My immediate impulse was to lose my shit right then and there. This wasn’t just about money or her fucking private investigations company, she was carrying our child! She couldn’t just walk her pregnant ass into the Devil’s west coast headquarters asking questions about the dock and expect to walk back out of there in one piece.

Lucky for her sake, I was too tired to deal with that little slice of bullshit right now, so I laughed and wandered back to bed. I must have fallen asleep the second my face smashed against the pillow, because the next thing I knew, daylight was pouring in.

Groggily, I rolled over. Sarah wasn’t in bed, and I was wondering if I’d just dreamed that she had come back into my life until I saw some of her clothes were still laying discarded along the floor nearby.

I sat up, folding my fingers behind my head and losing myself in thought.

Talon… She wants to talk to motherfucking Talon.

I shuddered. Few men struck any kind of fear into my heart. Hell, even the slimy sex trade motherfuckers down south didn’t scare me… they just pissed me right off.

Talon was a different beast altogether…

I knew Sarah would come back sooner or later… But this wasn’t exactly how I imagined it happening. She tells me I’m going to be a father, then hangs that shit over my head and asks me to go on a suicide mission?

Well… it looks like this is happening with or without me, I thought to myself as I climbed out of bed. I threw on a shirt and strolled out to find my woman, wherever she was.

The couch.

She comes here, tells me I’m going to be a daddy, fucks me senseless, begs me for help, and then she sleeps on the couch?

There was no point in getting the day off on the wrong foot, so I walked into the kitchen, turned on the stovetop, and started cracking eggs. I slapped some bacon and sausages into a pan of hot grease and whipped up French toast. While I cooked, my mind started drifting towards my unborn son.

From the moment Sarah told me that she was pregnant, I knew she was giving me an heir to my empire. If I could hold the Outlaws together, my son would inherit the mantle. He could be born the Prince of the Outlaws.

I really liked the sound of that.

Prince of the Outlaws. I ran that over in my mind again, imagining my child at eight, maybe nine years old. No fiddling around with iPhones or zonked out in front of Call of Duty.

My heir was going to challenge his old man in the badass department. I was learning rifles and hunting at twelve. When I inherited the bike at sixteen, I took to it fast.

I expected to offer my son all of these opportunities and more. I’d teach him to think critically, make the difficult choices, respect life and the club, and most of all… to always protect the things that he held precious.

I would give the kid the shirt off of my fucking back and then some.

Willingly.

With these convictions in mind, I prodded Sarah on the shoulder with her plate at the ready.

“Mmm?” She lifted her face, eyes half-lidded. Even if she was dancing on my nerve, it was hard to not fall hopelessly in love with that sleepy face all over again.

“Breakfast, beautiful,” I enlightened her. As she sat up, I handed her the plate with my thumb over the cutlery, a glass of O.J. at the ready.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” she replied sheepishly as she took a few bites.

“Wanted to,” I replied, strolling back to prepare my own plate. “It’s gonna be a long day… better get our strength now, before the shit starts to hit the fan.”

Sarah let my assessment slide, eating her food in silence. The last thing I wanted was this kind of tension between us, but I could sense that pushing the issue now was a bad idea.

Life was simpler when we were dumb, love-struck teens. Sarah and Hunter against the world... Luckily, the world was pretty small back then…

I caught Sarah’s eye, and something seemed to pass between us. An understanding, perhaps – the tension in the room slowly softened, and we started to cast each other small smiles as we ate.

It was certainly a start.

When we were done, I took her plate with mine and slipped them into the sink. I rinsed off the juices and let them soak for a while as I strolled back into the living room.

“I’m glad you came back...”

Sarah had already stepped into the other room, changing into some fresh clothes. She’d brought a small suitcase from Phoenix when she arrived, locked away in the trunk of her conspicuous Crown Vic outside.

I really needed to convince her to spring for something that screamed something a little subtler than “law enforcement.”

It was a few minutes before she stepped back out, looking quite the professional. The desert was too hot for a trenchcoat, so she dressed in a slimming blouse, slender black leggings, and a pair of casual but fashionable boots.

“How do I look?”

I let a grin cross my face. “In all honesty, like someone I’d rip out of those clothes and fuck hard on the kitchen table.”

Sarah stepped forward, slipping a finger beneath my chin seductively. “We’ll have plenty of time for that… but we’ve gotta get ready to meet our new friend.”

“Yeah, I know,” I feigned dejection, grabbing my leather jacket from the hook near the door. “We both slept in, and it’s already lunchtime… better tell the boys what’s going down.”

“Does that mean we’re going to California?”

I grabbed my keys from the countertop and flashed her a confident grin. “It means we’re going to find a shipping container.”