CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
My trial gets adjourned at the last minute, freeing up my whole day.
Leaving me way too much time to dwell on tomorrow’s appointment.
Dinner with Heidi, Murphy, and Alexa is what I need to take my mind off things. Heidi’s chatter and Alexa’s happy babbles more than cover up my silence.
For a little while anyway.
While Murphy and Heidi clear the table, Rock slides his hand over mine. “Everything okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Of course that’s not a good enough answer for Rock and he waits patiently for me to continue. When I don’t, he prompts, “Rough case you’re working on?”
Actually, yes. I have another case that needs my attention. I got so caught up in preparing for the trial, I’ve almost neglected everything else.
“Yes. The hearing’s coming up Friday and I’ve had a terrible time reaching one of my witnesses.”
One corner of his mouth lifts. “Want me to locate them for you?”
“Absolutely not.” My answer comes out sterner than normal because I don’t think he’s joking.
He cups my jaw, rubbing his thumb over my cheek. “Everything else okay?”
Those probing gray eyes of his are almost too much. Does he already suspect?
Keeping secrets from Rock isn’t easy. Normally, I love his attention. How he’s attuned to my needs and moods.
Now with him watching me so intently, it feels dangerous.
Relentless guilt settles in my belly. Claiming the need to work on my case, I retreat upstairs to escape Rock’s scrutiny.
Something isn’t right with my girl, but I can’t put my finger on it.
“Ready?” Murphy says.
Shit, I never told Hope I had to go back out tonight.
“Give me a few seconds.”
“I’m going to start her bath,” Heidi says, nodding at Alexa. She leans up and kisses Murphy’s cheek. “Be careful.”
I nod to Murphy to go help Heidi out. “Go on. I need to talk to Hope.”
I find her in the room across from our bedroom. The room I thought one day might make a good… well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. Since Alexa’s taken over Hope’s home office, Hope uses this room to review documents and prepare for court.
She’s curled up in her over-sized chair, glasses on, hair up, practically swallowed whole by one of my sweatshirts. Skintight leggings with little skulls all over them cover her legs, leaving her feet bare.
So fucking beautiful I stop to watch her for a few seconds before letting her know I’m there. The pressure of knowing I’m needed somewhere else finally spurs me forward. I walk up and tickle my fingers over the soles of her feet.
She yelps and jerks her feet away. “You know feet are off-limits.” Her wide smile negates the scolding tone.
“You looked so serious. Enthralling read?”
She rolls her eyes and sits up, placing the folder on the table next to her chair. “No, it’s a medical report that I need an expert to explain to me. What’s wrong?”
“Murphy and I are heading out.”
Not that I want my wife unhappy, but I wish she didn’t look so relieved that I’ll be gone for the night.
“You feelin’ all right, baby doll?”
Her gaze slides away. “Why do you keep asking? Do I look bad?”
“Never.” It’s true. No matter what she says, she’s always beautiful to me.
“When will you be home?” The anxiety creeping into her voice doesn’t make me feel better either.
“Not sure.”
She sits forward and takes my hand. “Please be careful.”
“Always. I’ll try not to wake you when I get in.”
“Wake me, so I know you’re home safe.”
I lean in and kiss her, taking a few extra seconds to show her how much I hate leaving.
“Christ, was wondering if you were ever gonna show up,” Z bitches as soon as Murphy and I step into the garage.
“Shut the fuck up,” I answer without even glancing his way. “Van loaded up?”
Wrath throws me an annoyed smirk. “Just waitin’ on you, Prez.”
Ignoring him, I glance around for Sparky.
“Got his list and details here,” Z says, waving a little red notebook in the air.
“Well then let’s stop bitching and get moving.” I lift my chin at Dex. “You take the van with Hoot.”
“Got it.”
“At least someone knows how to listen and show respect,” I grumble.
Wrath shakes his head, but for once keeps his mouth shut.
Neither Teller nor Murphy have spoken and I glance at both of them to see where they’re at.
“Teller, you ride next to me.”
“Rock—”
I cut Wrath off before he gets out his protest. “Shut your mouth and watch my back like you’re supposed to.” I stare at him for a second to make sure the order sticks. “Murphy and Bricks, behind the van.”
“You got it,” Murphy says. Bricks echoes the comment.
“Ass-kissers,” Z mutters.
Murphy flips him off before starting up his bike, which finally drowns out Z’s bitching.
The ride does little to clear my head. It’s purely business. Everything that brings me pleasure is at home.
At least Loco’s waiting outside behind his diner for us. If I have to drag my ass out here to meet him for every delivery, he should too.
This time Malik’s with him and we nod to each other. Still haven’t figured out how Loco really feels about Malik potentially joining the MC as a prospect.
“Don’t say it,” Wrath growls when Loco slides his gaze between Wrath and Malik.
“But it’s uncanny.” Loco cackles with glee.
Malik levels a slow glare at his friend. “I hate you.” His serious rumble of a voice would give any sane man pause. Loco just laughs harder.
“Enough fucking around.” I glance behind me, searching for Z. “Hurry up, Mr. Punctual.”
Z’s boots crunch over the gravel at a lazy pace and I shake my head. “Let’s take this discussion inside.” I nod to the back door.
Z, Loco, Malik, and I crowd into the hallway. Loco really has earned his nickname. He doesn’t seem the least bit intimidated being crowded into a tight space with three men who’re easily each twice his size.
Two who aren’t particularly thrilled with him at the moment. A glance at Malik’s somber expression says maybe my count is off.
“Damn, Rock. How you just take off for eighteen days and not tell a man? We do business together. Long time now. Don’t I get that courtesy?”
“I did tell you.” My clenched jaw does little to hold back the irritation in my voice. “I also told you when we returned that I had some things to handle.”
“Well.” Loco sniffs, and brushes some imaginary lint off his sleeves. “Your boy Stash took care of me.”
“Good. You’re the only person I gave him special instructions about.”
He beams as if this is a compliment.
It’s not. My instructions were: No matter how much he irritates you, don’t blow his fucking head off.
“What was the problem?”
“Well, I ran low. That your boy helped me with. But I also had some clients that needed to be spoken to.”
I flick my gaze at Malik and it’s not lost on Loco.
“Yes, that’s what Malik’s for, but my other guy was on vacation and I coulda used an extra set of hands.”
This is where I think Loco’s gotten his wires scrambled. We’re two separate entities. He is not part of the MC. He’s someone the MC does business with and I’ll help him out when and where it suits the needs of the MC. I can not and will not drop club business for him.
How to convey that without hurting his tender feelings?
Jesus Christ, working with DeLova’s crew gets more appealing every day.
“This was club business, Loco. That comes first. Always. You know this. As you mentioned, we’ve done business for a long time.”
“All right. Just got twitchy when I heard you all was visiting the Demons.”
“You fuckin’ kidding me?” This time I get in his face, backing him up against the wall. “Keeping tabs on my club isn’t healthy for this relationship, Loco.”
Feels good to finally get that off my chest.
Loco’s gaze strays to Malik, who doesn’t budge. Z also remains still.
“I don’t owe you an explanation for where I go or who I visit,” I continue. “You need to get that through your head.”
“As long as you’re not promising my supply to anyone else.”
The balls on this motherfucker.
“What are you really worried about, Loco? You know I’m not selling to anyone but you. No fucking way am I risking my guys driving this large a quantity that far on a regular basis. Not the way the feds are cracking down on it lately. So what’s really bothering you?”
“You know they’re connected to mafia, right?”
“Fuck yes. Everyone knows that.”
“Those kind of connections can bring a lot of trouble and complications we don’t need.”
“You think I don’t know that?” I heave out a breath and take a step back, trying to muster up some respect. “I realize you’ve been in the game a long time, Loco. But I still got a few years on you. I know exactly what those connections are capable of. I’m not crawling into bed with DeLova anytime soon.”
He sucks in a deep breath at the mention of the Russian mob leader’s name. “Word is, he’s looking for someone to move stuff for him and your club’s name came up.”
“Not my club. Sway’s.”
“That piece of shit,” he mutters.
Can’t say I disagree at the moment, but I won’t speak badly of a brother to someone outside the club.
“What’s the problem, Loco?” Z asks. “It’s supposed to be a one-shot deal.”
“It’s never a one-off with those guys.”
“Now, Loco, it’s not nice to stereotype,” Malik says with a straight face.
Loco shoots a glare at him and I barely restrain my laughter.
“Stop acting like DeLova’s normal,” Loco says. “We all know he ain’t.”
“He’s got one foot in the fucking grave,” Z answers in a bored tone.
“Like fuck he does. And even when he goes. Who’s getting that business? Someone worse. That’s who.”
“Not my problem.”
“You say that now, Rock. But in a few years it might be another story. They are ruthless, soulless fucks who’ll start spilling blood if they think it gets them a foothold somewhere. We need to stick together.”
He’s not wrong. Part of why I worked so hard to extract my club from working with an organization very similar to DeLova’s when I took over as president.
It’s why even though Loco annoys the shit out of me on a regular basis—like every fucking time I see him—I’d still rather work with him over DeLova. “My ties to the Demons go back to when you were probably in diapers.”
“You ain’t that much older than me, Rock.”
“Loco, our crews are tighter than any other business dealing I have. MC or not. You need to get over this.”
Malik shifts on his feet. “What I think Rock’s trying to say, is you’re acting like that jealous girlfriend you wanna keep fucking, ’cept she keeps snooping in your phone and reading all your texts and shit.”
Loco glares back at him. “Don’t take his side.”
“I’m not taking any side. I’m telling you as an impartial witness to both sides.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side!” Loco snaps. “You work for me.”
Malik lets out a low, threatening growl before turning and walking away.
Z grins Loco’s way. “See, Wrath woulda just knocked your teeth down your throat.”
“Shut up, pretty boy.”
“Enough,” I bark, holding up my hands. “We done here? I got a van that needs unloading and other shit to attend to.”
Loco takes a second to compose himself. “Just promise me you’ll give me a heads-up if you’re gonna work with DeLova.”
“I assure you I have no interest working with DeLova. My crew isn’t about that. Hasn’t been for a long time. But I got no control over what Sway does.” I cock my head at him. “Besides, aren’t you the one he’d give that business to?”
Loco puffs up his chest. “DeLova don’t work with color well. Don’t wanna be on that motherfucker’s radar and have his crew thinking they can roll on in here and take over my territory.”
“Your “territory” is inside Lost Kings territory. He ain’t gonna mess with that,” Z reminds him.
I finally realize what’s bothering Loco. “I don’t want any piece of your action.” I’m mildly offended he thinks I’d pair up with DeLova to get rid of him.
“DeLova’s soldiers would love to start running girls in the capital region. All those deep-pocketed politicians. Lotta power running through this area. Only they won’t be as nice about it as I am.”
“They ain’t gonna be doing it in Empire or Ironworks,” Z assures him.
The back door slams open. “You done trying to cuddle-fuck my prez or should I stand around and wait some more?” Wrath shouts.
Surprisingly, Loco laughs. “Yeah, we done.” He holds out his hand, which I’m not inclined to shake at the moment, but I do. “How was your trip?” he asks as if his jealous meltdown never happened.
“Fine. Good riding weather. Too fucking hot down south, though.”
“Fuck yeah,” Loco agrees. “Bunch of racist motherfuckers too.”
“Now, Loco, you know we got those up here too,” Z says.
Loco shifts his don’t-tell-me-shit-I-already-know expression Z’s way. “Fucking heat seems to make ’em multiply.”
“Any other grievances you need to air out?” I ask.
He grins up at me. “I’ll let you know.”
“Fantastic. Can’t wait.”
At some point during the night, the bed dips behind me and Rock’s body warms my back. His lips ghost over my shoulder.
“I’m home, baby doll,” he whispers.
“Love you,” I mumble.
“You too.” He presses a kiss against my back and settles down, resting his hand on my hip.
Unaware of the time, I drift back to sleep.
Seconds or hours—I can’t be sure—later, a heavy queasiness wakes me and I moan. My hand slides down to rest over my stomach as my sleepy mind tries to figure out if I need to rush to the bathroom or if it will pass.
Please let it pass. I don’t want to be sick now when I risk waking Rock up and making him worry.
The second I have the thought about him, he slides his hand over my hip to my thigh.
I hold my breath. His roaming hands frequently explore my body in the middle of the night. Most of the time his explorations lead to some pretty fantastic dreamy-half-awake sex.
Right now I can’t think of anything worse.
My stomach lurches again. Oddly, the upset stomach ignites a spark of hope inside me.
Rock’s sleepy fingers trail up over my ribs, stopping below my breast.
“Not now,” I murmur, hoping he’s asleep.
Instead, he buries his face in my hair, kissing my neck. Any other time, I’d turn over and be thrilled to indulge in some sleepy-middle-of-the-night-sex with my husband.
“Stop,” I say a little louder.
He jerks back, then kisses my shoulder.
“Rock, not now.”
My stomach rolls again. Nope. It’s not going to pass.
Wriggling out of Rock’s grasp, I throw the covers back and run to the bathroom.
Nothing comes up, but I wait on the floor for a few minutes, before standing and splashing some water on my pale, sweaty face.
I’m so freaking scared.
Deep breath.
The last time I didn’t have any symptoms. Getting sick should be a good sign, right?
Maybe if I say it a couple hundred more times, I’ll convince myself.
I slip back into bed as quietly as possible but realize Rock’s not there. Figuring he went across the hall to use the other bathroom, I allow sleep to pull me under.
A few hours later, I wake again and Rock’s side of the bed is still cold. I throw back the covers and grab my robe. The room across from ours is small. I use it as a reading room and there’s a couch in there.
For the first time I realize it will make a perfect nursery.
That’s where I find Rock.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, gently touching his arm. “Are you mad at me?”
He blinks up at me, his mouth curving into a warm smile. “Can’t keep my hands off you. Didn’t want to keep bugging you when you don’t feel well.”
“Oh stop.” Now I feel even worse. If he knew I was pregnant and struggling with all-the-time sickness, he wouldn’t be here.
“Come here,” he says tugging on my hand.
“No. Come back to bed. I don’t like you sleeping on the couch.” I tug back just as hard, but he’s immovable.
He pulls harder and I topple over him, rolling to my side and stretching out so we’re face-to-face. He kisses my forehead. “You feeling okay?”
“My stomach was bothering me.”
Truth.
“Murphy’s cooking?” he teases.
Chuckling, I shake my head. “No.”
Also true.
He rests his chin on top of my head and after a few minutes his breath turns deep and even.
Mine doesn’t. All I can think about is the test that looms over me in the morning.
To find out if I’m having a baby or having my heart broken. Again.