Rebel Souls MC Book 6: Seal the Deal

I woke to the sounds of drilling. Tank and the rest of the guys were at it again, putting the finishing touches on the clubhouse renovations.

Prez, Hawk, Bender, and the rest of the guys with old ladies were lucky they had houses they could go to and not be woken up at the ass crack of dawn.

I had a house too, but I was never there. Tank had talked me into it on a mission, saying it was a good investment or some shit.

I didn’t need to invest anything. Thanks to the club, I had enough money to last me the rest of my life without even having to make it earn any interest.

It’d been more than three years and I still couldn’t forget her—never would.

Standing under the spray, I willed my cock to deflate. I hated starting my day like this, my hand wrapped around myself while I imagined being inside her again.

One time. I’d only had her one time—okay, one night that I took her over and over—but it was enough to ruin me for the rest of my life.

I was ruined for any other woman. I didn’t want anyone if I couldn’t have her.

We didn’t have the luxury of keeping in touch either.

I didn’t even know where she was, and I hated it. I had no way of keeping her safe. I’d done everything I could for her when I helped her escape the men chasing her—the men who’d assassinated her father.

The mercenaries were gone now. I knew she had Axel’s number if she ever got into trouble again. It wasn’t safe to give her mine, but I’d offered it to her anyway.

“If I can’t get a hold of Axel, I know how to find you,” she promised. “I know if I need you, I can come to you. I’ll never forget you.”

The words were right there.

I love you, Luciana—forever.

But I couldn’t say them. How did you say that to someone and then walk away for the rest of your life?

So, I kissed her. I poured everything into the kiss, every feeling I’d developed, every hope and dream for a future we could never have.

When I pulled away, her eyes were still closed, and because I was a coward, I turned around and walked away, leaving her standing there in her new home—the one we’d made safe for her—and walked away.

The memory hit me like a thousand pounds of concrete, anchoring my feet to the shower floor while anguish crippled my body. Even the horrible memory of walking away from her couldn’t make my cock deflate.

I hit the shower wall with an open fist, not caring if I woke Brick and Bubbles on the other side.

Since they’d gotten back together and had a baby, they’d kept me up countless times with their fucking. And if they weren’t fucking, Nova was crying.

The baby could stay, but those assholes needed their own damn house. Bubbles kept promising it would be ready soon, but the fucker got some sort of twisted pleasure out of tormenting me.

I sighed, breathing her name. “Luciana.” Starting at the base, I worked my hand up my body, imagining her pouty little mouth around me.

Luciana was living, breathing, walking perfection. She had dark eyes that hypnotized me the first moment I looked into them.

She was tall, close to five-ten, and had legs that went on for miles and miles, thick and shapely. Her hips flared, and her waist was soft.

I imagined my eyes raking up her body, starting at her feet and lifting, following the shape of her legs and up her hips to her waist until I got to her chest, small and perky, then up the delicate column of her neck.

I remembered the shape of her face perfectly—a little round, with cheeks that looked too big for her.

Her lips were full and had a dramatic cupid’s bow, dipping so low it looked like her top lip was connected by just a sliver, making her appear pouty all the time, even when she wasn’t.

Her eyes, the same shade of brown as my own, had been nervous and scared during our time together, except the night she spent in my arms.

I stroked my cock quicker as I remembered the only time I had her.

“Lucia, what are you doing?” She climbed onto the floor with me where I slept next to her bed. It was my last night of duty before we headed back down the coast tomorrow, back to the clubhouse.

“Please, Seal.” I hated hearing her call me Seal. “I need to feel safe. You make me feel safe.”

The images flashed through my mind while my orgasm built, my balls drawing up. The way I’d told her my real name, hearing her moan it softly in my ear when her pussy clamped down on my cock.

The way she’d pulled my release from me, leaving me barely enough time to pull out and spill onto her stomach—the first time.

Somewhere along the way I’d stopped pulling out, refusing to leave my cum anywhere but inside her.

My cum shot from me and hit the shower floor, washing away with the water while I breathed heavily. My cock deflated, but it was too late.

I was going to spend all day thinking about her, what could have been, what I had to give up when I left her.

If she’d asked me to stay, to abandon this life, my brothers, and what I had here, I would have.

My brothers—this club—were my family, the only family I had since my parents’ death, and being kicked out of the Navy, but I would have given it all up to make her my family.

At first, I thought I’d be pissed about that—wanting someone so much that I’d give up my entire life for her—but I wasn’t the exception within the club, I was the rule.

Prez would give us all up for Rachel, Hawk would for Charlie, Bender would for Carrie, and so it went, on and on and on until, if the old ladies wished it, there would be no club left.

But they didn’t. They loved their men and the club.

That first time was just the first time that night. We’d spent the entire night talking, fucking, spilling our secrets and wildest dreams with each other until the sun came up, and it was time for me to go.

By the time I’d left, she knew more about me than anyone else in my life, including the secrets I kept from my brothers.

I loved her then, and I love her still.

Turning off the shower, I stepped out, dried off, and walked naked into the bedroom.

I could already hear little Nova crying, screaming for her morning bottle, and this time I’d put the blame on Tank and the band of misfit, still-single brothers who helped him put the finishing touches on the upgrades.

Since our war with the Bratvá ended a few months ago, things had been downright boring. They probably would be until another old lady rolled in. They always brought trouble in the form of exes.

This one wasn’t an old lady’s fault, but I still blamed the trouble on relationships because it had surrounded us while Brick and Bubbles finally figured out what the fuck was going on with them.

Relationships were trouble.

I hadn’t felt the touch of a woman in years, since Luciana, and I didn’t want it because I couldn’t have the woman I really wanted.

When I got into the bar area, breakfast was already laid out, which meant Brenda was here… or Boomer was trying to poison us again.

“Morning.” I turned to see Brenda sitting in the usual booth reserved for the pride, her son on her chest while her shirt was pulled up.

“Quit staring at my woman’s chest,” Tank growled, coming in from outside and sliding in next to his woman and kid.

“I wasn’t staring.” And I hadn’t been, at least not hard, and even though I was looking at his woman feed his kid, I was imagining a completely different woman and a completely different kid.

All three of the pregnant old ladies had finally popped, all within seventy-two hours of each other.

It had been a wild few days, especially for Doc and Carrie, who’d delivered the babies—well, only two of them.

Liza had gone into labor earlier than her scheduled c-section, and we thought she might have to deliver here because her labor was progressing so quickly. The baby ended up being breech and they’d raced her to the hospital.

In the end, she got her daughter—and her tubes tied since Hands getting his nuts clipped apparently hadn’t worked since she got knocked up again. They named her Shana.

Rachel gave birth to her second son, a little boy who looked like he was copied and pasted from his big brother.

She and Prez named him Blade—Prez’s road name before Prez—which was decidedly better than Storm, but also…not. Storm and Blade?

Whatever—they weren’t my kids, I didn’t have to live with their names. They wouldn’t even need road names when they grew up.

Brenda had been the first to pop after the dust from our war settled, giving birth to a little boy with fiery red hair. They named him Sin.

None of these kids would ever have normal names.

Yeah, I was imagining a different kid, because there’s no way my kid would ever have red hair. Not with my Korean roots, and certainly not with Luciana and her Mexican roots mixed in.

For a moment, I let myself get swept up in what our kids would look like—brown skin with warm undertones, deep brown eyes, and a wild mess of dark hair. I hoped it would be curly like hers.

But that would never happen.

I helped myself to breakfast, ignoring Tank’s glaring and protectiveness over his woman.

The sounds of construction were still going on after I finished my breakfast, so I made my way outside to see if I could help.

I found Boomer, Ink, and Echo sliding a bulletproof window into one of the lower bedrooms. It was one of the last ones that needed upgrading.

It was just one of the few upgrades that was happening too late, but things had been busy.

The steamrolling of old ladies into the club’s life over the past three years had made everything pause while chaos exploded all around us.

The back of the club had been reinforced too, and the escape route reinforced too. The fence was higher and electrified at the top.

The shack where we kept prisoners chained up was reinforced and made easier to chain people up. Diesel was the most recent one to hang there, but he wouldn’t be the last.

“Need help?” I asked.

Echo turned to glare at me. He had a joint hanging between his lips, just like he always did, especially when he was behind his laptop or huddled away in his room doing whatever he did for hours on end.

Shit, the guy probably even had a joint between his lips when he took multiple soul suckers to his room.

Sweat dripped down his brow across his dark brown skin. He flipped me the bird, the rings on his fingers flashing in the sunlight.

Echo was the scrawniest of us and was a shit shot, but his skills with the computer were lethal, which was why he’d been recruited by Hawk’s dad when he was still Prez.

The ladies loved him, though, and he loved the ladies. I’d heard the way they talked about his tongue ring and the things it could do.

I wondered how Luciana would have liked a little piece of metal on my tongue while I ate her pussy.

I shook my head and watched them work, loving not having to do grunt work anymore.

Once the window was in place, they inspected their work, then went inside.

I stayed, puffing on a cigarette, something I’d promised Luciana I would stop doing. And I had stopped—mostly. It was still a nervous habit I had sometimes.

I walked back inside and slid into the booth with Doc, who nodded at me over his cup of coffee.

Minutes later, it seemed the entirety of the pride walked through the doors, their gaggle of kids in tow. The noise level increased by a thousand percent as they started running around.

Petra held Carrie’s hand while Bender walked behind them. Petra was clinging to Carrie like she’d disappear.

Since her mom’s death, she’d crawled into Carrie’s arms and basically never let go, scared to lose her new mother figure. She didn’t call Carrie Mom yet, but I figured she would soon, and shortly after that, Bender would be Dad.

Bubbles and Brick walked in, Bubbles feeding Nova a bottle. They still didn’t know her actual age or birthdate, or anything about her really, but they loved her, and guessed her age to be around nine months now.

Her eye color had changed shortly after they found her, and Carrie—our resident nurse and baby expert—said that usually happened around six months of age. So that’s what they’d dubbed her with, choosing a random day for her birthday.

So many damn kids.

We still had parties, and the clubhouse still opened to the public on Friday and Saturday nights to bring in extra income, but it was different with all the rugrats running around.

And I’d never add to the mix of rugrats, because I couldn’t have the only woman I’d want to be the mother to my kid.

“Wanna ride?” Doc asked.

I nodded and stood.

The joy of riding was the one thing losing Luciana hadn’t taken from me.

And that was only because I never got the chance to put her on the back of my bike.