Gonzo (Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club Book 7) (28 page)

C
onnie

W
e weren’t allowed
to hire a normal moving service for security reasons, which meant my company paid for the move. However, Gonzo has a secret room in his basement with lots of guns and ammo, and we have a similar hidden room in our new house. He and some of the MC moved all of his super-secret stuff, as well as many of his other belongings.

I’ve never asked for the combination to any of his safes, nor have I hinted about wanting to have access to his hidden room in the basement. I know he made a vow to himself about not being shot with his own gun again and I don’t want to scratch that particular wound open and cause him pain, but if I’m honest with myself, my feelings are a little hurt that he’s never offered to give me access.

My dad took some time off so he could be here to help with the kids during the move. He was against my bringing Gonzo into our lives from the start, and while I’ve tried to talk to him on the phone to let him know what’s going on, and how important Gonzo is to me and the kids now, I don’t think he believed it until he saw it.

He’s still suspicious though, and I had no idea he’d planned to be at the house when Gonzo and some of his closest friends moved all of the super-secret stuff from Gonzo’s old house to our new one.

The kids and I had gone to the store for shelf liner, hooks and organizers for Gonzo to install in the garage for storage, and other nitpicky things we’d realized we needed at the last minute. When we got to the new house, my mouth almost dropped open as I saw my dad and Gonzo working together to test the alarm system.

My dad can work with people he doesn’t like, but he looks like a Marine Sergeant when he does so. He’s all business, serious face, no jokes, no emotions. If he likes you, it’s a completely different face, and there are jokes.

I walked in as he was telling Gonzo a story about trying to teach idiots to use explosives. The kids ran to their father and grandfather for hugs while I leaned in the doorframe and watched. My dad’s gaze met mine over the top of Chloe’s head, and he said, “You were right, Constance.”

“Of course I was, someday you’ll start trusting me when I tell you stuff.”

He shook his head. “I’m an old fart — too old to change now. Your artist came by to touch up the twins’ little suite of rooms you’ve given them.” He was back to being a facetious smart-ass now, and I grinned as I headed toward the steps.

“C’mon kids, let’s go take a look at your rooms.”

Chloe was still a princess in her castle, but Declan’s room now had his tent on a forested mountain with a view. Their room in between was a fantastical forest with a waterfall on one wall, and the flooring had a blue-green swath traveling through it to simulate the mountain stream.

The artist had returned to paint the shelves we’d put up so they blended with the walls, and to touch up where the beds met the wall so everything looked right. She’d done an incredible job and I couldn’t wait until we had everything on the shelves to see how it all worked together.

The movers would be emptying boxes and placing everything in most of the rooms, but because the twins went from one room to three rooms, I wanted to place things in these rooms. My dad was supposed to be exploring the new swimming pool with them this morning, so I put them in their bathing suits and sent them back downstairs. There was no danger of them going to the pool without supervision. Gonzo and I had been in agreement about locating the pool on a different level than the house, with locked gates on all access points so the twins can’t reach the pool without one of us anytime soon.

I was busy organizing their shared toys in the room between their bedrooms when Gonzo popped his head in the door. “They seem to be finished with our bedroom, and I think we need to break our new bed in.”

Randall’s construction company had built our house, and apparently werewolves are
very
good at soundproofing. To prove to me the twins couldn’t hear anything in our room, he’d blasted the music from the beginning of the twins’ favorite TV show in our bedroom, with the twins and Gonzo just outside our door, and they hadn’t heard. The music had been loud enough I’d put my hands over my ears, and they’d been
right
on the other side of the door. I have no idea how he managed it, but I was looking forward to having sex with Gonzo at night and then just falling asleep — or having him awaken me for sex in the middle of the night without having to hike to the other end of the house.

Also, I loved that speakers let us know what was going on outside our bedroom when our door was closed, and when it was open, the acoustics had been figured out so noises came up the steps and funneled into the door of our bedroom so Gonzo could easily hear the slightest noise from downstairs.

So now, I didn’t argue as he carried me to our bedroom and told me to strip as he settled me on my feet and wiggled the ever-present plug in my bottom. I’ve come to love our quickies as much as the long, drawn out sex scenes he sometimes puts together. We were probably in the bedroom fifteen minutes, including disrobing, de-plugging, re-plugging, and then getting dressed again, and yet I walked out beautifully sore and fully sated. He’s taken to spreading himself impossibly wide when he’s in my ass these days, and while I’m always
sure
I can’t take anymore while he’s doing it, when it’s over I can’t wait until the next time we do it, even though I know he’ll probably go even wider.

I’d been a little worried about the fact our house is three or four times the square footage of other RTMC houses, but Gonzo had told me it’d be okay. He’d insisted on designing the first floor so it flowed when we had people over, which had been fine by me. Gonzo’s MC family had welcomed the twins and me in as if we’d always been a part of them.

As I came out of my closet, I stopped and looked out the window. Randall’s people were breaking ground on Gen and Duke’s new house across the street, which would be about the size of our home. Apparently, wolves can smell when a woman is pregnant within about a week of conception, so Gen hadn’t been able to keep it a secret.

She’d told me as much as she loved her house in Stonehenge, she wanted her kids to grow up with the other MC kids, and now that we’d built the first large house, she didn’t feel bad about building the next.

I’d asked Gonzo why he hadn’t smelled when Sandy was pregnant, and he’d told me, “If she’d come around a week later I would’ve, but we’d kicked her out by then.”

I wanted to slap her silly for doing drugs and getting kicked out. How might things have been if Gonzo had known about his kids from the start? But then, it’s possible I’d have never become mom to the kids, if he’d been dad from the beginning.

And mom I was about to be. In a week and a half we had a small ceremony planned near the splash pool at Foster Falls. Declan would be Gonzo’s best man, Chloe would be my maid of honor. A few friends from work would be there, most of the MC, and my father. Duke would marry us, and then our entire little family will all have the same last name.

My attorney has been working with Gonzo’s attorney to push an adoption through, so within a few weeks of us all sharing a last name, I’ll become the twins’ legal mother. We’ve had a lot of talks with the twins about this, and about how their mother will
always
be their mother. Gonzo told them they’ll have two moms — the one who gave birth to them, and the one who is raising them.

Gonzo informed me he and I are going to have a baby in the next two years, and for me to figure out when the best time will be. Honestly, I’m handling the final testing for the drug I’ve worked three years to bring to market, so now is probably the best time. I’m a part of another half-dozen projects, but this one has been my baby from beginning to end and when it’s finished I won’t mind stepping back a few years until our youngest child is ready to start preschool. I plan to tell him I’m ready to start trying the first night of our honeymoon. We’ve never had unprotected vaginal sex and I can’t
wait
to see how it feels skin-on-skin. I figure doing it for the first time on our honeymoon will make it all the more special.

Gen is six weeks pregnant. If I get pregnant in a month or two then our kids will be about the same age, and will grow up together.

I can’t believe how much my life has changed since I walked into the RTMC bar and decided to tell Gonzo he’s a father.

G
onzo

I
’m honestly not
sure what I did to change the Sergeant Major’s mind about me, but he was still cool and distant when a half-dozen of us arrived with my ammo and personal arsenal, and about a half-hour into us moving all of my shit into place he started cutting up with us. I was a little surprised when he recognized Brain, but apparently he knows his family. I really don’t think that changed his mind about
me
, though.

The more I think about it, it’s possible my explanation of the new security system on the house — as well as the other things I’ve implemented to be sure Connie and the kids stay safe while we all hold onto a little more of our privacy — may have been at least part of what swayed him to my side. At any rate, when my brothers left he helped me with my final test of every door, window, motion sensor, and infrared device in the house.

When Connie came home with the kids, I
so
wished I could just carry her upstairs caveman style, toss her over the bed and have my way with her. I couldn’t, but I managed to work things so I could do it about two hours later while the kids were in the pool with Gramps.

I found her working in the kids’ rooms and carried her off to our new soundproofed bedroom, where I made sure she’d feel me in her pussy and ass for hours. Even quickies with Connie are better than the long drawn-out orgies I used to take part in at the clubhouse.

I can remember wondering why I’d ever want to settle down with someone when there was so much pussy available, but I’d had no idea at the time. The difference in being with someone you love, someone who owns you as much as you own them — there’s no comparison. Fucking all of the ass available was meaningless, I’d just been so empty at the time I hadn’t been able to tell.

Now that all of the hidden safes I’d staged around the house were filled, and my basement armory was ready, it was time to give her access. I’d seen how Connie thinks rationally first, before she allows her emotions a voice. This woman was never going to use a gun in anger or craziness — she’d only use one if she needed to defend herself or someone she cared about. As long as I didn’t give her reason to believe I was going to hurt her or the kids, I had nothing to worry about.

You don’t get into any of my safes the same way. Most are designed for quick access, some merely take a finger-swipe or palm print, others have a few buttons you have to push in the right sequence. These sequences are based on which room the safe is in, and I grinned as Connie totally understood my logic of “This is the westernmost room so we start with the button representing west if you were looking at a map.”

When we finally made our way downstairs and I opened the sliding bookcase to the outer armory — the one that’s supposed to fool people into thinking they’ve found my stash — she opened and closed the bookcase doors several times until she understood how the unique mechanism worked. However, when I slid a recessed hidden panel open and keyed in the code before giving my palm print, and gave her the code and recorded her palm print to give her access to the true hidden arsenal behind the first hidden room, she burst into tears.

I looked around the room at the dozens of weapons mounted for easy access, looked at my neatly organized stash of ammo, and pulled her into my arms as I asked why she was crying.

“I know what this means, Gonzo. It means you trust me. I never thought you’d trust anyone this much, and I’d told myself it was okay, but…” I could smell her grief and pain, and realized in that moment how much my past baggage affected her. I’d thought I was looking forward and doing okay, but there was one more thing I had to do before I could marry Connie. One more place to clean so I could walk down the aisle looking forward, with nothing from my past I’d refused to face.

C
onnie

I
was dreading
what the day was going to bring, but I knew Gonzo had to do this before he could move on and I was glad he wanted me by his side for it.

Apparently, he’d gotten rid of most of his belongings before he took off on the Appalachian Trail, but he’d put some of his things in storage. He hadn’t opened the door since he’d locked it the day he moved everything in, and he said other than having to think of it once a year when he paid the storage fee, he’d managed to put it out of his mind.

We were in his truck while Brain and Harmony were on Brain’s bike. They peeled off away from us once we reached Charlotte because they were going to spend the day at the local clubhouse while we went to the storage unit. I knew they’d come just so they’d be close if Gonzo needed more emotional support, and I appreciated how much Gonzo’s brothers looked out for him.

My first surprise was finding out he’d been paying for climate-controlled storage for so long, but I didn’t say anything as he looked at the three combination locks on the door.

“The top one’s Nicky’s birthday, then Clara’s birthday, and then the day they were murdered. God, but I was fucking morbid when I sealed this place.” He shook his head as he reached for the first one. “So much hope and love when I watched them come into the world.”

I could see the tears forming, could see and hear him trying to swallow the grief to keep it from coming up, and I felt helpless to do anything to help him. Logically, I knew just my being here was support, but I wanted to be able to take the grief away from him. If just remembering those three dates hurt him this badly, how was he going to handle whatever was inside?

His tears finally fell when he opened the third lock, but he quickly wiped them away and got down to business once we were inside.

He opened each box and looked inside quickly before making a decision of whether to load it in the truck or leave it for now. The things we were loading now would go to the Salvation Army, the things he left would be the boxes we’d take home with us. He’d told me ahead of time he didn’t plan to keep his old clothes or knickknacks, but he planned to keep a few rifles, a coin collection, some tools, and the thing he was most dreading going through — old pictures.

I hadn’t expected one of the rifles to be child-sized, and my heart broke for him as he lifted it from the padded gun case. His little Nicky must’ve shot this, and Gonzo closed his eyes a good ten seconds before he settled it back into the waffled padding.

“There aren’t many things I’m going to want Declan and Chloe to use that were once Nicky or Clara’s, but I think this is one of them. I may change my mind and buy them a new gun when it’s time for them to learn, but…”

“Whatever you feel is right when we get there, we’ll do. You have to know my dad’s going to want to be a part of their first experience shooting a gun, though.”

He nodded. “Your dad expected he’d be the one teaching them. I can’t take that away from him completely.” I saw the first smile I’d seen in a while as he said, “I’m glad he helped me show them what a gun can do. Having
both
of us shooting watermelons and making them explode pretty spectacularly before we explained how the gun works — and why they should never touch one unless an adult they trust puts it into their hands — made more of an impact than if it’d just been me.”

We worked most of the day before taking the pictures with us to check into our hotel. All of the big boxes would stay in storage their final night while we went through pictures and my dad stayed home and let the kids stay up past their bedtime.

I’d known Gonzo had gone into foster care at fourteen, but I didn’t know his last foster father had slapped him around, so he’d stayed with friends as much as possible until he’d turned eighteen partway through his senior year. He’d moved into a tiny apartment before he’d graduated high school, working thirty plus hours a week stocking a grocery store at night and still managing to keep his grades high enough to graduate, though apparently just barely.

He’d had no family ties to keep him in the sticks of South Carolina, so he’d moved to Charlotte, North Carolina because skip tracers need to live in populated areas to make a decent living.

I hadn’t expected he’d have pictures of his parents and brother in the box, but I noted he had his emotions under control as he pointed them out and told me about them. It didn’t take long for me to realize he’d once done the work necessary to deal with that part of his life and put it behind him. He still missed his parents and brother, but the grief was manageable.

When he opened the album with pictures of his first wife when they were dating, he still managed to hold it together.

Until we reached the first images of her pregnant. “Maybe it was a bad idea for me to bring you,” he said as he wiped his eyes.

“No. You set Dwight aside and became Gonzo all those years ago, but you never really dealt with all of Dwight’s pain. I love
all
of you, and that means I love the sad parts, too. I know how much you loved them, but I also know how much you love me, Declan, and Chloe. Keep going, you aren’t going to hurt my feelings by crying over this. I know you loved them, and I love you all the more for it.”

He nodded and went quickly through the months of pregnancy until he got to Nicky’s birth. I instinctively knew he had to open up these wounds and cry over them before he could move forward, but I
so
wished he didn’t have to.

By the time we reached the picture he’d first shown me — the one taken shortly before his wife had been diagnosed with cancer — I think I may have cried as much as him.

He told me a whole lot of happy stories as we made our way through the album, but I knew we didn’t have a lot more
happy
to go before the saddest ending, ever.

There weren’t many pictures between when his wife had stopped putting them in the album and when his second wife had started making one. I guessed his kids had added birthday pictures to the end of the last one started by their mom, or perhaps Gonzo had. I didn’t ask.

The new ones were put together with a different eye. I’m not sure how to describe the difference, but it was obvious their mother hadn’t put this album together. Perhaps it was because the focus was more on things the kids were doing than the kids themselves, or perhaps I just saw what I wanted to see. It hurt me to see pictures of him happy with his second wife, knowing what she’d done, but he skipped over her images and focused on the kids.

When we reached the final page, a CD was tucked between the pages and he burst into tears as he told me the kids had been killed before he’d had a chance to print out the last images taken of them.

I went to my luggage to get my laptop, and made a stop in the bathroom while it was booting. The CD had pictures of the four of them swimming at an indoor hotel pool with several large waterslides, then images of them at a zoo I didn’t recognize, pictures of Nicky playing baseball, and finally pictures of Clara dancing on stage, so cute you just wanted to hold her and hug her and kiss her all over.

And Gonzo was… well, he looked like a bad-ass Dwight. He hadn’t yet gone crazy from grief, hadn’t been shot and nearly died, hadn’t built a fortress around him to keep him from getting hurt again. His eyes were softer, his hair shorter, and there wasn’t a beard. If I hadn’t recognized the tattoo sleeve, I might’ve argued whether it was even him.

I’d texted Brain from the bathroom to let him know it might be good if he showed up with beer and food in about forty-five minutes. Gonzo was telling me about Clara being so nervous before the performance and then so excited when it was over, when he must’ve heard Brain’s motorcycle. I didn’t hear it, but he hugged me and said, “I don’t know when you texted him, but thanks.”

“When I got my laptop, and you’re welcome.”

He showed the images on the laptop to Brain and Harmony, and didn’t hide his tears from his friends. I’d once been jealous when he hugged some of the other woman, but I was glad he was close enough to Harmony to get emotional support from her, and it didn’t bother me at all when she hugged him and told him, “Your past has made you who and what you are today. I love you, and I’m so glad you’ve found a way to be happy again.”

Brain watched them hug and then joined them, and Gonzo motioned for me to join in as well. I’ve never been part of a four-person hug before, but it was just what we all needed — tears and all.

This day was the hardest, saddest day of my life, and yet it had to be done. When we arrived home late the next day and Gonzo found a place for the few tools, weapons, and knickknacks he’d chosen to keep, it was with a wistfulness instead of the deep sadness of the day and night before. Yes, his little Nicky had once used this hammer to help make a tree house, and his little Clara had bashed her thumb when she’d played with it without permission, but now he could hold it without crying. He could see the good days without only thinking of the terrible day they’d been murdered.

We put the picture albums away, and put two pictures in a frame on the wall with other family pictures — the one Gonzo had originally shown me, and then one Gonzo had taken of Nicky and Clara before her final performance, with Nicky in a little shirt and tie, and Clara in a beautiful little ballet costume. The twins knew their names and knew they’d been killed. One day they’d have to know more of the story, but they weren’t ready for it yet.