The Davenport Christmas Chronicles
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Christmas is approaching for the Dogs of Fire and Burning Saints Motorcycle Clubs, but rather than the usual holiday cheer, the air is filled with the tension of a brewing civil war.
The Gresham Spiders, a local 1% MC, is hellbent on expansion and both clubs lie directly in their path. Will assistance from an outside ally help diffuse the situation long enough to keep the peace during the holiday season?
Join Hatch and Minus, along with these two beloved MCs, as they celebrate the holidays and try to keep their clubs from splintering under the pressure.
Maisie
“Maisie?”
“Hm?” I turned from the sink, dropping the green beans I was rinsing, and focused on my man.
Hatch’s beautiful face formed an expression of bemusement mixed with concern. “Babe, I’ve called your name at least three times. You okay?”
“Oh, I’m golden, darling. Just up to my elbows in veggies.” I was in the compound kitchen, alone for the moment, and trying to figure out what would make the prison-style room look homier. The kitchen was built inside the large warehouse, which meant no windows, other than the passthrough to the great room. “We need some color in here.”
“We do?”
“Yes. Something to cheer this room up a bit.”
Hatch chuckled. “We’ll see what we can do next year.”
“Good.”
“In the meantime, do you need any help?”
“I’ll manage,” I huffed out in a tone that sounded more severe than intended.
“Okay, let’s walk away from the sink for just a moment,” Hatch said sweetly. “I think it’s time for the chef to take a break.”
“I don’t have time for a break. I’m cooking a huge Christmas meal for fifty or so of our closest friends, and a gang of hardened criminals. And I have...” I glanced at my watch, “...less than two hours before everyone gets here.”
It was actually three weeks before Christmas and we were getting ready for our annual community celebration the club did for the local kids every Christmas Eve. Tonight was our chance as a club to relax and be together, and I’d been ‘volunteered’ to cook. By my husband. Who was now standing here telling me to take a break.
“Ex-criminals,” Hatch corrected and kissed my forehead, after he wiped it off since it had been dusted with flour from the pie I’d just set in the oven.
“So they say, but I still don’t trust that lot.”
“As the old lady of a club officer, how can you come down so hard on the Burning Saints?”
“Their club is nothing like the Dogs of Fire,” I said.
“Maybe not, but they’re trying to be,” he pointed out. “That’s kinda what today is all about. Our two clubs coming together to find some common ground.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve found common ground with Minus, have you then?”
“The fact that he’s with my sister is half the reason I’ve agreed to any of this.”
“And what’s the other half?” I challenged.
“Preventing all-out war from breaking out in our back yard.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, I’m trying to prevent a nuclear meltdown in this kitchen.”
“Why are you so stressed? We host Thanksgiving every year, Sunshine. This isn’t much different.”
“We host Thanksgiving for a couple dozen people, max!” I said, throwing my hands in the air. “And it’s always at our house where I can cook in my own kitchen. Plus, your brothers are usually there to make me laugh. God, I could use some Cullen magic right now. He speaks softly and calms me right down.”
“What the fuck?”
“He also keeps Cameron out of my kitchen.”
Hatch raised an eyebrow. “And Cade?”
“Oh, Cade’s good about staying out of the way.”
Cade was Devon’s dad and a really lovely man. But he hadn’t been a big fan of the fact his kid had joined the club, and made sure Hatch knew his opinion on the subject. But from the second he expressed his concerns, the matter was dropped. Cade didn’t dwell on it and I found that kind of amazing. This family fought like crazy, but loved even harder and I felt honored to be part of it.
“Jesus,” he hissed. “Baby, we’re having dinner with them on Sunday, you’ll get the Wallace fix then.”
“I know. I just wish they were here now,” I admitted.
He smiled gently and made his way to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “What do you need from me?”
I sighed, dropping my face to his chest. “This.”
He chuckled, sliding his hand to my neck. “I got you, Sunshine.”
“Mummy, are you melting down already?” Poppy asked, and I raised my head.
My daughter stood at the huge metal island looking rested and beautiful, and I missed her, damn it. I hadn’t seen her all week. “You’re late.”
She grinned. “I’m two minutes early.”
Her husband, Devon, walked in a few seconds later, laden with grocery bags, setting them on the island. “Hey,” he said. “You need anything?”
“How are you with a potato peeler?” Hatch asked.
“Bring on the spuds,” Devon replied enthusiastically.
I smiled wide. “My heroes.”
“Where are Jamie and Flash?” Poppy asked.
“I’ve got them doing final inventory for the toy drive,” Hatch said.
“Have you checked to see if they’re out there vaping?” she challenged.
I gasped. “Those little ratbags better not be vaping, Connor.”
“Jesus, Sunshine, they’re not vapin’. They’re kids. Poppy’s just takin’ the mickey outta you.”
Him using one of my favorite British sayings did something gooey to my insides, but I ignored and said, “Please go and make sure our children, my babies, are not vaping, darling, or I’m going to lose my shit.”
“They’re not vaping, Mum,” Poppy piped in. “Liam and Case might be, but they’d never drag the boys into it.”
Liam belonged to Ace and Cassidy, and Case was Hawk and Payton’s. Both in high school, both good kids, so