His pulse fluttered against my fingers but kept beating. I have no idea how long I sat there in a daze, watching him and willing him to live, before smoke began to burn my eyes. Snapped out of my desperate trance, I wasn't sure if the smoke was coming from the outside or inside, but I'd run out of time. I'd rather die from a gunshot than burn alive.

With no regard to making a racket now, I shoved aside piles of garbage with a strength I didn't know I had, moving heavy furniture to the side so I could make it to the part of the loft that sagged closest to the ground. It was still at least a one-story drop, but that was better than two.

Grabbing a rusting metal chair with a faded 1970s floral print cushion, I swung it at the already mostly broken window, smashing out the rotted frame and making as big a hole as I could. Next, I grabbed a moldering mattress, hoping that we didn't get impaled on a rusty spring as I tossed it out to the window and to the ground. Even when I stuck my head out no one took a shot at me. The air was thick with smoke, and I slipped my shirt up over my nose and mouth to filter out as much of it as possible.

By the time I made it back to my man, I was having a hard time seeing and had to rely on touch to get through the nightmare maze of crap to the busted out window.

My lungs felt like I had inhaled shards of glass, but I ignored the pain and pushed past it like I'd been trained. In that instant, I was thankful for every bit of my father's harsh discipline, thankful for every ounce of determination he'd given me to do what needed to be done without regard to my own suffering. If I'd had one drop less of willpower, I never would have been able to get Smoke's heavy body over the ledge.

He landed mostly on the mattress and didn't give any indication of having felt the drop.

I know he was still breathing because he coughed weakly a couple times, but a numbness was growing inside of me, a whisper of unbelievable loss. Not wanting to jump onto Smoke I tried to aim to his left. One moment I was crouched, the next airborne as I fell. The gunshot that hit me mid-fall took me by surprise, sending fire spreading through my leg. I landed with a harsh scream, the pain excruciating as I grabbed my thigh, knowing that the bullet had hit bone.

A man approached me out of the haze of smoke whirling around in a harsh wind that revealed hints of the landscape around me, like bits of a grey cotton wall torn open. He raised his gun, and I prayed that God would take care of my loved ones as I waited for my death and got ready to meet Smoke in Heaven, promising myself that if he was in Hell I'd find a way to join him.

There were five loud shots, but I didn't feel anything, then something thumped down near my feet.

It was the shooter, and I struggled to understand what had happened.

My first thought was Smoke, but a quick glance in his direction showed him still passed out. I looked in the other direction and found a man in a skull facemask with dark riding glasses on approaching us. Something about him was familiar, but I couldn't quite place where I'd seen him before.

He raised his gun in Smoke's direction, and I thought he was going to shoot him, but another voice yelled from nearby, "Vance! Any sign of 'em?"

Slowly, ever so slowly, he lowered the gun then yelled back while he lowered his facemask, "Hulk, I've got 'em! Tell Beach we're gonna need medical help, lots of it."

Okay, that was it, my brain officially gave up.

We were safe.

Against all fucking odds, we were safe.

My vision was fading fast, but I strained to reach up and touch Vance's cheek as he knelt next to me then pulled him down to give him a kiss on the lips. Surprise showed in his dark eyes, but I cupped his cheek and forced myself to say, "Thank you, thank you for finding us. You saved my life. Please, don't let Smoke die."

For a moment I swear he looked conflicted, but I could hear people approaching and he nodded. "Take it easy, sweetheart, we'll do what we can to help him."

After that, everything became a whirl of people talking too loud, mixing with pain in my leg and anguish over Smoke's condition, and I fell straight over the edge into darkness.

I sat uncomfortably beside Smoke's hospital bed waiting for him to decide to rejoin the land of the living, but he continued to sleep on.

Almost every inch of his strong body was bandaged, and where it wasn't covered in white cloth, scabs and scars were forming. I was currently in a wheelchair, as comfortable as I could be with a fractured thigh bone, a couple dozen stitches, and a bunch of other bullshit including the fact that I fucked up my lower back up when I jumped and fell wrong.

When I woke up, I was still mostly out of it, but the first thing I wanted to know was how Smoke was doing. No one would tell me anything for fear of upsetting me. Just as I was gearing up to rip out my IVs and go to look for him, Julia showed up. At the sight of her, I burst into tears, and she gathered me into her arms, both of us ignoring the nurses telling us to calm down, that it wasn't good for me to have so much excitement. I learned that Smoke suffered a pretty severe concussion, multiple burns, broken bones in his hand, and various other injuries that she didn't go into other than to say that he was expected to make a full recovery, but they had no idea when he'd come out of his coma.

When I next surfaced from my deep sleep, I found out they had me hooked up to a morphine pump, and I freaked out then babbled about my mom shooting me up and begging them to take it out of my arm. Everyone in the room stopped moving at once and stared at me. The nurses, doctors, interns, fuckin' everyone including Beach and Hustler gaped at me with a range of expressions I couldn't even begin to process. Even though my mom was the one that put that shit in me, I felt ashamed. Like my blood was dirty. After about two seconds of silence Beach had flipped out and started ranting and raving.

Hulk had come over and leaned down real close, eye to eye. The medical staff didn't stop him because they were busy dealing with Beach, and I stared up into his frosty pale green eyes set off by his smooth, dark skin. "Listen up, Swan. If you ever feel the need to do that shit again, don't. It will take your soul, change who you are, and destroy the world around you for the feeling of false love. And I will personally hunt you down and put you in my version of rehab. Trust me, you don't want that."

My mouth, loosened by painkillers, decided to let Hulk know that wouldn't be necessary, but thanks for the offer. "You are out of your fucking mind. Do I really look like someone who had the desire to do drugs? My mom tried to shove them on me all the time, and I turned her down because I will not ever touch any shit like that. I watched my mother turn into a monster, Hulk, a cruel, screwed up, narcissistic woman who shot her daughter up with heroin in a misguided attempt to save me from the discomfort of being raped. So trust me when I say you can kiss my lily white ass, the only man I answer to is my fiance, and you aren't him, so fuck off."

The last words came out in a shout, and I soon passed out after hitting my pain pump, not giving a shit if it was morphine at that point because I was incoherent with agony.

After that, I had a brief reunion with my parents and sister before the doctors came in and ushered everyone out while they examined me. When I was shot, the bullet grazed my thigh bone and I fractured it when I landed after I jumped out the window, leaving the leg fucked up. Basically, I'd be doing rehab for a while and there was a possibility that I would walk with a limp. I hated to admit that my vanity was pricked by that, but I'd gladly hobble for the rest of my life as long as I could spend it with Smoke. They weren't ready to let me see him yet, but I made it clear nothing would stop me from getting to his side. The docs gave in, but only as long as they were satisfied with my progress and if I behaved, then adequate arrangements would be made.

The next time I woke, my parents and Beach along with Sarah were there, and everyone was very, very careful to keep calm around me. I would have found Beach's attempt to be mellow funny if his worry hadn't been so evident. I'd told them what I remembered and learned that two days prior Cruz had been found dead in a garage with a bullet through the back of the head. With my new information, they figured that whoever Chief was, he probably worried about Cruz talking so he eliminated the threat. The other men I killed had either been Los Diablos members or guys that they hadn't been able to figure out a connection to yet.

When tears came to Beach's midnight blue eyes as he thanked me for helping to save Sarah and their unborn child as well as Smoke, I lost it and ended up crying while I hugged Beach, and my parents hugged me, and Sarah just sat there bawling.

Things hadn't been easy these past few weeks, that was for sure, and I spent a lot of time when I was alone trying to cry away the stress. Sarah and I also spent a lot of time talking about our mother and trying to come to terms with her death. The club had taken over planning her funeral since she really didn't have any friends or family who would come to a wake if we had one. With that in mind, we decided on a quiet ceremony and burial at a local cemetery since Austin was our new home.

Sarah was blissfully happy with Beach, and her bump was getting bigger by the day, making me think about her future with Beach and my future with Smoke.

Now, a week later as I sat beside Smoke's bed, I gently stroked the hand that hadn't been crushed and hummed softly. I was doped up on some pretty good non-addictive painkillers and was content to sit here for the rest of my life until he woke up. The part of my mind that hadn't dealt with everything I had been through insisted that if I left his side he wouldn't wake up. Even though I knew it was irrational superstition, I planned on being here as much as possible.

Across the room, Hulk and Hustler sat in all their dark and broody, good-looking glory and pretended to watch TV while I tried to pour my love into Smoke. Things were kind of weird between the club members and me because sometime in the past few days I'd somehow achieved mythical status among the members of Iron Horse. Sarah said they were telling tales about me that made me sound like a cross between a Valkyrie and Rambo. She also said she was pretty sure there were some members who would rather face Smoke than me in a fight.

I was totally flattered and couldn't help smiling every time I thought about it.

Hell, being a bad ass was better than being a dead ass, that was for sure.

Because I was watching Smoke so intently, I noticed that the fine lines around his still swollen eyes were twitching. Holding my breath, I leaned closer, ignoring the twinge of pain from my battered body and held my breath. Sure enough he began to move a little more, soft groans rising from his lips. Hulk and Hustler both stood up, but I waved them back.

"Smoke?" I spoke in as strong of a voice as I could manage when all I wanted to do was burst into relieved tears.

"Hmm?" He grunted, then frowned. "Hurts."

My fingers trembled as I stroked the thick stubble covering his cheeks. "Easy, you've been through a lot. Take a second to catch up. You're in a hospital and you're pretty beat up, but we're safe."

"Safe...safe..." He seemed to be testing the word out, and he tried to open his eyes, then closed them again. "Bright."

Without having to ask Hustler hit the lights and Hulk closed the shades. I gave them a quick nod in thanks before returning my attention to Smoke. "Better?"

He tried again and his muzzy gaze quickly searched me out. "Baby girl."

"Hi," I said in a broken chirp.

"What happened?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"I think it was when they tied me to that bed. There are bits and pieces after that, but nothing useful." Grave shadows of what had to be remembered pain tightened the fine lines around his eyes. "What happened?"

Before I could say anything, Hustler spoke up in a rough voice, "I'll tell you what the fuck happened. Swan went all Berserker Barbie on us and killed every mother fucker there, except one that Vance got."

I swear there was anger in Smoke's gaze and he opened his mouth to say something, but Hulk cut him off, "You're real lucky to have such a good woman, Smoke. Without her you'd be playin' pool with the devil right now. I expect you to use the rest of your sorry life to let her know how much you love her and how much she means to you. A woman like her is a gift from God. You better respect that gift, or he'll take it away."

To my shock, the anger dissipated, and Smoke sighed while I blushed at Hulk's profuse praise. Smoke slowly lifted his good hand and placed it over mine before looking at Hustler. "Tell me everything."

Hustler glanced my way. "Maybe we should wait until later."

Smoke gave my hand the gentlest squeeze. "No, she stays. Swan's a part of me, and anything you can say to me you can say to her."

With a shrug Hustler nodded. A week ago he might have fought Smoke on revealing club business to me, but Veronica's murder had changed him. He didn't joke like he used to, and he was disturbingly quiet. It didn't help that there was a rumor going around that Hustler was the traitor, and Veronica had known it, so he killed her. The very idea was outlandish, but the whole club was in an uproar knowing that someone among them was pretending to be their brother, a man they trusted, a man who still had a grudge against Smoke. I couldn't help but wonder if the rumors behind Hustler being the traitor were started by Chief, but I brushed that thought to the side.

All I wanted to do right now was spend every moment I could with Smoke, to try and satisfy my never ending need for my man. As the guys discussed the political situation within the Iron Horse MC, I didn't really pay attention, focused only on how vitally alive Smoke was in spite of the beatings he'd taken. Color had returned to his face, and he somehow appeared bigger, more alive than he had while he slept.

The moment Hulk left to go get Beach and Hustler left to go get a nurse, to let them know Smoke was awake, I leaned down and whispered in his ear, "We should have babies, soon."

He blinked a couple times. "What?"

I flushed and gently stroked his curls. "Babies. I've been thinking about it, and I want to have them with you. Without a doubt you will be a wonderful father."

He tried to smile, then grimaced. "Can we wait until I'm a little more healed up? I'm all for starting right now, but I'm afraid that while the mind is willing the flesh is weak."

"I didn't mean right this instant, dork. Just that I want to have children with you in the near future. I have it all planned out."

The edges of his bruised lips twitched. "Do you now?"

"Yeah. We're going to get married, then have a big reception at my parents' place for all of our friends and family, including the club. We'll live in your house, maybe add on some rooms for the kids and an office, then I'll do freelance accounting work. I can either get online gigs or come work for you, like you suggested, as an independent contractor. We can do that for however long we want, and when we're ready, I want to have at least four kids with you."

"Four? Why four?"

"It's a good, even number." I shrugged, trying not to wince as the action pulled on my sore muscles. "I don't know, it just sounds right for us."

He gave a soft, strained chuckle. "It does."

"You on board with this plan?"

"I am, but I want to make a couple requests."

"Like what?"

"One, I want permission to pamper and spoil you whenever I want."

"I can deal with that."

"Two, I want you to promise me you'll always come to me if you have a problem. No running off and playing hero. We're a team, and we have to trust each other."

"Agreed."

"Three, I want to get married as soon as possible. We can have a ceremony later but I want you to be Mrs. Swan Santos by tomorrow."

"What?"

Hulk chose that moment to come back in the room with a pretty middle-aged Asian nurse at his heels. She didn't look happy to see me, and I couldn't blame her. I wasn't very nice to the staff whenever they tried to keep me away from Smoke, but when she caught sight of my man her smile was genuine. "Mr. Santos, it's so good to see you awake. The doctor is on his way."

Smoke sat up a little bit and gave her his no bullshit stare. Even with his swollen eyes and battered face, it was pretty effective. "I want a marriage license and a justice of the peace as soon as possible."

He glanced at me as if asking if it was all right and I glared at him, then turned back to the nurse. "No, we don't."

Smoke made a pained noise and I turned back to him. "You don't want to get married?"

"What? No, of course I do. But I want a real wedding, Smoke. Not here in the hospital on painkillers. Our wedding album would not be pretty. I want to do it right and we are spending the rest of our lives together, regardless of any stupid paper." I touched his hair as gently as I could. "You own my heart, Miguel. I'm your old lady. Papers don't mean shit."

That familiar soft, warm, velvet brown that I adored filled his gaze as he roughly purred, "Baby."

The nurse cleared her throat, and I glanced over at her then followed her wide eyed gaze, finding that yes indeed, a certain part of Smoke's anatomy had made a full, vigorous recovery.

I didn't care for the way the nurse was staring at his crotch so I covered him with my hands and said, "Mine."

Smoke started to laugh, then groaned, and I quickly removed my hands, watching the blood drain from his face and other parts of his body. "Fuck, laughing hurts."

The nurse recovered from the magic that is Smoke's sexual voodoo and shook her head before saying, "Yes, well Mr. Santos you are a very lucky man. Ms. Anderson, if you could leave us for a few minutes there are some tests that the doctor will need to perform on Mr. Santos. I can call your nurse and she can help you freshen up."

As soon as she said that, I became aware of the overall grungy level of my appearance and wanted to scrub the hell out of my hair ASAP.

"Yeah, that would be nice. Promise me I can come back?"

With a sigh, the nurse started fiddling with the machine next to Smoke. "I don't think we could keep you away."

I met Smoke's gaze and fell into the warmth there, wrapping myself up in his all-encompassing, unconditional love for me.

Epilogue.

Miguel 'Smoke' Santos I stood beneath an archway of twining branches woven together and decorated with teal and silver ribbons along with, I shit you not, eight thousand dollars worth of flowers and other girly bullshit surrounding me on the soft green grass of the Anderson family's compound. It was a beautiful early summer sunset, and the Christmas lights woven through the trees surrounding us, burned like fireflies. The perfect amount of warmth still filled the air, and the scent of everything growing mixed with the perfume of the roses, white lilacs, and orchids that decorated the end seat on each row of white-cloth-covered chairs.

It had been a long, hard winter and spring full of grief and healing, but right now, I felt like I was starting over again, like I'd been given a chance at a newer, better life.

The audience of over four hundred people all stared at me and my groomsmen, making me unusually nervous in my black tuxedo, while off to the side, a six-piece band played classical music. Even in the outdoor setting, the ceremony itself was elegant and high class, the result of Sarah's obsessive wedding planning. Give that woman something to decorate and you better just hand over your credit card and get the fuck out of her way.

Especially when her pregnancy hormones were in full swing.

My good mood dimmed for a moment as I surveyed the audience, wondering if that mother fucker 'Chief' was out there somewhere, smiling and pretending to be happy for us while he plotted against me. That bastard had a shit ton to answer for. When I found him-and I would find him-he would pay. Motherfucker was slick and well connected. Right around the time we were being rescued, Cruz and his nephew Dipper, from the Iron Horse MC Austin Chapter, had been murdered, along with Donkey and Alisha up in Denver, probably to cover Chief's tracks. Dead men tell no tales and all that shit.

Breaker and his men found all kinds of evidence in their home, including taped conversations that Donkey had made during his dealings with Chief, which had been hidden in a place where Khan could find them. Those tapes didn't get us any closer to finding out who Chief was, but we did find out that Donkey and Alisha had turned because of some massive gambling debts they both owed. They'd also found a pair of sparkly blue shoes with dolphins on them in Alisha's closet.

It had been a real blow to the fuckin' chest for the club. Everyone was still wary about it, all of us wondering who else might be selling us out. Beach and I were hoping that this wedding would help bring people back together, to remind them that we're family, and that we're worth fighting for through the bad times to get to the good. My heart swelled with pride as I looked out over the crowd and briefly met the gazes of so many decent men and women who would always have my back, always be there for me, and for them, I would do the same.

Beach and Sarah's four-month-old, blonde daughter, Kylie, sat on Beach's Mom's lap, who was crammed into the crowded front pew of the bride's side with Mimi. Next to Mimi sat her sisters and father, the Don of the Stefano mafia family, which pretty much controlled southern Texas. Mimi dabbed at her eyes as the music for the wedding march started up. I'd met Swan's grandfather yesterday at the rehearsal dinner that had turned into a big party. He had to be in his eighties and stood at about five-foot-two, but I believed him when he said he could make me disappear if I hurt Swan. My girl had actually gotten teary eyed at that statement and ambushed her grandfather with a hug. Yeah, that was the kind of family I was marrying into, and I couldn't be happier.

The band struck up the opening music for the wedding march, and I took a deep breath, happy that the long wait to make Swan my wife was almost over.