Page 67 of Sabre’s Guard

I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. I know my old man will be overjoyed whatever we have. Same as me. Whether Noah has a little sister or brother, we’re going to be one big happy family.

He kisses my stomach through my shirt, then straightens and kisses me. It’s brief because we’re surrounded by people, but his hand slides around the back of my neck and his thumb brushes the skin beneath my ear.

Even after all these months together he can still make everything inside me flutter with one touch. Although these days, some of the fluttering might be indigestion.

“Sit down for a while,” he murmurs.

I’m about to protest, when Noah’s voice comes from behind us. “Mom, you should probably sit down.”

I turn my head slowly.

“Dad says part of being a team is looking out for everybody. I’m just doin’ that.”

Hearing him call Sabre, ‘Dad’, makes something in my chest tighten. There was a time when I worried about what kind of influence having a one-percent biker in Noah’s life might be. Now my son makes his bed every morning because Sabre told him that discipline starts with doing the boring stuff nobody praises you for.

He still reads Sergeant Rock and he still throws knives—though he knows he’s not to take the blades home—and he’s recently developed an interest in learning how engines work. If I hadn’t gathered already, it’s obvious I’m going to have a little biker on my hands.

“Fine,” I say, glancing at both of my men. “I’ll go and sit down.” I start to turn away but then spin around again. “And don’t overload the grill. You know if you do that then it’ll bring down the temperature.”

“Yes, Chef.”

Noah snickers. I give them both a suspicious look before making my way towards the shaded tables. Today the brothers with families have all brought them for the cookout and there are kids running across the grass with water pistols.

Prospects carry coolers, clean tables, fetch chairs, and generally discover that being the lowest men in the Savage Legion hierarchy means everybody knows their name when there’s work to be done. But the grill is Sabre’s domain.

I glance over at him. He’s wearing his usual jeans, boots, and a black T-shirt that shows off all his tattoos. There’s something deeply attractive about watching the man I love cook.

“You’re staring at him again.”

I turn. Shelly drops into the chair beside me with a paper plate piled so high I’m amazed structural engineering wasn’t involved.

“I’m allowed to stare at him,” I tell my cousin.

Shelly turned eighteen three months ago and two days later, she packed everything she cared about into three suitcases and left Montana. Her original plan had been Los Angeles, but instead, she called me. She’s starting at Salinas County Community College next month and living with Aunt Carol while she figures out what she wants to do with the rest of her life.

She doesn’t have to figure it out quickly. That’s something I keep reminding her. When you grow up in a world where everyone else plans your future before you’re old enough to understand what a future is, freedom can be almost as overwhelming as captivity.

Across the yard, Aunt Carol is sitting with a couple of older women. I’m not sure of their names, but I think one is the mother of the prospect who’s being patched in. That’s what I love about the Savage Legion. It’s not just men and bikes. They truly care about family and the community. She catches me looking and raises her plastic cup.

I raise mine back. Seeing her here makes something warm settle in my chest. After ten years of it just being us two, my family looks different these days. For a moment my mind goes back to what happened. Some of it still hurts. My father is in jail. Not county jail anymore. He was transferred months ago after the federal charges started stacking up. I’m okay with that. My mother, though involved with the kidnapping, managed to avoid any charges. I’m still angry with her, but hopefully without my father’s influence, my little sister Ruthie has a better chance to make something of herself and won’t end up like me and my cousin Shelly.

And Dylan is out of my hair. Turns out violating parole, stalking your ex, conspiring with people to abduct her, and helping create fake documentation designed to lure her child away from school are frowned upon by the justice system so he’s back behind bars, and this time there won’t be an early release slipped through without me knowing.

A hand lands on my shoulder pulling me from my thoughts. I look up to find Aunt Carol.

“You’re thinking too hard, sweetheart,” she says.

I just smile at her. She can read me like a book.

“You doing okay?” she asks.

“I’m good.” I mean it. I mean there are things I’m still working through. But right now, at this minute, my life is good and I’m exactly where I want to be.

Her hand briefly covers mine and she gives it a squeeze. I change the subject before she digs further. “Is it just me or is everyone acting weird today?”

She stands straighter and looks around and shrugs. Shelly suddenly becomes extremely interested in her corn.

I look at her.