Kaeden Read online

  25

  Kaeden

  Men are supposed to enjoy their stag parties. I know that because I’ve been to about one hundred of them. Every single time one of the fellas gets married, the clubhouse turns into the wildest party of the year, and each time it only seems to get wilder. Nobody pretends that the party is really for the husband-to-be, so nobody pays much attention to me as I wander over the corner nursing a glass of whisky. It’s been a crazy three months, what with Shotgun’s funeral and all my new responsibilities as VP, but most of all it’s been crazy because every time I’m away from Fiona all I can think about is getting back to her again. I used to make fun of men like this, but, dammit, a man feels what a man feels.

  “You all right, Silence?” Dirk drops down next to me, nursing a whisky of his own. He’s one of the only fellas who aren’t partaking in the mayhem; strippers wander around, touching men seductively on the arm; drinks flow; men fistfight in the ring in the middle. “You look like you just found out your favorite pistol’s got a faulty trigger, just when you need it most.”

  I laugh quietly. “I guess I don’t know what to say to a thing like that, Dirk, except that you might be right. I just can’t get into this shit. One of those stripper girls tried to touch me and I damn near bit her head off. I don’t like other women touching me. Does that make me a goddamn freak?”

  Dirk chuckles, shaking his head. “It makes you a family man,” Dirk says. “Do you see me throwing myself into this, eh? I’m not judging those fellas who’ve got wives and still want to have their fun, but I’d never do that. But some men just don’t have that in them. They can’t lie with another lady and then go home to their woman. It’s just not in their bones.”

  “I don’t even want a lap dance,” I mutter in wonder, thinking of the man I was. I was no fiend when it came to strippers, but I also wasn’t the type of fella to turn them down when they were right there. Now, looking at them, I just don’t understand it. I’ve got a lady one hundred times their worth waiting for me at home.

  “Yeah, that’ll happen.” Dirk takes a sip of his whisky. “Listen, Silence, don’t think you’ve got to hang around here just for the sake of it. This is your party. If you want to hightail, hightail.”

  “Isn’t that a bad look for the VP?” That’s the only reason I haven’t left yet: my position.

  “You’ve got it backward,” Dirk says with a smile. “Being VP means you get to do whatever the fuck you want … within reason.”

  “You know what, boss?” I drain my whisky, letting it burn down my throat. “I’ll think I’ll say goodbye, then. Have fun with these nice ladies, and if any of the fellas ask where I am, tell them to go fuck themselves.”

  “All right, Silence.”

  We clap arms and then I leave the party, wandering out into the night. Somebody’s left a half full cigarette packet on the porch-sill. I don’t even look at it for more than half a second. Instead I walk toward my bike, a spring in my step. If you’d told me a few months back that going home to an old lady would be more appealing than losing myself in a dozen willing strippers, I would’ve laughed until my goddamn neck snapped. But right now it’s the truth, the solid truth, the impossible-to-ignore truth.

  I pull up outside the three-bedroom I bought us as soon as we got engaged, sitting just down the way from old Clint’s house. He comes over every few nights and we drink whisky and talk about nothing in particular, which is fine by me.

  I don’t even expect to find Fiona home yet, considering that tonight’s her party too. But when I get into the house I find her in the living room, pacing up and down. Her laptop is closed on the armchair, which means she’s been writing, typing up a storm as she calls it. She tells me that ever since we moved in together, writing has come easier, which means something must be going right.

  But she doesn’t look pleased with herself like she normally does. Instead, her face is all twisted, as though she’s not just seen a ghost but a ghost she used to know. She turns to me numbly. “Oh,” she says.

  My outlaw mind goes into speculation mode. The Nine Circles are back; they’ve contacted her. Everything’s about to spin out of control again. Already I’m thinking about calling up the brothers and putting a plan in action. We’ll have to call off the wedding. That’ll be too easy of a target. “What happened?” I walk right up to her, gripping her trembling hands. “Just tell me, Fiona. I’ll make it right. I promise.”

  “Huh?” She tilts her head up at me, looking even cuter and more beautiful with her new brown-dyed hair. “Oh no …” She smiles, reading my mind. “It’s good news, I hope?” She raises her eyebrows at the end, making it a question.

  “What is it?” I ask. “Don’t leave me dangling here.”

  “It’s just … I’m pregnant, Kaeden!”

  I take a step back, the world seeming to spin just a bit faster for a few moments, and then I rush at her and lift her off her feet, high over my head, spinning her around and around. I can’t stop smiling; my face aches for smiling. My cheeks feel like they might burst. An outlaw ought not to let himself smile like this, so carefree, reckless. Yet what’s a man supposed to do when he hears the best news he could ever imagine?

  “So you’re not … you’re pleased?” she says, as she wraps her legs around my waist.

  “Pleased?” I kiss her on the cheek, the neck, wherever they land. “That’s the biggest goddamn understatement I’ve ever heard.”

  “We’re going to have to clean up your mouth though!” she cries, tears in her eyes. “We can’t have you saying ‘damn’ every other word anymore!”

  “Oh really?” I tackle her onto the couch and tickle her until her giggling threatens to bring down the house.

  Epilogue

  Fiona

  Sharon smiles up at me with her gummy, some-teeth mouth, and then squeezes her hand around my forefinger like she does every time I put her to bed. I sit down on the chair next to the crib and let her squeeze on my finger until she squeezes herself into a heavy sleep. We picked Sharon because it’s the closest girls’ name to Shotgun. Kaeden joked that we should just call her Shotgun, but I told him that I wouldn’t force our baby to endure the hell that would be the school playground in that case. We found a suitable compromise, I think.

  After she falls asleep I just sit for a while, staring down at her. Motherhood is an odd thing. Looking down at her, I cannot, for one moment, doubt that she is a part of me, and yet I’m still at that stage where it seems incredible and difficult to believe that she’s mine, that I made her; she’s far too beautiful.

  “Your daddy is a good man,” I tell her, tickling her chin. She seems to like it when I do that in her sleep. She sort of smiles, and makes soft cooing noises. “But I’ll give you this. When it comes to feeding you, he’s a real amateur. So don’t go too hard on him, okay?” Kaeden is amazing at playing with her; one day he sat her on his chest and stayed like that all day, rattling toys at her and playing peekaboo. But even though I’ve partially tamed him, Kaeden will always be Kaeden. Which I’m happy about, I reflect as I walk down the hallway.

  I know some husbands turn into wet blankets when they have children, kowtowing to their wives’ every demand. I go into my study and look at my novel, nearing completion: a few days, maybe a week or two. I’ve got no idea if anything will come after I write those sacred words—‘The End’—but I know that reaching that point is a victory in itself. Once I’ve saved my progress I walk down the hallway, past the photographs on the walls: me in the hospital, Kaeden holding Sharon, the three of us standing outside the clubhouse.

  “I’ve just been telling our daughter about what a terrible husband you are,” I say, walking into the garage. Kaeden kneels down next to his bike, wearing gym shorts and nothing else, his glistening, muscled body flecked with oil.

  “Is that so?” he says, grinning.

  “Are you trying to kill me here?” I walk into the garage and stand over him. He’s grown a beard in the last few months and his jet-black ha
ir is longer and wilder than ever.

  “Eh?” He glances up at me, and then follows my arm down to between my legs, where I touch myself, stroking my clit as I take in my husband’s safe, protective, powerful body.

  “You’re an animal.” He wipes his hand on his gym shorts and then stands up and turns to me, turning those intense eyes on me; each time he does it, it’s like the first time, the feeling is so striking. He wraps his arms around me and lifts me up. I immediately wrap my legs around him, sitting down on his crotch, my summer dress hiking up to my hips.

  “You’re an animal!” he repeats, biting my neck softly as his fingers slide into my pussy. Ever since the birth—well, since a few weeks after, anyway—I’ve been so horny for Kaeden each and every day, I’ve hardly been able to function. Love-lust is a powerful combination, especially when you’re with the man of your dreams.

  “Are you angry?” I mock-pout. “Nobody told me I had to wear panties.”

  He yanks down his gym shorts and swivels me around to the bike, sitting me down on the cold metal. My ass cheeks freeze, but my pussy is hot enough that I don’t care. He brings his cock to my pussy and then holds it there for a second, a wicked smirk on his face.

  “Don’t tease me,” I protest.

  “Or what?” he growls, leaning close to me, nibbling my neck and then working his way to my lips. He kisses me at the same time as he thrusts into me, with so much power that I almost fall from the bike. I close my legs around him, interlocking my ankles, and then ride him as he thrusts into me, riding him as the metal of the bike rubs up and down on my ass.

  Then he lifts me up and holds me there, propping me up so that I can bounce up and down on him, my ass cheeks slamming into his balls. We both moan quietly, as we’ve learned to do since Sharon came along. There are no words, not now; they are not needed. We know each other’s bodies better than we know our own, know what each moan means, each grunt, each warm breath of gasping pleasure. When I come, it’s like a ship breaking apart on a familiar shore, and yet at the same time the shore feels new, will always feel new. Maybe that’s the magic of marriage, I reflect, as both of us reach our peak.

  The new is old, and the old is new, but there’s never a dull day.

  “I love you, big bad biker man,” I whisper, kissing his sweat- and oil-slick shoulder.

  He finds my lips. “I love you more, pink-haired waitress girl.”

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  A blood-soaked biker just stomped into my café. But when he kisses me, all I can do is beg for more. Now, I’m caught up in a war between motorcycle clubs. I’ve got two choices: ride with the devil… or run for my life.

  DEVIL’S INK

  In my town, no one lays a hand on civilian women and lives to tell about it. I’ll find the men who hurt Marissa and make them pay. But while I go to war, I have to keep her safe. Not just from the beasts who burned her. But also from the beast within me.

  DEVIL’S HEART

  An innocent girl like her should’ve never come near a devil like me. Falling into my bed puts Jasmin square in the crossfire. I’ll put my baby in her belly. My ink on her skin. And by the end of this, I might just add my ring on her finger.

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  He’s a snarling, overprotective beast. And he just got me pregnant. Whoops. Now, his enemies are coming to strike. Can Logan protect me—and our unexpected baby?

  DEVIL’S SINS

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  Books by Naomi West

  Bad Boy Biker’s Club

  Stryker

  Kaeden

  Outlaw Biker Brotherhood Series

  *Read in any order!

  Devil's Revenge

  Devil’s Ink

  Devil’s Heart

  Devil’s Vow

  Devil’s Sins

  Devil’s Scar

  Box Sets

  Devil’s Outlaws: An MC Romance Box Set

  Other MC Standalones

  *Read in any order!

  Maddox

  Stripped

  Jace

  Grinder