Final Ride (Lords of Mayhem 4)

His mother walked over and patted his face. “Proud of you.”

Hawk laughed. “Thanks, Ma.”

“Now you just need to marry her and give me a grandbaby.”

“Damn, can you let me get used to being taken, first?” he asked.

“No time like the present my boy,” his mom said.

“Congrats son, I got this one,” his father said, scooping up his mother and settling her small frame over his shoulder. He patted her ass and winked as he waded through the crowd and Hawk laughed. That’s where I get this possessive shit from. Rayen approached them with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“Is this about to be a cage match?” Rocky asked.

“Fuck no we settled our shit,” Hawk said.

“Hey,” Ray said.

“Hey,” Hawk said.

“So I guess congratulations are in order. Never thought I’d see the day,” Ray said. His smile was tentative, and Hawk sensed his hesitation.

“Yeah, same here. I guess there was truth in Dad’s bullshit about when you meet the one,” he said.

Ray laughed. “You two can keep that to yourself. I’m good being solo.”

“That title is all yours now. Last Bearpaw unclaimed.”

“I’ll be sure to spread that around the res,” Ray said, making Hawk laugh.

“Don’t let Ma hear you say that,” Hawk said.

“No, she’d tell me to save the bullshit for the sweetbutts,”Ray said.

Hawk smirked. Between the influence of the res, and life in Mayhem they’d had one hell of an upbringing.

Tiny appeared, looking frazzled, and the conversation ground to a halt.

“What’s going on?” Hawk asked.

“I need you to act as president until I say otherwise. Boston just went into labor. I got the midwife on her way and we’re getting her set up in our cabin.”

“I got this, brother. Go take care of your woman.”

Tiny left, looking lost.

“Jesus, I’ve never seen him look like that,” Shooter said.

“If my old lady was about to squeeze something the size of a watermelon out of her pussy, I’d be scared as hell too. Women can get mean as hell when they’re in pain, mentally or physically,” Hawk said.

“Shit,” Moose said, suddenly looking green around the gills.

Shooter patted him on the shoulder. “How much longer you got?”

“Two and a half months,” Moose said.

“Good luck with that,” Shooter said.

“One day this is going to be you. You know that, right?” Moose said.