I watch all four men walk upstairs. I don’t know much about Prescott’s father, only that he lives in the states. I don’t even know what state he lives in. Prescott doesn’t talk about him, and I asked more than once when we first met. He wasn’t even the one to tell me his father lived in the states, Free did.

Whatever he and his father have between them, it was ugly at some point. I wish I knew, I wish that I could help. Seeing him here, maybe he’s found that it’s time to heal old wounds—I hope that’s the case, anyway.

Eating my bagel, I really want to go upstairs and listen from the other side of the door. I can feel that something big is about to happen, I just don’t know what it could be.

Once I’ve finished eating and cleaned up the kitchen, I pace. The men still haven’t emerged from the bedroom and my curiosity is killing me. I decide to get my phone out and search Pinterest for nursery ideas.

What feels like hours later, but is really only about ten minutes, the door opens. I watch as Prescott’s father walks down the staircase, alone. I reach out and wrap my hand around his forearm as he walks past me. He stops and looks at me.

“I’m Ginger,” I murmur.

His green eyes warm and a smile appears on his face. “Orville, darlin’.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I offer.

He nods, his eyes searching my face and then he covers my hand with his. “We’ll be seeing more of each other. I fucked up, but I’m not walking away without a fight,” he states.

“Good. Pres is worth fighting for.”

Orville’s grin disappears and something somber and serious crosses his features. “I know, darlin’. I know.” Then he walks away.

My hand falls from his arm as I watch him leave my house. A throat clears from the stairwell, and I look up to see Prescott standing at the top of the staircase. He doesn’t say anything though, he watches me for just a moment, then turns and goes back into the bedroom. I don’t know what just happened here, but I wish that I did.

My cell phone rings and I grab it quickly, surprised to see Hayden’s name on my screen. She never calls me, never. “Hello?”

“Hey Ginger, it’s Hayden,” she announces. I don’t respond, waiting to see what she needs. “I uh, I was wondering if it would be cool if I switched shifts with Traci for Friday night. You see, the tips are better at night and I could really use a little extra right now,” she almost whispers.

I think about Traci. She’s one of the women I hired that Crooner set up an interview for. She’s fantastic. I’ve been told the bar is clean every morning, and a glass is never empty when she’s around.

She’s been waitressing at bars for over twenty years, and seriously knows her shit. I wish that I were down there a bit more to get to know her a bit better, but right now, I’m too tired to even stay up late enough to catch the beginning of her shift.

“Have you asked Traci if it’s okay with her?”

Hayden clears her throat before she whispers, “I did, she said it was okay. She knows I’m in a tight spot, and its only one busy night. She said it was fair.”

I’m confident that Hayden can handle a busy shift, however, I’m afraid that those drunk and rowdy men are going to eat her alive. She’s soft, sweet, and because of her past, extremely vulnerable.

I don’t want anything to scare her or traumatize her. I’m not one hundred percent that this is the healthiest decision, but she’s an adult, and if she needs the money I can’t deny her the work.

“Just make sure Crooner is cool with coming in Friday night, and it’s okay with me,” I state.

She makes a noise in the back of her throat but doesn’t elaborate. “Okay, thank you, Ginger,” she breathes and then the line is dead.

My brows tug together and I look at the blank screen of my phone. I really want to be a friend to Hayden, but she’s so closed off. I don’t blame her either, not a single bit.

However, I have a feeling that there’s a lot more to her story than I could ever imagine. That makes me sad, and I wish we could be friends.

Maybe someday she’ll trust me enough to talk to me. I really feel like she could use someone to confide in, and honestly, I think that I could use a friend who has been through the same shit I have.

When I was rescued from that hellhole of a house, all of us women who were held together were separated. I didn’t even attempt to keep in contact with them, at the time I wanted nothing to do with a single memory of that place.

Now, I wish I would have because as time goes by, I find that I feel as though it may be cathartic to talk about it with someone who has been through it. I know that I can’t talk to Pres, he wouldn’t understand, and even talking about it makes him feel angry and guilty.

“Peaches,” Prescott yells from the nursery.

My body jerks as his voice jolts me out of my thoughts. I walk toward the stairs and climb them quickly. Making my way toward the door, I lean against the jamb and let out a giggle. Prescott, Free, and Motorhead are surrounded by nuts, bolts, and furniture pieces. They all look completely lost, it’s comical.

“Can you get us some pizza and more beer, we’re gonna be here a while,” Prescott grunts as he looks at the printed instruction manual in front of him.

I press my lips together, trying not to burst out in laughter. Nodding, I choke on my giggle. “Yeah, I’ll get you guys some supplies.”

Free looks up at me and shakes his head, a smile twitching on his lips. I’m glad he thinks this is just as funny as I do. My phone buzzes in my pocket with a new notification. “My mom is coming on Monday,” I breathe.

“You ain’t due for another three months,” Prescott chokes.

My eyes widen when I think about how long that means she’ll be here. “Shit, do you think she’s going to try and stay for like six months? I won’t make it, Pres, I can’t handle her for that long,” I wheeze.

“Gimme your phone,” he barks, holding his hand out.

I don’t hold it out to him, so he reaches for my hand and slips it from my fingers. I watch as he scrolls through my contacts and calls my mother.

“This is Prescott. What if you came a little closer to her due date? We’ve started getting things ready, but I think Monday is a bit too soon. Yeah, she’s excited for you to come. So, in two months? That works out perfectly. Thanks, bye, can’t wait.”

Staring at him in shock, I’m not sure how he did it, he talked my mother into postponing her trip for two more months. I want to sink to my knees and show him just how grateful I am right now. His nostrils flare as though he can read my mind and then he gives me a wink.

“Take Free with you to go get food,” Prescott murmurs, holding my phone out for me.

I nod, “Okay.”

I hear Free groan as he stands and then he’s next to me. “C’mon, babe,” he grunts.

Ignoring him, I make my way toward Prescott, lifting on the balls of my toes I press my lips against his. He growls somewhere deep in his chest and it causes me to shiver.

Lifting his hand, he tangles it in my hair and shifts my head to the side, deepening the kiss. I allow him, opening for him, uncaring of the other people in the room.

When he breaks the kiss, I’m completely weak in the knees and wishing that we were alone. He smirks down at me. I know that he’s probably reading my mind and feels the same way. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get enough of him, not now—not ever.

Turning away from the room, I walk away, knowing that if I don’t, I’ll drag him into our bedroom and try to keep him there the rest of the day. Free chuckles as he follows behind me and I hear Motorhead shout out his pizza order as we walk down the stairs.

My purse and keys are on the counter, so I scoop them up quickly as I make my way toward the front door.

“You got that man by the dick, woman,” Free announces as we walk toward my Jeep.

I turn around my eyes wide in surprise. “What?” I whisper in shock.

Free reaches for my hand, slipping my keys from my palm with a shake of his head. “He’s in there puttin’ baby furniture together and he’s roped me and Motorhead in to help him with it. You asked me three years ago if I thought he’d ever put a crib together, I would have said not only no, but fuck no. The man loves you, babe.”

Free doesn’t allow me to respond, he just struts his ass away toward the driver’s side of my Jeep and climbs inside.

I stand there, sputtering like an idiot. I look back at the house, then at Free. He’s grinning from behind my steering wheel. Rolling my eyes, I hurry toward the car and climb inside of the passenger side.

“I know he loves me, but I don’t have him by the dick,” I announce as soon as I put my seatbelt on.

Free laughs as he throws his arm over the back of my seat and turns slightly, watching behind him as he backs out of the driveway.

“You do, babe. Didn’t say it was necessarily a bad thing, just said you had him by the dick. Woman I had once had me by the dick too. I fuckin’ loved it,” he grunts as he puts the car into drive and heads toward town.

“What happened to her? I know she passed but you’ve never really said, and Prescott won’t tell me.”

Free clears his throat and his fingers grip the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white as he continues to stare ahead. “I was young, just a fuckin’ prospect. She was still in high school.”

His voice softens, and I watch as he gets a faraway look in his eyes. “I’d been showing her off around town. She had no brand, and I wasn’t around, I was gone fucking around. Some guys from another club decided to start shit. The club was different then, different president in charge and not always safe for women to hang around, especially unmarked women. I’m sure you can guess what happened?”

“She was raped,” I whisper, the words lodging as a lump in my throat. I close my eyes and try to beat back my own demons that surround that horrid, awful word.

Free nods “She was, but she was young, and she wasn’t as strong as you were, or are. After six long ugly months, she took her own life,” he whispers.

I reach out to him, wrapping my hand around his forearm and giving it a squeeze. I don’t tell him that I’m sorry, because those aren’t the words he wants to hear.

He doesn’t want to hear any words.

His guilt is still too great to comprehend them. All these years later and this girl, this beautiful girl’s candle was burned out, and his guilt eats away at him.

“She doesn’t feel the pain anymore, she’s free,” I whisper.

He nods, clearing his throat and I let my hand fall away from his arm. “She is. It’s the only reason I’m still breathing, knowing that she’s no longer in agony,” he mutters. “So, she had me by the dick, just like you got Snake by his. Ain’t a bad thing at all, having a woman to love who loves you back,” he chuckles.

We pull into the pizza place and he turns to me, sadness swimming in his eyes, even though he has a smile on his face.

“You look at me any differently and I’ll be fuckin’ pissed. It was a long time ago, but I’ll never get over it, Ging. She’s gone and I’m here just waiting until I meet her again.”

My heart aches for him, completely breaks, but I try not to let it show. He doesn’t want pity, and he doesn’t want me to tell him to try and move on.

He’s lost, lost in the past and in this girl. I’m not sure he is ever going to make a life with another woman. It hurts my heart, and yet, I understand it. I don’t think I could ever love another man the way I love Prescott.

I look over at Motorhead as soon as I hear the front door slam. He only lifts a brow and then goes back to deciphering the instructions for the wardrobe. I suck in a breath through my nose and close my eyes. My head is still reeling from my father’s visit. Just his arrival is enough to send my mind spinning, let alone what he had to say while he was here.

“Lucifer won’t touch your girl,” Motorhead mutters as he fits two pieces of metal together.

I grunt, not believing him. “He knows I’m keeping Hayden here, he’ll do whatever he feels necessary to get her,” I state. “He won’t give two fucks about collateral damage.”

Motorhead lifts his chin, his dark eyes meeting mine. “He could give a fuck about collateral damage, but he knows if he fucks with you, he fucks with all of the Devils. He has to know the original charter backs you, and backs you in a way where there’s no question whose side they’ll be on.”

“Think that Lucifer is just fucked up enough not to care about who backs me, Motor. That poor girl’s life has been messed with enough. I refuse to let Lucifer do any more damage. But he’s so goddamn unstable,” I mutter.

Motorhead sighs, sitting back on his ass, bending his knees and resting his forearms on them. “Crooner’s got her back, no way in fuck will he let anything happen to the girl. Only way to ensure that everybody is accounted for twenty-four-seven, is lockdown.”

I think about Ginger being in lockdown, and how she would react. I have a feeling a bunch of shit from her kidnapping would come up.

I don’t want her to stress out any more than she probably already is. It isn’t good for her blood pressure, or the baby. Shaking my head, I let it fall forward and wrap my hand around the back of my neck to massage the tension.

“No lockdown,” I mutter. “Not unless it’s completely necessary. I don’t want to worry Ginger.”

Motorhead nods, his eyes meeting mine and I see concern in them. “The whole club’s got Ginger’s back, brother, and yours. We’re all on high alert for Lucifer and with your dad here, it’ll only help not hurt our vigilance. Don’t push the old man away. I know you got your shit with him, but maybe you can put that aside until Lucifer is found and dealt with?”

“Fuck, you’re right,” I mutter, thinking about his words.

My dad may not be my favorite person, but as soon as he got wind that Lucifer could be gunning for me and my woman, he hightailed it out here to tell me.

I can’t deny how him being here and looking out for me makes me feel. As angry as I am at my father, I’m also happy to have him here, even if it’s only for a short time.

“Now let’s get this shit built so your kid has a place to sleep,” he grumbles.