The Cut by Carol Lynne: Kings of Bedlam MC Series, Book One (25 page)

“Fuuuccckkk!” he howled, drawing the word out for several seconds. He collapsed on top of her to the sounds of applause from the backyard.

Santana buried her face in his neck, mortified. “I’ll never be able to look them in the eyes again.”

Chuckling, Stake pulled out and held out his hand. “You’d better get over that quick, because we’re leaving in five minutes.”

She reached up to finger her hair. It felt like a rat’s nest. “I can’t go like this,” she protested.

He picked up her dress before helping her into it. “Are you kidding? The just fucked look is breathtaking on you.”

She rolled her eyes while he zipped her up, sans underwear or a bra. “If I wear this and it makes the other women hate me, I’ll never forgive you,” she pouted.

“Women will always be jealous of you, babe, but I think you’ll be surprised because this dress, while sexy as fuck, is typical for this type of party.”

“You’d better be right,” she warned before racing into the bathroom to wash up and brush her hair.

* * * *

Stake stood with Tiny, Gypsy and Mojo, and watched Santana slowly make her way down the line of vendors. The party the previous evening had proved to him just how well they both fit in with the new club. Even Digger, the club’s Prez, seemed to take a liking to Santana within seconds of meeting her.

“Does she have to stop at every booth?” Tiny whined, growing impatient.

“Leave her alone,” Stake barked. “Look at her.” He couldn’t believe how lovely she looked in the pale pink, floral maxi dress. It was vastly different from the sexy outfit she’d worn the night before, but no less perfect on her. She smiled and spoke to the vendors at each booth about whatever craft or items they were selling. He’d had a few doubts when they’d first moved to Fayetteville, but the longer they stayed, the more she seemed to blossom. “Did you ever think you’d see her smile like that again?”

Tiny sighed. “You’re right,” he conceded. “But if you’re going to be here for more than a few minutes, I’m gonna get me another beer.”

Stake waved off Tiny without tearing his gaze from Santana. “Do what you gotta do.”

Santana was laughing with a gorgeous black-haired woman at a jewelry table. Santana turned toward him and held two necklaces up, shrugging her shoulders before teetering her hands up and down like Lady Justice holding her scales.

She was too far away for him to see the necklaces clearly, so he decided to brave the crowd. “Be right back,” he told the others. He was still twenty yards away when a Scorpion MC member in a frayed denim jacket started talking to her. Santana shook her head and pointed in Stake’s direction. When she tried to step away from the man, the asshole moved closer.

Stake wouldn’t jump the guy, knowing that the Kings had a tentative alliance with the Scorpions, but he wasn’t about to let the fucker make Santana uncomfortable. “You’re a little close to my woman,” he told the Scorpion.

“Don’t see a ring or a vest on her,” the Scorpion shot back. He was big, but not as big as Stake. The patch on his cut said his name was Top.

Stake thought of the ring he’d been waiting to give Santana when the time was right. He fully admitted to himself that he was nervous as fuck about proposing. It wasn’t being married that scared him, but that goddamn proposal. He’d listened to enough old ladies to know they liked to compare stories on how their men asked the big question, and so far, Stake hadn’t come up with shit.

“Well, I’m telling ya, she’s mine. So now you know,” Stake replied, wrapping an arm around Santana’s waist.

Top grinned at Santana. “Is that the truth?”

She nodded. “I’ve already told you I was with someone.”

Top tried to crowd Santana again, but Stake slammed his palm against the man’s chest. “Back the fuck off,” Stake said, quiet enough that the milling children didn’t overhear.

“You need to educate your bitch,” Top said. “Because being with someone and being a brother’s woman are two different things.”

Stake saw red. Even knowing that bitch was a common name for biker babes, he had never, and would never, call Santana that. Before he could control himself, he landed a punch to Top’s jaw.

His head snapped back, but instead of going down, he retaliated with a punch of his own. Unfortunately for everyone involved, his fist grazed Santana’s cheekbone before connecting with Stake’s mouth.

Stake heard Santana’s cry of pain and charged the motherfucker who’d dared lay a hand on her. He tackled Top to the ground, heedless of the crowd around them, and went fucking nuts. The two were in an all-out brawl by the time Gypsy, Tiny and Mojo stepped in to pull them apart.

“Not here,” Gypsy growled in Stake’s face.

Stake straightened his cut and swiped the back of his hand across his bloody lip. “He hit Santana.”

Gypsy released Stake immediately, but Mojo was there to take his place. “I’m fine,” Stake told Mojo, trying to shake the brother off. He held up his hands in surrender. Once he was confident that Tiny had control of Top, Stake turned to find Gypsy examining a small cut on Santana’s cheek.

“Rain,” Gypsy all but gasped at the sight of the pretty woman. He composed himself quickly. “Do you have a cooler back there?”

She nodded and wrapped several cubes of ice into the bandana Gypsy handed her. “Will she be okay?”

“I’m fine,” Santana said, grimacing as Gypsy touched the makeshift cold pack to her cheek.

“I’ve got it.” Stake had come a long way in admitting that Gypsy was his half-brother, thanks to Santana, but that didn’t mean he was any less jealous of the bastard.

Gypsy stepped back and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Sorry about that,” he told the woman he’d called Rain.

“It’s good to see you again, Gypsy, but don’t apologize. The asshole deserved that and more.”

Santana took the ice pack out of Stake’s hand and moved it to his lip. “You’re hurt,” she said.

“I’ve had worse.” Stake glanced over his shoulder, looking for that sonofabitch again so he could fucking kill him. He spotted Tiny talking to another Scorpion and wondered where the hell Top went. Returning his attention to Santana, he redirected the cold pack back to her cheek. “I don’t think it needs stitches, but we should find a drug store and pick up some butterfly bandages.”

“I’m fine. Really,” she repeated.

He placed his palm against her still-flat stomach. “The baby okay?”

With a smile, Santana pulled Stake’s head down to whisper in his ear. “If this baby can survive the way you fuck, he can surely survive this.”

“She,” Stake corrected. He brushed her hair away from her face. The last thing he’d wanted was for her to experience violence in their new hometown, and the more he thought about it, the madder he became. “Let’s get outta here.”

“No,” she refused. She still had the two necklaces clutched in her hand. “I’m buying one of these, then I’m going to continue to shop my way down this street. I was run out of one town, and I won’t let that happen again.” She held up the two necklaces. “Now, which one of these do you like best?”

Stake crossed his arms over his chest as adrenaline continued to pump through his body. “Get ’em both.” He wasn’t happy, but it wasn’t her fault, and he be damned if he’d let his foul mood ruin her day.

Santana handed the necklaces to the woman. “I guess I’ll take both of these.”

* * * *

Santana collapsed on the blanket beside Stake. “I’m officially worn out.” The evening was winding down as the sound of live music filtered through the air, creating the perfect end to an incredible day.

He rolled to his side and propped his head on his hand. Looking down at her, he touched his fingertip to the bandaged cut on cheek. “It’s bruising.”

Staring up at him, she shook her head. He’d babied her all afternoon for the small cut when his injuries were so much worse. “I’m fine. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“I guess until I believe it,” he replied. He leaned down and kissed the injury. “I keep promising that I’ll never again let someone hurt you, and then I fail to keep you safe.”

“Stop,” she said, covering his lips with her hand. She’d kept so many of her feelings bottled up, too afraid to make a fool of herself by speaking them aloud, but as she stared into those amber eyes that she’d always loved, she got the feeling he still didn’t understand the way she felt.

“When I was a child, I loved you as that funny man who gave me piggy back rides and made me laugh. When I became a teenager, I loved you because you were the only man who showed me kindness and cleaned me up after Dad took his fist or his belt to me.”

Stake closed his eyes, obviously upset by the memories of that period in her life. “And then I left you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

She’d given a lot of thought to the period in her life when she’d felt abandoned, and had realized a few things. “I know you feel guilty about that, but I really need you to move beyond it because without those years spent on my own, I’m not sure what kind of person I’d be. They say that our pasts make us who we are, and for some unbelievable reason, I’ve grown into the kind of person a man as wonderful as you can fall in love with. Those years on my own made me stronger, but more importantly, they gave me an appreciation for the life you’ve shown me since the attack. Each time you make waffles for me or reach for my hand when you’re asleep, I thank God that He brought you into my life. I don’t need you to wrap me up and keep me safe from the outside world. I need you to be there for me when the outside world lets me down. There’s a huge difference in the two, and I need you to understand that.”

Stake leaned down and rested his forehead against Santana’s. “I hear you, but I’ll still do everything I can to protect you. I’d give my life for yours in a heartbeat because without you, I wouldn’t want to live another day.”

She wanted to argue, but how could she? He’d always been her protector. Asking him to stop now would be the same as telling him he was no longer needed. “I just want you to love me and continue to make waffles at least once a week.”

He dug into his pocket and set a small opened black leather box on her stomach. “I’ve been trying for days to think of a way to propose to you. In my mind, it needed to be over the top in order to be special, but you’ve made me realize it’s not about the process, it’s about the outcome. Would you, Santana Elizabeth Rogers, make me the luckiest man in the world and marry me?”

Santana stared at the band of diamonds. She couldn’t imagine a better proposal, and it had nothing to do with the engagement ring. For a brief moment, she considered telling him to take it back and get something more practical, but his pride in the band he’d chosen was written in his expression. Love for Stake, the ring and the promise he was asking her to make, filled her with joy. “Of course I’ll marry you,” she said, leaning down for another kiss.

Epilogue

Stake finished helping Tiny set up the chairs and shook his head. The warm, autumn day would be perfect for a wedding. He’d pushed to have the ceremony at the clubhouse because the weather in Arkansas was often unpredictable, but Santana had argued that they’d waited too long for their happily ever after to worry about things they had no control over. He’d wanted to point out that having the wedding inside was something they could control, but he’d quickly discovered it was best not to argue with a pregnant woman.

“Eighty, right?” Tiny asked, counting the rows.

“Yeah, that’s what she said,” he answered. He still couldn’t believe his soon-to-be bride had insisted on inviting not only the brothers and their girlfriends and wives, but the whores he worked with. He liked most of the women, but he’d never have imagined Santana would want them at their wedding.

Once again, she’d surprised him by accepting the whores for the women they were. She had never once looked down on them for their profession. Instead, she’d made it a point to meet and talk with each of them. There were a few she didn’t care for, but she claimed it was more personality conflicts than what they did for a living. When he’d asked her why she wanted them at the wedding, she’d told him it was to remind the girls that after today, he’d be a married man. He couldn’t argue, although he’d told her repeatedly that hers was the only pussy he’d ever want. He liked the fact that despite getting to know the girls, Santana still had a jealous streak and wanted to publically stake her claim.

The low rumble of a Harley caught his attention. He glanced to the front of the house and spotted Gypsy, pulling to a stop in the driveway. Stake left Tiny to fuss over the chair placement while he greeted his best man. He’d laughed his ass off when Santana had informed him that she wanted Tiny to be her maid-of-honor. It had become even funnier once he’d told Gypsy that he’d be escorting Tiny down the aisle after the ceremony.

“All the work done?” Gypsy asked, climbing off his bike. He was dressed in black jeans, a white dress shirt and his cut, the same outfit Stake and Tiny would wear, although Stake told Tiny he’d have a pretty bouquet instead of a boutonniere. Predictably, that had earned him a fist to his jaw. It had been worth it.

“Just about,” Stake answered. “I think Tiny’s taking this maid-of-honor thing a little too seriously.”