Two weeks went by, and it had become crew haven at Manny’s.

Channing’s, Bren’s, and another one—they were all in and out every day.

Crews always held a “danger” appeal to the Fallen Crest crowd—from high schoolers through the middle-aged lonely housewives—and since they were here, business was booming.

I was still ready for the crews to go back to their normal, less frequent visits. Things weren’t so tense when they weren’t around.

In the grand scheme of things, though, I wanted to make sure we were safe, so we endured. That’s all you could do in a storm: hunker down, wait for it to end.

Everyone felt it—the staff and the customers—whether they knew what was going on or not. They walked a bit more freely when they were leaving. The only one who didn’t seem affected was Suki. We’d pitched the idea of her hosting a private dinner night, and she loved it—so much that she’d settled back into being a regular manager. So now, when I wasn’t needed at Manny’s, I was at Tuesday Tits with Channing, or I was at the warehouse with everyone else.

It was one of those warehouse afternoons again. I’d started to stay away from Manny’s as much as possible, just because I didn’t want to feel the weight of putting everyone there in danger, but I was bored. And restless, and I’d started carrying a pack of cigarettes on me again.

I didn’t smoke them. Not yet, but I was taking them out. I’d hold one in my hand.

I was doing that more than I should’ve.

I sat on a picnic table in the back. Everyone else was inside, or the kids were on the makeshift playground that had been set up in the middle of everything.

I hadn’t liked seeing the kids here, but when I’d said as much to Channing, he’d asked what else they could do. Some of their members had kids. They probably wouldn’t be touched. He didn’t think the Red Demons would hurt kids, but why risk them?

I couldn’t quite make out all the conversation inside, but I could hear it. I could hear them laughing.

I wasn’t laughing.

There was nothing to goddamn laugh about in this situation.

I needed my own chaos, not theirs. I needed my Manny’s dysfunction.

“I didn’t know it was getting that bad,” Channing said, coming out from the warehouse. He moved to sit on top of the table beside me. Reaching over, he took the pack out of my hands and slid the cigarette from my fingers, caressing my hand in the process.

I didn’t fight him. I couldn’t. Because he was right. It was getting bad.

“It’s this place.”

I didn’t look at him, but I knew he wouldn’t buy that excuse. He put the cigarette back in the pack and took out a lighter. He lit the whole thing on fire and tossed it into one of the bonfire pits.

“It’s not this place,” he said. “It’s the situation.”

Well. That too.

I grunted. “I was trying to be nice.”

“I know.”

We fell silent—comfortably.

Maybe it was because Channing was with me no matter what, or maybe it was because I’d given in. But I wasn’t fighting him about being in a crew anymore. I wasn’t hoping to pull him away. I was in, fully in. Whatever the reason, he said something he never had before.

“I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t that.

I glanced over. “Huh?”

“You’re in this because of me, because of the crew.”

It was that.

I couldn’t talk. I was too surprised.

He rested his elbows on his knees. “I’m crew, and that’ll never change. And you’re in danger because you’re the woman I love. I’m sorry. I am.” He looked over now. “But that’ll never change either. I’ll never love someone like I love you. Don’t ask me to try.”

Channing had hurt me. He’d loved me. He’d made me laugh. He’d made me swoon. He’d been cocky, smirking, careless, reckless, and stupid. Beyond stupid. He was good and bad, and I’d had a front-row seat for the whole show. I’d also been an integral part of so many of those times—when he pushed me away, when I turned him away, all of it.

“You formed the crew system to stand up against the Broudous,” I reminded him. “You did it for me.”

He shook his head. “I did it because Brett and Budd were too strong. They were bullying everyone except my group. I did it for me too. Your friend was just the catalyst. That’s all.”

“Still.” I leaned forward, mirroring his posture. “That’s ancient history. You didn’t know the life the crew system would take on. Thick and thin, right?” I wasn’t really talking to him. “Being in a crew is like marriage.”

Channing laughed. “Being in a crew is like those marriages that last through everything and don’t fall apart.”

“Not the flimsy ones who get divorced after one scandal.” I wrinkled my nose, but I was smiling.

His grin matched mine. “Exactly.”

“We don’t have problems because you’re in a crew,” I admitted. “I mean…” I imagined a jail cell slamming shut, the sound of an ambulance, that gunshot from inside the warehouse. That could’ve been Channing on the ground.

I would’ve rained hell on whoever was responsible.

I don’t know what took my mom away. She left. It didn’t matter, but a retired RV caravan took my pop to Florida. My oldest brother was married, working a nine-to-five job with two little ones and probably a normal marriage that had its struggles. But Brandon was still with me, and my other family was sitting right next to me.

I had friends. I had good friends, one I even called my best friend, but they weren’t Roussou. There was no one like Roussou except those who came from Roussou.

“I love you,” I told him.

I said it because he was my best friend, my lover, my soulmate, and even sitting on a picnic table, I wouldn’t have been anywhere but by his side.

“I love you too.” There was a gruffness to his voice.

I turned to stare out over the hills surrounding his warehouse, but I knew he was blinking back tears. Hell. I felt them too, but I also felt her.

“You think she’d be standing by now?” I asked.

“Oh, fuck yeah.” A soft laugh from him. “She’d be starting to walk, maybe even be running.”

“You think?”

“Yes. She’s a Monroe and a Jax together. She’d be tearing ass through this warehouse, streaking, showing her naked booty to everyone.”

I laughed, and once I started, I could see her. Chubby legs, chubby arms, chubby cheeks. Peals of laughter. So blond she’d probably have white hair, maybe curly. She’d be running toward her daddy, no doubt.

“She’d already be kicking ass.”

I couldn’t stop laughing, and crying. Goddamn.

I blinked, trying to stop the tears, but he was right. Naly would’ve kicked ass, and I knew a couple more things just then.

It didn’t hurt to talk about her anymore. And I wanted another baby. Fiercely.

Channing was waiting. He likely already knew what was going on inside me, and I only had to catch his eye before he stood and grabbed me—an arm under my legs and another around my back—and threw me over his shoulder.

“Oomph!”

He smacked my ass, softly. “Quiet, woman. You and I need some alone time.” His hand began rubbing in circles, becoming a caress, and I closed my eyes.

I savored that touch.

He ducked around some people in the garage and deposited me in his truck. I sat up as he shut the door and watched him dart around.

“We’re leaving leaving for this?”

He flashed me a grin, starting the engine. “I want complete privacy where no one can find us.”

Channing paused at the gate. “Going out for a bit. I’ll keep my phone on me.”

Moose was standing watch. He frowned, but looked me over and sighed. “Fine.” He hit the switch, and the gate rolled open.

Channing held up two fingers in a small salute and drove through.