12

Mia

So far, my day had been quite shit. After Rainn dropped the bomb that there was a high chance I could be pregnant by the man of my dreams, I promptly ran to the bathroom and expelled everything that was in my stomach, more from shock, horror, and fear, than because a baby Steel was forming in my belly. Pretty safe assumption.

So I went to work and started the wait, counting down the minutes until I could take a pregnancy test in approximately fourteen to twenty-one days.

I threw the pad of paper behind the bar that I was using to make a list of the pros and cons of being pregnant with Steel’s child, not even seeing where it landed. The pro list was too bloody short, anyway. It had only two points written on its side.

I love him

I want this baby.

The other list was really quite extensive.

He loves Callie.

He doesn’t love me.

He loves Callie.

He doesn’t want me.

He loves Callie.

His hair is so much better than mine.

He fucked my sister. MANY TIMES!

My list-making skills needed a bit of work, but my point was made. Steel wasn’t interested in me in that way. The previous night was something I would never forget, for more reasons than I cared to think about. Automatically, I placed my hand on my flat stomach and couldn’t help the small grin that formed. A baby Steel. A mini version of him of my very own. Last night had been a one-off, I felt certain of this deep down. I didn’t like it, but it was what it was. Steel felt rejected by Callie, and his need to be a knight in shining armour came out to play for a while. He was like that—very protective of the people he cared about. I knew he cared about me in a roundabout sort of way. I was, after all, the manager of his business. He would be lost and totally screwed without me. So having me hurt by a couple of his patrons was not in his best interests.

The sex? I couldn’t explain that one, but most of it was my own fault. I did practically beg the poor guy to sleep with me. Jumped him like a bitch in heat. Moaned like a porn star. Then— oh, my God. Did I call him babe? Holy shit, I did. Bits and pieces of the night returned in a flood of bad memories like a bad movie you never wanted to see again but remained locked in your brain forever.

“Come and get it.” Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, how would I face him ever again? I had to leave. I had to pack and get on a flight to some remote location where no one would be able to find me. Just me and my maybe-baby stud. It would probably help with the Rogue problem, too.

“Mia, from the look on your face, I don’t know if you are lost in your head or planning something weird, but I think we have a small problem.”

Looking up at Vegas, I gave her a questioning look as I followed her out of my office and to the main bar. It was too early for the customers, so I was surprised to see five men standing by the entrance. Two were wearing suits and official looking ID badges clipped to their pockets. The other three were police officers. Oh, Lord, what has gone wrong now?

“Miss Stone?” one of the suits asked in a deep, authoritative tone.

Wiping the palms of my hands on my jean-covered thighs, I nodded my head slowly. Okay, maybe I should be asking what have I done wrong.

“Yes, I am Mia Stone.” I tried to keep my voice steady, but when I saw one of the officers putting his hand on his cuffs hanging off his belt, I had a feeling this was going to be bad for me.

“Miss Stone, I have evidence proving you have been serving alcohol to minors on a regular basis here at this establishment. I need you to come with us for questioning,” one of the suit-clad men informed me in an accusing tone.

I gasped in complete disbelief. There was no way I would ever do that. Steel made sure we were all well trained in detecting fake IDs, and the guys at the door would never let anyone underage inside. Ever. My eyes started to burn with tears, but I wouldn’t let them fall. I needed to be the representative of the club and act like the manager that Steel and Booth trusted me to be when they offered me the job.

“There must be some mistake,” I whispered, frantically looking around for Vegas, who, thankfully, was already on her phone calling the club.

There was a mistake, but not according to them. Five pairs of eyes stared at me with disgust, obviously believing the complaint. What on earth happened to innocence before guilt?

One of the uniformed cops stalked forward and started to read me my rights, his voice holding a snarl to it. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him, but I knew that I knew him. How? When he grabbed my arms and roughly pulled them behind my back with more force than he needed to use, it suddenly hit me.

Michael. Stella’s stepbrother. Oh, God. This was not good. I let out a hiss of pain when the cuffs were slapped onto my wrists and tightened way too tight on my skin. One was still pretty sore from the uni student who dragged me over the bar. Oh no! The uni student. He had to be the one who complained about us. Steel’s manhandling of him had been justified, and honestly, the guy got off too easily in my book. Steel had shown a lot of self-control because when pissed off and out of control, he was off the scale.

“Hey, is that necessary? Mia weighs next to nothing, and she isn’t going to run. Be careful with her,” Vegas shouted, the phone still at her ear. I was sure whoever she was talking to was now aware of what was happening to me.

“Take it easy, Officer. We don’t want Miss Stone running to her friends now, do we?” The other suit sneered.

I shivered at the venom in his voice when he said the word friends. There was something very wrong about this whole deal. The Bar and Grill had always operated within the parameters of the law. The club prided themselves on that. It was what set them apart from other clubs, and it was the reason they had stayed off the radar of the police.

I was yanked hard by my bounded arms and escorted out of the building. The tears that had been clogging my throat now spilled down my cheeks. I couldn’t help it. The combination of the pain in my wrists and arms and the unknown of what was going to happen to me had me scared witless.

“Hang on, Mia. The boys are going to be at the station. They will have you out in no time,” Vegas yelled at me just as someone shoved me unceremoniously into the back of a police car. Michael got in beside me and sat far too close for an official ride in a police car. His thigh pressed against mine, and with my arms bound the way they were, there was nothing I could do about it.

Turning my head away from the creep, I watched as Vegas stood on the front steps of the Bar and Grill, wringing her hands in front of her. Then I saw her mouth the words, “Steel is coming.”

A small, sad smile formed on my lips. 

My Cooper would save me. He always did.