Daydream (Oath Keepers MC) Page 21

  “I hate knowing he’s out there,” I admit, and his eyes grow distant. He feels the same way. I can sense that in him—the feeling of unfinished business.

  “I have a suspicion we’ll be seeing more of the Iron Fists in the future. They’re like roaches, coming up through the cracks. Besides, Spider won’t stop looking for any information we can get on them. We ever lock down a confirmed location and have a way, we will kill them. This, I promise you, dollface.”

  Shuddering, I wrap my arms around his waist and lean my head against his chest. “I love you, Night. I don’t think I ever said the words when we got Maverick, but thank you for getting our son back.”

  “Daydream, I’ll fight until my last breath to keep you both safe—always

  “I know. We’re lucky to have you.”

  “Nah, baby, it’s me who’s the lucky one. I love you, too, Bethany.”

  “So, what’s the plan now?”

  “Well, the floors have been replaced. I even repainted the living room and hall at the house, so you guys can finally come home. I can’t believe it’s taken so long. I just had to make sure it was safe first.”

  “I know. So we’ll be okay then?”

  “Yeah, I also had Spider hook up some security features. We have some cameras and an automatic door lock. It locks as soon as the door closes on its own and you can only enter by using your thumbprint, so no jimmying the lock or getting a spare key to break in. I put the chain on the inside too, so no explorer Mav getting out.”

  “Wow, that sounds high tech.”

  “It is, but I have to know you’re protected when I’m not at home.”

  “And here I thought you liked keeping us at the clubhouse.”

  “I do, but too much shit goes on around here, I don’t want Maverick seeing it. Plus, I’m afraid one day Honey will piss you off enough that she’ll go to sleep and never wake up again. I did get you that new switchblade, and I know a few brothers whose dicks would be sad if that happened.”

  “As long as none of those dicks belong to you, then I’ll let her keep breathing.” I wink and he chuckles.

  “You’re such a badass, babe.” He grins and places a tender kiss to my forehead.

  “Only for you guys. I’m just protecting what’s mine,” I mumble into his shirt and he squeezes me to him more.

  “Exactly, I’m yours.” He kisses me again, and I feel his breath in my hair. He’s always smelling it and sighing. I’ve kept the same shampoo just for that reason. “Now, we ready for this late birthday party? There’s a three year old who deserves to get spoiled by his family.”

  “Definitely, I can’t wait to see him surprised.”

  “As long as he likes a motorcycle cake, then we’re good.”

  “He will absolutely love it; he’s just like his dad.” I smile and kiss his cheek.

  If I could go back in time, would I do things different? I’d like to say no, but that’d be a lie. Nightmare deserved to be a father from the very beginning, and I took that away from him.

  I plan to spend the rest of my life showing him just how much I love him and give him the chance to be a father. Who knows, maybe down the road we’ll have another. Right now, though, I’m being selfish and only sharing him with Maverick.

  Time’s so easily lost; we need to learn to spend it with the ones we love, doing the things we love. In the end, the small things will be the big things. I’m just grateful to have learned that now before it was too late and more time was wasted.

  I’ll never get those years back, but I’ll love Nightmare every single day for the rest of my life. He is, after all, the one who made me see stars.

  There are two gifts we should

  give our children; one is roots,

  and the other is wings.

  - Unknown

  13 years later…

  “Ummm…what do you mean I can’t have a motorcycle? I’m sixteen, Mom, and it’s my birthday.”

  “Not happening, Mav. You have to wait until you’re eighteen, you know this. We’ve already talked about it.” She shakes her head and my dad’s gaze hits his boots. He’s in a huge pile of shit with her and he knows it. She doesn’t though, not yet.

  “Uh, Daydream?” he mutters, clearing his throat. It’s pretty entertaining, we both dwarf my mom, but she’s the boss in the end. She can bring a grown man to his knees. My dad with a simple kiss, anyone else and her switchblade will do the trick. “I, uh, sorta got the kid a bike.” He coughs and I snort. He gives me so much shit when I choke up fessing something to my mom.

  “You didn’t.”

  “I did.” He sighs and I grin at mom.

  Interrupting, I pull my leather jacket on. “Yeah, so you two sort this out. I’m taking off.”

  “And where in the hell do you think you’re going exactly?” Her attention snaps to me, pinning me down with steel in her gaze.

  My Aunt Princess has the same look when she’s serious, too. Thankfully, she thinks I can do no wrong, so it’s never turned on me. Mom. though, she’ll shoot it at me every time I’m two minutes late coming in the door.

  “I need to pick up Jessie.”

  “Jessie, as in Jessica? Cain and London’s daughter?” Her eyes widen.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Oh, Jesus Christ.” She stares down my dad next, “I’m so blaming you for this shit.” She shakes her head, exasperated and walks off.

  She’s too concerned with Jessie’s father getting pissed that she’s not even thinking of the bike anymore. I’ve learned how to distract her like Dad does.

  He turns to me with a devilish grin. “Go get her, son.” We fist bump and I’m out the door.

  It’s on like Donkey Kong. Hope Jessie knows she’s mine, cause if not, she’s about to figure it out.

  I am, after all, just like my dad, and life’s nothing but a daydream.

  Thank you for reading Daydream! I really hope you enjoyed Nightmare and Bethany’s story. Many of you sent me messages asking me for more from them. I hope this satisfied that craving and has made you excited for the next.

  Yes, there will be more; you can never have too many bikers! I’m working on Saint and Sinner next and can’t wait to unleash their brand of crazy on you all.

  Once again, thank you. Your support means more than you know! If you enjoyed this book, please take a moment to leave a review. It can be short and sweet, every bit helps.

  XOXO- Sapphire

  Here’s a glance at my standalone novel, Gangster. Hope you enjoy!

  Chapter 1

  A fish with his mouth closed,

  never gets caught.

  - Tony Accardo

  Grace

  I snort a little watching Kaleigh cough after she downs her shot of tequila. She doesn’t drink much, especially at lunchtime, but I dared her and she went for it. Exactly why she’s my best friend; she lets me corrupt her just a smidge to keep me entertained, and in return, she lives a life that’s slightly more exciting than one without me in it.

  “That was gross.” Her nose scrunches, making my mouth turn up in an amused grin.

  We’re in our usual lunch spot—Moricio’s Italian Cuisine. It’s not too fancy and small, but they make food quick enough to eat for a lunch break and it tastes fantastic.

  “It’s not bad after you have three or so.”

  “No way. You said one.”

  “I know. You have to work and I’m not going to carry you back to your cubicle.”

  “Gee thanks, you’re so thoughtful.”

  “Hey, the burn from the tequila will keep you warm on the walk back. You’ll be thanking me later.”

  “If I’m not puking,” she mumbles, sipping her Coke to chase the tingle the tequila left behind.

  My lips part, about to reply something snarky about her being too tame, when the small ‘ding’ from the bell above the door announces the arrival of a new customer. We both glance over, my eyes growing wide at the eye candy that just entered.

  “Yum,” slips free
and I swear Kaleigh makes a choking sound.

  “Ho-ly fuck.” The swear word comes out as barely a whisper. If I weren’t sitting directly across from her, I’d had never heard it. “Shhh!”

  “Oh please, look at him,” I reply, gesturing my hand towards the man. He commands attention, mine included.

  Everyone in the restaurant grows quiet, staring at him standing in the doorway. Four men with his stature and larger enter next, coming to stand behind him. Their presence radiates power, bringing naughty thoughts to mind. I’m not sure of how much work I’d get done at the office if I had to work around men looking like that.

  I bet they’re lawyers with enough money to purchase the decent suits they’re sporting with lonely, unmarried lives so they hit up the gym every morning to sculpt those impressive bodies. They’ve most likely won a few cases, forming that cocky, dominant attitude they wear on their faces. I’d do them. Well not all of them, but the first one I saw. His demeanor portrays him as the alpha of the group and that’s just plain sexy.

  Whispering again, Kaleigh leans in closer, “Do you have any idea who that is? And stay quiet, be respectful.”

  “No clue, and I’m always respectful; it’s not like he’s the Godfather.” My eyes roll at her dramatics, waving her off. I’m a little put off that she feels the need to scold me in the first place. Like my comments are so bad; men are ten times worse when they see an attractive woman.

  A strangled noise comes from her throat, making me wonder if maybe she shouldn’t have had that tequila after all. I think I’ll order one for myself before heading back to work. I’d ask hot stuff up at the front to throw one back with me, but I doubt he’d take the stick out of his ass long enough to have some fun. He shouts all work and no play, hence the money to pay for that suit, no doubt.

  “That,” she whispers intensely, cocking her head toward the man in question, “is Thaddaeus Morelli.”

  “Okay.” I nod. I still have no idea why she’s acting like a fruit loop. So, the last name’s Italian; half of the damn city’s Italian.

  “That’s the Joker Grace—in the flesh! He’s a freaking gangster; a very, very bad gangster.”

  I snort again, laughing. I can’t help it. She’s crazy. There’s no way that man is a gangster. There’s nothing ‘thuggish’ about him. If anything, I’d be more likely to believe that he’s a prominent, rich businessman in that custom-tailored suit. I wouldn’t think twice about him stealing my purse if I was walking down the street.

  He has medium brown hair, slicked back—trimmed short, but not too short—with enough to wind your fingers in. I don’t see any tattoos on him, but if he has any they’re most likely covered by the suit he’s wearing. I doubt they’d be covered though, if he was a gangster. I’ve watched The History Channel and their specials on organized crime before; he looks nothing like any of them. It’s safe to say that if I saw him getting into an expensive car, I’d believe it was his—not that he was stealing it. That is, after all, what the gangsters on The History Channel do. They steal, cheat, bribe, and sell drugs. This man clearly is not a drug addict and has enough money in his pocket to pay for his lunch.

  My disbelieving snort must be louder than normal with everyone being quiet, because suddenly I’m in an intense eye lock with the man himself; only he’s not as amused as I am. His gaze is dark and stormy with unmeasured anger. He could probably blow someone up with that lethal look. I don’t know if he wants to skin me alive or yank my skirt off and go to pound town.

  Swallowing, my throat grows dry at the glower. And so help me, my dumb ass wants to roll my eyes to push his buttons, curious to discover what he’ll do and see if I can make that scowl become even darker. I’m not normally so self-destructive, but Kaleigh’s proclamations have my stubborn side rearing its head.

  I can make out my best friend in the background, still murmuring details as I have a stare down with one of the finest men I’ve ever seen. “Everyone calls him the Joker, but it’s not because of his love of laughs; it’s the opposite. He never jokes with anyone. He’s not even nice and he doesn’t speak to regular people.”

  That gets me. I blink, breaking the stare off and meet her gaze, “Um … regular people? You mean like you and me?” She nods her head just a touch, not wanting to move and call attention to herself. “What a dick,” I grumble and she gasps at my blunt but truthful reply. Shortly after, my arm warms.

  You know how you get the prickly feeling when you can tell someone is watching you and sometimes your cheeks heat? I have that, but also the uncanny suspicion that he’s not simply staring at me anymore, but like his body’s physically near me. I can feel his presence as if he’s sucked all the air and energy out of the room.

  Inhaling a deep breath, I turn to my left and damned if I wasn’t right. I knew I felt someone approaching us when I questioned her about being ‘a regular person.’ Sure as fuck, I glance up, and it’s him—right beside me.

  He glowers down at me with golden irises blazing, full of intimidation. He’s a broody one, I can already tell, and for some odd reason I find it incredibly sexy in a man.

  When I get nervous or irritated, I tend to get a bit sarcastic, so before I think about my words, I let a little snark come out. “I’ll take a refill. To go, please. Oh, and the check. Thanks.” Turning my head away quickly, I push my glass closer to the edge of the table and bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t babble, concentrating on pushing my food around my plate.

  I can’t believe I just let that come out of my mouth. So much for the shot idea. I have a feeling he may lose it and get us kicked out before I can reunite with my old friend, Jose Cuervo. Or else Kaleigh may pass out from hyperventilating and make me tote her ass back to my office.

  The restaurant’s so silent, you can hear the refrigerator kick on behind the waitress area.

  I swallow again, trying not to exhale to loudly.

  A throat clears, but I keep my head still and count to myself.

  Three.

  Four.

  Five.

  Six.

  Seven.

  Holy shit.

  Seven.

  Holy shit.

  What number was I on?

  Five of the longest seconds I’ve ever experienced. My self-coping method of counting out random numbers comes to a smashing halt when warm fingertips brush my chin. They’re soft and careful as they gently turn my face toward him again—the movements commanding, but not forceful.

  His voice is low, almost gravelly, like he’s not used to speaking or perhaps he’s used to yelling a lot. He is Italian, after all. “Your bill is taken care of, Bella.” He licks his bottom lip. “I will send someone with your drink.”

  Pure sex. That’s what comes to mind when he speaks. I would climb him like a goddamn jungle gym right now if the circumstances were different. I could fucking die. Legit, just keel over after hearing the sexy rasp that no doubt matches his beautiful face. I bet his body’s insane under that suit, no flaw about him. And that accent, definitely Italian.

  My hands clench into fists as I stop myself from doing the sign of the cross, thanking God for creating a man so divine to look at and listen to.

  I’m too embarrassed at my rude behavior—at the entire scene and knowing that everyone is staring—to meet his gaze. Barely nodding, mimicking Kaleigh from earlier, I keep my eyes trained on the rich texture of his deep blue tie. It’s nearly black, but there’s a hint of color that I can make out with the hanging light over our table. It’s one of my favorite colors, but that’s irrelevant right now.

  “Th-thank you.” My reply comes out quietly, damn near sounding like a choke, all too aware of everyone’s attention. I’ll probably never be able to have lunch here again after this. That means a farther walk and less time to eat, thanks to me not listening to my friend and not keeping my thoughts and noises to myself.

  His fingers slip away, his demeanor radiating disappointment from me not looking at him. He wanted me to challenge him. I know it. I
also know when to tuck my tail and shut up. He didn’t deserve my bitchiness.

  Kaleigh said to be respectful. That should mean me not meeting his stare, right? It’s hard to think at all—about anything—with him so near, the only thing on my mind is his smell and how fast my heart is beating. I’m surprised you can’t hear the rapid thrum as the organ thunders away under my breast.

  Men don’t just randomly come up and touch me, and in that spot? It was a more of a caress. That alone says so much about him. My friend’s right; he’s different.

  Most guys would touch your shoulder or place their hand a little too close to your breast or even your ass. However, he chose two fingers, right under my chin. He wanted me to meet his gaze like earlier, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Having him near, snuffed out my bravado and scattered my thoughts, not an easy feat when it comes to me.

  God, he smells so fucking good too, like rain mixed with alpha male. Pheromones such as those should be bottled up and sold. I’d dump that shit all over my pillow at night. How can you possibly think when a man smells like that?

  He’s remains standing beside me for a moment longer, almost as if he wants to say something else, but refrains. I wish he wouldn’t have held back. I wanted him to speak some more, even if it was merely to tell me to fuck off. I want to hear that voice again so I can commit it to memory, along with those furious golden irises.

  The door chimes, and this time when I look up, he and the other men have left.

  The restaurant buzzes with excited chatter in the aftermath, as if they can’t stand to remain quiet a moment more. Kaleigh just stares at me like I’m a glitter-covered unicorn giving out free donuts that she’s never seen before or something.

  A Styrofoam cup with a lid secured and a new straw is placed down in front of me. “Ma-ma’am,” the server interrupts nervously. “Anything else? A piece of Tiramisu or a cappuccino, maybe?”