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In that moment, I believed there might be a chance that we’d finally found our happily ever after.

That maybe nothing else mattered because together, we were unstoppable.

“SadAngel”—FleetwoodMac

“Concentrate,” I said to Trace as he reached for the cut on Ghost’s palm. When he’d overheard me trying to teach Trace about control during a healing, he’d whipped out his big-ass knife and sliced open his palm.

Over Trace’s head, I shook mine at Ghost’s insanity.

“He’s doing great, huh, Angel?” Ghost asked. My eyes rose heavenward, and I let out a sigh. All he could do was chuckle.

“You’re a dipshit,” I muttered to Ghost. Trace gave me a little glare over his shoulder before returning to his task.

After that, the brothers would come to us if they got a fucking paper cut. I’d begun to think they were intentionally injuring themselves to give Trace the opportunity to build endurance and control. Fucking nutcases.

Except it worked.

Each day, Korrie worked with Trace on his homeschooling, then I worked with him. I did my best to teach him how to pay attention to his surroundings. Also, how to assess the damage to someone and make the hard but wise decision of who could truly be helped. It was difficult teaching a young boy to concentrate and control an ability like we had. Despite the fact that I’d been that little boy once.

It wasn’t the first time that I wished my grandfather was still around.

Over the next couple of weeks, things seemed to settle into a comfortable pattern. Korrie refused to let me sleep in her bed, because Trace slept in the connecting room. Yet, every night and sometimes in the morning too, I worshipped the body that belonged to the woman I loved. Though she let me into her body, I could practically feel the wall keeping me out of her heart.

What none of us admitted was that it was more like the calm before the storm. Something was brewing, but we didn’t know what.

Surprisingly, I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of my father, though he’d called me several times and sent innumerable text messages. I should’ve blocked him, and I had no idea why I hadn’t. Maybe because I was keeping my enemies close.

The “scandal” of Lester Damon embezzling and stealing from the people of the town before leaving the country made the news. I’d seen several broadcasts and online articles where his father had been waving off the media as they pushed for information from him. Facet had dropped more breadcrumbs to make the story believable.

The Feds had contacted Korrie to question her about what she’d known. They had told her if they had any further questions, they’d contact her again, but it seemed like they were done with her.

Her father had also called her, but she hadn’t told him she was in the area. When I tried to question her about it, she’d clammed up. I’d lost touch with where he was years ago, but I made a mental note to check on him now that Korrie and Trace were here. I also thought a family reunion might be in order. I’d talk to Korrie about it later.

Kira had had the baby the night before, and we were preparing to go see them.

“You better go round up your woman,” Phoenix teased me after we’d finished breakfast and Korrie had taken Trace back to his room to get him settled with his babysitter. She was supposed to be getting ready.

“Kickstands up in twenty minutes!” Venom shouted across the common area. I set my cue stick on the pool table and made my way back to her room.

“You about done?” I asked Korrie as I leaned on the doorframe to watch her as she braided her hair. It shone chestnut in the light, and I fought the need to unbraid it to let it flow. Her eyes met mine in the mirror, and I read the nervousness in her expression.

“Yeah. Are you sure it’s a good idea to ride on your motorcycle? It’s pretty cold.”

I chuckled. It had been unseasonably warm, and things had been uneventful, so the club decided to ride over to the hospital. Most of us rode when it was colder than it was that day.

Goob’s ol’ lady had a hard time getting on the bike after having knee surgery, so she volunteered to stay with Trace. I’d offered to help her out with her knee, but she’d brushed me off. Her and Goob had their first great-grandchild on the way, and she said she needed to get back in the practice of being around little kids. Trace had taken great exception to that verbiage.

Maybe it was silly, but I was excited to have Korrie on the back of my bike for the first time.

“We’ll be fine. You look good in those chaps,” I said with a smirk as my gaze slid over her. “Think I could convince you to wear nothing but those later?”

She let out an unladylike snort, but I looked up in time to catch the flush that colored her cheeks a beautiful pink. “You’re ridiculous, you know.”

The corners of my lips lifted in a happy grin. “But I’m all yours.”

Her hands dropped after wrapping the band at the end of her braid. She turned to me and wet her bottom lip. “Some mornings I wake up and I still can’t believe it’s true—that I’m here with our son and he’s getting to know you.”

We moved toward each other, and I wrapped my arms around her. Grabbing her ass cheeks in my hands, I kissed her softly. “Well, it sure as hell is, and I’m the luckiest man in the world for it.”


Tags: Kristine Allen Royal Bastards MC: Ankeny, IA Fantasy