Throne of Scars (Lost Kings MC 20)

“Nice reflexes,” Hope says. “She’s quick with her little grabby hands.”

“I bet.”

Gray pulls up the chair next to us and leans in to talk to Grace. She runs her little palms over his beard and tugs.

“No, no, Grace.” Hope jumps up.

“I’m fine,” Gray says. He holds out his hands and takes her into his arms.

Phew, he’s a thousand times hotter holding a baby. The urge to fan myself strikes me. If I wasn’t already pregnant, I’d jump on him in front of everyone.

“Look at you gettin’ passed around like hot Sunday service gossip,” a soft southern voice says behind us. Shelby leans down and wiggles her fingers at Grace. “Hey, cutie.”

“She’s making the rounds, for sure,” Hope says.

“Hi, again, Serena.” She leans over and hugs me. “I like the new threads.” Her eyes sparkle with humor as she pulls away and runs her fingers over my shoulder.

I tug on my vest. “It was a bit of a surprise.”

“Yeah, they’re fond of springing it on us,” she teases.

Curious, or nosy maybe, my gaze drops to the patches at her side. She has more than just the officers of downstate and at least two I don’t recognize at all. She even has Steer’s bull horns patch. Based on the amount of bitching I’d heard downstate from some of the ol’ ladies, he doesn’t give out his patch often.

She twists her body to follow my gaze and touches the heart with a dagger patch and another patch of a smiley face with a bullet hole in the forehead. “Oh! We spent time at the Virginia charter over the summer. And some of the guys traveled with me on tour as security, so they added their patches.”

“That’s sweet.”

“They’re good guys.” She taps the smiley face. “Hoping we can talk Pants into coming out on the road again this summer.”

“Doubt you’ll have to do a lot of convincing,” Rooster says, slinging his arm around her shoulders. “He’s looking forward to it.”

“You may end up having the whole club following you around, Shelby,” Hope says.

“Lordy, that’d be fine with me. The guys are excellent creep repellent.” She ducks her head. “It was nice having the girls along too. I liked the company.”

They continue to the buffet.

“Everyone’s lining up for food,” Hope says. “I’ll take her, Grinder.”

“Nah, I got her.” He jerks his chin toward the buffet. “Why don’t you two go on up and take care of yourselves, first.”

Hope seems torn, but finally nods. “Thank you.”

I’m not even sure what’s in the dishes on the buffet. I scoop some of everything onto my plate, grab a few rolls, butter, and utensils, then follow Hope back to the table.

Grinder’s switched sides, sitting next to Rock with Grace in his arms.

He nods at me but continues talking to Rock. I return to my seat next to Hope and watch Grinder across the table.

“He’s awfully good with babies,” Hope whispers to me.

My cheeks burn. “I see that.”

She doesn’t follow it up with “when are you two going to have babies” which I appreciate. But part of me wants to confide in her. Pregnancy has been strange enough. The longer I think about it, being pregnant will probably be the easiest part. What the heck do I do with a baby when I bring her home? Did Hope worry about that too when she was pregnant? Probably not. She was older, married, and already had an established career. I can’t think of a non-intrusive way to ask, so I stab my fork into my salad and stuff a wad of crunchy green leaves in my mouth instead.

Chapter Twenty-One

Grinder

The bike between my legs feels like home.

Sure it’s a lot newer than the one I had before I went inside. More refined in many ways. But with Rock and Murphy’s help, I have it tuned where I want it.

Having my woman on the back, holding on tight, is an extra bonus.

She’s not wearing my property patch. And I’m not wearing my colors. But I’m trying to be thankful for the things I’m finally able to enjoy instead of focusing on the things still out of my reach.

Wind in my face.

Pavement a blur beneath my feet.

Riding at the back of the pack with Remy, Griff, and their friend Vapor doesn’t bother me. We’re far enough away from the rest of the brothers that no one should be able to claim I’m “associating with known criminals” or anything else that might be considered a violation of parole. We’d passed plenty of State Troopers, so hanging back was a wise choice.

Flashing red, blue and white lights swirl ahead of us.

“Fuck,” I groan.

The four of us slow our speed and move to the left.

Sure enough, Troopers have Steer and Z pulled off to the side of the road. In the quick glance I get it looks like they’re hassling Steer. Maybe Z just pulled over to offer support.