him to sit.
The tension in the room is thick as the situation unfolds.
“This…” he grunts, his usual steely resolve dimmed by pain while trying to shrug off his jacket, “… is Lily,” my uncle locks eyes with me. “My daughter.”
His admission hits me like a sledgehammer. The man who never wanted kids has a full-grown daughter. I stare at Lily a beat longer. She doesn’t look anything like him, with her pale complexion, thin figure, and ghostly gray eyes. And she looks rough, as if she hasn’t slept in days. Lily clutches her oversized hoodie, which hides her frame, except from the unmistakable swell of her stomach. Her hands tremble as she clutches the fabric.
