“Trust me,fillette, I sure as hell remember making him.” That was when his smile turned flirtatious and he juggled Remy to the side so he could lean down and kiss her.
It was a lingering, explicit kiss, the kind that promised all sorts of delights once the babies were asleep. Ava didn’t want it to end. She wanted to grab onto his shirt and pull him in close to her, prolong the breaking of news and the always-terrifying moment of watching her man walk out the back door on a violent mission.
But Aidan needed him tonight, and that was the curse of the club. Entrusting her man to his brothers, always praying they would return him to her.
“How’s my little blonde one?” Mercy asked when he finally pulled back, eyes going to Cal.
“Worn out from being fussy all day.” Ava tried to offer him another smile, but knew it wobbled.
He noticed at once. “What, baby?”
She took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “Aidan’s going after Tango tonight.” Quickly, she relayed what Sam had told her of the operation. Aidan had asked her and Maggie to keep their men busy, but he’d kept all the particulars from them. On purpose. Sam had made a hurried call earlier, delivering the location of the house they were storming. Someone needed to know where they were, she’d reasoned.
His brows lifted. “Are you shitting me?”
“I wish I was.”
Still holding Remy, he paced across the room, breathing through flared nostrils. “Your uncle’s an idiot,” he told the baby.
He spun back to face Ava. “Really?Really?Why the hell didn’t he tell me?” He seemed genuinely wounded, emotion tweaking his face.
A lump formed in her throat. What was she going to do with her stupid brave husband and her stupid brave brother? “He didn’t want to drag anyone else into it,” she said. “He said because you, and Michael, and so many others have kids…”
Mercy growled under his breath, the sound more animal than human. “He has a kid now too, damn it.”
Just a picture in his wallet, but yes, a little girl, growing and developing, waiting to be passed into her daddy’s arms.
“He made me promise to keep it to myself,” she said, “but Merc, I can’t…”
“No, you shoulda told me.”
Because he was going to do something about it. He was a one-man cavalry, the beast; even if the others didn’t join him, he was going to that house, ready to aid his brother.
“Here.” She opened her arms and he came to her, bent down and let her hug him around the neck. Remy cooed in her ear; she smelled baby and man and she closed her eyes against the pressure of tears. “Please be careful,” she whispered. “I need you to come home to me.”
They were startled – but not surprised – by the sound of the back door opening. The cold evening wind whistled through the opening, funneling straight into the living room. The draft preceded a stone-faced Ghost, all zipped up in a black hoodie, posture eloquent of the flak vest he wore beneath.
He looked at Ava, and then Mercy. “She told you?”
“Yeah.”
His dark eyes came back to Ava, and though the words were accusing, there was nothing but pride in his voice. “You and your mother…”
“Annoying?” she suggested.
He shook his head. Back to Mercy his attention went. “Suit up, son. We’ve got a rescue mission to rescue.”
~*~
“You’re being quiet,” Michael observed over lemon pepper chicken and green beans. Across the kitchen table, Holly was pushing her food around with her fork, locked in her thoughts.
“So are you,” she said, staring at her plate.
“I’m always quiet.” While Holly always filled the conversational void.
She set down her fork and lifted her head, big green eyes troubled. “I’m sorry. I’m just…distracted, I guess.”
Michael wanted to kick himself. He should never have told her about Tango’s abduction. “Honey, I already told you. Nobody’s coming after you. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
