Page 9 of Falcon

“Say excuse me,” I taunted, and Gauntlet elbow-barged me aside. Fucker.

“I’ve been up since four putting up bunting and shit. Wanna start something, Veep? I’m looking for someone to kick the hell out of,” Gauntlet growled.

“Gauntlet, Amberlea could have managed herself,” Penny chided.

“No old lady goes anywhere alone,” Gauntlet sniped, grabbing six sausage links and heading for the bacon next. He filled his plate with enough food for two men and then sat his ass down at the nearest table. Penny rolled her eyes at a woman behind the counter, Emma, who was cooking and fetched Gauntlet a coffee and toast.

“How come he gets waited on?” I demanded sulkily.

“Because he’s been up for four hours to your half an hour, Veep,” Penny retorted. I grabbed my food and sat opposite Gauntlet.

“Should have put a prospect on her,” I taunted. He gave me a dark look and bit into his bacon.

“Should have kicked your ass more when you were one,” Gauntlet complained, and I chuckled.

“That was a missed opportunity. Where’s Amberlea now?”

“Fetching the kids, with Faelea,” he replied.

It was hard to believe that Faelea was fourteen. Despite only being in our lives for four years, it felt like she’d been here forever. The teen entered carrying Trick, short for Patrick, Gauntlet’s three-year-old son, and Amberlea followed with Ramon, their two-year-old. Ramon was babbling happily away, which Trick scowled at like his dad. Yup, Trick would be the image of his father in twenty years.

Faelea lit up at seeing Gauntlet, and his smile softened for his girl.

“Lucifer!” Agatha, his gran, exclaimed, and I smirked. If Gauntlet was in trouble with her, she resorted to Lucifer, his given name; otherwise, Aggie called him Gauntlet.

“Now what, Gran? Can’t I eat in peace?” Gauntlet bit into the toast and rolled his eyes.

“What did you forget?”

“The damn napkins. Yeah. Gran, I’m taking them over after I’ve eaten, or is that a crime?” Gauntlet retorted, and I shoved a sausage into my mouth so I didn’t laugh out loud.

Aggie stared at me before turning to Gauntlet, who held a hand up. “No, Gran, I said I’d do it and I will, but let a man eat in peace!”

Aggie huffed and took Ramon off Amberlea. “Go eat,” she ordered as a prospect fetched two highchairs. There was no denying we were bikers, but a family club too. Highchairs were stacked away in a closet, and a toy box stood in the corner. Aggie placed Ramon in one while Faelea dropped Trick in the other, and they went to get their breakfast. Amberlea had brought the boys’ toast and sausage and was sitting down with her own when she looked up.

“Skank alert,” Amberlea hissed and chomped a piece of bacon. I bit back a grin at the dislike on her face. Amberlea was no longer locked up tight; she was very secure in being Gauntlet’s old lady and her place in the MC. The woman she was glaring at had somehow pissed her off.

“Good morning.” Scarlett smiled at us, and Amberlea offered a second scowl.

“It was until you walked in,” she snapped and sipped her coffee. A smile crossed Gauntlet’s lips at his wife acting up.

“Damn, you really don’t like her,” I muttered to Amberlea, who scowled.

“Fuck, no. She’s a whore,” she said loudly. I choked on a laugh as Scarlett flounced past us. She was Nightmare’s girlfriend and had her hooks firmly in him. Everyone thought she was a bitch. Scarlett had flirted with me, Steel, and Glitch, and we’d all rejected her. We’d told Nightmare, but he’d not been bothered.

“She’s a good lay, but not long-term,” he’d replied. At least he knew what she was.

Scarlett went to sit with us, but Amberlea’s icy stare made her pick another table. Amused, I leaned over and kissed her head as Gauntlet growled and flung a knife at me.

“Hands off my woman,” he snarled. Trick copied the sound, and Gauntlet looked delighted. “Make it deeper, son, like this,” Gauntlet repeated the noise, and Trick matched him.

“Wonderful, both of them will grunt like pigs for the foreseeable future,” Amberlea said and picked up a sausage, biting into it.

“Growl at me and I’ll wash your mouths out,” Aggie warned.

The door opened again, and I craned my neck to see who it was. Savage and Grace entered with Savage’s Uncle Earle following. Harper, now ten, and Isla, nine, scurried behind him, swinging their hands with his. Earle looked happy enough. Savage was glowering at his six-month-old twins who’d clearly done something.

“Little assholes,” Savage declared, sitting down. The twins’ eyes sparkled. Grace snorted as she placed two-year-old Jesse down and headed for more highchairs.