“Mom, stop plying me with calcium supplements. I’m fine. Just give me a pint of ice cream like a normal woman and stop fussing. And please leave Tate out of this conversation.” I rattle the huge bottle of mega-sized vitamins that are probably way too big for a horse to swallow. My mother ran out and bought them the second I gave her the big news about the baby.

Now she’s back home from her half-day-long shopping spree which started online, then turned into a trip to every baby store between here and Mesquite. She’s a bit more relaxed that I have a supply of diapers, onesies, baby bottles, and an order for a crib to be delivered. Does she realize that the baby won’t be here for another eight or so months? The clubhouse was easy compared to this.

My mother swivels from her perch on a high-back bar stool near the kitchen counter. She turns to look as I search for a few of the taller food cans in a cupboard. Yes, the canned foods will hide these horse-sized supplements for now. She lowers her reading glasses on her nose and gives me a look. I would’ve been better off keeping my mouth shut about the baby. I hope the woman won’t judge. This is her grandchild. I’m sure she’ll want to have a say in everything.

Including the onesies.

“I’m not sure I want to raise a baby with a man who can’t get his life together. I plan to pass my nursing exam and apply for the state licenses right afterward. I’ll have to take some time off when the baby is born, but at least then I’ll be able to work in a good job after a few months. I’m sure I can support the two of us. The truth is I can raise this baby on my own if I have to. Sure, without the father in the picture, it can be a mess…” I trail off unable to give voice to the full weight of my choice.

“You should know that I support any choice you make. No matter what it is. I’ll be here to help with whatever you need. I’m not going to judge you. You’re a grown woman. I’m sure you judge yourself far more harshly than I ever could. Plus, now’s not the time to piss you off, for two obvious reasons. First, I want to be in my grandbaby’s life. Second, you’ve been stressed out enough with Jett. Thank God he’s gone…wherever Tate and those people took him.”

Mom gets up from the bar stool, walks around the counter and pulls me in tightly.

God, I need that.

“Thanks for saying all that.”

She eventually lets go of me. I’m not impressed when she steps over to the cabinet, finds the hidden horse-sized tablets, and slides the container of vitamins over to me. “You’re going to need these so that my grandchild has a healthy head start, honey.”

I roll my eyes and fiddle with the childproof cap. “Thanks, Mom. Really. Geez, it’s the twenty-first century. You’d think they’d figure out a way to make these things smaller.”

Mom ignores that. “I need you to know I’m proud of you no matter what happens.”

This feels so surreal, I can’t help but question it. “You mean to tell me that your only daughter gets knocked up by accident, by a biker gang member, and you’re proud of me? That’s got to be a first.” I glance down at the marble kitchen island counter. A handful of days ago I was playing naughty shoplifter here with Tate. “God, I was such an idiot.”

“This is what I mean. You judge yourself enough. I don’t need to weigh in at all.” She squeezes my arm. “You also forgot to mention that your biker gang boyfriend happens to love you dearly, is part of a legitimate security firm that shut down that psychotic ex-boyfriend of yours, and he’s awfully cute too.” She lifts my chin, and as our eyes meet, she gives me a wink. “Please promise me if you don’t end up moving in with Tate, you and the baby will stay here with me.”

I have no words for anything my mother said during the last minute.

“Take your time. Don’t rush into any decisions. Weigh all your options. I’m off to brunch with the girls. You’ll be okay here without me, right?”

“Yes, I can handle a couple hours by myself without you watching me like a hawk.”

“I know. Call me if you need anything.” She presses a light kiss on my forehead and snatches her purse off the counter.

“I will.” I hold up my smartphone. “You’re on speed dial.”

Seeming satisfied, she flashes me a sympathetic smile and her usual regal wave and leaves. Unfortunately, she isn’t the only woman I have to deal with today. Not if I want answers. If I’m going to have Tate’s baby, I need to start preparing for the fact that the Satan’s Saints MC will be in my life. That means I have to give Cindy a callback.

I imagine it going over really badly. Still, this is something I need to do for the baby. Sabrina and Jenny are the only two women I have a fair enough relationship with at the clubhouse. They’re both younger though, and neither of them has faced motherhood yet.

Mustering up the courage, I find Cindy’s number on my phone and hit the call button. I’m about to hang up on the third ring when there’s a cough on the other end of the line.

“Yeah? Who’s this?”

“Hi. Cindy?”

“Yeah. Who the hell wants to know? Hurry up, I don’t have all day, sweetheart.”

“It’s Molly.”

“Oh. The booty call, womb-still-fucking-fertile, man-trapping bitch. Why the hell are you calling my phone, hussy?”

Hmmm. I start to think maybe I’d have been better off asking Silas or Cole. Hell, I’m ready to ask Tate.

“You sent me a text, Cindy. But it’s okay. Never mind. Take care.”

“You can’t get off this easily, missy. I sent you a text but don’t expect me to be all sweet on you. When can you meet me?”

Maternal much?

Nurturing much?

Not Cindy. Maybe when Silas was two, but definitely not now.

“I’m free whenever.” I take a breath and spit it out. “I also want to ask a few questions about what the club will expect of me if and when I have this baby. So, after you let me in on why you want me to meet with you, can we put aside our differences for an hour and help each other out, woman to woman?”

“I’m obligated to help you out whether I like it or not. Which I don’t like by the way, but you already know that. If you’re carrying Tate’s child, that makes you family. I prefer to come to you, though. Give me the directions. I’ll head out in ten minutes. Does that work?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” I choke out. I give her directions to a diner near me and end the call. Knowing Cindy, this meeting isn’t for idle chit-chat.

* * *

An hour later, I discover that I’m right on the money about Cindy’s intentions. I walk into the diner we agreed on, and approach the table where she waits for me. The angry looking woman has a cup of coffee, a piece of pie, and a crumpled paper bag that makes my stomach do a nervous flip-flop. Is that a gun? Did she really bring a concealed weapon to a diner?

“Any day now,” Cindy whines.

“Sorry, what?”

“Are you going to sit down or do you expect me to bow and acknowledge your presence first?” She rolls her eyes and shoves the bag in my direction. “Actually, before you get comfortable, take this into the bathroom and make me a liar, would you? I need to know this is the real deal. Here.”

I gingerly open the bag, reaching inside with shaking fingers even after I see what’s in there.

Yes. One pregnancy test.

“Is this why you texted me?”

She nods.

This bitch knows how to get on my last nerve. Why didn’t the woman just ask Tate? He’d tell her that he’s seen the results of three of these damn tests already. Maybe she’s just putting me through this to be difficult. In the spirit of keeping everything low key, I paste a fake smile on my face.

“Not a problem. It’s only the fourth pregnancy test I’m taking. Trust me, I’m all trained up. It’d be my pleasure,” I grit my teeth. “Good thing I drank a large bottle of water on the way here.”

“Well, would you look at that. It’s almost like you knew!” Cindy throws up her hands with an equally fake laugh. “Go do your business. I’ll be waiting right here.”

“What? You’re not worried I’ll fake it with some pregnant lady pee I snagged from some stranger? Are you sure you don’t want to follow me inside and watch?”

“Nah, you’re not that deranged.” Cindy leans back in the booth and waves her hand in dismissal. “Go on, get your bony ass going. Chop, chop!”

I roll my eyes but navigate my way toward the restrooms. I suppose in the grand scheme of things it’s a small price to pay for answers. After a good ten minutes of stage fright, I’m able to get down to business. I wait the token three minutes, shove the stick back in the brown paper bag and wash my hands, heading back out to deliver the news.

“The goods are in there. See for yourself.” I slide the bag across the table and snatch up a fork, jabbing a big piece of pie off of her plate. “That was a lot of work. I got hungry.”

She squeezes her lips together, not saying a word. She slides the plate across the tabletop until it’s in front of me. The skeptical woman digs through the bag. It’s almost worth the hassle of taking the test to watch the woman’s facial expression go from cocky to pure confusion. Her gaze flicks from me to the pregnancy test and back again. I’ve never seen anyone’s eyes move so fast.

“So…we good now?”

I take another huge chunk of the pie, relishing the soothing taste of putting Cindy in her place. She doesn’t answer. I hold my arm out, palm facing up, with a forkful of pie held out to her. “Here, have a bite before I finish it all. And by the way, do I get an apology for the way you tried to choke the life out of me?”

Her head snaps up from looking at my hand. She blinks. All the color drains out of her face. Yes, I figure the older woman has forgotten all about our almost-catfight at the clubhouse which could have cost me the baby if the men didn’t pull the older woman off me.

“Wait.” She snatches my hand and holds on like a vulture while staring at my wrist with wide, shocked eyes. “Jesus. I didn’t know that was you. I didn’t click…”

“Are you kidding me right now? You didn’t know it was my neck you decided to clamp your hands onto?” I thought I could be polite and diplomatic with her. Clearly that’s not possible. Her grip on my arm isn’t helping.

“I said wait. There’s something else.”

“What? Something else like what?”

“Did you forget to clean the wax out of your ears this morning. I just said wait, dammit. I’m trying to remember something.”

Cindy lets go of my hand and pulls out her phone. “I need to make a quick call,” she says and scrolls through her phone screen.

“Do you need some privacy?”

“No. Hang on. It’s ringing.” She has her eye on my arm the entire time, until someone answers. “Debbie? Hey, it’s Cindy. Got a minute?”

I can only hear Cindy’s side of the conversation. But I’m curious. This call is about me, or more accurately, about my wrist.

“Great,” she continues. “Do you remember that Mongols branding incident from say, twenty-odd years back? Yes, I know it was only two of them… What were their names? Did you hang on to the photos? Good. If you find them, snap a couple of shots with your phone and send it to me, will you? Thanks, Debbie. Take care.”

I rub my temples to stop the pounding against the spot. Yes, she’s giving me a headache with all this suspense. “Are you going to tell me what this is about?” I demand. “What do I have to do with Mongols, branding, and photographs from twenty years ago? Unless you and this Debbie character had jobs in marketing or advertising two decades ago, and are feeling like walking down memory lane with me to make nice.”

“That’s not it.”

“What is it, then?”

“That thing on your wrist.”

I look at my wrist and back at her. “My birthmark?” I reply. It’s a small, weird spot on my wrist. It’s faded and blends into my skin color. No one has ever noticed it before. “What about it?”

“That’s not a birthmark.”

“Of course, it is. It’s been there since before I can remember.”

Cindy eyes the spot again. She’s being so strange about it that I cover it up with my other hand. “You need to talk to your parents, young lady.”

“What?”

“Q-Tips. That’s what I’m getting for your scrawny ass if we ever hold you a fucking baby shower. I said you need to talk to your parents.”

“I heard that, Cindy. But why? What the hell does a stupid birthmark have to do with our conversation or this baby?”

“I’m not talking about your baby. I’m talking about you.”

“What about me? It’s just birthmark. It’s not like a skin tag that can turn cancerous or something. Nothing is wrong with me.”

“Well you and I already know something’s wrong with you, but you’ve got some extra drama going on from your past.” She leans forward and whispers, “That’s not a birthmark.”

“How would you know? What do you think it is?”

“It’s not my place to share that.”

“But you can scare the crap out of me with all this secrecy?”

“Talk to your parents. If they don’t answer your questions, my friend Debbie knows all about it. She’ll tell you if they won’t.”

“Do you realize how weird this all sounds?”

“You need to talk to your parents.”

“About what specifically?”

“Are you deaf or hard headed? I just told you. Go talk to your family and find out what that thing is on your arm. Ask them about the Mongols. I’m done talking about it.” She groans when she sees my confused face hasn’t changed. I clearly don’t get it. “Does your mother have any connection to the Mongols?”

“No.”

‘Then it’s your father.”

“But he’s been dead for years.”

“I can’t help you. Talk to your mother.”

Cindy is making no sense. Neither of my parents was ever a part of a biker gang. “Okay. I’ll ask my mother. I just don’t get why this has anything to do with my baby.”

“Jeez, do I look like a walking ultrasound machine? I told you it doesn’t have anything to do with your child. But I’ll be damned if we get all cozied up with you if the Mongols have some kind of past claim on someone in your family. Talk to your mother. I’ll make sure the club helps you when the baby’s born.”

For the sake of getting the hell out of there, I nod. “Thanks for meeting me, Cindy.”

“No problem. And I’m sorry for getting in your face before.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah. Right.”

“Cut the bullshit, honey. I shouldn’t have come at you. That’s a fact. I got a little territorial. It wasn’t my call to make, though at the time it seemed damned important to shut down what I thought was happening.”

She seems sincere. That kind of honesty makes me a little uncomfortable. “I apologize.”

“Thanks.”

“Did you have any other questions? You said you did over the phone.”

“I think I’m good,” I tell her. She’s freaked me out enough.

“No. I don’t plan to have another chat with you anytime soon.” She points to my belly and meets my eyes. “You wanted to know how involved we’ll be in your child’s life. Is that it?

“Sure,” I admit.

“You’ll be fine. Just know that Tate’s not your child’s only family now.”

“What does that mean? Is some stranger going to show up at my door thinking they have a right to see my baby?”

“First of all, in our community, we don’t pull crap like that. Tate would be aware. He’d tell you beforehand. Your little bundle of joy is part of something bigger. You’ll just have to deal. That’s really all you’ve got in this life. You deal with babies the same way you deal with life…one thing at a time.” Cindy taps her fingernails against the table. “Do you love him?”

Isn’t that the million-dollar question? But I don’t say a word. I won’t have this particular discussion with the woman Tate and I had a threesome with.

“You need to ask yourself some questions and answer it honestly. Do you want to keep Tate in the baby’s life? If you do, then figure out what works best for you. He’ll respect whatever you decide, and the MC will be there with anything you need. I’m not saying it’ll be easy. It’s just better when you have friends.”