The Wild Wolf Pup (Zoe's Rescue Zoo #9)

At first I thought I was just chasing tail, going after something I couldn’t have—a guy just having fun. But the more time I spent with her, the deeper I fell into her, and as much as we flirted, as much I wanted to bang her brains out, she became my friend. I didn’t have any friends that were girls but I couldn’t stay away from her. I looked forward to the text messages we’d send one another and the few times she’d visit her brother—I even drove up to bumble-fuck New York again to see her face.

I was out of my mind and to prove so, I even invited her to my patch party. Yeah, I invited Kitten to my pussy party. Who the fuck does that? This guy right here. And you know what? Best fucking decision of my life. I can say that now, almost two years later.

Most brothers in my MC look back at the night they got their colors as a turning point in their life because they finally became one of the Satan’s Knights. I look back at that night and I forget all about the patch I received because that was the night I first took Kitten. I took her up against the wall of the Satan’s Knight compound and put Pea inside of her. Not intentionally of course, but yep, you heard me right—I knocked up Kitten.

I didn’t find out right away and if I’m being honest, I was a dick, both before and after I found out about the baby. I stopped talking to Kitten after the night at the clubhouse, and thinking back now, I have no idea why. The best I can come up with is I was scared. Yeah, scared, because I was feeling all sorts of shit I wasn’t used to and I was starting to think about Kitten, morning, noon and night.

I think I had a nervous breakdown after I found out we were having a kid and that she had already named it Pea. I was scared shitless to become a father, to be responsible for a little human—for eighteen plus years. But I wasn’t about to let Lauren do it by herself. I wasn’t going to be a deadbeat dad, nah, not me. I would own that shit.

Own it.

These are the two words my brother and my best friend, Bones, said to me after I told him I was having a kid. These are the two words I live by, and the two words I want scribed on my tombstone when I drop dead.

Kitten moved in with me and we played house for a while. I bought a refrigerator and she covered it with our baby’s sonogram photos. Life was good. I had my Kitten, and we were having a Pea.

The motherfucking Chinese had to go ruin my shit. Fucking Sun Wu and the Red Dragons, those motherfuckers threatened to take everything I loved from me—my Kitten and my Pea.

They would’ve succeeded too if it wasn’t for Bones. My best friend stepped into the line of fire when Sun Wu’s men shot at Kitten. He jumped in front of her saving her life. That bullet would’ve killed my Kitten and probably my kid.

It killed Bones.

He saved them and I didn’t even get a chance to thank him. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t look at my son or Lauren and think of the brother God didn’t give me but the one I chose. We named our son, Eric after Bones, and both Kitten and I tell him stories about the uncle he never got to meet.

Join an MC they said.

Take the detour.

Find your heart and own that shit.

I pause, pushing the carriage passed the park gates and pull off my sunglasses to check out our surroundings. There are a couple of kids playing in the sandbox but the little kid with the fisherman’s hat looks like he has that shit on lock down, claiming the three babies with dresses all for himself.

His parents need to teach him how to share and spread the wealth.

I turn my attention to the sprinklers, ready to introduce my son to the love of bikinis but the bigger kids run that part of the playground.

“All right, Eric, time for you to learn how to woo the women,” I say, eyeing the empty swings before looking down at my son who’s rockin’ a pair of sunglasses just like mine. “Don’t look at me like that, I know they’re empty but give it a few minutes and they’ll be lining up to swing with us,” I promise. “Just follow my lead and I’ll have you ten play dates by the time your mom’s finished getting her nails done.”

He leans forward grabbing a fistful of Gerber Puffs and throws them at me.

All right, he’s not a believer—but he will be.

I push the carriage to where the swings are and unlatch Fort Knox. I swear you need to be a brain surgeon to take a kid out of a carriage. Forget about opening this fucking thing—I had to watch a YouTube video just to unfold it. Thank God, Kitten is meeting us here, otherwise I would strap this fucking thing to the roof of my truck.

I place Eric in the swing, tighten the seat belt, see now, this one isn’t so bad, one click and my boy is set. Watching as he curiously looks around the playground I push him. After a few pushes a smile makes its way across his face.

That shit never gets old.

Watching your child’s eyes widen in wonder, smile in joy as he decides he likes the new experience—it’s fucking incredible. Something I almost didn’t get the chance to experience.

“You like that, don’t you?” I grin as he giggles. That sound is contagious, causing me to laugh as I watch him cheer with every high the swing takes and clap his hands with the lows.