Page 185 of I Will Revel in Glory (Death by Daybreak MC 3)
It means one or more of the dads are home. That’s what we call them in the plural, the dads. When she wants one of them specifically, she just says Daddy Crown, Daddy Cade, Daddy Colton, or Daddy Beast. It’s a mix of real names and club names, but it works.
I don’t know what we’ll tell her when she gets older. I guess if she gives a shit, we can say she came from Sin’s balls and be done with it. Doesn’t matter to me.
I take her downstairs and we put on our favorite song—December, 1963 (Oh, What a Night)—dancing together while the men watch us with love brimming in their eyes. Once Katrina goes to bed, that love turns to lust, and I bend my ass right over that couch arm.
I welcome the four of them to fuck me, just the way I like, and sometimes, if we’ve all had enough alcohol, we go to bed together. It’s rare, but nice, to have them touching me at the same time, inside of me at the same time.
When that happens, I can feel it, that kiss of dark magic in the world that only we can conjure up, a troupe of demons, of hedonistic bastards, leather-bound outlaws, lovers, parents, a family.
All of those things are true together, regardless of their contradictions.
And it’s more than I ever could’ve allowed myself to dream.
Seven years after Cat’s death …
When Katrina was maybe one at the most, the guys worked together with the club and figured out a way to put me on salary. I deserve it, considering I’m the one who has to deal with the Grey Wolfe Mafia.
Grey and I are the only people in the world who could keep up this sort of peaceful arrangement for so long. One, because we’re both ruthless as fuck. After Crown took over as president, we rooted out the remaining rats in the club, lined them up, and put them in a hole.
Grey did the same on his side.
Things have been relatively easy between our two groups ever since for the second reason behind our success: we’re friends. We love each other. We are each other’s hard lines.
Because of all that, I also have my own bike.
Now, I still ride behind Beast during official events, and I only wear his jacket on the compound, but sometimes, when we take road trips, I’ll switch it up. I’ll wear Crown’s jacket one day, Sin’s the next, Grainger’s after that. It’s sacrilegious in club culture, but I’ve never cared about any of that. We’ve been sinners from the get-go, so what does it matter?
Anyway, on the third Friday of every month, I attend a ‘Pilates class’.
I know, I know, it doesn’t seem right. Gidget Kesselring taking a Pilates class? The fuck is that?
But wait for it.
Just wait.
I climb on my bike, yank my helmet on, and head into town with all four boys. Nellie watches the kids (Kat and our four-year-old son, Avery—Crown’s bio kid) back at the farmhouse with René and Fem by her side. As much as I dislike leaving the kids there without one of us for protection, it has to happen this way.
I’ve had hits put out on me before, assassination attempts. Grey, too. But what did we expect, that just because we were at peace, that others wouldn’t seek to manipulate or exploit that?
Some people seem to make the mistake of equating our friendship to weakness.
In reality, it makes us stronger than ever.
I head to the usual spot in downtown Ashbury, parking along the sidewalk while the guys do the same.
“After this, you want to have lunch or something?” I ask, turning around and walking backward so that I can see all four of them, dressed in leather and denim and ink. Women flick their eyes our way, but there must be something about me that screams fuck off or I’ll kick you in the ovaries because they always, always, always give us a wide berth.
“Don’t you eat at these things?” Sin queries, reaching up to ruffle his hair. He glances over at Grainger who’s already scowling.
“Yeah, whatever. Just make it quick.” Cade moves up to open the door for me before Beast gets a chance to do it.
“Actually, the food is gross. Do you even know what the fuck a watercress sandwich is?” I lift a brow in question as Beast snorts and shakes his head.
“We’ll be waitin’ for ya, wife, as always.” He presses a kiss to my temple before assuming his usual post just outside the front door.
“Okay, yeah, lunch,” Sin agrees, offering up a wave as he moves down the alley to the right of the building to take his spot next to the back door. Grainger goes with him, still grumbling and cursing because he fucking hates getting up early.
