I slam the door behind me, knowing my ass is about to get chewed, and I’m ready for it. This testing on the baby is not happening. The hallway is musky, the smell of smoke from the casino drifting through the vents.

“What the hell is going on?” Zeek turns, flicking his chin with his thumb. The dim lighting casting shadows upon his dark face.

“Testing is dangerous, it’s fucking stupid. Both dads are gone, so why does it fucking matter who is the father?” I shrug, getting to the point.

“What if it’s not Gatz? What if it’s neither of theirs and this chick is using us?” Zeek points out.

I shake my head. “She’s not like that.” I’ve been trapped with her weeks, I would have picked up on her lying. Besides, what woman would want to be imprisoned like this unless she was in the position Simone says she’s in?

“Oh, I see what’s going on.” Zeek chuckles. A smug look crossing his face. I’m not going to like what he’s about to say.

“What does that mean, ‘I see what’s going on?’” I mock.

“You fucking her?” He tilts his head to the side. Son of a bitch!

I shove him, pissed at his accusation.

“No, I ain’t fucking her! You gave me a job to protect her and that baby, and that’s what I’m doing.” My nostrils flare. I’ve always been asked to be the tech guy, this is the first job that Zeek has given me outside of my skill and I’m not going to fuck it up just because his head is somewhere else.

He tilts his head back, his chin lifting with conflicted eyes. He’s not at all affected by my outburst, and it makes me want to punch him in the face.

“You done?” he asks.

Inhaling, I realize I’m losing my fucking mind. I’ve never reacted like this to anything in my life. I’m the quiet fucker in the background watching everyone else’s drama.

I turn away and run my hands down my face.

Glancing back, I look Zeek in the eye. Emotions I’ve never felt before filling my chest. These feelings foreign and uncomfortable. My life was balanced in hues of black and gray until Simone walked in beaming of color and drawing me in.

I love a child that’s not even mine. Protecting it is not a job anymore, but my own choice.

“I have kids, I have a woman, and I know a protective father and lover when I see one.” Zeek points at me, but I don’t respond.

“If that baby isn’t Gatz’s, you either claim her and the baby, or they’re out, brother. This isn’t a fucking charity.”

I wipe at the sweat on my forehead, so fucking mad my teeth are grinding into dust.

“We have a club meeting Friday, show up.” Zeek saunters off to the elevator, and the doors shut.

Lips pursed, chest tight I holler and punch the wall so hard my fist drives through it. Drywall dusting my wrist.

This is why I keep my head in computers, my focus only on fucking people over. Caring for a female, this is a whole new world I’m not sure I’m prepared for.

The door to the suite opens, Doc standing there with wide ocean-colored eyes as she looks to the hole in the wall and my red hand.

“Everything okay?” Blonde hair that escaped her ponytail frames her heart-shaped face. She’s smart and is a looker.

“Peachy,” my tone dry. I shove past her and grab the bottle of whiskey off the bar and head to my room. Not daring to look back at her or Simone. I need space. I need to figure out what the hell I’m doing. Simone and this baby have me so distracted I don’t even know who I am anymore.

Mac stayed in his room the whole night, he didn’t even come out for his midnight sandwich like he does every night. I ate alone, my eyes on his bedroom door the whole time. It was our thing to eat a sandwich at midnight.

I’m worried about him.

Sitting on the floor in the sunlight casting through the window, I look through the baby name book. Placing the pen in my mouth I focus hard on the F section.

“Farrah. Faryl. Farzana.” None of these sound right saying them out loud.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed? Resting?” Mac questions entering the room. The sound of his voice makes my heart race and the baby kick. I hate how excited I get at the mere sound of his husky words.

“Rooster is outside if you need anything. I’m going out,” Mac informs, not offering further detail. This being the first I’ve heard from him since the ultrasound, I don’t respond. I don’t want to seem desperate for his every attention. He’s ignored me all night and day, and I don’t want to seem too eager to learn where he’s off to.

But I am. I want him to stay and help me pick a name out. I bet he’d pick one that I’m overlooking, one that is original and perfect.

I want to sit on the couch and watch TV with him, annoy him with my baby shows. To get into trouble and sneak out of the room again, to have him talk to me again. He has this tone that is smooth but scratches at the end with so much edge it makes my heart beat a little faster every time he says my name.

I drop the pen from my mouth and lower my head. I’m a damn mess. We’re a damn mess.

I look out the window at the people passing by. My heart tugging with what Doc said yesterday. What am I going to do when I’m ready to have the baby?

Hours pass, and I eventually fall asleep on the couch watching re-runs of The Walking Dead. The door opening wakes me up, but that smell of melty cheese has me popping my head up over the back of the couch.

Mac sets two pizza boxes down and rests his hands on the lip of the counter with his head hung. His distressed football shirt sweaty, his hair tousled in his face.

I open my mouth to say something but then shut it. I’m upset he’s been avoiding me, but he looks upset. I’ve never seen an upset Mac.

“I’m- I’m not good at this kind of thing.” He shakes his head. “My mother died giving birth to me, and you Simone…” His head raises, haunted eyes taking my breath away like a breeze sweeping through a graveyard. “You’re a loaded gun full of my skeletons I’ve been trying to run from my entire life.”

My brows furrow with sympathy, every mystery about Mac slowly falling into place. Scooting off the couch, I saunter over to him and gently place my hand on his shoulder.

“Being bullied as a kid. Homeless after my father was arrested. Outcasted as society’s garbage.” He waves his hand around. “I can handle all of that but send a pregnant woman my way and it dismantles the way I see everything,” he scoffs, his eyes clenching shut.

“You were homeless?” I press for more information. “Until Zeek’s father found me. Him and the club raised me.” Having a bunch of brutal men raising you, it’s no wonder Mac isn’t great at showing his feelings.

“When I was a kid, I wasn’t very popular either,” I confide in him. “In fact, we aren’t so different.” He lifts his head, interested. “Our maid had an old-school Nintendo in her room, and I’d always go in there and play it. Kids from other families in the area thought I was weird because I wanted to be like Princess Peach instead of Brittany Spears.” I laugh remembering how much I loved playing video games. Until my father found out and fired her that is.

He chuckles, lifting his chin, he bites at his bottom lip. “I’d beat your ass in Mario any day.” Lightening the mood.

“I don’t know about that,” I raise a brow. He grabs a triangle box that holds a slice of pizza, and opens it, turning it toward me. I forget everything and focus on the triangle that has had my heart since I arrived here.

“You’ve been craving this pizza for a while, eh?” he changes the subject.

“Please look away, this might get ugly,” I beg of him, picturing me devouring the pizza like a man. He grabs a slice, his teeth tearing into it viciously.

“Pssh. I’m a man, you and little peach haven’t seen anything when it comes to eating pizza,” he states with a mouth full.

“Little Peach?” I bite into the pizza, and it’s so cheesy, sauce spilling into my mouth like heaven.

He juts his head toward my growing stomach. “Yeah, until you come up with a name, I figured, I don’t know…” He starts backpedaling and it’s the cutest thing ever.

“No, I like it.” I smile, sauce all around my mouth. “For a nickname anyway, I have to find a real name soon.”

He doesn’t say anything, heading to the couch, he flips the TV on. Eyeing him from the counter, eating my pizza. He told me a lot tonight, a lot I’ve been dying to know but all it did was breed more questions. I wonder why his dad was arrested, and if anyone else knows about his mother dying while giving birth to him.

My heart skips a beat thinking what if I die giving birth, would Mac take the baby?

I close my eyes. No, I won’t think like that. I’m going to be fine.

* * *

Sitting on the floor looking out of the window like I normally do, one of the books I got from the hotel when I was with Kane sits in my lap. I was reading one of the pregnancy books, but it made me anxious reading about everything that could go wrong.

Hope is stronger than fear, and I have to believe that the universe will turn in my favor when this all comes racing to an end. I rest my hand on my belly. Hope is the drug I’ve been living on for the past several months after all.

“What is that? I see you always reading it,” Mac says from behind me. Leaning back on my hands, I look at him. He’s at the kitchen island cleaning his gun, his laptop open right next to him. He’s shirtless and has an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips. I wonder if he quit or if he’s just not smoking around me.

“When I was with Kane, I didn’t have a view, TV, much of anything. So when the maid would find books, she gave them to me to read. This is one of them.” I hold the worn book up.

“You like reading?” He raises a brow, dropping the rag he was wiping his pistol with.

I nod. “Hmm, didn’t take you for a reader.” I find his assumption insulting.

“Just because I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, doesn’t mean I’m stupid.” I roll my eyes. Actually, I never took to reading much, not until I was locked in that hotel room by myself day after day.

“I never said you were stupid, just surprised you like to read. I don’t come ‘cross many women that like to read.”

“That’s just it, you’ve never met a woman,” my tone snarky.

He smiles. “Touché.”

“Actually, to be fair, I just got into reading not long ago.” My lips press into a fine line. “I only have a few books, but they’re amazing. When I read them, it takes me on a new journey every time.”

Mac plucks the cigarette out of his mouth and looks at me with an unreadable look. It’s almost brooding, but sexy. Alluring if you will.

“What?” I laugh nervously.

He sighs, looking down at his cleaning tools. The man’s a mystery in every aspect.

His phone chimes and he picks it up.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. He stands from the stool, his low-slung sweatpants making my cheeks warm. They dip so low you can see veins leading down beneath the fabric.

“I’ve got a club meeting to go to. Rooster is being sent up,” he informs. Leaning against the bar, his elbows resting on the lip of the granite he sips on a cup of coffee.

“Oh- okay.” I look back down at my book. I hate being by myself, but hopefully he’ll be back soon. I’d invite Rooster in for tea or something, but I’ve seen him through the peep-hole and he’s kind of creepy looking.

Clouds suddenly blanket the sun, and I move to the couch to look the baby name book over again. I circle and cross out original names for what seems like forever.

God, who knew this was going to be so hard. Every time I find a cute name, but in the back of my head, I can hear kids taunting or making it into something mean and ugly.

A knock at the door causes me to frown. Nobody is allowed in here, and if someone did show up, Rooster would handle it.

“Open up, police department!” A series of loud knocks follow.

That’s strange. Maybe it’s a prank from the girls. Either way, I’ll handle it.

Using my hands, I try and push myself up. My stomach in the damn way again.

“Coming!” I slowly make my way to the door.

Unlocking it, I slightly open enough to see whose there.

A tall woman wearing a dark blue pantsuit looks me up and down. The distaste behind her pupils sends hairs on the back of my neck on end.

Her dark chocolate hair highlighted with streaks of light brown hair pulls into a sophisticated bun.

“I’m Lieutenant Lopez, can I come in?” She fakes a smile.

“You have a warrant?” I know the drill. I’ve been raised to tell cops as little as possible.

She laughs before kicking the door open with her black high heel. I stumble, my pregnant belly nearly getting hit by the doorknob.

“Are you serious?” I slam the door shut, pissed at her careless behavior. She can’t just come in like this.

“So, you’re the reason why Mac hasn’t been calling me back?” she asks, pretending to be interested in the hotel décor on the walls. Her perfect red nails trailing along the granite of the counters in the kitchen.

“Get out!” I demand, not wanting to know what she means by Mac not calling her back. Everything about this woman is sending red flags off. She glances over her shoulder, her eyes falling to my stomach. Her face falls, and she turns on her heel. The tension in the room triples.

“What the fuck is that?” She points.

I raise a brow, the shade coming from this bitch coming on strong. She’s a crooked cop and sleeping with Mac obviously.

“Get. Out!” I repeat, pointing toward the door.

She steps around the corner, her heels clicking to the rhythm of my heart. If I wasn’t pregnant, I would tear this woman apart.

Feet from me, the smell of her perfume makes me hold my breath. Downfall of being pregnant is I smell everything.

“What’s your name?” Her long thick lashes flick with a threat.

I lift my chin, my nostrils flaring.

“You think Mac and you have something special?” Her eyes fall to my belly. She thinks it’s Mac’s. “Don’t kid yourself. He belongs to me, I have his pierced dick in such a vise that if he tries to fuck me over… I’ll expose the club.”

She pokes her sharp fingernail into my belly, and I slap her across the face. Nobody fucking touches me.

Her head whips to the side, her cheek blooming red with my handprint.

Eerily slow, she faces me. Her lips rolling.

“Get out, or I swear to God, I will kill you with my bare hands.”

“Are you threatening me? I will throw you in a cell until you give birth to that little shit. In fact, I’ll have that child in foster care before you can get your fat ass off the birthing table.”

I don’t respond, I can’t. My shoulders lifting and rising with my heavy breathing. She’s working me up to the point I can barely breathe.

I want to hit her, really hurt her but I can’t move from the anger driving through my veins.

“Give Mac my best, hmm?” Turning around, she leaves, slamming the door behind her.

I gasp, relief flooding over me. Grabbing onto the counter, I slink into the barstool trying to catch my breath.

A sharp pain strikes across my stomach, and I whimper. I inhale a controlled breath, trying to calm myself but it’s not working. Easing out of the stool, I waddle to Mac’s bathroom. He has a tub, and maybe a warm relaxing bath will soothe my Braxton Hicks. Leaning over the rim of the porcelain tub, I turn on the faucet, and undress. Trying to remember to breathe slowly and at my control the whole time. That bitch got me so worked up, I pray I’m not going into real labor.

“Stay in there, baby.” I rub my stomach.

The water line halfway fills the tub and I step in, my hands holding my belly as I settle in. Water sloshes over the sides and I make a mental note to make sure I clean it up later.

I rub my stomach, my eyes closed, breathing through my nose.

Who was that bitch? Is she Mac’s girlfriend? She obviously didn’t know about me.

Moaning, I force that cop cunt out of my mind. Names, think of baby names.

My mind drifts into names starting with E, the woman in the blue pantsuit slowly forgotten. For now.

“See, everything’s okay. Calm down little girl,” I tell my baby.