Hawk blew out a deep breath through his nose, making his nostrils flare. “Sorry,” he mumbled half under his breath before going back to eating.
Bash, unable to stand around listening to his son scream and cry, bent to pick up the baby. Max instantly shut up, but glared down at his father with wet, blue eyes. “What’s your problem, boy? You want your ma?” His voice was quiet, teasing. “Well, too fucking bad, kid. She’s mine. You hear that?” The grin on the huge-ass fucker’s face was full of pride for his son. Max didn’t care if his father was teasing him or not, he just continued to glare down at the biker who was more beast than man.
“Where’s Gracie?” Raven shot at Hawk and I wondered the same thing. Usually the sweet little redhead was sitting right beside her man by now.
“She was going through yesterday’s mail. Said she would be down in a few,” Hawk frowned toward the open door that led toward the living room and stairs. “Baby?” he called out, a worried look on his face.
Moments later, Gracie appeared in the doorway, but she wasn’t wearing her normally sunny smile. Her eyes were on the piece of mail she had clutched tightly in her hands as she walked into the kitchen. Her face was unusually pale and her eyes were wide with a mixture of disbelief, anger, and…fear. The air in the room seemed to crackle with tension as Hawk saw the same thing in his ol’ lady’s eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded, beside her so quick you wouldn’t have believed a man his size could actually move that fast. Hawk cupped Gracie’s face in his big hands. “Gracie?”
My eyes were glued to the redhead. I watched as she swallowed hard and closed her eyes tight before handing Hawk the papers in her hands. “My grandfather wants to see me.”
“Jack?”
“No, from my father’s side. He and my uncle want me to come back for a visit. They said it was important. Business.” She opened her eyes and shook her head, a humorless laugh escaping her. “It’s probably about the rest of my inheritance.”
Hawk didn’t seem to hear her as his eyes raced across the words on the paper he now held.
“I emailed his lawyers two weeks ago, telling them I didn’t want the money. That I didn’t need it. I even talked to Jenkins about it. He’s been looking into the conditions of my inheritance, because I’d been thinking of donating the funds to a women’s shelter back east. There wasn’t any, so I just told Grandfather I didn’t want it.”
“Wait,” Raven said, frowning. “Don’t you have to marry someone they approve of before you can get it?”
“Yes, and since I would rather live on the streets than marry anyone those two a-holes picked for me, I don’t want it.” Gracie grimaced. “But now this appears, asking for an in-person meeting about it. I don’t know what’s going on. I figured they would just take the money for themselves.”
“It’s a lot of money, though, Gracie,” Bash reminded her. “Maybe they need you to sign some papers or something.”
“They could do that through Jenkins. I don’t need to see them to sign papers. I don’t want to see them. Ever. None of them tried to help my mother when she needed help the most. They’re all the same. Every one of them is an abusive piece of white-collared trash. They aren’t worth my time.” The vehemence in little Gracie’s voice was enough to assure me that she meant every word.
Hawk crumbled the paper in his fist. “You won’t have to, babe. I promise. I’ll get Jenkins to take care of that, so don’t worry about it.” He stuffed the crumpled-up paper into his front pocket and pulled Gracie close, kissing her long and deeply.
The intensity of his kiss made me wonder just what Hawk had seen in between the lines written on that sheet of paper. He kissed his ol’ lady like he might not ever get the chance to again. When he finally pulled back, Gracie was flushed and would have stumbled back if my brother wasn’t holding her so close. “I love you,” he breathed quietly, but I still heard him.
I clenched my jaw and turned my gaze back to my eggs. Those three little words, spoken with such power from my brother, seemed
like the easiest thing in the world. So why the fuck hadn’t I been able to say them when I’d needed to the most?
“Holy shit.” Colt stormed into the kitchen. “Jet, get in here and see this.” He didn’t wait around long enough for me to ask what the hell was going on. I pushed my plate of cold eggs away and followed after my little brother.
Having eaten already, Colt had gone into the living room with his coffee to watch TV. The flat screen was currently on a local news channel but they were talking about something that was apparently national news.
“At this moment, Gabriella Moreitti is in stable but critical condition. Her road manager, Annabelle Cassidy, has spoken with the press and commented on the Italian rocker’s condition and that of her friends and family currently in the waiting room praying for her recovery.”
“That’s right, Darcy.” The second news anchor spoke up. “If you’re just joining us this morning, our top story is right out of Northern California where Gabriella Moreitti is fighting for her life after two gunshot wounds to the chest. The rocker was apparently in the wrong place at the wrong time... Or perhaps some would say, at the right place at exactly the right time. Moreitti was shot while averting the kidnapping of the daughter of Demon’s Wings frontrunner, Nik Armstrong. The Demon’s daughter is safe and in the arms of her father, but I can only imagine, as a parent, what he and his wife are going through.”
I knew my eyes were wild when I turned them on Colt and he actually took several steps back from me. “That’s one of the kids Flick takes care of.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s why I told you to come see this.” Colt nodded toward the flat screen. “Remember when you saw Flick on the news a few months ago? When some psycho fan tore up Shane Stevenson’s bus and nearly killed the dude’s dog? Apparently the same thing happened again and this time they stuck around long enough to try and snatch the kid. That Moreitti chick saved her, but got two in the chest for it.”
Ice filled my veins. Flick had been that close to some crazy person twice now. She’d been so close to getting hurt or worse. What if it had been her and not that rocker chick who had gotten shot? I dragged my hand over my face only to realize my hands were shaking and quickly balled them into fists.
The need to punch something washed through me, but I clenched my jaw and held onto that need. I couldn’t go off the walls, not yet. The prick who was my parole officer would be by this morning for his usual drop-by ‘visit’. He’d have my papers with him and I could finally travel outside of the county. If he showed up and the house was torn apart, he would have cause to prolong the fucking parole.
“Flick is with them,” Raven murmured from behind us and I turned to see that my sister had gone deathly pale. “Is Flick safe?” She lifted angry, tear-filled eyes to me. “You said she was safe.”
“I thought she was,” I assured her, but dread was filling my stomach. After seeing this shit—seeing how close Flick had come to being a statistic—I knew I’d been wrong. Some crazy fan was targeting one of Demon’s Wings guys and Flick was right in the middle of it.
“Someone got shot, Jet. Saving the kid she’s responsible for. It could have been her.” Raven’s chin trembled and she turned away. Bash wrapped her in his arms. “It could have been her,” she said and then sobbed against her husband’s chest.