Malicious: A Nomad Biker Novel (Raiders of Valhalla MC Book 1), Elizabeth Knox [best book series to read TXT] 📗

“We have the money from the last job we did with the Inferno’s Clutch MC. The mother to the daughter we helped them get back gave a rather large bonus,” Rati snickers.

I quirk a brow in his direction. “Wanna tell me what I missed?” I demand.

“Marker found out more and took money from them he felt was well deserved since the woman’s husband’s the one who caused the whole situation to begin with.” Runes shrugs. “Now, what do you all think of us using the bonus money we got to buy the warehouse?”

The room is filled with unanimous ayes.

Guess this is really happenin’. For once the Raiders of Valhalla will have a place to call their own. It doesn’t mean we won’t be on the road as much as possible, but what it’ll mean is we have a place to rest our heads.

It might sound weird, but I’m excited for it.

I thought my entire life might change when Amanda died, but thankfully it hasn’t. My brothers are here to support me in any way they can.

Chapter Eleven

Charm

It’s been a couple of days and my interactions with Fenrir have been getting a bit better. I don’t know why, but it’s like we’re both shoving the feelings we initially had about one another deep down, and we’re acting like adults for the kids. It’s easy to see he loves them more than anything else on this planet, but it makes me realize he must’ve had good reasons for not being around. I don’t know much about the biker lifestyle, but I’m trying to. Sure, Amanda told me a little bit, but she didn’t go into the details.

It’s Sunday, and Fenrir always has the kids all day long. He tells me that Sundays should be my day to relax, so I take him up on it. I also want to respect the fact he’s their father and needs time alone with them. They don’t need me constantly hovering around, and for the most part, I don’t. However, whenever I’m not at the spa I’m with the kids. I don’t go in most days until nine in the morning, which is when they’re already in school, and I typically get out around four, or worst case five. I don’t even eat dinner. I head straight over to see them. It’s like at this point they’re my family. It might be weird for outsiders, but when I really take a moment to think about it, Amanda was my family. Sure, we might not have ever been blood, but I loved that woman more than I can ever express, and I cherish every single one of her children.

I’m even beginning to cherish her ex.

It’s odd to say, though it feels natural in a sense. Over the last few days I’ve seen different parts of him. The way he’ll stop whatever he’s doing to look his kids in the eyes and respond to them, to the way he’ll explain any sort of question they might have. I’ve been able to see just how much he loves them, and it’s beautiful. It’s like he’s showing me the most fragile part of himself, without even knowing it.

He’s tried to be nice to me over the last couple days, but to be honest, we haven’t spoken to each other too much. We’ve been there for the kids, and that’s what’s important. We have to keep putting them first. Even if we don’t ever get along, they’re the most important thing. Amanda would want us to make sure they continue to be the priority, and so it’ll be. I often think about what she’s thinking, if she’s staring down over my shoulder watching everything unfold, and sometimes I even wonder if she’s up in heaven helping them up there as well.

Shaking my head, I go into my back sunroom and stare out onto the back of my property, staring at the lovely gardens my grandmother planted years ago. The same flowers that come back every year.

I close my eyes and see his face. The way his eyes seem to look straight into my soul. The way he smiles when he’s talking to the kids. But more than either of those, I see the way his eyes wander over to mine when they’re focused on something. The lost moments. The hidden smiles. The way I feel like he’s trying to reach out to me, but can’t.

Maybe it’s because I’m not letting him. Because I want some sort of apology that isn’t steaks. I don’t know what I want. Not when I really think about it. I don’t know what I fucking want and it’s aggravating, but every time Fenrir fucking smiles at me or his eyes lock onto mine from across the room, I can’t help but have butterflies soaring across my stomach.

I inhale deeply and open my eyes, knowing I should do something to make things even more right between us. Whether I want to or not, there’s something deep in my heart calling me to him. Something I feel obligated to explore at some point, and the only way I’m ever going to be able to is if he gives me a chance.

I could make him something. I love to bake, but I can’t live anything down after the brownie incident. He won’t ever trust me even if I try to make him dinner, breakfast, or anything. I doubt he’d even trust me if I try to buy him food. He’d probably think I poisoned it or something.

Shaking my head, I shove the thoughts of doing something sweet for Fenrir deep down and take a seat on the couch in the sunroom. After a few minutes I lay down, and before I know it, darkness is consuming me.

I wake to a knocking sound on my back door, and the first thing I spot is