BEAR

Earlier...

I don't want to wake up. My head hurts every time I open my eyes. Natasha is in many of my dreams, always messing around with other guys. I beat up a few, but she keeps finding more. Even stressed in the dreams, I like how close I am to catching her.

Tack tries to wake me softly. He whispers my name and shakes my shoulder. When I ignore him for long enough, he kicks the bed and threats to piss on me.

"You've got to get up, fool," he grumbles and spills water on my face. "You can't miss your big date."

I swing at him when he splashes me again. This round of liquid is hot, and I worry he's using me as a toilet.

Tack sidesteps my attempts to hit him. I smell my clothes and realize he's spilled coffee on me rather than piss.

"Asshole," I mutter, sitting with my head in my hands.

"Noble said you're expected at the Thibeaux Mansion in a few hours."

"What for?"

"Do you not know?"

"Shit," I mumble. "Did he tell you why?"

"No, but I assumed it's because you're still hung up on Natasha."

Rubbing my eyes, I peer up at him and consider lying. But he's been harboring a sloppy-bitch crush on Hunter Knudsen for a long time. The rich redhead is pals with Siobhan, but she won't give a biker like Tack the time of day.

"Don't you feel like a loser for wanting someone who doesn't want you?"

Tack runs a hand through his shaggy blond hair before shrugging. "I have no doubt Hunter wants me. But I lied to her because that shit worked on other women. Now, I've got to wait for my second chance."

"Don't you get lonely?"

"If you're asking if I miss pussy, sure. If you mean, do I cry every night in my pillow, no, I'm good. Thanks for asking, asshole."

Tack leaves me to clean up. After a long piss and shoving my face under the faucet, I'm awake enough to track him down in the clubhouse's kitchen. He gestures toward the coffee and asks if I want fried eggs.

"I might puke them up. I don't know what the hell I drank last night, but it's burning my stomach from the inside out."

"I'll make you toast."

Settling at a nearby table, I drink coffee and think about what I told Noble last night. The words are coming back to me.

Tack soon sets my toast and eggs in front of me and then drops into the chair across from mine to eat his own food.

"Bear, screw your head on straight. You're getting your second chance. You better not blow it. I'm not sure guys like us get third shots at the prize."

I look at my brother. He showed up months after I was settled in at the farm. As soon as the CPS lady left, Tack started punching everyone. He even swung at Aunt Fred who lifted a cast-iron pan as a shield. When Tack's fist made contact, he froze from the pain. Staring at her as she peered over the pan, he seemed to get spooked by her calm.

That's when the asshole took off out the back door. Sync, Pork Chop, and I went running after him. Between us, we pinned the surprisingly strong little shit.

"Do you want pain?" I asked Tack as he fought to break free.

"No!" he hollered like a wild animal.

"Then stop and you'll be fine."

Just like that, Tack's rage clicked off. He stared at my face as if seeing me for the first time.

"I thought I was going to get jumped," he explained. "Better to go down swinging than to get sucker punched."

Tack never threw another punch around the farm. Though he still gets plenty rowdy, he saves his fists for the club's enemies.

I'm so used to spending time with familiar people like Tack. I don't know the last time I let a new person close. Even Aneta's someone I've known for over a decade.

That's why I'm not sure how to deal with Natasha. We've barely spoken like two normal people. She couldn't hang around and chat after our sweaty fucks in the clubhouse bedrooms. I don't know her favorite anything. I considered asking Siobhan, but I didn't want to act like a high schooler with a crush.

After forcing down the food, I get a shower and grab clean clothes before preparing to leave for the Thibeaux Mansion. Before I go, Tack suggests I act sweet to her kids.

"She's bound to wonder if you're dad material. Use their names. Squat down like Sync does with his girls when they're talking. Try to seem interested, even when they're boring. Natasha's never going to forgive you if she thinks you'll be mean to her kids."

With that added pressure on my back, I ride to the Thibeaux Mansion. As I wait at a light, I text Siobhan to ask the kids' names. Since Natasha returned, I hadn't really considered her children. I only wanted another chance with my dream girl.

In fact, thinking of her kids pisses me off. Why did that other guy get to make babies with my woman? She was promised to me. I'm the victim here.

Realizing I'm about to show up in a snarly mood, I let my mind return to the second time Natasha shared her body with me. I'd been avoiding her all night. She was too beautiful, and I knew I couldn't keep her.

If I could have taken her out on a date and made shit real, I'd have been on her as soon as she walked through the door. But my ego got burned by the reality of her as Banta City royalty and me as the Syndicate's muscle.

I didn't want to get more attached to Natasha by fucking again, so I promised myself to stay clear of her.

Then, I caught her looking at me with sad eyes. My coldness hurt her feelings. Suddenly, I didn't care if she discarded me. I just wanted to be the guy who made her smile, even if it didn't last.

I strutted over to where she sat alone. Siobhan was dancing with Carys. Hunter was playing pool with Tack and a few other guys. Natasha sat alone, nursing her hurt feelings.

"Why are you pouting?" I asked, still hoping to keep my dignity intact.

Natasha slid out of the booth and stared up at me. Her sad gaze didn't warm at the sight of me.

"I was dumb that night we were together," she said, fighting tears.

Her words cut me deep down. I felt like she was just yanking out my heart and throwing it in the trash. Her shame over slumming it with biker dick filled the air.

"I should have been different," she mumbled, staring into my eyes as if I had the answers.

"How?"

"I don't know. Tell me and I'll be different."

"Don't act pathetic."

Natasha reacted as if I'd slapped her. The mafia princess lowered her gaze. Tears slid down her cheeks. She stood there, quietly crying in a loud biker bar.

Suddenly, she lifted her gaze and explained, "I feel like everyone wears masks, but being with you felt real. That's why I lost control of myself. I'm sorry if I did something wrong to make you not want me."

Not catching up to her words, I complained, "Are you saying Siobhan's fake?"

Natasha's gaze hardened, and she snarked, "She's always wonderfully real, but I can't exactly fuck her."

Her words cracked me up. I also liked how her temper stuck its head out to see if it might want to play. But mostly, I liked how she didn't regret going to the back bedroom with me.

I took Natasha's hand and tugged her away from the table. I half-expected her to resist me. I'd been acting like an asshole all night by ignoring her. I could have sat down and talked with her. We could be real. Except I'd still be the muscle and she'd be the daughter of the man who held my leash.

Rather than talk about life, I took her to the bedroom and fucked away her tears. Natasha held on tight for hours. I desperately wanted to believe we could be more.

Those memories settle me down as I arrive at the Thibeaux Mansion. Natasha was mine for two nights. That second time, she wasn't even tipsy. We were going to be married. I planned to take her out on a real date to talk wedding plans. I didn't care about the details. I just wanted her.

Today, I'll work my magic on her kids and offer to help Natasha. I don't have to be the bad guy anymore. I'm offering her a way to stay with her family and friends.

Standing out on the wide, front driveway, I don't acknowledge the security detail lingering close.

I run my hands through my hair a few times to make sure the ride over hasn't left me looking crazed. I casually breathe into my hand to ensure I'm still minty fresh.

Natasha appears from the double front doors. Her shiny blonde hair is loose. She's wearing blue jeans, a red-and-white striped shirt, and black sneakers. Her makeup can't hide the bruising around her left eye or the cut on her lower lip.

When her blue-eyed gaze finds me, I try to smile so she won't be afraid. Either I fail to properly smile, or her fear is too great. She stares at me with quiet wariness.

Feeling her pushing me away, I forget all about being charming or winning over her kids. My panic makes me stupid and aggressive.

"You made a promise," I tell her when she moseys closer.

Rather than looking at the kids, I only see Natasha who flinches from my angry tone.

"Things changed," she mumbles.

"No, you agreed to the deal. So did your family. You can't renege."

Natasha's shock at my tone shifts, and her lips clamp shut. I know she's fighting the urge to push back against my shit. Ollie's name is on her tongue, waiting to be used as a weapon.

"Spit it out," I sneer at her, angry over how I fucked up years ago and now won't get a prize I can't stop wanting.

Natasha refuses to give in to her temper. That's how the Kovak family works. They hold their tongues and keep their secrets. Their behavior isn't submission but sneakiness.

"I have children now," Natasha explains instead of what she really wants to say. "If you want your deal, you have to claim them, too."

I finally look at the blond kids flanking her. They keep licking their lips in a sloppy way. I notice their cheeks, chins, noses, and lips are bright pink. When I stare at them, wondering what's wrong with their little faces, they break into big smiles.

They're blond and blue-eyed like Natasha, but I don't really see any resemblance. I hate how they probably look like their shitty father.

Regaining my game plan, I squat and get eye-level with the kids. "I'm Bear," I tell the little boy and girl wearing matching blue shorts and yellow tops with a monkey across the front.

They look at each other and then at me. Growling, they turn their little fingers into claws.

"Yeah, like that," I say, unsure if they're making fun of me.

I pull out my phone and look at what information Siobhan sent.

"You're Hector," I tell the boy who gasps as if shocked by how I know his name.

"And you're," I say and frown at the text. The little girl looks at my phone like she's going to help me out, but I don't think she can read it, either. I force my gaze to find Natasha who stares at me as if I'm weird. "Siobhan sent their names, but I don't know how to say the girl's."

A little smile appears on Natasha's face. Her cold blue eyes warm with amusement. She sounds out the name which isn't as complicated as I expected.

"That's me," Jacinda says and takes my hand. "You color your arm."

The kids are very curious about the ink on my skin. I nearly lift the sleeve of my black T-shirt to show off the rest before remembering how skulls might scare little kids.

"You're both three," I say, checking the text. "Wait, what?"

The kids trace the lines on my arm while I frown at Natasha.

She explains softly, "They were born months apart by different women."

"They're not yours?" I blurt out.

Natasha's warming expression instantly goes Kovak chilly. I get the feeling she wants to grab the kids and ditch me.

I'm honestly relieved to know Natasha didn't give birth to these children. I want her to carry only my babies. Having some loser enjoy something I didn't get was eating at me. These new facts settle some of my edginess.

"They're not mine, either," I state before she can add another reason to hate me. "I'm still going to raise them like they're mine. Blood doesn't mean anything to a man like me."

Blinking rapidly, I think Natasha hurts herself from changing moods so quickly.

"You're sticking to your deal," I say when she seems confused. "You don't have to forgive me. You don't even really need to like me. But this is what I want, and it's what you need. So, it's what's happening."

Natasha Kovak never got very good at being a mafia princess. She often forgot to throw her weight around. Siobhan, Carys, and Hunter enter rooms with the confidence that comes from being backed by powerful people. Petra also never struggled to wield her mafia princess cred.

However, Natasha tends to let people push her around. The only time I've ever seen her go queen bitch on anyone was to protect Ollie.

Right now, as I set my foot down and explain what happens next, she doesn't know how to respond. With the kids fascinated by my tattoos, she can't exactly storm off.

By the time they tell me about their dolls, Natasha looks as confused as she did the night when I ignored her.

That night, I fixed her worries with a long, deep fuck. Today's going to take far more finesse.