Epilogue
Waffles
Hop
One week later…
His phone rang and Hop opened his eyes feeling his wife’s weight pressed to his side, their legs tangled, and her cheek on his pec.
She shifted sleepily as he reached out a hand to the nightstand to grab his phone, seeing from the alarm clock it was early morning. As in way early morning. He looked at his display and saw it was Tack calling. They’d had dinner with him and Cherry the night before, where they shared their good news.
All of it. Tack and Tyra had been happy for them, Tyra over the moon. So much so Hop didn’t know if she was happier about the baby than the marriage.
It didn’t matter.
His woman had beamed through dinner, showing off her ring, touching her hand to her stomach, and Hop again didn’t know if Lanie was happier about their baby or their marriage.
That was what mattered.
All was good in the family.
But a middle-of-the-night phone call was never good news.
Ever.
He put the phone to his ear and muttered, “You got me.”
“Callout, brother,” Tack replied. “Benito.”
F*ck, he thought
“Be there in fifteen,” he said.
“Later.”
“Later.”
He tossed his phone to the nightstand as he felt Lanie stretch, pressing into him.
“Is everything okay?” she murmured, her voice drowsy and sweet.
“Yeah,” he lied.
His woman was good in all the ways she could be. The short-term therapy counselor had suggested long-term therapy and Lanie had found someone she liked working with. They were winding things up seeing as his woman… no, his wife… had moved beyond the heavy shit and had been given the tools to deal with how her thoughts and memories twisted themselves and tortured her.
She still threw dramas but they were not embedded in dysfunction.
She came home from work and ranted about shit that was fixable, thus mostly unimportant, but was important to get off her chest.
She hilariously lost it when she got caught up in something and burned her first attempt at making Cody’s birthday cake.
And she bitched while he bit back laughter at the antics of her mother and father; strike that, her sober, seriously pissed off mother and her a*shole father. Lanie and Lis were Team Joellyn all the way as Joellyn made maneuvers to take her husband to the cleaners. Edward had backtracked, saying he wanted her back, and none of the Heron women could tell if he said that because he knew he’d lose a vast chunk of his fortune or he was falling back in love with the woman he’d married now that she was sober. None of them cared, either. It was an all-out female Heron offensive to make that dirtbag pay.
Hop was loving it and, even if she bitched, he knew Lanie was too. She had one parent back and she’d learned the hard way how precious life was. She wasn’t wasting any of it on an unnecessary grudge.
But the business with Benito Valenzuela was something else.
He wouldn’t let her worry. He wouldn’t let her think anything about Benito if he could control it.
So he was going to control it.
Even if he had to lie.
But he was worried about it. The one thing that could set her to sliding back was this, if she found out how bad it was, and how it kept getting worse.
“Gotta go do something with Chaos,” he told her, rolling her to her back and leaning in to kiss her throat but bracing for her reaction.
“Okay, honey.”
Okay?
He lifted his head up and looked at her shadowed face.
She turned to her side, curled her legs up but stretched her neck to brush her lips against his collarbone.
Then she settled back in.
He stared at her.
F*ck. She trusted him.
F*ck. She was good with letting him go out in the middle of the night on unknown business for Chaos.
Hop gave it a beat to let that settle then bent and kissed her neck again, smoothing a hand over her hip then in, up her nightie and to her stomach. “Take care of Ellie while I’m gone.”
“Happy to take care of Butch while you’re gone,” she mumbled dozily, and he felt his lips tip up.
He wanted a daughter who looked like his wife. His wife had informed him she wanted a son who looked like her husband.
God would decide but it was fun arguing about something that meant everything knowing neither of them really cared which way it went.
But “Butch” was new.
“Butch?” he asked.
“Ty-Ty took all the cute baby boy biker names. I’m calling him Butch until I can come up with something else.”
F*ck yeah, she was sleepy and joking.
She trusted him.
Hop stifled laughter and told her, “Ellie’s a girl, Lanie.”
“Butch is a boy, Hopper.”
“We’ll see,” he muttered, leaning in to give his wife another light kiss.
“Yeah. We will,” she replied, cuddled deeper into the bed and he rolled out.
Hop got dressed and went back to find his woman sleeping. He reached out, pulled the covers high and tucked her in.
Then he grabbed his phone, went downstairs to the locked cabinet, got his knife, moved to his safe and tagged his gun.
Then he walked out to his garage and hopped on his bike.
* * *
“Do not fire! Chaos, do not fire!” Tack roared and Hop, crouched behind a hospital bed on a goddamned f*cking porno set of all f*cking places, with his arms up and resting on the bed, gun pointed at one of Benito’s men, stayed still but kept his finger on the trigger.
He took his eyes off his mark to look at Tack who had his mouth tight. His gaze was on Shy, who had blood oozing down his neck because he just got winged by a ricochet bullet from one of Benito’s men’s guns.
Tack looked back at Benito and Hop looked back at his mark as he heard Tack growl, “Jesus Christ, are you shittin’ me?”
They were there to rescue Tabby’s best friend Natalie. Tabby had been tight with Natalie for years. Hop knew her. The girl had been on Chaos and he’d seen her around. She was bad news in that sad way you knew, just looking into her eyes, that she’d chosen her path in life to numb some pain she didn’t have the courage to face.
They’d been briefed, before they went to extract her from her film debut, that she got herself a habit to numb that pain. Then she got in deep with Benito and he was taking it out in trade. In other words, she had a bit part that was very active in his latest porno flick.
She wasn’t big on doing this, so she called Tabby for a Chaos rescue. Shy stepped up for his woman and the boys rolled out.
Strategically, this was not good. Benito kept pushing, Chaos kept pushing back. So far, they had been able to keep Benito and his pushers and whores out of Chaos territory, but it was an ongoing battle. Regardless, hostilities had not escalated.
But for Tab, for Shy, for family, every man was there.
Tack and the Club hitting a porno set in the dead of night, demanding the actress who was meant to make her debut, and outing f*cking Elvira—who had absolutely no f*cking business being there undercover for some shit Hawk Delgado was working—did not go over big with Benito. Things got heated. Tack sent Elvira out for her own protection and he also sent away the Chaos recruits because they didn’t need this experience. Not yet.
Things got more heated after that, and one of Benito’s men jumped the gun.
Literally.
“Tack—” Benito started.
“Your man f*ckin’ fired,” Hop clipped.
“Warning shot, he was closing in,” Benito returned, jerking his head Shy’s way. “It was a ricochet. He meant no harm.”
“I don’t give a f*ck. My brother is bleeding and your man fired,” Tack snarled. “And for once in your life, seein’ as we got this many armed men in a faceoff, pay attention. He was approaching me.”
“I will remind you, you were not invited to this party,” Benito bit back.
“And I’ll repeat what I’ve said five f*ckin’ times. Chaos will cover her debt. She’s family. We agreed a long f*ckin’ time ago, man, family is off-limits,” Tack returned.
“Not when they owe me a great deal of money,” Benito shot back.
“Jesus, are you listening? Chaos is covering her debt,” Tack replied.
“I prefer my method of payment,” Benito retorted.
“That is not gonna happen. Con one of your other junkies into eatin’ p-ssy for payback. This girl belongs to Chaos,” Tack bit out.
Benito leaned toward Tack, his face twisting in anger. “She is not family. She is not blood or old lady. You lay claim to p-ssy on a whim, you can claim any-f*ckin’-body. You do that, no rules and anything goes.”
The entire room, already tense, went electric. They all knew what that meant.
If it came to war, Benito would play dirty, and it would not just be the brothers in the trenches.
Hop came out of his crouch, strode directly to Benito. He was concentrating on Tack so he reacted to the advancing threat too late.
Hop had disarmed him and had his hand curled around Benito’s throat, shoving him back with speed and force so when he hit the hospital bed, he went down on it on his back. Hop kept squeezing as he put his gun to Benito’s temple and listened vaguely to the scuffling maneuvers of the men around him who became antsy after a direct attack on Benito.
“Those rules never change,” Hop declared. “Your beef is with Chaos, motherf*cker. Any member of our family even f*ckin’ shivers ’cause they feel you close, you’re eating my bullet.”
Benito held his eyes but called out, “Tack, call off your dog.”
“Say you get me,” Hop growled.
“You’re making a mistake,” Benito hissed.
“Say. You. Get. Me,” Hop ground out.
He felt a presence and knew it was Tack before Tack spoke.
“I suggest you say you get him, man, ’cause you pull family into this shit you’re stirrin’, swear to f*ckin’ God, you won’t eat Hop’s bullet ’cause that would be too quick. I’ll skin you alive, Benito. Do not mistake me. You harm any member of my family, and by that I mean all of Chaos, inch by inch you’ll bleed and scream.”
Benito’s eyes were aimed over Hop’s shoulder at Tack. He made a noise low in his throat before he looked at Hop and snapped, “I get you.”
Hop instantly let him go and took two steps away.
Benito scrambled off the bed and faced Hop. “You just declared war.”
“Motherf*cker. Seriously?” Hop asked. “My brother’s bleedin’. No paper signed but you spill Chaos blood, you do not come out of that shit unscathed. We had war five minutes ago.”
“Five square miles,” Tack cut in and Benito looked to him. “I do not get it. You can have all of Denver—it sucks, but you can have it—no Chaos beef. All you gotta stay clear of is five f*ckin’ miles. What is it with you?”
“You can’t claim what isn’t yours,” Benito returned.
“Your crew has been workin’ Denver for seven years, motherf*cker. Chaos claimed that territory f*ckin’ decades ago. How is it not ours?”
“Nothing is yours, you can’t protect it,” Benito retorted and Tack shook his head.
“Man, trust me, Chaos lore is watered down. I get, you keepin’ this shit up, you think we’re no threat but, hear me, you do not wanna go to war with us,” Tack advised.
“Soft,” Benito whispered, his eyes lighting in a freaky way Hop did not like. “Everyone knows, you got out of the trade, you all went soft.”
“I see you don’t get this, seein’ as you probably only get off jackin’ off on a mountain of twenty-dollar bills, but a man protecting his home never goes soft.”
“We’ll see,” Benito replied.
“No, we’ll see,” Tack fired back. “You and your boys do this, you’ll be under dirt so you won’t see shit.”
Benito grinned.
Tack turned his eyes to Hop and shook his head.
Then he moved to exit while ordering, “Chaos, mount up.”
The brothers moved out.
Tack tagged Shy and Hop on their way to the bikes. “Meet. Early. I’m callin’ in the boys.”
Hop jerked his chin up. He knew what Tack meant. He wasn’t wasting time calling in reinforcements, and by that he meant Hawk Delgado, Brock Lucas, and Mitch Lawson.
Commandos and cops.
Benito should have listened.
After years undercover with the DEA, Brock Lucas knew the bowels of Denver like the back of his hand. Living with filth, to survive, he’d learned to embrace the wild inside. He might be married to a pretty baker who made unbelievably good cupcakes, and they were raising two boys, but he was still good with getting in touch with his wild side.
Mitch Lawson had proved without doubt that no matter how clean a cop he was, he had Chaos’s back. He was cautious but far from dumb, and willing to go the distance, therefore a worthy ally and a surprisingly scary adversary.
And it was debatable but Hawk Delgado might be a functioning lunatic. But he got the job done, no matter how nasty that job might be. He didn’t mind mess while doing it and he had an army of commandos at his back. He paid them well, but he earned their loyalty another way and every one of them would lay down their lives for their leader.
Tack’s eyes locked on Shy. “You and me now, to Baldy.”
Shy nodded.
Baldy was a biker and a doctor. He would be in a Club if he had the time. Seeing as he took cash for his services and the underbelly of Denver found themselves in need of a physician more than occasionally, he didn’t have the time.
Shy gave Hop a handshake then headed to his bike.
Hop waylaid Tack.
“He touches family, brother, you won’t get your chance to skin him,” Hop warned. “Lanie never again feels fear. Not like that.”
“I think he got that message,” Tack replied.
“Hope he did, Tack. Swear to Christ, he didn’t—”
Tack lifted a hand and curled his fingers around Hop’s shoulder. “Calm. Patience. Natalie wasn’t Chaos until we claimed her, so he isn’t wrong to be pissed. We’ll pay the money which is all he cares about, he’ll fall back and when he strikes, it won’t be courting Armageddon. He’s greedy but he’s not stupid.”
Hop stared into his brother’s eyes. Then he did what he always did and he had never been wrong. He trusted his friend, nodded, and moved to his bike.
He had a text with the details on the meet by the time he pulled into his drive.
When he slid back into bed with his wife, she was still out.
He curled into her, pulling her close, splaying his hand on her still-flat stomach, and he pulled in a deep breath.
Smelling Lanie’s perfume, he relaxed when he let it out.
Three hours later, he woke up, rolled carefully away from his still-sleeping woman, got dressed, and headed back out.
* * *
“Lanie,” Hop muttered, using her name to tell his brothers it was time to get back to their women.
Tack turned and nodded to Hop.
“Right,” he said. “Later, brothers. Have a mind, it’s early, he won’t move this quick, but watch your backs.”
Hop nodded. Shy did too.
They swung on their bikes and roared off. They’d just had a meet with “the boys”: Tack and his two lieutenants, Hop and Shy, as well as Hawk Delgado, Mitch Lawson, and Brock Lucas. War was declared. Reinforcements had been called. They were all in.
The meeting was tense, as it would be.
Now they waited.
As they rode away, Hop shouted, “Yo!” and Shy turned his head to look at his brother.
Hop jerked his head to the side. They both rode to the shoulder, stopped, put their feet down, and Hop looked back through the buildings from where they’d come.
Tack was standing there, motionless.
He was worried.
Hop closed his eyes.
When he opened them, Hop looked to Shy to see Shy looking back at Tack.
Then Shy’s gaze came to him. “My guess, four hours ago, on a scale of one to ten of how bad this shit is, I would have said eleven. Now, I’m guessin’ twenty-three.”
“We may be at twenty-five,” Hop corrected.
Shy’s lips twitched.
This was his brother, Shy Cage. He’d never been to war but he still showed no fear.
Hop looked back to Tack to see he was moving to his bike.
“Brace, brother,” Hop advised, then said, “Let’s ride.”
Shy jerked up his chin, they put on the gas, and they rode.
* * *
“Jesus, what is this?” Hop asked as he walked into the kitchen to see his woman in an un-f*cking-believably amazing pair of knit yoga pants that were loose in the right places but clung to better places, and a casual wraparound top that just clung to the right places, in other words every inch of her torso. Her hair was in a messy knot on top her head. Her face had no makeup.
And honest to Christ, she never looked so beautiful.
His kids were in the kitchen with her and it looked like a pancake batter bomb had exploded.
Needless to say, his kids had taken the news that their father had a new wife and they had a new sister on the way without even blinking. Hop wasn’t surprised. It was good and kids sucked up good just as much as bad, so they had no problem settling into it.
Molly especially. Cody, thank Christ, had come into this world shielded by invisible steel. Not much affected him. But Molly had a mind to her dad since she could form coherent thought. Not close with her mother, Molly was Daddy’s little girl from the beginning. She wasn’t old enough to process it, but that didn’t mean she wanted her old man alone and coasting on the scraps of goodness life could give him. She seemed to relax when she got the news that Lanie was legally bound to her father and they were cinching that with a kid. Then again, his girl been relaxing since Lanie came into the picture.
Yeah, kids totally sucked up the good.
“We’re teaching Cody to make waffles, Dad!” Molly shouted with excitement.
“Don’t know why,” Cody stated, but did this from his station manning the waffle iron. “I get a woman, she’s doin’ all the cookin’.”
Hop stared at his son then cut his eyes to his wife to see her body shaking with silent laughter.
He had to stop himself from staring as his whole f*cked-up night melted away at seeing his woman laughing.
She trusted him. Totally trusted him.
He’d left their bed in the middle of the night to do Chaos business. She’d gone back to sleep and stayed asleep, waking up alone, and there she was, making waffles with his kids and laughing.
Not anxious. Not freaked. Not wound up.
Laughing.
He’d done it. Pulled her out of the shadows and brought her into the light of family.
And she was basking in it.
He let that feeling smooth through him and turned back to his son.
“You plannin’ on shackin’ up soon, boy?” Hop asked.
“Soon’s I graduate high school so I don’t ever have to do laundry, clean, or cook,” Cody answered.
Hop bit back laughter.
Lanie didn’t bother. She giggled out loud, so Hop turned his head to watch her beautiful face beaming bright with happiness and he did it until he was sure he’d go blind.
“You’re stupid,” Molly declared, and Hop tore his gaze from Lanie to look at his daughter. “Everyone knows women don’t do all the cooking and cleaning anymore.”
“Lanie does it for Dad,” Cody shot back. “And she works. And she has an ace ride.” Cody looked to his father. “I’m gonna get a Lanie, ’cept,” he screwed up his mouth as he narrowed his eyes on Lanie then looked back at his old man, “blonde,” he finished then thought better of his conclusion and said to Lanie. “Not bein’ mean. You got pretty hair, too.”
Lanie opened her mouth to say something but she was laughing too hard to get it out.
“Someone kill me. My son is already ordering up his woman,” Hop muttered and Cody looked at him.
“When did you have your first girlfriend?” he asked.
Hop wasn’t going to answer that. Instead, he homed in on the point his son was not making.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Oh dear,” Lanie mumbled.
“Totally, Dad!” Molly gave it away. “He has three.”
“Oh dear,” Lanie repeated, but this time those two words shook with amusement.
“Three?” Hop asked, his eyebrows shooting up.
Cody lifted up the lid on the waffle maker to check progress all the while talking, “Seein’ as I already decided to hook up early, I figure I gotta get my experience in now.”
This time, Hop bit back a curse.
Molly cried, “Gross!”
Lanie kept laughing.
“Son, look at me,” Hop called and Cody decided the waffle wasn’t done yet so he dropped the top back on and looked at his Dad. “You are way too young for me to be sharin’ this but seein’ as you’re jumpin’ the gun, I gotta lay it out. You want a Lanie, one at a time. You never, and hear me, boy, never jack a girl around. You jack her around, you live with doin’ that to a girl who doesn’t deserve it but you also answer to me. Are you hearin’ me?”
Cody nodded solemnly. “I hear you, Dad.”
Hop felt something in the room. He looked to his wife and he saw she wasn’t laughing anymore. Her face was soft, her eyes were warm and he felt that warmth deep down, straight into his bones.
He returned the look then aimed his gaze back at his son.
“More advice,” he started. “You can get your experience in about seven years. Now, concentrate on kickball or something.”
“I already kill at kickball,” Cody bragged. “Don’t need no practice at that.”
“Right, whatever,” Hop replied, “I think you get me.”
Cody studied him before giving in by mumbling, “I get you.”
“Good,” Hop stated. “Now, feed me. I’m starved.”
Cody grinned.
Lanie got him a cup of coffee and gave it to him with a kiss on his jaw before she turned her attention back to supervising waffles.
Then they all sat at the kitchen table, Hopper Kincaid at the head with his family around, talking, laughing, giggling, shooting the shit over waffles.
It wasn’t a birthday. It wasn’t a holiday.
It still felt like a celebration.
And, even though it started shit, it was the best day of his life.
Just like every day after he won the love of Elaine Heron Kincaid.
But especially the day, seven months later, when his wife gave him his second son.
Nash Kane Kincaid.
About the Author
Kristen Ashley grew up in Brownsburg, Indiana, and has lived in Denver, Colorado, and the West Country of England. Thus she has been blessed to have friends and family around the globe. Her posse is loopy (to say the least) but loopy is good when you want to write.
Kristen was raised in a house with a large and multigenerational family. They lived on a very small farm in a small town in the heartland, and Kristen grew up listening to the strains of Glenn Miller, The Everly Brothers, REO Speedwagon, and Whitesnake.
Needless to say, growing up in a house full of music and love was a good way to grow up.
And as she keeps growing up, it keeps getting better.
You can learn more at:
KristenAshley.net
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