Page 38 of Always My Fate
There she was.
Peaches sat propped up in their bed, dark curls loose around her shoulders, green eyes wide with relief the moment she saw him. She held a phone against her ear, and her other hand was resting on her belly, protecting their son.
He crossed the room in three strides, dropped to his knees beside the bed, and pulled her into his arms as carefully as his shaking hands would allow. “I’m here, darlin’. I’m right here.”
She clung to him, fingers digging into his cut, face buried in his neck. “You’re bleeding. You’re hurt—”
“Minor shit,” he rasped, voice thick and raw. “Just a graze. Nothin’ that matters. You’re safe. That’s all I care about right now.”
He pulled back enough to cup her face with both hands, thumbs brushing over her cheeks as he drank her in. The fear that had ridden him the entire way home finally cracked. Relief flooded through him so hard his chest ached.
“Goddamn, Peaches,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. “I left you here knowin’ those bastards were pushin’. Every second I was gone, I was losin’ part of my mind thinkin’ about you and our boy. But you? Unsurprising that you held it together. Coordinated the transports, kept the family movin’. My strong, beautiful fuckin’ queen.”
He kissed her then, the action deep, desperate, and full of every ounce of love and relief he couldn’t put into words.
“There’s my queen,” Blackie murmured against her lips, voice cracking slightly. “Fightin’ right alongside her man. I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, woman. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m never lettin’ you go. Never lettin’ any of this go.”
Peaches cupped his jaw, her thumb gently tracing a streak of dried blood on his cheek. “You came back to us. That’s what matters.” She shook her head. “Did you get Oaky’s report? They had a smaller group to rout, but he did some ridin’ down of the survivors.”
“I did. His lot was exceptional. No injuries on our side, only two to clean on MDMC side of things.” Blackie nodded, exhaustion and relief settling heavy in his bones as he climbed carefully onto the bed beside her and pulled her against his chest. The war outside wasn’t over, Roscoe and the MDMC remnants were still breathing, but right now, in this room, with his woman and their unborn son safe in his arms, he let himself breathe.
“We didn’t get Roscoe. That’s the target I’m going to focus on first thing in the morning.” He inhaled deeply, letting it slowly out on a yawn. “I’m home, Peaches,” he whispered into her curls. “And I’m not leavin’ again tonight. Not for anything.”
He held her tighter, the weight of the night finally crashing down, but the relief, the pure, bone-deep relief, was stronger.
They had survived this round.
Together.
Chapter Eighteen
Blackie
The Longview clubhouse was packed but unusually subdued. Brothers filled every chair and lined the walls, some still bruised and bandaged from the fight at Belle or on the routes. The air was thick with cigarette smoke, fresh coffee, and the heavy weight of what they’d just been through.
Blackie stood at the head of the table, his cut freshly cleaned but the graze on his arm throbbing under the bandage. He waited until the room settled, then nodded at Myron in the corner. The man had come in person all the way from Fort Wayne, Indiana, to tell them what he’d found, and Blackie appreciated the information and help more than he could say.
“Fire it up,” he said.
Myron tapped a few keys on his laptop, and the big screen on the wall flickered to life. Horse appeared, along with the key members of the Belle chapter. Glenna sat beside him, looking tired but steady. Shamu’s big head was visible resting in her lap.
Myron rattled a few more keys, and another video feed popped in, showing Bane and his men from Baker, Florida. They were posted up at a motel in Tyler, Texas. Close enough if needed, central if things finalized so they could go home.
“All right, you big ugly bastards,” Blackie started, voice low and rough. “Listen up. This goes for everyone, that means Longview, Belle, Baker, and every support crew watchin’ in.”
He planted both hands on the table and scanned around the room, making eye contact with as many brothers as he could.
“Last night was a fight we didn’t ask for, but one we sure as hell finished. Those MDMC cockroaches and my traitorous piece-of-shit brother tried to break us. They came at Belle hard, wanted to stretch us thin, and aimed straight for what matters most to me, both my found and blood family. But they failed.”
A rumble of agreement moved through the room.
Blackie’s jaw tightened. “I’m proud as hell of every one of you. Horse, you, your officers in Belle, and your chapter held that ranch like goddamn warriors. You protected what’s ours when the bullets were flyin’. Oaky, Gunny, you stepped up huge while I had to stay close to home. Every prospect, every patch who answered the call should know that I see you. And this is me sayin’ that I owe you.”
He paused, the pride in his chest warring with humility.
“But I’m also humbled. We took hits. Good men got run over, shot, stabbed, and fuckin’ banged up keepin’ this club alive. Nobody died last night, and thank fuck for that, at least not on our side. But the fight alone cost us. It reminded me that leadership ain’t just about ridin’ in with guns blazin’. Sometimes it’s about knowin’ when to stay put and trust your brothers to carry the fight. I hated every second I wasn’t on the front line with you all...but my ole lady needed me here in the beginning.”
He looked directly at the screen. “Horse, you ran point like a true president, be that a leader of a chapter or club. I’m proud to call you brother. Belle held because of you and your men. Bane, your assistance was the difference between winnin’ and losin’. The rest of you, we don’t stop. Roscoe and what’s left of the MDMC are still out there lickin’ their wounds. They lost a full dozen men last night from the three fight sites combined. Those have been dealt with, and now we watch and wait. We stay tight. We stay smart. And we protect what’s ours, our chapters, our families, our future.”
