Katrin stared at the test. Two blue lines.
She was pregnant. She was actually pregnant with Pistol Wilson’s baby.
She sat down on the toilet lid and buried her face in her hands.
She couldn’t ignore this anymore. Couldn’t hope for the best. She had to tell Pistol, and they had to work out a plan of action.
What the hell would happen when her father found out? The thought made her queasy. She could already hear the faux tenderness in his voice: “Congratulations sweetheart. Looks like I’ll finally get my grandbaby.”
No. No, I have to protect this child, whatever the cost. I can’t let my father know.
She unburied her face and took her phone from her pocket. She should call Pistol. Tell him right now. But she didn’t want to break news like this over the phone. She needed to see his face. Needed to know if he’d really be as devastated as she feared he’d be.
So she’d wait until he came home. She’d go back to her freelancing project, and when he got home, they’d figure out what to do.
Except when Pistol got home, there was something different about him. A cold fury that radiated from his body. A tension in his neck and shoulders, a warning in his gaze.
“Pistol,” she started, leaning against the counter, watching him fairly slam his jacket onto the laundry room coat hook.
He stepped into the kitchen. She saw that his knuckles were abraded, that there was blood on one leg of his jeans and on one of his boots.
Her mouth fell open. “Pistol, what happened?”
“Fight,” he muttered.
“With who?”
He glared at her. She was starting to recognize that expression. I dare you to judge me, it said. “One of my brothers.”
“Jesus,” she breathed, looking at the blood again. “What happened?”
“Kid got too big for his britches. I put him in his place.”
She inhaled sharply. “Pistol!”
“I just got an earful from Kong. I don’t need you lecturing me either.” His gaze was stony, hollow.
How could she tell him now? When he was like this?
She went to him and tentatively put her arms around him. At first, he tensed, and she worried he might push her away. But suddenly he sagged, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her so tightly it almost hurt.
“I need you,” he whispered against her neck. “You’re all I have now.”
Something about the vulnerability in those words broke her heart. She held him tightly, wanting him to know it would be okay.
Tell him. You have to tell him.
“Shh,’ she murmured. “It’s all right now.”
“It’s not all right,” he said savagely, pulling away and striding across the room. “I might have just cut ties with them for good.”
“But…” She didn’t know what to say.
“Except your father. Your father still owns my sorry ass.”
She stepped toward him, determination rising in her, her voice firm. “No, he doesn’t. Don’t say that.”
Pistol laughed humorlessly. “Why not? It’s true.”
“We’re going to figure out what to do.”
Pistol whirled. “We keep saying that. Both of us. And yet we don’t do anything. We’re like figurines in his little dollhouse.”
“So let’s do something. Let’s make a plan. Let’s decide when we’re going to leave. Figure out what it’ll take to get new identities. And then let’s do it.”
It was like holding a match to the wick of a candle — she could see the moment her determination lit his, the way the flame slowly rose in his eyes.
“Okay. Okay, let’s do that. We’ll need money, but I can get that. Give me three days.”
“I’ll finish this transcription assignment tomorrow. Then we’ll have a couple hundred extra from that.”
He gazed into her eyes. Cupped her face in his hands. “We’re really doing this, huh?”
She placed her hands over his. “We’re really doing it.”
Her heart pounded with fear — for the two of them. For her unborn child. But on the outside, she was steady.
He leaned down, and she pushed herself up to meet him. Crushed her lips against his. It was a long, passionate kiss, one she felt in every nerve of her body.
Three days. Three days, and they would find the freedom they both desperately sought.
“Together,” he whispered, looking into her eyes again.
“No matter what,” she whispered.
###
It was the eighth text he’d gotten from Deion that day. This time Deion wasn’t mincing words.
Get your ass over to the clubhouse.
The first three texts had inquired as to why Pistol was absent from the auto shop. The next four told him in progressively more insistent terms that he needed to go make things right with Kong, with the other Souls.
What was the point? The Blackened Souls were fucking doomed. Leonard Smith owned them now, and Pistol ought to cut ties with them for good. Ought to leave with Katrin, right now. Three days, he reminded himself. Three days to get as much cash as he could.
They had a little saved, but they needed more if they were going to truly and effectively hide themselves from Leonard’s watchful eye.
Pistol?More texts.Talk to me. Please.
Damn, you’re worse than a woman, he texted back, then felt a stab of guilt. He needed to quit saying shit like that.
I’m serious, buddy. This is important.
Ok, he texted finally.Be there soon.
Pistol rode to the clubhouse, still feeling out of sync with the rest of the world. Everything looked strange — sort of shadowy and gray. He’d slept uneasily last night, both excited about the possibility of sweeping Katrin off into a new life, and terrified that he could never really be what she needed him to be.
His heart sank when he saw Smith’s car parked outside the clubhouse.
Motherfucker.
He hopped off the bike in the driveway. Propped it up and went through the back door.
Immediately, he could tell something wasn’t right. It was like the first time Smith had made an appearance at the clubhouse, but worse. Everyone was tense. Bones had an expression like someone had died.
Deion stepped forward to greet him. Clapped him on the back. “Hey, man. Glad you made it.”
“What’s going on?” Pistol asked.
Deion led him into the hall. Nodded at the closed door to Kong’s office. Low voices sounded from within. “They’ve been in there all morning,” Deion said. “Talking. I think something big’s about to go down.”
A couple of the Souls gave Pistol uneasy looks. A couple of others greeted him like he still belonged here. That was something, he supposed.
They waited. Pistol was about to fucking nod off by the time the door opened. Leonard and Kong walked out together. Pistol was immediately alert, looking at Kong’s face for any indication of what was going on. Kong’s expression gave away nothing.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Leonard said, giving the Blackened Souls an insincere smile. “Your president and I have an announcement.”
Those who had been in other rooms made their way into the hall to listen.
Pistol’s heart beat wildly.
What are you playin’ at now, you sick bastard?
“You see, tonight is the night the rest of my shipment comes in. It’s the largest shipment you’ll have ever dealt with. I’ll need several of you to join my men in collecting it.
The Souls were silent.
Kong nodded, looking weary. “There’s big profits, you guys.”
Leonard pointed at Mica. “You, Mica. I’ll need your help. This time Mica didn’t preen at all. He looked nervous.
Smith indicated Deion. “You. You’ll go as well.”
He named a few more club members.
Jesus, that’s practically all of us, Pistol thought.
Finally, Leonard turned and nodded politely at Pistol. “And you, Pistol. You’ll lead.”
“What?”
“You’ll be in charge of the mission.”
What the fuck? Smith hated him. Why would Smith trust him with a mission this huge? Why not put one of his own men in charge?
“Don’t you need me home impregnating your daughter, asshole?”
“This is a very serious mission. You leave in two hours. You’ll go down to Mexico. Once it gets dark, my contacts will meet you there with the shipment. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you not to screw this up. I can’t emphasize how much you’ll regret it if you do.” He looked right at Pistol. “Are we clear?”
Not now. Not when Katrin and I are so close to leaving…
But here was the perfect chance to get the money they needed.
Pistol nodded grimly. “Crystal.”
“Excellent. Be ready to ride out at precisely six.”
He left.
The silence that descended then was eerie.
Mica lurked nearby, glowering at Pistol.
“Hey,” Pistol said. “If we’re gonna ride together, we need to have each other’s backs. No more of this bullshit.” He held out a hand. “I’m sorry.”
Mica grudgingly shook his hand. “Me too,” he muttered.
“Brothers,” Pistol reminded him firmly.
The kid nodded.
###
Katrin was ready when Pistol arrived home. She’d spent the day rehearsing what she wanted to say.
There was a hard, frantic energy about her husband again today. But she ignored it. She had to tell him. As he stepped into the kitchen, she opened her mouth to say she had something to tell him. But before she could, he spoke.
“Kat. I have to go on a mission tonight.”
Her blood ran cold. No. Not a mission. Not now, when they were so close to escaping. Was he crazy? “Pistol, no,” she said softly.
“I know it’s not ideal but—”
“We’re leaving.”
“Yeah. This is a way to get some money before we leave. A lot of money, Katrin.”
“I don’t care how much money. I don’t want you risking your life. Not now.” Her voice was growing increasingly frantic, but she couldn’t stop it.
“Sweetheart, it’s just one more mission.”
She went to him, placing her hands on his shoulders and looking into his eyes. “Pistol, you don’t understand. You can’t. I’m—”
“You don’t understand.” His voice grew hard. “I have to.”
“No. Pistol, listen to me—”
But he was already pulling out of her grasp.
“Did you meet with my father?” she asked desperately. “What did he say?”
“Just this last mission, Katrin,” he repeated, not answering her question. “Then we’re free.” He handed her an envelope. “If anything happens to me, I’ve written down some contacts. Places you could go.”
Her jaw dropped. “What are you—”
“Just take it. Keep it hidden. Nothing’s going to happen to me, but just in case—”
“I don’t want you going anywhere you might not come back from.”
“Please, take it.”
She couldn’t.
He set it on the table behind her and started to walk away.
“So he says jump, and you jump?” She demanded, wiping her stinging eyes. She wasn’t going to cry. Couldn’t cry.
He rounded on her. “It’s my choice, Katrin. Mine.”
“It ought to beour choice now.”
“What?” he snarled. “You think just because we fucked few times, we decide everything together?”
“You said we were in this together. You promised you’d protect me,” she said through gritted teeth.
“And that’s exactly what I’m doing.” He strode toward the door.
Katrin’s heart sank with horror. The selfish bastard. And yet, as furious as she was, she was still terrified of losing him. The father of her unborn child.
“Pistol please. Look at me.”
He stopped but didn’t turn.
“Look at me,” she repeated, voice raw.
He turned.
“Don’t go,” she begged, tears streaming down her face. “If you care about me at all, you’ll stay here tonight.”You’ll listen to what I’m trying to tell you.
He gazed at her for a moment, and she felt that spark between them — the spark that had been there the night at the bar. That was there every time they made love. Every time they held each other afterward.
Please, she begged silently.Don’t do this to me. To us.
He lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he said grimly. “This is the way it has to be.”
He walked out the door, shutting it firmly behind him.