this conversation was painfully arousing. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I know what that means.”
“You—you’re not…upset?”
Was he? Nope. Not even close. Dax smoothed his hand down her deceptively flat belly as he considered his own emotions. It was something he was starting to do more and more lately. He felt a warmth spreading inside his chest and something else, something possessive and primal, began to churn there as well.
“Stoked would be a better word for how I feel right now.”
When her eyes lit up, making them sparkle like emeralds, Dax was sure. He was totally fuckin’ stoked. Maybe it was because he felt so cheated for most of his life when it came to family, but he actually regretted that he missed out on Sirena’s birth, and her early years. Sure, some guys bitched and moaned about the crying and the diapers, and the lack of sleep, but when you never had anyone, those things seemed like pretty insignificant issues.
Christ, you got a kid in return!
Maybe it’s a boy…
With a whoop, he had her in the air, swinging her around in a circle. Then, he was kissing her silly.
“Dax! Be careful. Put me down.”
But she was giggling too. “You’re really happy about this, aren’t you?”
“Darlin’, how could you have any doubt? You gonna get another one of those stick things? I want to be there.”
“Of course. I’m not sure, okay? I just feel...off.”
“I think I can remedy that, darlin.’ Now, let’s get you out of that dress.”
Dax pulled the ribbon that secured the green material around her body and watched as the garment floated to the floor. He looked her up and down, from her taut belly to her full breasts, searching for a sign of her condition.
Mine, he thought possessively.
Rhee shivered as though she could read his thoughts, her eyes widening at his perusal. He pulled her closer, and then he did what Dax Jamison did best—he made Rhiannon Blake forget her own name.
Chapter Fourteen
There were worse things than being a grunt. When it came down to it, Slade was enjoying the shit out of the lifestyle. There was always something to do so he wasn’t able to dwell on his rage for too long. Made it a damn sight easier to keep his shit under wraps. Plus, no one batted an eye when he slunk into a booth at Lenny’s and ordered a fifth of whiskey—at one o’ clock in the afternoon.
Slade needed to think—just get a few minutes to himself and figure out what the hell to do now. He had his motives and he needed his connection to the club. The thing was, something was up—it was definitely up.
He wasn’t an eavesdropper and he sure as fuck wasn’t a rat. But after overhearing Gray and one of the other old-timers, Tank, talking out back, he was almost positive that Hawk was talking to the feds.
“Yeah, he’s not himself.”
“Not sure where he’s taking the club these days. The kid, Dax, maybe he had the right idea.”
“Well, the kid has a kid now, brother. Can’t say I blame him.”
“Neither do I. But…where does that leave us?”
“Where we always been, man. At Hawk’s table.”
“Used to be Crow’s table.”
“Yeah, man. Those were the days.”
Overhearing their drunken conversation wasn’t the worst of his problems. No, the bigger issue was whom he had practically smacked into in his haste to get back inside the clubhouse, unseen.
Alanna. Conniving little bitch. And the smile on her face told Slade that he wasn’t the only one who had heard Gray and Tank’s inebriated discussion.
She had shit Dax would want to hear, she said. But she wouldn’t say what. Or who it implicated. Slade knew he couldn’t push the groupie without opening a massive can of worms that would fuck with his own plan. Now, Slade was an unwilling partner in Alanna’s scheme. He wasn’t surprised when she told him her end game: Get Dax back to Darling.
She’d tell Dax what she knew and no one else.
Slade hated being manipulated—especially by a snotty little bitch. Dax
“You—you’re not…upset?”
Was he? Nope. Not even close. Dax smoothed his hand down her deceptively flat belly as he considered his own emotions. It was something he was starting to do more and more lately. He felt a warmth spreading inside his chest and something else, something possessive and primal, began to churn there as well.
“Stoked would be a better word for how I feel right now.”
When her eyes lit up, making them sparkle like emeralds, Dax was sure. He was totally fuckin’ stoked. Maybe it was because he felt so cheated for most of his life when it came to family, but he actually regretted that he missed out on Sirena’s birth, and her early years. Sure, some guys bitched and moaned about the crying and the diapers, and the lack of sleep, but when you never had anyone, those things seemed like pretty insignificant issues.
Christ, you got a kid in return!
Maybe it’s a boy…
With a whoop, he had her in the air, swinging her around in a circle. Then, he was kissing her silly.
“Dax! Be careful. Put me down.”
But she was giggling too. “You’re really happy about this, aren’t you?”
“Darlin’, how could you have any doubt? You gonna get another one of those stick things? I want to be there.”
“Of course. I’m not sure, okay? I just feel...off.”
“I think I can remedy that, darlin.’ Now, let’s get you out of that dress.”
Dax pulled the ribbon that secured the green material around her body and watched as the garment floated to the floor. He looked her up and down, from her taut belly to her full breasts, searching for a sign of her condition.
Mine, he thought possessively.
Rhee shivered as though she could read his thoughts, her eyes widening at his perusal. He pulled her closer, and then he did what Dax Jamison did best—he made Rhiannon Blake forget her own name.
Chapter Fourteen
There were worse things than being a grunt. When it came down to it, Slade was enjoying the shit out of the lifestyle. There was always something to do so he wasn’t able to dwell on his rage for too long. Made it a damn sight easier to keep his shit under wraps. Plus, no one batted an eye when he slunk into a booth at Lenny’s and ordered a fifth of whiskey—at one o’ clock in the afternoon.
Slade needed to think—just get a few minutes to himself and figure out what the hell to do now. He had his motives and he needed his connection to the club. The thing was, something was up—it was definitely up.
He wasn’t an eavesdropper and he sure as fuck wasn’t a rat. But after overhearing Gray and one of the other old-timers, Tank, talking out back, he was almost positive that Hawk was talking to the feds.
“Yeah, he’s not himself.”
“Not sure where he’s taking the club these days. The kid, Dax, maybe he had the right idea.”
“Well, the kid has a kid now, brother. Can’t say I blame him.”
“Neither do I. But…where does that leave us?”
“Where we always been, man. At Hawk’s table.”
“Used to be Crow’s table.”
“Yeah, man. Those were the days.”
Overhearing their drunken conversation wasn’t the worst of his problems. No, the bigger issue was whom he had practically smacked into in his haste to get back inside the clubhouse, unseen.
Alanna. Conniving little bitch. And the smile on her face told Slade that he wasn’t the only one who had heard Gray and Tank’s inebriated discussion.
She had shit Dax would want to hear, she said. But she wouldn’t say what. Or who it implicated. Slade knew he couldn’t push the groupie without opening a massive can of worms that would fuck with his own plan. Now, Slade was an unwilling partner in Alanna’s scheme. He wasn’t surprised when she told him her end game: Get Dax back to Darling.
She’d tell Dax what she knew and no one else.
Slade hated being manipulated—especially by a snotty little bitch. Dax
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