Whiskey Neat (The Uncertain Saints MC Book 1) (28 page)

“This case…it’s bad,” was his answer.

He didn’t expound and I didn’t ask.

I realized rather quickly that the easiest way to get along with him was to give him what he wanted instead of arguing about it.

“How’d your date with Annie go?” I asked instead.

He smiled. “Good.”

That was it, but that was all I needed.

The two of them had had fun, and there’d be more dating going on in the future.

“Hey,” Mig asked suddenly. “How’d your appointment go?”

Griffin’s eyes went to me, and he stared at me in concern.

I’d forgotten to tell him I had an appointment today, and the only reason Mig had known was because he’d seen me coming out of the hospital as he was going in.

“It went well. They didn’t do an MRI this time because I’m pregnant. They only did a blood test. It came back clean,” I answered quickly.

It’d come back clean every single time I’d had an MRI or any blood work done.

The bullet that’d entered my brain had taken out the mass on one fell swoop.

Even my doctor said he couldn’t have been more precise.

And I counted myself lucky.

The mass was gone.

I was healthy.

My baby was healthy.

I was married to the man I loved.

Speaking of the man I loved, Griffin looked at me like he wanted to spank me, and I smiled at him.

He narrowed his eyes.

“Alright, baby. I’ve got to go meet the boys. You want help cleaning this up before I go?” He asked, indicating the cheesecake.

I shook my head. “No, I’m going to finish what I want of it, then clean it up. I love you.”

He looked down at me for a long time, studying my face, the soft swell of my belly, and the cheesecake before he shook his head, squatted down, and kissed me silly.

“I love you, too.” He stopped, looking back at me. “And don’t think we won’t talk about how you forgot to tell me you had an appointment today.”

I grinned.

That conversation would prove to be…entertaining.

Griffin

Four months later

“Tanner,” I said to the marble headstone where my son’s body was laid to rest. “I’d like you to meet your baby brother, Aiden.”

Tai’s Book

4-6-16

Prologue

Every action has a reaction. Every step has a consequence.

-Fact of Life

Tai

“You’re fucking shitting me,” I said, staring at the papers that my friend just handed me.

“For real. They give you twenty-five hundred dollars just to donate sperm. It’s perfect. Seriously. Easiest three minutes I’ve ever given,” PD said.

I looked at him.

“That’s all it takes you; three minutes? You’re weak.” I punched him in the arm.

PD hit me at a moment of weakness.

Any other time, and none of this wound not have mattered.

But then another bill had come into the mail, and I showed how weak I was.

“Thanks, PD. I appreciate you telling me this, but I don’t think I’ll be able to do it. I don’t think I could live with myself knowing I had kids running around out there without me to watch over them.” And I really couldn’t.

My life was fucked up enough. I didn’t need to add a kid to the mix.

But the longer I thought about it, and the more I thought about the debt I was under, the more and more appealing that sounded.

I had a thirty-five-hundred-dollar credit card bill right now that was just gathering interest.

Before, when I’d lived in San Antonio, I was making more money. Nearly double what I was making now.

Now that I was living in Kilgore, though, I was making enough money to cover my house payments, truck payment, and I had just barely enough to eat, seeing as nearly half my check went to my debt.

I was a fucked up teenager, and it’d continued into my early twenties before I’d gotten my act together.

Now I was paying for my mistake of not caring about what the real use of a credit card was for.

I’d gotten my debt down from over eighteen grand to just over thirty-five hundred in four years.

So that money was looking good right about now since it meant I wouldn’t have to eat Ramen Noodles for the week.

“Seriously, I think you should think about it. Carrie is letting me do it,” Johnathan said enthusiastically.

Carrie was his new girlfriend whom he thought might turn into a full time thing.

“Alright, boys. Time for y’all to get to work. That truck ain’t gonna wash itself,” the chief called.

I sighed and picked my rag back up from the bucket, running it over the chrome of the fire truck.

But the idea of being a sperm donor took hold…and before I knew it, I was going up there after work for blood tests and sampling.

Mia

I was desperate.

“He’s got leukemia. At this point, the only thing that would help is a bone marrow transplant…or a blood transfusion from a sibling…or a parent that has the same blood type as him,” the oncologist that was taking care of Colt, said.

I looked over at Colt, taking in the deep circles under his eyes.

I’d only thought he was sick with a stomach bug, but after four days of him still not feeling well, I’d decided to take him in.

And thank God I had.

“So what do I need to do?” I asked, leaning forward in my seat.

Colt grunted in affront that I would dare to move his bed, and I smiled down at my little boy, even though all I wanted to do was cry.

“We’ll get him in for more blood work. From there, we’ll test compatibility with any of our registered donors. From there, we’ll see what happens,” he said softly.

I looked down at my sleeping baby, and knew exactly what desperation felt like…because if it was possible to make him healthy, I’d steal, kill, and lie to make it happen.

Later that afternoon, as I laid Colt down into his bed that was directly across the room from mine, I stared at him in despair.

With one final caress to his head, I immediately walked down the hall and took a seat at my computer, starting the research process.

And by the end of the night, I had a plan of action.

All it would take was getting a little sperm.

One month later

“But he was the perfect match,” I whispered, looking devastatingly at the phone like it was a live wire ready to lead me to my death. “No.”

I looked over at Colt.

That was my only chance.

Then the lady’s words repeated in my head, over and over again, taunting me.

“We’re sorry, but the man that was going to be the donor asked us to take his specimen off the market. He had a change of heart.”

A change of heart.

Would he have had the change of heart had he known what he would be saving?

He’d been my only hope.

Some way…somehow…I
had
to convince him.

Hello, my lovely readers! If you’ve made it this far, you’ve now hit the special bonus chapter I promised you all. This is a scene that everyone’s asked for featuring Sam, Silas, Sawyer and Cheyenne.

I know some of you wondered about Sam and the way he treated Silas in Counter To My Intelligence, so I wanted to give you a little bit of insight as to why.

As always, I want to thank everyone for reading my books, and I hope you’ve enjoyed this one.

With love,

Lani

Apologies suck. That’s why most people don’t offer them.

-Cheyenne to Sam

Sam

“Sam,” I heard my name called for the fourth time.

I also ignored it for the fourth time.

“Samuel Mackenzie.” Cheyenne said with irritation. “If you don’t answer me, I’m going to send the kids over here.”

I stopped and turned, looking at my wife.

“What?” I snapped.

Her eyes narrowed and I knew I’d stepped in it.

“I think you need to check that shitty attitude and fucking talk to me before I pick up this stick at my feet and beat the crap out of you with it.” She hissed.

I crossed my arms over my chest.

“You could try to make me.” I said slowly, letting my words come out nice and slow so she wouldn’t mishear me.

Her mouth dropped open, and then she turned and left without another word.

“Fuck.” I said once I could no longer see her through the path she’d taken back to our house. “Mother. Fuck.”

Tossing the axe down at my feet, I grabbed the shirt I’d discarded over an hour ago and started stomping my way back to the house.

It wasn’t long before I caught up to Cheyenne.

Mainly because she sat on one of the tree stumps I’d chopped down, crying her eyes out.

“Goddammit.” I grumbled, yanking my t-shirt on and making my way over to my wife.

I hated it when she cried, and I’d been making her do that a lot lately.

Not intentionally, no. But I’d been doing it nonetheless.

“Cheyenne,” I said gruffly. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“You have to stop this.” She cried. “You can’t keep doing this. Something’s got to give.”

I looked down at my boots, covered in wood chips, and knew she spoke the truth.

“I know.” I said roughly. “Where are the girls?”

She hiccupped.

“With your dad and Sawyer.” She whispered brokenly. “They came and picked them up, took them to the snow cone shop.”

“Really?” I asked. “I thought dad had to work today.”

I wouldn’t admit that I’d been keeping tabs on my father.

I’d tried to work up the nerve to go talk to him—
them--
for a couple of weeks now.

“The girls called him, and asked if he’d take them to the shop after school let out.” She said softly, wiping her eyes.

I dropped down to my knees.

“I don’t know how to tell him.” I said, letting my head lean down to rest against the top of her knee.

She let her hand trail over my head, her fingers tangling in my hair.

“It’s time.”

I let out a huge breath, then nodded my head.

“I know.”

“I’ll take the girls to the grocery store with me…give you time to explain.” She whispered.

I nodded again, then leaned backwards and tilted my head so I could reach her face with mine.

“I fucking love the shit out of you, Cheyenne.” I whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She placed a soft kiss on my cheeks.

“Good thing you’ll never have to find out.”

My dad pulled up in his truck with all three of my kids filling the back up.

He had a smile on his face that reached from ear to ear. One that promptly dropped the moment he saw me standing there waiting.

Letting my hands drop to my sides, I tried to appear like I wasn’t pissed off, which for me wasn’t as easy as it looked.

Seemed that’s all my head gravitated toward lately, and I fucking hated it.

“Girls!” Cheyenne called. “Hop in mommy’s car, I gotta go grab a birthday present for your aunt!”

The girls squealed in excitement, and quickly transferred their little bodies from my dad’s truck to mine.

I didn’t bother to comment that her vehicle wasn’t a car. It was an
SUV
.

Right now my mind was on other things…mainly trying to find a way to apologize for being such a dick all my life.

Dad got out of the truck, as did Sawyer, although much more reluctantly than my father.

I was sure Sawyer still wasn’t as comfortable with me as she’d like, and that was my fault as well.

I’d gone out of my way to be a dick to both her and my father, and I had a lot of ass kissing to do.

Especially if I was laying out all my secrets.

“Son,” Dad said. “What’s going on?”

I lifted my hand to grab the back of my neck, trying in vain to work the knot out of the base.

“I need to talk to you.” I said quickly, ripping off the Band-Aid, so to speak.

“Okay,” he said, looking at Sawyer.

I held up my hand when she started to leave.

“No,” I said, gesturing to the seats that were lining the front porch. “Both of you have a seat. I need to get a few things off my chest.”

Sawyer looked at Silas, then with a nod from him, she took a seat and crossed her arms over her chest.

Her body was angled toward my dad, almost protectively.

I smiled slightly at that, happy that my dad had that once again.

When my dad took his seat, his arms crossed loosely over his belt, I let out a long breath before taking another deep one.

“I have about a million things I need to tell you…. but I’m just going to tell you what I should’ve told you weeks ago.” I shook my head.
Fuck, more like years ago.

His brows lifted.

“I’m sorry.” I said roughly. “I’ve never in my life felt more ashamed than the day your wife gave me a dressing down while I was in your hospital room.”

Dad looked up, his eyebrows furrowed.

“What?” He asked, turning to look at Sawyer in confusion.

Before Sawyer could answer his silent question, I barreled forward.

“Those were the worst days of my life. They ranked right on up there with nearly losing Cheyenne and losing Dougie.” I said, my gaze going to Sawyer’s and my dad’s now-linked hands.

Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly.

“I’ve been battling PTSD for about eight years now.” I said, not stopping until I purged myself of everything. “And I’ve taken out everything on you, because you were easier than taking it out on Cheyenne…or my kids.”

My dad sucked in a breath, and I knew he was about to let me off the hook.

I stopped him before he could, holding up my hand for silence.

“It got really bad there for a while…” I said. “The day you brought Shiloh to me. Well, let’s just say I was in denial, and I was making it way worse than it needed to be.”

“Sam…” Dad started.

I held up a hand to silence him.

“A couple months before you met Sawyer I was involved in that bank robbery, and the PTSD I’d been experiencing went to new levels. Almost to the point where I was getting violent.” I pushed through. “I also egged Shiloh on,” I said. “I should’ve stopped, but Shiloh was so desperate to make everyone happy that she chose to keep me happy rather than piss me off in fear that I would flip out.”