Epilogue
FIVE YEARS LATER
RUGER
“I’m gonna stick it in now.”
Sophie’s voice was soft and smooth, with just a hint of laughter.
Ruger smelled her special scent and felt a shot to his groin, the same as every time he’d seen her
since that first night in his apartment. She was so beautiful he could die, and he still couldn’t believe she was truly his.
But why the f*ck she thought this was a good idea he couldn’t fathom. She was moving too fast. They weren’t ready, he needed her to slow down, to really think about how this would change things between them. Being part of the club had opened her eyes, but there should be limits, too.
He scowled, catching her hand and stopping her mid-motion.
“Why can’t you just stay with me? It’s always worked between us. I don’t get why I’m not enough for you.”
Sophie rolled her eyes.
“Christ, Ruger, tone back the caveman for once,” she muttered. “You know I’ve wanted to try it for a while now, and it’s not like it’s my first time. It’s not going to change anything between you and me, babe. But I need this. You want me to be happy, you always say you want me to be happy. Sometimes that means giving up a little, taking the next step. Let me be in charge for once.”
Ruger closed his eyes for a second, taking in a deep breath. Then he opened them again and gazed at
the woman he loved more than anything. She grinned at him, and holy crap, he loved that grin.
“Sorry, babe,” he said, leaning forward to give her a quick peck on those soft, perfect lips of hers.
He had to trust her. Ruger forced himself to pull away, taking two steps back, gravel crunching under
his heels.
“Ready?” she asked. He nodded tightly.
“Okay, then I’m gonna stick it in. Promise you won’t panic?” Ruger rolled his eyes.
“I wouldn’t panic. I’m not a f*ckin’ baby, Soph. Jesus.”
She didn’t reply, but her eyes said it all, and Ruger felt a smile creep across his face.
“All right,” he admitted, holding his hands up in surrender. “You win. I’m a big whiny baby and I just can’t handle the thought of you doing anything fun without me. I never want you to have fun, I just want you barefoot and pregnant in the kitch—”
“Oh, shut up,” she said, laughing. “Now I’m really doing it, and you’re just going to have to deal
with it. Stand back. I wouldn’t want my big, bad biker man getting hit by gravel or something.”
With that she slid the key into the ignition, and the red-and-black Harley softail roared to life. The
look on her face was pure delight, and Ruger had to admit that the sight of her on the bike was f*cking hot. He couldn’t decide if he wanted her wearing more leather for protection on the road or less,
because damn, she looked good when—
He cut off that thought. He needed to focus on his woman’s safety, not her boobs.
“Be careful!” he yelled. Sophie laughed as she rolled down the driveway, then gave a shriek of delight when she hit the road and tore off.
Goddamnit.
“I’m gonna f*ckin’ kill Horse,” Ruger muttered. He hated this. Hated it. “Kill him and that f*ckin’
bitch of his … always full of great ideas. She doesn’t need her own goddamn bike.”
“You shouldn’t talk like that around Faith,” Noah said, standing next to him. “She starts dropping F-bombs at preschool, Mom’ll shit bricks.”
The kid was twelve going on thirty, and in the past year he’d started shooting up into lanky
adolescence. He was already getting phone calls from girls, which gave Sophie fits. Ruger was just happy Noah took after his mom in both looks and brains. Faith sat perched on Noah’s shoulders, watching Ruger with big eyes, same as her mother’s. She gave him a heart-wrenchingly beautiful smile, then opened her mouth and spoke solemnly.
“F*ckin’ kiw Howse,” she said.
Ruger sighed, then reached for his daughter, who climbed up him like a little spider monkey. He
stuck his nose into her neck, smelling her sweet, not-quite-still-a-baby scent.
“You can’t win this one,” Noah said. “You know sooner or later Faith’s gonna say something where Mom can hear.”
“I’ll just say she’s copying you,” Ruger said, narrowing his eyes. Noah laughed. “You taught me in the first place.”
“You’re a little shit sometimes.”
“Yeah, but I’m a little shit who’s willing to throw you a lifeline,” Noah replied thoughtfully. “If she says it in front of Mom, I’ll say it’s my fault if you pay me.”
“How much?”
“Twenty bucks a pop.”
“You got a deal.”
SOPHIE
The bike roared under me and the wind danced across my face.
I loved it. I’d been practicing for a while, mostly out at Marie’s place. She’d gotten her own bike a year ago. I’d never get tired of riding behind Ruger, but I loved being on my own, too. In fact, I’d spent six months trying to convince Ruger I should get my own ride.
Stupid man was positive I’d kill myself.
Problem was, deep down inside, Ruger was sexist as shit. Actually, it wasn’t that deep—he’d
always been pretty up front about it. But when he’d decided it was time for Noah to start learning on a little dirt bike, I’d had enough.
It was okay for my twelve-year-old son to ride, but not me? Bullshit.
So earlier that week I’d announced I was buying a bike, and that he could either help me pick one
out or live with what I got on my own. That lit a fire under his ass, and earlier today a friend of his
delivered my pretty little Harley. Ruger didn’t like it, but at least he knew it was a decent bike in good
condition.
Still, I paid for it with my own money. I wanted it to be my bike. Not that we really had “mine” or “his” after we got married, but he insisted that I keep part of my paycheck in a separate account. I’d never said anything about it, but somehow Ruger knew—instinctively—that I needed to feel like I could take care of myself.
Having my own money helped with that.
I planned to use most of it for school for the kids, but every once in a while I treated us to
something special. I’d taken him to Hawaii for our second anniversary, which had been a good
investment, because I’d come home with Faith as a souvenir. I’d wondered if having a baby in the
house would distance Ruger and Noah, but if anything they’d gotten closer. Every day Noah turned
into more of a young man, and Ruger was a big part of that.
After a few minutes, I reached the end of the road and considered whether or not to turn back. I
hadn’t really put the bike through her paces—and she was definitely a she, I felt like we were sisters already—but I knew this was killing Ruger.
I smiled, feeling just a little evil.
Part of me wanted to just take off, feel the freedom and let him dangle for a while. It’d piss him off, but seriously … angry sex with my man was pretty damned good. I toyed with the idea, but turned the bike around and headed back toward the house instead.
Baby steps.
No need to scare him too much in one day, after all.
Best to save something for tomorrow, just in case he got out of line.