Chapter 24

 

 

 

Banshee

 

It’s been four months since the week from hell and heaven. The week Granny was killed was filled with a lot of revelations. I learned that even in death Granny could still knock us on our asses and there wasn’t a damn thing we could do about it. And I met Eleanor, Granny’s best friend, who’s a bigger cougar and flirt than Granny was if you can believe that. She’s latched herself to Mauve and has no plan to let go.

 

Reggie and his band of misfits have been absent. His cousin finally woke up ten days after the shooting and was sent home a few days later. There’s been no contact, and I don’t expect there to be any after the events of that night.

 

Two months after the announcement of a little Peters in Bellamy’s belly, we were married in a small ceremony at the courthouse surrounded by our families. Kenny feigned aggravation because he didn’t get to walk his only daughter down the aisle, but I didn’t feel bad. My ring is on her finger, and my name is attached to hers.

 

Mission accomplished.

 

Today’s the day that we learn what our little gift from Bea is, but before I can meet Bellamy at the hospital for our appointment, there’s pressing business to be handled at the Clubhouse.

 

Everything has settled to a point. Bellamy is still being shadowed by the Prospects when I’m not available, and as much as she hates it, she understands my need to keep my woman and child protected.

 

Sitting at the mahogany table waiting for Brute to begin and incessantly checking my watch, I groan. If I’m late for this appointment, Bellamy will whack off my balls. The further long she’s gotten the more her sassiness breaks through. You think I’m fucking with ya. Listen to my evidence. A month after Granny’s passing, we moved into Granny’s house. I came home five minutes late. Count them. Five. She went ballistic and damn near threw every plate we owned. Then within two seconds of the last plate hitting the wall, she was straddling me on the kitchen floor. Her hormones can’t decide if they want to fight me or fuck me. But whatever, I’m not complaining. I’ll angry fuck the hell out of her every day all day.

 

The sound of the gavel bouncing off the table takes me of the mental visions of fucking Bellamy on every single surface of the house. Brute’s voice sends my rock hard cock shrinking.

 

“Einstein got wind of Weasel.” He proclaims. “He finally showed his face back in Counce. He hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary, but I’d rather play it safe and take care of him before he becomes a bigger problem.” He rotates his head to me. “We need a sniper to take him out quietly.”

 

I shake my head because I know he’s hedging towards Bellamy doing it. “Not happening. She’s pregnant, and I’m not going to have her scoping out that piece of shit. Find someone else.”

 

He grunts with exacerbation. “Who do suggest?”

 

I chew on my thumbnail and take in my brothers. Poison’s not a marksman. Einstein has more chance of giving someone a computer virus than a bullet in the head. Taz probably couldn’t lie on his beer gut without belching and giving away his location. Red’s alcoholism has his hands too jittery to hold a rifle steady. Brute apparently doesn’t want to do it. That only leaves the Prospects, and they are both in Canton with Bellamy. I stare at the table until it hits me. Travis and Mitchell would do it just to finish off the last piece of the puzzle.

 

“Travis.” I blurt. I nod and agree with myself. “Travis would be willing to do it.”

 

“Call me.” Brute growls.

 

Pressing Travis in my contacts and putting it on speaker, I set it in the center of the table.

 

“Yeah,” Travis grumbles.

 

“Travis, its Banshee. Need you to get to the Devils. The last present has been delivered.”

 

He’s silent for a few seconds before it triggers in his head what I’m talking about. “Be there shortly to accept it.” He hangs up.

 

I stand abruptly from the table and announce, “I find out what I’m having today, and I’m not going to be late. If ya need me, call.” My brothers nod and I disappear down the hall out of sight.

 

***

 

“Let’s find out what you’re having.” Dr. Shaw sings as she spreads gel on Bellamy’s protruding stomach as she’s laid back on the table with her jeans rolled down and her shirt up. “Okay,” the doctor mumbles, “this is a leg.” She clicks a few buttons and moves the wand. “You see this hamburger.” I stare, really stare to see a fucking hamburger. “The three lines that look like a hamburger on its side.” She says again, and I see it. Bellamy and I both nod. “That means you’re having a girl.”

 

I laugh. Not a silent laugh, but a full-blown belly shaking, eyes watering laugh. A fucking girl and I know Bea is laughing right along with me; another girl that’s probably going to be the spitting image of Bellamy with all the added quirks of her mother and great-grandmother. I look up to see tears streaming down Bellamy’s cheeks, happy tears. She’s probably thinking the same damn thing, that her Granny Bea has jinxed us. But it’s a jinx I will gladly accept.

 

I grab her hand in mine and squeeze. “We’re in trouble, Sweets.” She bobs her head in agreement.

 

We leave the hospital after sending a group text to our family and friends announcing that we indeed would be welcoming a little girl into the world in a few months. Our phones are still dinging when we pull up in front of the Pretty Pinks’ Main House for Taco Tuesday—the primping the pretty pink Tuesday. There’s no need for Bellamy to attend the other Taco Tuesdays because I take care of her pretty pink just fine, so stop rolling your eyes. Once Bellamy’s belly jutted out to the point she couldn’t see her goodies, and she wouldn’t let me shave her, Tia waxing her on Taco Tuesday once a month became a necessity.

 

The nudity from the waist down as we enter the living room doesn’t bother me because I don’t even look. My eyes are only on Bellamy as she strips down to her bra. She settles on the table as Tia gets ready to make the first swipe of the wax. As always, Maggie saddles up to Bellamy’s side and holds her hand as Bellamy narrows her eyes at her. Instead of telling Bellamy it’s going to be okay, she leans forward and talks to her stomach.

 

Maggie is a constant reminder that even a woman as put together as she is can have a screw loose.

 

I watch as my little girl rolls and stretches inside of Bellamy as she pushes out against Maggie’s lips. Good girl. Don’t let her aggravate you; just kick her in the face. I can’t help the chuckle that leaves my lips at the wide-eyed glare that overcomes Maggie.

 

“Get out of her face!” Bellamy yells at Maggie.

 

“I was just talking to her.” Maggie huffs.

 

“Well, she doesn’t want to hear your mouth. Go away.” Bellamy playfully pushes Maggie away.

 

Minutes later, I’m helping Bellamy roll off the table and into the robe she purposely left here for this reason only. No more strutting out of the Main House to walk half naked to her house on the corner, because if that was the case, she’d be walking four miles in her bra to our home. Not having it at all. Possessive doesn’t even begin to explain the feeling I have about anyone but the Pinks and I seeing her naked. I’d rather throw fists and ask questions later than allow any man, brother or not, look at Bellamy.

 

“Alpha-male bullshit.” Bellamy murmurs as I hastily yank the robe over her shoulders and she’s hit the nail on the head because once that first test proved positive, I was strutting, puffing out my chest and wouldn’t let Bellamy out of touching distance. Still, don’t like to watch her leave even when I know she’s just going to work.

 

I kneel in front of her as she steps into her panties and I help her back into her scrub bottoms. She shrugs off the robe, and I tug the scrub top over her head placing a chaste kiss to the top of her head with my hand firmly planted over my baby.

 

Just as fast as we arrived, we’re heading out the door for Taco Tuesday at our place.