Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 127390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
“Is everyone okay?” I asked immediately, letting her in.
If my husband was dead, would they send the matriarch, or would they send a member? Like soldiers informing the family of their loss.
“Everyone is breathing and whole,” she reassured me. “But you’ll still need the vodka.”
I’d known Evie for a good amount of time now, so I knew to trust her if she thought I needed vodka.
She kept Jack occupied while I poured two drinks.
“Take a sip first,” she instructed, nodding to my glass.
I did as she said.
“There was a raid on the clubhouse earlier today,” she explained. “Picked up Steg, Ranger, Brock and Bull.”
I inhaled sharply, thankful for the vodka in my hand. “For what?”
She sipped her own drink. “Bullshit, most likely. I don’t think the ATF has anything concrete. Probably enough to justify the raid, the warrant. Keep them for a couple of nights. Beyond that, no. We have expensive lawyers on retainer for this very case.”
I took a steadying breath. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened; the club had been the subject of these kinds of things since Ranger patched in. Nothing ever really stuck, though. The chief of police was in their pocket on the proviso that nothing related to the Sons’ business affected Amber. Hell, that was why the town respected them so much, they were protected from them.
I had accepted this as part of the status quo, but that was before Jack. Before my son wouldn’t have his father to tuck him in because he was in prison.
Evie narrowed her eyes as if she was reading my mind. “This is what you signed up for, honey. This is what being married to this club is.”
I sighed. “I know. And I love the club. But—”
“No buts,” she cut in. “You love the club. You love your Old Man. You weather this shit. We get through it. There is no other way to survive this. Don’t fight it, don’t take it out on your man, and don’t carry resentments. This is just the way shit is.” She squeezed Jack. “We’ll get through this. It’ll calm down.”
I sipped the vodka.
I hoped she was right.
Two Months Later
I was struggling to keep my breakfast down when the bikes rolled in. Jack apparently sensed my unease and was struggling in my grasp. The rest of the club, prospects, club girls and various girlfriends were gathered, waiting for the homecoming.
Despite the expensive lawyers, the ATF had managed to hold them on pending charges. Those charges eventually fell through, but not before my husband and half of the club was behind bars for two months.
It was the longest Ranger and I had been apart since that separation all those years ago. And definitely the longest since we’d had Jack. But Evie had been right. The club rallied.
Laurie was over at our place often, being lost without her own true north. This had been the longest the two of them had been apart ever. She’d been lost, but had held it together. She stayed over a lot of nights, not liking to be alone in an empty house. Also because she adored Jack.
She desperately wanted a baby, and I knew that she’d be an amazing mother. I doubted Bull was one to not give her what she wanted, so I worried for her. She never spoke of dark things, though. She was all sunshine and hope. She believed everything would work out. She always had faith that everything would happen at the right time, that everything happened for a reason.
Evie was a constant presence too. Rosie, Lucy and Ashley were also over a lot, usually arriving with the makings of some kind of cocktail and stories of their latest dating dramas.
Gage came around. Lucky. Asher. There was never a moment when my house felt empty. Until nighttime. When I lay in bed trying to find sleep, wondering where my husband was sleeping, if he was safe. For all I knew, he was at even more risk while locked up with rival gangs inside the prison. And there was always the uncertainty. They were surely guilty of something. Something that could put them away for years. Years of my son’s life. My life.
I held fast to hope.
And to fear.
When I looked at those two lines three weeks ago, fear and dread swam in the bottom of my stomach. Just a shadow of what I’d felt after we lost our second, but enough to bring me to my knees.
I’d lost our baby when we were happy. Safe. When everything was going well. Yet we’d still lost it. Despite what doctors had said about it not being in our control, about it being inevitable, I’d harbored the toxic thought that it was my fault. That my doubts at the beginning had caused it.
Now, I was in the middle of not knowing when my husband would get home, not knowing if he’d even come home, yet I was going to have to be strong enough to grow a baby and take care of a toddler?