Rage: Royal Bastards MC Read online

  “I love you. You know that, right?” he asks, his eyes focused on the ceiling. Cold fear rinses through me. God, what would I do if he didn’t want me anymore? A million scenarios run through my mind until I realize I’m being absurd. I feel how much he loves me, craves me. “Baby, you listening to me?” he asks, pushing me onto my back and covering me in him.

  “I do.” I smile up at him, running a hand through his hair.

  “You’re it for me, my whole fucking world.” His brows crash down at the intensity of his confession. “I never want to be without you, and I want everyone to know you’re mine and I’m yours.”

  Air squeezes from my lungs. “What are you saying?”

  “Vegas is a six-hour ride from here.”

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  My head swims as butterflies take flight in my stomach. “Gabe...?” Tears well and fall to my cheeks. “What are you saying?” I demand. I need to hear the words.

  “Marry me, baby. I need you to be my wife more than I need air.”

  “Oh my god,” I cry, grabbing his face and covering him in wet, sloppy kisses.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “It’s a hell yes—it’s everything,” I sob, my emotions jumping from overwhelming happiness to an indescribable need to have him inside me again, loving me, claiming me. He doesn’t make me wait. His lips devour, whispering words of love as his cock fucks me like he owns me.

  Twenty-Seven

  Gabe

  A couple weeks later…

  Pain contorts her beautiful face, the needle buzzing over her skin with ease, the pretty sparrow tattoo coming to life on her flesh. When we got back from Vegas, there was a new light in her eyes—a confidence and contentment that wasn’t there before. It made me happy to give that to her.

  “I want a sparrow tattoo,” she’d said one night while stroking over the tattoo on my chest. She’d found a baby sparrow in the grass outside our house. It had fallen from the nest, no doubt preyed on and dropped from a predator’s mouth. She insisted we take it to the vet. We came home with a plan to heal its broken wing that she took real seriously.

  I stroke down her other arm to soothe her. She saw herself in that fucking Sparrow: a broken bird learning to fly for the first time. It’s kinda beautiful.

  “And…we’re done! You ready to take a look?” the artist asks, wiping over her skin.

  “I love it,” she gasps, her mouth popping open in wonder.

  “I love you,” I tell her, kissing her temple.

  Pulling up the driveway to our house, my jaws twitches. There are fucking bikes and cars parked everywhere. “What’s going on?” Willa speaks my thoughts, looking between me and the motors scattered around.

  “Jameson,” I growl.

  Walking inside, a roar of cheers rings out, rattling the foundation. A hand thrust out toward us to be shaken as congratulations whirl around.

  “You seriously thought there wouldn’t be a party?” Jameson quirks a brow and shoves a beer at me, grabbing Willa and squeezing her in a bone-crushing hug.

  “We got married weeks ago,” she murmurs.

  “Yeah, well, I stayed in Reno longer than planned so…” He shrugs.

  “You filled my fucking house with dirty, furniture-breaking, booze-guzzling, whore-fucking bikers,” I growl out. Every inch of my fucking house stuffed with leather and booze.

  “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re a dirty, furniture-breaking, booze-guzzling, whore…”

  I raise a fist to him in warning, darting my eyes to my wife, her narrowed glare pinned on Jameson. “A what?” she asks.

  “A wife-loving good man.” He grins, a full-megawatt, goofy grin.

  I’m going to kill him when this is over.

  Twenty-Eight

  Willa

  Two months later…

  Standing at the stove, I turn the bacon in the pan, willing it to hurry up and crisp as I wipe at the saliva building in the corner of my mouth. “Will, you know I’ll cook for you.” Gabe’s arms curl around my stomach, his lips sucking the soft tissue behind my ear.

  Leaning back into his embrace, I sigh, “I didn’t want to wake you. It’s just bacon.”

  “You never eat bacon, and if you’re awake, I’m awake.” He turns me in his arms, nuzzling along my jawline. “I miss you when you’re not cuddled into me.”

  “I’m sorry. We’re hungry.”

  Pulling his face back, his brows pull together. “I’m not hungry for food.” His lip curls into a sexy smirk.

  “Not you—us.” I point to my stomach, biting my lip. My heart is racing. I’ve thought of a million ways to tell him, but always lost the nerve.

  “Willa, what are you saying?” He looks between my face and my stomach, a red heat spreading up his cheeks.

  “I’m pregnant,” I blurt out, and almost jump four feet in the air when the smoke alarms begin screeching. Crap. I turn and grab the pan, removing it from the heat, and snatch up a tea-towel, waving it at the small white box on the ceiling. The noise cuts out as suddenly as it started, and I will my racing heart to steady. Gabe hasn’t moved.

  “Gabe?” I question, a protective hand coming around my stomach. We haven’t had the kids talk, and now, here we are, newlyweds, and in six months, parents.

  “You’re sure?” His voice hitches.

  “I’m sure.”

  He covers his face with both hands, then pushes them through his hair. “I’m going to be a daddy?”

  “You are.” A tear leaks from my eye. Within my next breath, he’s across the kitchen, lifting me into his arms and spinning me. “I’m going to be a daddy!”

  Wrapping my legs around his waist and arms around his neck, I look down at my husband. “The best daddy there is.”

  “Fucking right. This kid is going to be the luckiest kid the world because you’re his mama.” I take his lips with mine. The bacon long forgotten, we feed our other hunger first.

  One day later…

  Whooshing sounds fill the room, the little black dot blinking on the screen as the nurse moves the ultrasound dongle over my belly.

  “You’re really pregnant.” Gabe laughs in shock.

  “Sixteen weeks,” the nurse confirms.

  “Would you like some pictures?”

  “Yes,” we both say in unison, our happiness glowing in our eyes as we watch our baby wriggle around on the monitor.

  “What happens now?” Gabe asks, the cogs turning in his head.

  “Well, your wife will have an appointment again at twenty weeks with her OBGYN. Try not to worry. Everything looks great.”

  Wrapping his arms around me, his lips murmur against my ear, “You’ve made me happier than I ever thought possible. I fucking love you so much, baby.” My chest blooms with pride. It’s me who’s the happiest girl in the world, and it’s all because of him.

  “I love you too.” I close my eyes to prevent tears from leaking free.

  Twenty-Nine

  Gabe

  Fear is something I didn’t know I could be consumed with until I saw my kid on the monitor at the ultrasound. Terror and joy fight for dominance inside my head. I’m powerless. All I can do is be an overbearing asshole, making sure Willa has everything she needs. I didn’t have parents when I was growing up. My childhood was chaotic and unpredictable. I don’t want that for my kid. Being a good father is a priority to me, but how the fuck do I be one? I have no clue about kids—about being a dad.

  “Gabe,” Willa calls my name, pulling me from my head.

  “What do you need, baby? I jump up from the bed, ready to get her whatever the fuck she needs. I’d pry the moon from the sky and hang it in our room if that’s what she wanted.

  “I need you to relax. You’ve been a wreck since the doctors.” She groans, holding her arms up, summoning me to her. Collapsing back on the bed beside her, I pull her into me.

  “I’m fine, baby.”

  “I’m calling Jameson. You need a beer and your best friend,” she coos against my
chest.

  “You’re my best friend,” I tell her, then wince when she pinches my nipple.

  “Don’t lie. I’m okay with being your everything else. Go talk to Jameson, clear your head, tell him he’s going to be a godfather.” She sighs, sleep lacing her words.

  “Have I told you I love you today?”

  “I’m not opposed to hearing it again.”

  Fuck, I love this woman.

  He’s standing at the door when I arrive, line wrinkling his brow, hand on his hips. “Why the fuck is Willa calling me telling me you need me?”

  “Hello to you too, asshole.”

  “What’s going on?”

  Pushing past him, I go straight to his fridge, grab myself a beer, twist the top off, and gulp down half the bottle. “Willa’s pregnant.” I wipe my lips with my forearm, watching Jameson’s face go through a mix of emotions before settling on a wide grin. “Well…shit, you’re going to be a daddy.” He beams. “It is yours, right?”

  “Prick,” I growl, rubbing a hand over the scruff on my jaw.

  “Why the fuck do you look terrified?” he asks, folding his arms and resting his ass against the counter opposite me.

  “What do I know about being a father?” I scoff. Shit, can I do this?

  Shaking his head, he reaches out, clasping my head in his large palms. “You’re the best fucking man I know. Any kid would be lucky to have you as their father.” Releasing me, he pulls a couple more beers out of the fridge, hands me one, and clicks his against it. “If there were anyone I’d want raising my kids if something happened to me, it would be you. You’re selfless, protective, caring.”

  “You want to suck my cock?” I raise a brow, breaking the tension in my own head.

  “Willa not doing that for you? She was eager to gobble mine down.”

  “Over the line, dickhead,” I seethe.

  Winking, he swigs his beer, smacking his lips together. “A baby…shit, we’re getting old,” he muses.

  “Fuck off. You were born old.” I look through his cupboard for something to eat, knowing I’m going to find plenty of snacks. Jameson walked this earth before, an old soul who was everything he claimed I was. With him as a guide and Willa as my kid’s mama, I’m going to be fine. She was right. I just needed my best friend to reassure my stupid ass.

  Thirty

  Gabe

  One month later…

  Holding up a baby onesie with the words Cute like Mama emblazoned across the front, Willa sticks her bottom lip out. “How adorable!”

  “Real fucking adorable—you, not the shirt.” I slap her ass, hesitating to leave her, though I need to hit the road. “You sure you’re going to be okay? It’s one night, and I’ll be back before dawn. It’s really hours, not even a full day.”

  Rolling her eyes, she slips the onesie back into the bag and ties her hair back with a headscarf.

  “Baby, you’re doing that thing you do,” she taunts.

  “You mean worrying?”

  “I mean fretting. I’m only five months, you need to stop. You’ll be home tomorrow.”

  “I hate leaving you to sleep alone.”

  “I’m not alone.” She strokes her rounded stomach, pulling on one of my old tees.

  “I’ll be back before you wake up.” I kiss her lips, soaking her in. I’ll never tire of her taste. “You keep cooking our son, and I’ll cook you breakfast when I get back.”

  “Finally, I can cook something right.” She giggles, snuggling into my embrace.

  “Call me before you go to sleep.” I grasp her cheeks in my palms, kissing the tip of her nose.

  “I’m going to start painting the nursery, then take a bath, and go to bed,” she sighs against my lips.

  “Jameson is home so if you need anything—even if it’s ice cream at two a.m., you call him.”

  Shaking her head, she pulls free, picking up my satchel and pushing it against my chest. “I’ll be fine. Go.”

  “I love you,” I tell her, looking back at her over my shoulder as I follow her pointing finger to the door.

  “I love you more,” she calls out.

  Not fucking possible.

  Jimmy frowns when he sees it’s me coming with him to secure a club’s weapons deal. “Jameson had something come up,” I tell him, opening my cut to show him I’m armed and ready for whatever the fuck he needs. Jameson’s mother dropped the girls at his apartment alone. Luckily, the neighbor found them outside and called him. So like a loyal brother and friend, I told him I would take his place tonight. Usually, I’d be on the team anyway, but with Willa being pregnant, I haven’t been going on out of town rides.

  “I’m good to have either of you. This shit should go smooth, but if it doesn’t, these pricks like to make examples out of business going bad.”

  Fucking great.

  “Go take a piss and do whatever the fuck else you need to. We roll out in twenty.”

  I love the open road, but already feel the need to turn around and go back to my woman. She has me by the balls. And I never thought I’d think it, but I’m okay with it.

  I conjure up her image, smiling when I think about her painting our kid’s nursery while dancing to some stupid boyband Jameson’s sisters got her into.

  The ride goes by fast, thank fuck, and we’re at the meet a good hour early to scope the place out and make a plan for if shit turns sour.

  The engines of four SUVs signal the arrival of the seller. They pull up to the plane hanger we’re waiting inside of. An army of suits unload from the cars, and two containers the size of small coffins get placed down at Jimmy’s feet. Suspicious eyes on both sides glare from one man to the next. The atmosphere is heavy. I remain focused on everyone and everything.

  Our weapons guy, Miles, steps up to inspect the merchandise. He got his road name for sniping an enemy from over a mile away, saving our Prez’s life in the process.

  “Looks good,” he confirms with a nod of his head.

  “Deal is good.” Jimmy waves our boys forward with the duffel bags of cash.

  Goods exchanged, my heart rate quickens. If anything was going to happen, it would be now. This is a new business partner for us. Our usual weapon supplier got taken out by the Russian mob. They were finding pieces of them for months.

  When the SUV doors close and the cars pull away, I let out a relieved breath. Returning home with a bullet wound and blood on my hands was not how I wanted things to go.

  “I like a smooth transaction.” Jimmy grins. “Load up. Let’s go home, boys.”

  Amen to that.

  My phone keeps going off, forcing me to pull over. I wave on the brothers in the trucks behind me, letting them know I’m good.

  Kicking my stand down, I pull my phone from my pocket. Eighteen fucking calls from Jameson. A cold hand curls around my spine as I call back.

  “Gabe.” His voice breaks, sending a shudder through my body. Fear knots in my gut.

  “Just tell me,” I urge, knowing it’s bad news. Did something happen to one of the kids, his mother, the club? Sirens blare in the background.

  “Is that firetrucks?” I ask anxiously.

  “Gabe…it’s your house—it’s Willa.”

  Willa.

  “You need to get back here.”

  I end the call and pull back into traffic, my head a cloud of fog.

  “It’s Willa.”

  “It’s Willa.”

  “It’s Willa.”

  The smell of burning wood is pungent in the air, the flames glowing above the tree line as I pull up the driveway. Lights swirl like disco lights. Voices echo around me. My legs almost buckle beneath me as I stumble off my bike. I don’t even know how I made it back here without crashing. Jameson’s broad figure steps in front of me, blocking the view of my house, my life, now black cinder.

  “Willa! W-I-L-L-A!” I choke out, grabbing his shoulder, my desperate pleas being answered with glossy eyes and a firm shake of his head.

  No, no, no, no.

  H
azy confusion and grief grips me in a chokehold as my mind tries to shut down, protect me from what he’s trying to tell me. Sharp stabbing rips open my chest as sickness rushes up my throat.

  “I’m so fucking sorry, man,” Jameson calls out to me over the sounds of hoses dousing the house—the house my Willa’s inside.

  No. No. This can’t be real. I died at that meet tonight, shit went bad, and someone put a bullet in me.

  I shove past Jameson, racing in what feels like slow motion toward the ash and rubble that was once walls. There’s nothing left. Everything is gone. She’s gone.

  My legs fail me, and I fall to the gravel. Intense panic sweeps through me. It’s not real. It’s not real. Fear and confusion riot inside my head as the scent of my kingdom falling singes my nostrils. “Arghhh!” I pound my fists into the ground until my knuckles split and bones crunch. This isn’t real. Arms come around me. “Gabe, come on. You don’t need to be here.”

  Where else would I be? My kid’s images on the screen at the doctor’s send sheer agony slicing into me as my world-shatters to dust. Tension and pain coil every muscle in my body, solidifying the blood in my veins.

  I’m dying. I don’t want to live.

  “It should have been me too. I should have been here!” This isn’t real. Wake up. Wake the fuck up.

  “They’re saying it was a gas leak. You would have died too.”

  “I am dying! I’m dying!” I roar, my throat raw. Willa’s image plays on repeat in my mind, her small rounding stomach with our kid inside. Fuck. My lungs feel like they’re melting. Darkness creeps in from the corners of my eyes, making my head spin. No. No. No. This can’t be real. No, this isn’t happening.