Chapter Twenty Three

R uger pulled his helmet off. The cool breeze hit his scalp, reminding him how long he'd sat in the state penitentiary.

He'd had a shaved head his entire childhood. When he'd struck out on his own with Katrina's mother in tow, it only made sense to put the dragon on his head where everyone could see it. At the time, he never dreamed he'd spend eighteen years in a cell, and his dragon would be hidden from everyone's view.

But it was time to look toward the future.

He had a grandson coming. He had Katrina settled in with Jagger. And for now, he had Rachel.

He walked into the clubhouse. The others riding out with him were already at the table.

Once he approached, Jagger slid a duffle across the table to Dio. "Watch your backs."

They needed no other instructions. They all had a part to get the money to the pot shop. Once there, Moroad had their paid workers change the books and absorb the cash. Havlin got paid under the table.

"We ride in ten minutes," shouted Cord.

Maverick cleared his throat before draining the last of his coffee. Having barely sat down, Ruger got back up, ready to work so he could get back home to Rachel.

He followed the others out of the clubhouse and spotted Katrina leaving the car. She searched the area, finally spotting Jagger, and hurried toward him, holding her stomach. He swallowed hard. Every time he saw her, it scared the hell out of him, thinking she'd have to go through the pain of childbirth.

She was his baby.

He'd missed so much of his life. That wasn't going to happen to his grandchild. He planned to be around for a long, long time.

Her gaze swept over the men, including him, as she talked with Jagger. Then, her neck straightened, and her gaze snapped back to him. He tilted his head, alerted that something was wrong with his daughter.

She broke away from Jagger and walked toward him, never taking her gaze off him. He met her halfway across the lot.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She grabbed his arm, stopped him, and then walked around him, staring at his head. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. He'd forgotten about his new look.

Katrina stopped in front of him. He tilted her face, seeing tears pooled in her eyes.

"Talk to me," he whispered.

"You uncovered Havie." A tear slid down her cheek.

At four years old, she pronounced Havlin as Havie. When he got the tattoo, she pointed at the dragon and called it Havie. From then on, they made a game out of Havie carrying her to bed. Havie eating all his dinner. Havie reading her a story.

He caught the droplet with his thumb. "You remembered."

"In prison, you always wore your hair long." She sniffed. "I had forgotten."

She pressed her palm to the side of his jaw. He grunted. She was making too big of a deal out of the changes.

"I'm just an old man under all that hair and whiskers." He chuckled.

She shook her head. "I like it."

"Let's ride," shouted Cord.

He kissed Katrina's forehead. "Gotta go, baby."

"Ride safe."

"Always." He looked over his shoulder. "Your kid needs a grandpa, huh?"

Katrina covered her mouth and nodded, crying again. He stopped, unsure what to do with her.

"Go on." She shooed him away. "I'm just emotional today. Give me five minutes, I'll be ready to kick everyone's ass."

"That's my girl," he whispered, more to himself.

There was a time when her momma would switch between anger and sadness when she was pregnant with Katrina. Looking back, there was probably more he could've done for her, but at the time, he was young, scared, and trying to make a living for his family.

He had no idea Katrina's mom was going to abandon her at the hospital and take off.

The others had already started their bikes. He put on his helmet and straddled the seat. Cord led them away from the clubhouse. For the first time in a while, he felt like he was getting a handle on living on the outside.