“These idiots are the only thing between us and a Mexican blade in the middle of the night. Maybe worse.” I gathered my breath and sighed. “It's too dangerous, Norm. Don't be a stubborn jackass. You really should get out of there. I know it's hard, I know it's not ideal, but you're going to get yourself killed. This isn't just about me either. I can't have my son living in a place that isn't safe.”
Norm laughed, fast and shrill. “Safe? You gotta be kidding! You think you're safe living with that fucking biker? Do you even know what those guys do in their spare time?”
“Mostly drink a lot. Sometimes chase skirt.”
Or sometimes take a girl prisoner, slap a tattoo on her, and call her 'mine,' I thought.
“Nothing's funny about this shit, Sally. Stop screwing around.”
“I know. And I don't want you getting hurt.” I paused, listening to the tremor in his breathing. “Norm, we have savings in the business account. We can take the loss this season. There's no need to put yourself in harm's way just to work for money we don't absolutely need.”
“You think I don't know that?” He sounded so hurt. “Jesus, Sally. This isn't about taking a loss. These biker assholes obviously can't protect this place like I thought. I'm staying here. I'll have my gun, I'll have my guys, and we'll fill the gaps the MC can't cover. I'm not gonna let some drug dealing bastards roll up and torch my old man's farmhouse. It's been in this family for a hundred years. I won't be the coward watching it burn. We've grown up here for generations, and I owe them better than turning tail and coming home to cinders. My wife's ashes are here.”
“Norm...please.” Tears filled my eyes.
Jenny died before Uncle Ralph brought me in as a team. It took years for my poor cousin to shake off the loss, to function as a human being again, and now he'd fallen back into his grief. He sounded just as shocked, weak, and stunned as he had after her death.
“Don't. You're welcome to come home when you're ready. If I've got to protect everything this family's ever worked for, everything we've ever had, then I'll do it alone. I don't need you.”
The line went dead. I dropped the phone on the floor and walked over to the crib, staring at Caleb. I tried my best not to let my heart stop, blinking away the harsh tears building in my eyes.
Every compromise I could've possibly made was bad. I had to give up something – just like I had to give myself to the bastard pounding his way up the front steps outside.
I watched him through the window. Roman handled the massive coffee table without even breaking a sweat. His muscles were fully flexed, making him look even huger than usual. Hotter too, much as I didn't want to admit it.
Hot, angry, forbidden heat stormed in my veins. The little flashes of fire that told me I wanted him were the worst.
It wasn't the first time I'd sensed it. I felt it on his bike, the road purring underneath us, every nerve in my body humming to match the speed of my heart. My body couldn't deny there was an attraction.
There always had been. There always would be.
How long before I let his drinking, whoring, cursing lips touch mine? Even if he agreed to sleep in another room, how long would it be before I gave into my long starved urge for a man's touch?
I shuddered.
A huge crash outside my door brought me back to my senses. I popped the door and looked out into the hallway.
“Cocksucking bastard motherfucker!” The box of toys Asphalt had dropped down the stairs on the landing busted open, strewing its contents out around his boots. He looked like he was about to have a stroke.
“Do you need a hand?” I asked, folding my arms.
He looked up, and the anger in his beady eyes melted into shame. “Nah. Big boy doesn't want you on your feet, throwing out your back going up and down these stairs, carrying all this shit.”
“He really said that?”
“He says a lot of shit, and there's no arguing about this. Let us do the work, old lady,” he growled, reminding me what I'd become. “That's what brothers are for.”
Maybe he had a point, not that I liked being shoved to the side by pure testosterone. Like it or not, I was being forced into the MC's machine now.
I woke up late from a nap, after dark. My heart sputtered as I checked the time, and realized I should've fed Caleb a couple hours ago.
“Shit.” The house was quiet.
I walked out of the bedroom and into his room, only to find Roman there, an empty jar of baby food at his side. He sat on the floor, holding the kid – a strange contrast with such a giant, rough man and a tiny baby in his arms.
“Roman?'
He turned around slowly with a finger pressed to his lips, warning me not to wake the sleeping boy in his arms. His gentle movements sent shock and sadness through my veins. I'd never seen him like this before, and it scared me because I didn't know how to react.