Selah’s Wish (Imperial Knights MC #1)

Chapter 9

NINE

Selah

“You’re walking funny this morning,” Laney teases as she feeds Nix his bottle. Naveah and Nova are fast asleep in the playpen we sat up in my living room. When she showed up, she looked frazzled and in need of some female bonding.

“What can I say, my man has a big dick,” I remark. As we banter back and forth I never lose the flow of typing on my keyboard—as a mother, one has to be able to multitask.

I had some interesting things pop up overnight in regard to Joceline’s husband. He has some shady business dealings and just as shady associates. This isn’t a guilt by association thing either, he’s buried so deep in their dealings that if this got leaked to the right people, he’d be doing some time of his own. But I can’t do that yet, there are things that need to be found and destroyed first.

“Oh, I know all about big dick ego’s,” Laney snickers. “Dragon and Butcher have that in spades.”

“That they do,” I concur, squinting at my screen. “That slick motherfucker.”

“Okaaay,” she says, drawing the word out, looking over at me with skepticism. “I’m a little confused here, Selah. Are we still talking about Dragon and Butcher in this regard, or someone different. Because I agree, they can both be sly assholes, but by the expression on your face, I think we’re having a separate conversation here.”

“Sorry,” I say, brushing my hand through the air. “I’m following a lead on a target and I’ve found some shit he’s tried to hide.”

She snorts before saying, “With a sleuth like you on his trail, I doubt there are many skeletons in his closet that won’t be exposed.”

Bobbing my head, I respond, “That’s because when I want to know something, I dig deep like a dog trying to unearth his bone, no matter how deep it's been buried, I’m gonna find it.”

“That’s not a bad thing, Selah. Why do you sound as if it is?” Laney inquires.

“I’m still dealing with a few demons of my own,” I say, unmasking myself.

I don’t like to admit that I still hear the assholes from the community whispering their degrading words in my ear—that’s a battle I’m going to have to overcome myself. It’s a war battling itself out inside of my head and heart that I hope one day dissipates. I’ve joined the forum that Harper and Laney did, and whereas the therapist who created it is fantastic at helping us deal with our past traumas, there are still some things that linger in the background, things that are going to take years for me to process so I can become victorious.

“Well, those demons are pieces of shit and need to shut their damn mouths,” Laney spits out, her eyes full of fire and brimstone.

Since she was all but auctioned off, and spent some time in the clutches of the society I was raised within, if anyone understands what I’m going through, without any doubts, it’s her. It’s an eye-opening experience when you discover there are people out there who have no compassion in their hearts. I grew up there, and I still shudder at the fact that their endorphins fly off the charts and they get their rocks off on the torture and detriment of others. I didn’t meet one leader in the entire colony that wasn’t either a pedophile, rapist, or murderer, or had the potential to become one.

“Couldn’t agree with you more on that,” I respond as I open my file folder on my screen and put the documents I’ve uncovered into it for safekeeping.

I’m not sure if I should be sharing this one with Beast or not, so I leave it marked as personal. He and I have access to each other’s computers, but if it’s not club related, or financially beneficial to the club, we don’t invade each other’s personal space. I’m the money-maker, and he’s the protector when it comes to all things technical. We join forces when the situation calls for it, and when I get the go-ahead from Butcher, I’ll make sure all of my discoveries are made accessible to him.

“Mom!” Nitro shouts as he comes bounding into the room. The girls stir in their playpen so I place my finger to my mouth, silently reminding him that we have little ones trying to nap. “Sorry.” His voice lowers and he wears an apologetic look on his face. Laney and I both silently chuckle when he tiptoes to us, trying to be as quiet as possible.

“What’s up, kiddo?” I ask him when he’s within a normal hearing range.

“We’re bored. Can we go in the front yard and play?” he asks, his eyes pleading with me to say yes. I bite my bottom lip in apprehension because my fear-laced anxiety is screaming, “hell no.”

Since getting the girls back, I’ve become a bit obsessive with having them in my sight. It’s become a phobia of mine. I know I’m considered a helicopter mom, but I can’t help it. My biggest fear is losing them again. And unfortunately for Nitro, who has had a lot of leeway and freedom with his dad, he has fallen under that umbrella of protection, much to all of their chagrin.

“Please, Mom. We’ll stay in the perimeter of the house,” he begs.

Laney pulls the bottle out of Nix’s mouth and begins patting him on his back as he nods off. “If you’ll listen out for these three, I’ll go out and watch them,” she offers. “They’ve all been fed and changed, we have at least two hours before they’ll wake up.”

Even though her kids are all over the age of one, they are chunky monkeys who demand food every four hours like clockwork, and their naps rival that of a newborn. What has me endeared to them the most, is they still let their mom hold their bottles while they eat. That’s not always the case, but they somehow know that she needs that bond with them now and again and let her have that one-on-one time with them.

“That should be fine, I have work to do anyway. Mind your Aunt Laney and stay inside of the ring of the house. If I call you, you need to be able to hear me. Are we clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he rushes out before his feet carry him down the hallway toward his sisters, still walking on the tips of his toes.

“He’s a good boy,” Laney wistfully says.

“The best,” I tack on. “They’re sneaky little shits when they gang up together, don’t let them run all over you, Laney. Don’t let them talk you into anything, because trust me, they talk circles around me and Butcher at times.”

“Got it. It’ll be good practice for when these three hit their age,” Laney states.

I snicker before telling her, “I hope those are your good running shoes.” I glance down at her feet and huff. How she wears sneakers in this weather is a mystery to me. My toes would be nothing but frozen nubs if I tried wearing such little protection on my feet.

She side-eyes me before declaring, “Snow boots hurt the soles of my feet. Every single time I’ve attempted to wear and walk in them, I end up with blisters.”

Before we can continue on with our conversation, the kids come out dressed in their winter gear, bouncing in anticipation.

I point my finger at them in a reminder and they all nod their heads. Yeah, I’ve got this mom shit down.