Craving Molly (The Aces' Sons 2)

“We didn’t find out anything new about Will.”

“Sure we did—about his family, at least.”

“I probably won’t even see him again,” I muttered, grabbing Rebel’s coat from the storage space under the stroller. I stopped at the door and shifted around to face her, my eyes going wide. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Mel asked, moving forward. “Oh. Shit is right.”

Reb had poop soaking through the little leggings she was wearing.

“This is because of that fucking taco!” I bitched as Rebel watched me with wide eyes. “Does your tummy hurt, baby?”

I lifted her out of the stroller and wrinkled my nose.

“I’m sorry,” Mel said softly. “Do you have clothes for her?”

“No, I didn’t even think to bring any,” I mumbled, pulling Reb to my chest. “Let’s just get her to the car. We’ll turn up the heat and I’ll change her in the backseat and leave her in a diaper for the ride home.”

The next fifteen minutes were a disgusting mix of groaning and laughter as I wrestled with Reb in the back of my car. When I finally had her cleaned up, my car stunk, but she was happy as a clam. I buckled her into her seat and crossed my fingers that she wouldn’t have another accident on the ride home—car seats were much harder to clean than babies.

“Okay, no more tacos,” Mel said in amusement as I backed out of our parking space.

“Ya think?”

“Yeah, yeah. You know, you never explained why you hadn’t said anything about seeing Will,” she said, turning to face me. “What was that about?”

“Do you remember when that shooting was all over the news last year—some guys came in and shot up a family barbeque?”

“Yeah.” I could see realization dawning on her face.

“Yeah—that was Will’s family.”

“Holy crap,” she whispered.

“From what I heard later, his youngest brother died. His mom was in the hospital for a while, and there were a few other people who died, too.”

“That’s nuts. Why would someone shoot them?”

“Live by the sword, die by the sword,” I murmured, immediately feeling like shit for saying it. “They’re part of the Aces Motorcycle Club and I’m guessing it had something to do with that.”

“But Will’s brothers are way younger than us.”

“Yeah, I know.”

We were silent for a minute as we got out onto the road.

Then both of us gasped as two police cars quickly followed by another three flew past us, their lights and sirens blaring.

“Holy shit!” Mel exclaimed as I pulled quickly to the side of the road. “They were hauling ass!”

“Where’d they go?” I asked, turning in my seat to try and catch a glimpse of the cars.

“They pulled into the mall.”

“I wonder what happened?”

“Robbery?”

“That was a lot of cop cars for a robbery.”

Chapter 4

Will

“You should be careful,” my dad warned me as we carried my mom’s old patio table toward the shed in their back yard. “Fucking around with the suit’s daughter.”

“Who told you?” I grunted, almost tripping over a rock in the yard before I righted myself.

“Who do you think?”

“Cam’s such a fuckin’ busybody.”

“Yeah, he is,” my dad chuckled.

“It was nothin’,” I said as we set the table inside the shed. We were getting ready for winter, putting all the summer shit inside so it didn’t get ruined. The rain and snow wouldn’t really be an issue with the patio furniture, but after two years in a row of the wind knocking the table over and shattering the glass top, we’d started putting it all away.

“You like her, it’s not nothin’,” Dad pointed out as we headed back for the chairs.

“She’s got a kid.”

“So?”

“So she’s got other shit goin’ on.”

“She single?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Asa!” my mom called from the back door. “Come in here!” Her voice wobbled, and my dad took off at a run.

I followed him inside and found my mom sitting on the couch watching the news.

“Sugar, I told you to stop—”

“It came over the radio,” Mom interrupted him. “That’s why I turned on the TV.”

My mom wasn’t fragile—far from it. But since the day my brother died, she’d had nightmares that kept her awake at least three nights a week. Sometimes Dad had to remind her to eat, and sometimes I wondered what she would have done if she didn’t have three other kids to worry about.

My parents had come to an agreement a couple months after Mick died. Mom would start going back to the shrink she’d seen when I was a kid, and she’d try her best to stay away from things that would trigger her nightmares—like the news.

“Rosie was just there.” Mom’s voice came out strangled. “She just got home twenty minutes ago.”

“Right, baby, so she’s fine. You don’t need to watch this shit.”

My dad reached for the remote, but Mom slapped his hand away, making him huff in annoyance.

I sat on the arm of the couch and listened to the anchor announce a special report. Apparently, there had been a shooting—my gut rolled at that—at a local mall. The suspect was dead, but they had no idea why it had happened or how many other people were hurt.