Hell on Wheels (Black Knights Inc. #1)(95)

And just like that, the sun came out. The weight of his long-held guilt lifted away on the wings of her love, and he could see nothing but magic and…light in all the days stretching far out into the future.

“Oh, Ali,” he brushed her soft lips with his. “I’ve always wanted you. I’ll always want you. I only acted that way because I couldn’t bear to hear you say…” He shook his head and swallowed convulsively. “I thought you’d never be able to forgive me if y’ever found out about—” she placed two fingers over his mouth.

“I know what you thought,” she pursed her lips, shaking her head. “You underestimated me again. We’ll have to work on that.”

“Ali,” he buried his nose in her sweet smelling hair, marveling that she was really his. His. Was it possible to burst with joy? “I love y’so much,” he murmured.

“That’s all I need to know,” she said, softly kissing his ear, “except…”

He pushed up, and, uh-oh, he knew that look.

Turning his head cautiously to the side, he watched her from the corner of his eyes. He was afraid to ask…“Except what?”

“Except, what did Delilah say to you that night in the bar?”

“Ugh!” he dropped his face to her slender neck, licking at her soft pulse, hoping beyond hope that she would—

“No, you don’t,” she pushed him back, her expression comically stern. “You’re not going to distract me with that. Come on, spill. It’s been driving me crazy.”

He blew out a defeated breath, then bent his head to whisper Delilah’s prophecy into the little shell of her ear. “She said she saw us married within six months.”

“And you thought that was funny?”

“It was so absurd I couldn’t even fathom it,” he admitted, still unable to believe his infinite good fortune.

When he looked at her, her smile was bright enough to light up the room. “Well,” she said, “I guess Delilah is smarter than the both of us.”

“Guess so.”

“Nate?”

“Hmm?” He started kissing her neck in earnest. Enough with the talk, already. He needed to show her his love again. Again and again and again.

“I want babies. Lots of babies.”

Oh, man, he was instantly filled with gripping fear and unfathomable happiness. Babies.

Ali wanted to have his babies. He leaned up one elbow, looking down at her and imagining little girls with golden curls and little boys with eyes the color of amber. “Define lots.”

“I love children, so…at least four.” She looped slim, feminine arms around his neck and nipped at his jaw. “How does that sound to you?”

How did it sound? It sounded crazy and wonderful and…and…damned scary. It sounded like his greatest dream come true.

He could barely speak around the hard lump lodged directly behind his Adam’s apple. “It sounds…perfect,” he whispered.

And that said it all.

His world, once so terribly dark and damaged, was filled with sweet perfection, because he had the only thing he ever wanted.

He had Ali.





Read on for a sneak peek at Julie Ann Walker’s





In Rides Trouble


    Available September 2012 From Sourcebooks Casablanca





Prologue


“We’re definitely changing the name.” Frank “Boss” Knight pulled the Hummer up in front of the sad little pre-fab building and glanced at the hand-painted wooden sign screwed over the front door: Becky’s Badass Bike Builds.

“Too much alliteration for you?” Bill Reichert snickered from the passenger seat while unbuckling his seatbelt and throwing open the door. The frigid winter wind whipped into the interior of the vehicle, prompting Frank to grab his black stocking cap from the dashboard and tug it over his head and ears before zipping his parka up to his chin.

If this thing actually worked out, Chicago winters were definitely going to take some getting used to. Of course, freezing temps were a small price to pay for a good, solid cover for his new defense firm. And joining Bill’s kid sister in her custom Harley chopper business, posing as mechanics and motorcycle buffs, promised to be a freakin’ phenomenal cover for all the guys he’d recruited away from the various branches of the armed services. Especially considering most of them were bulky, tattooed, and—without regulation military haircuts—just scruffy enough to pass for their own chapter of Hell’s Angels.

He pushed out of the Hummer and had to lower his chin against the gust of wind that punched him in the face like an icy fist. Shoving his hands deep in his coat pockets, he trudged up to the front door through the path someone had shoveled in the thick blanket of snow.

Bill applied a gloved thumb to the buzzer, and five seconds later, a familiar noise sounded from the behind the metal door, making the hair on the back of Frank’s neck stand up.

How do you know you’ve been in the business too long? When you recognize the sound of a .45 caliber being chambered from three feet away, that’s how.

“Who is it?” a deep, wary voice inquired from within.

“I thought you said she knew we were coming,” Frank hissed over Bill’s shoulder.