“Sex Piston?” Jackal inquired. He needed to meet the woman. She sounded perfect for Stump.

“You’re better off not knowing,” Cash said as he came in from a room off the living room, carrying a small baby against his chest. He shook his head when Penni started to explain and said, “She’s getting fussy.”

Rachel reached up, taking the sleeping infant from his chest. “You couldn’t wait for your coffee?”

He bent over, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Want me to get you something?”

“No thanks.”

Jackal looked back and forth from the couple. He had researched The Last Riders when he had become interested in Penni. Shade’s military record was buried, which had cost King a fortune to find out. Cash’s exploits were well documented. The bastard was lethal. He had been a SEAL, and the commendations he had earned in the military had made him a force to be reckoned with as the clubs’ lieutenant.

His own father had a brief stint in the military before he had joined a bike gang that consisted of wannabes and drug addicts. It gave them the opportunity to steal money to buy their drugs and little else.

Cash walked across the room, opening a door and leaning in. “You want a cup of coffee, Mag?”

Jackal couldn’t see the occupant of the room, but the voice coming from it had him shifting, trying to see inside.

“Lord, why am I still here?”

Rachel smiled, seeing Jackal’s concern at that remark. “She’s in her nineties. Mag thinks that’s long enough.”

“You want me to help you into your wheelchair? Penni came for a visit.”

“Did she bring any moonshine?” Mag asked.

“No.”

“Lord, why am I still here?”

“She brought a friend,” Cash added.

“Is he my age?”

“No.”

“Is it the pastor?”

“No.”

“Lord, why am I—”

“Rachel is going to make some fried chicken for lunch.”

“Give me my wheelchair.”

A few minutes later, Cash wheeled a feisty grey-haired woman into the living room. She treated him to a narrowed stare then turned toward Rachel.

“You’re holding her wrong.” Mag stared at Rachel critically. “Hand Ema to me.”

Rachel shook her head, handing the baby to her great-grandmother. “Let Penni hold her for a while. I’ll go start lunch.”

Rachel and Cash left the room, and the stern expression vanished as the old woman held the child.

“Why didn’t you bring me some moonshine?”

Penni lifted her hands. “Tate threatened to take away Greer’s new truck if he gave me any.”

“Since when has that asshole listened to his brother?”

“He loves that truck.”

The woman turned her attention on Jackal. “Who are you?”

“I’m a friend of Penni’s.”

“You her boyfriend?”

“Kinda.”

“What kind of answer is that?”

“She’s trying to make up her mind.”

Mag looked at him from his head to his boots. “You got a college degree?”

“No.”

“You been to prison?”

“Yes.”

“What for?” She snapped the questions out as if she were a parole officer.

“Drug possession, a couple of times for extortion, and three times for fighting.”

“You’re not smart enough not to get caught?”

“It was when I was younger.”

She nodded. “How’d you get that scar?”

“My father.” Jackal surprised Penni by not giving the smartass reply he gave everyone else.

“Son of a bitch dead?”

“No, he’s in prison.”

“You put him there?”

“No, he’s in prison for assault.”

“Can I hold Ema?” Penni chimed in.

“You going to bring me moonshine the next time you come?”

“I’ll try,” Penni answered, carefully taking the child into her arms and sitting back on the couch.

“You got kids?”

“Lunch is ready,” Cash interrupted Mag’s interrogation.

Jackal stood up, pausing at the sight of the woman gripping the wheels of her wheelchair, despite Cash trying to push her across the floor. Obviously, no one was going anywhere until the old lady got her answer.

“I don’t have any children.”

The woman leaned in her chair, satisfied he had answered. If the nosy old bat had been his grandmother, he would have put her ass in a nursing home.

Sitting down at the table, Rachel set a beer next to his plate. “Thought you might need that. My grandmother is kind of hard to take, especially when you’re sober.”

“I thought she was your grandmother,” Jackal questioned Cash.

“She doesn’t claim me,” Cash said sardonically, twisting off the top of his beer.

Penni held the baby as Rachel filled Mag’s plate.

Cash reached for his daughter. “I’ll take her.”

Penni held the baby closer to her chest. “I’ll hold her while you and Rachel eat.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Jackal held out his arms. “I’ll take her. I had a big breakfast.”

Penni gave him a strange look as she handed the little girl over.

Jackal stared down at the baby. She had a thin layer of red hair across the top of her scalp. Her tiny bow mouth scrunched into a cry, and Jackal tilted her upward so she could see her mama. Her gurgling had him smiling down. “Your mama looks better than me, doesn’t she?”

“You’re damn comfortable holding a baby for a man who claims not to have any,” Mag snapped.

“Mag!” Rachel protested.

“It’s okay.” Jackal flipped the blanket back over the baby’s feet when her movements loosened it. “I have a friend who has several children. Sometimes, he has to work late, and I watch them until he gets off. He’s married now, but I’ll watch them if they want to go to the movies or something.”

“That’s nice of you.” Penni smiled, placing a big chicken breast on the plate in front of him.

“Damn, girl. He just said he babysat them, not gave birth to them.” Mag eyed the food on his plate then the chicken leg Rachel had placed on hers.

“Remember your cholesterol,” Cash said then mockingly took a big bite from the largest breast on his plate.

“At my age, cholesterol is the last thing I need to be worried about. A good fart could cause a heart attack.”

When Rachel was done eating, she took the baby, and Jackal got up to fill his plate, adding a heaping mound of potatoes.

“I thought you weren’t hungry?” Penni watched as he put two biscuits onto his plate.

“I’ve changed my mind.” Jackal buttered his biscuits as Mag took Cash’s beer away. “Remind me when I get done eating that I need to make a phone call.”

“Who do you need to call?”

“I’m going to cancel my gym membership.” If Mag was an example of getting old gracefully, he wanted to die young.