by KB Winters
“She’s pregnant.”
It wasn’t a question, I’d seen plenty of women in the desert who did the same thing when a bomb went off in the distance, or a car backfired. That protective mother’s instinct kicked in like a motherfucker.
“Yeah, she is. You haven’t noticed?” Gunnar arched a brow, his eyes lit with amusement for some reason.
I shook my head. “Can’t say I pay a lot of attention to your woman’s body, which I’m sure is banging. But no, I haven’t noticed.” I didn’t bother to tell him that with the pills I wouldn’t remember if I did notice.
“We haven’t told anyone. We were gonna share it with you all, but then with all the Farnsworth shit, she was too freaked to even think about talking about it. She’s been in big tops and loose pants for months.” He shook his head as if just thinking about it stressed him out. “Imagine what that asshole would do if he knew?”
I nodded because I could imagine. There was a time I might have used that same info against an enemy. “Shit man, congratulations. You are happy right?”
“Happy as fuck. I didn’t think I’d get this. I figured Maisie would be my only shot but now…” his big ass shit-eating grin said it all. “Now I’m gonna be a dad.”
He smiled but it faded quickly. “Which is exactly why we have to my girl back and end this Farnsworth bullshit once and for all.”
“We will, Gunnar, I promise. But we have to be smarter than Farnsworth, who’s been trained by the best. Check her text messages,” I said as soon as the thought came to me. “Peaches is the stubbornest damn woman I’ve ever come across, there’s no way in hell she gave in to Farnsworth so easily, not when she knows better than any of us what he might have in store for her.”
“You’re right, dammit.” His big fingers swiped through the thin phone furiously until he found what he was looking for. “Messages from an unknown number. Son of a bitch.” He held up the phone, and I understood his frustration.
On the screen was a picture of Maisie, asleep in her bed, looking like an angel in her princess nightgown. The only thing that ruined the image was the gun aimed at her head. “Don’t be stupid. Kitchen. 30 seconds.”
“I’ll kill him, Wheeler. I swear to fuck…I’m gonna kill that mother fucker!” There’d be no stopping him now that Farnsworth was dumb enough to threaten the little girl and take his pregnant lady.
“And I’ll be right there, helping you reload. But until then, I need you to be cool. These guys love Peaches, and when we tell them, they’re gonna lose their shit. All of ’em. Okay?”
He wanted to argue some more and I didn’t blame him, but we didn’t have time for that shit. “All right.”
“Cool. Later you can fall apart and get shitfaced.”
The front door smacked open and the sound of different footsteps thunked against the hard wood floor. “Hey, yo, where is everybody?”
“Back here, Cruz!” He entered first, followed by Saint, Slayer, Holden and… “Mitch? What are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “I was unwinding at the club when everything happened. Figured I might be able to help, even if it’s just keeping an eye on Maisie.”
Gunnar nodded his appreciation. “Thanks man, have a seat.”
Mitch gave me an odd look but kept his thoughts to himself while Gunnar and I caught the guys up on Peaches’ kidnapping. “Any way to get this footage on the big screen?”
Gunnar shrugged, and Cruz groaned. “You bunch of fuckin’ animals,” he growled and took the phone from Gunnar’s hand. A minute of messing with cords and shit, and the footage appeared on the fifty-inch TV, all four screens at once. “There.”
“Is Doc around?” Saint held up his bandaged arm. “Figured she could take a look at it if she’s around.”
Gunnar nodded and sent Holden up, because Maisie knew him best.
Everyone watched in silence for the next fifteen minutes while my mind wandered all over the fucking place. Wondering how in the hell we would find Peaches and wondering how far we’d have to go to get her back. Not getting her back wasn’t a fucking option. It would destroy Gunnar and probably send most of us on a suicide mission, which meant I couldn’t let it happen.
We all had to be smart. Especially me, which was getting harder because maybe that second pill wasn’t such a good idea. I hadn’t eaten since earlier in the day, and I’ve been off the pills for the past week. But now I felt good, and there was a light haze around my vision.
“What do you think, Wheeler?”
Shit, I wasn’t paying attention. “Come again?”
“What the fuck?” Slayer scowled at me. “We boring you, man?”
“Just repeat what the fuck you said, Slayer. Save the bullshit for later.”
Cruz, the natural born peacekeeper, stepped in. “Farnsworth would go somewhere nearby because Peaches won’t be a quiet hostage. Or an easy one.”
“Definitely.” Shit, the pills were slowing me down.
“You all right, Wheeler?” That voice, so filled with concern and disappointment could only belong to my brother. “You don’t look so hot.”
“I look better than you,” I told him with a smile.
“You’re high.” That prissy, accusing voice could only be one person.
“AB, nothing gets by you.” My gaze slid to her, and I held in a groan at the way she looked, all sexy and sleep rumpled in her flannel shorts and long sleeve t-shirt.
“How many of those pills did you take, Wheeler?”
“What pills?” Mitch’s concern was thick enough that I felt it hovering over me like a mother hen.
“Painkillers. The pain’s been so bad he hasn’t been able to sleep,” Annabelle told him, breaking my confidence.
“He’s right here,” I slurred, at least I think it was me.
“He told you?” Mitch said.
She snorted. “I have eyes, Dr. Haynes.” I imagined they were having one of those silent conversations, trying to figure out how to talk about my leg without being the one to break my confidence. “How many pills, Wheeler?”
I opened my eyes this time and scanned the room until I locked on those big brown eyes looking all concerned, like she had any right to be concerned about me. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Doc.”
She stiffened and then straightened her back. “Right, my mistake.” Then she turned towards Saint. “You have a wound for me?”
“It’s not a gift, Doc.” Saint’s disgruntled tone made her laugh, a pretty feminine sound I didn’t get to hear nearly often enough.
“Says you. Let’s go into the kitchen, and I’ll get you fixed right up.” She slid a glance at Mitch and then Gunnar before disappearing into the kitchen with Saint.
When they were gone, I felt Gunnar’s stare on me. “What the fuck is going on, Wheeler?”
Uh oh, the Prez was pissed. “Nothin’, just some pain. You know how it is.” I didn’t want to have this fucking conversation ever and damn sure not right now.
“No, Wheeler, I don’t know how the fuck it is, so why don’t you tell me?” Gunnar scraped both hands down his face as if doing so might erase some of the shit storm brewing around us. “Well?”
“The goddamn pain in my leg gets too bad if I’ve been on it all day,” I told him and let out a long, exhausted breath. “And it’s already been a long fucking day.” With no ending in sight now that Peaches was gone. Missing. Kidnapped. That’s when my words penetrated the fog of too many painkillers, and I realized I said too much.
Gunnar’s glare never wavered. His nostrils flared in anger but it was the alarming shade of red on his face that spoke volumes about his current mental state. “Explain. Now.”
Gunnar was pissed, but the rest of the guys were all looking at me with accusation burning in their eyes. Wondering if I was the man worthy of being Gunnar’s second in command, if I could be trusted to have their backs when the shit hit the fan, which it had been doing a lot of lately. This was it, the moment to belong or keep myself apart from the group.
Permanently.
There was no fucking decision in that, I realized. Hardtail Ranch was my home and these assholes, the Reckless Bastards, they were my brothers.
“Wheeler,” Holden snapped, his patience thin.
“Right.” There was no easy way to reveal a secret I’d been hiding for so long. I scanned the living room and took a seat in the brown and gold chair beside the window and kicked out my left leg so when I leaned forward I could just tug up the leg of my pants.
“An IED went off on my last tour, killed my whole fucking team, and took my goddamn leg. The pain was getting so bad, so the Doc prescribed me some painkillers. I think I’m getting immune to them. She hasn’t given me any in a while. So, I took some leftover pills to help make it through tonight because I knew you and Peaches needed me.”
It didn’t feel good, unloading all of my bullshit on these men who were already as scared as fuck about Peaches. Hell, for each other. On top of all that, they now had to worry about whether or not I was fit to do my fucking job. “You happy now? I don’t know what the fuck else to say.”
“Dude, how in the fuck do you keep a leg like that a secret for so long?” Slayer’s question was equal parts disbelief and disgust. Before I could answer, he kept going. “We’re your brothers, you dumb motherfucker.”
The other Reckless Bastards nodded their agreement that I was less of an asshole and more of a jackass, a difference without distinction as far as I was concerned.
“It’s not something I enjoy talking about. Most of the time I forget about it, because I want to forget about it. I’d love to forget that whole fucking day, but I can’t. As the only survivor, it’s my punishment to never, ever fucking forget.”
“And if you need help while we’re out at the club or taking care of business, how the fuck are we supposed to help?” Holden was more pissed than the rest of them, and I understood completely. He and I had grown close, talked about a lot of our baggage. A lot, but not all.
“Then I would have been shit outta luck, and I know it. I’m fucked up Holden, what the fuck do you want me to say?” Several tours and half a dozen off the books ops, a man was entitled to a little bit of fucked up and a whole lotta baggage. Right?
“Don’t say shit, ever. As long as you don’t give a fuck that we’re going into battle with men you obviously don’t trust.”
That stung, and it wasn’t fucking true. “That’s bullshit and you know it.” A quick glance around the room said that my so-called brothers agreed with Holden. Fuckers.
“Oh, so now we’re going to act like I’m the only man in the club with problems? Big fucking problems,” I said, my glance landing on Saint the moment he and Annabelle returned from the kitchen.
“Fine, I’m fucked up. I’m a liar.” There was no point trying to argue with people who’d already made up their minds so I pulled my pant leg down, crossed my legs and looked out the window beside me, where the night had grown black except for the diamonds twinkling high and bright in the Texas sky.
“Thanks for sharing your secret with us,” Gunnar said, his voice sincere.
“When you didn’t have a fucking choice in the matter,” Cruz added, doing a piss poor job of whispering.
Gunnar glared at him but said nothing. “Tonight, you stay here.”
I wasn’t surprised, but somehow, I was. “Why? Because you don’t trust me?”
“Because I can’t trust your reaction time when you’re high on pain pills, and we need every man focused tonight.” His expression was fierce as he readied himself to do battle, to go out and burn the world down, all to find his woman. “Besides, Maisie and the Doc will need some protection. Think you and Mitch can handle that?”
I gave a short nod, grateful the night and the revelation had gone much better than I could have ever imagined. I knew I had a lot to make up for, and I would start by keeping Maisie safe. Annabelle too.
Chapter Sixteen
Annabelle
Maisie had fallen asleep three hours ago, and I hadn’t slept at all in that time. I couldn’t. My mind wouldn’t let me. It was too full of everything that had taken place earlier. I’d learned so much about Peaches, about the men now tasked with keeping me and the little girl pressed up against me, safe. The only thing I could focus on was just how little I knew about the people around me.
Peaches was some kind of government hacker or spy or something along those lines. The man I’d been sharing my body and my bed with was a biker and some kind of black ops specialist. I still didn’t have all the details, which told me one thing: this wasn’t where I belonged. If it was, I’d know a lot more about these people. I realized that even though I considered Peaches my best friend, it was clear that sentiment was not returned. We didn’t have that kind of friendship, apparently. But those thoughts weren’t helpful right now so I shoved them deep down and turned back to the present.
Peaches was kidnapped, very likely by some type of government g-man with no real name or birth certificate. Probably didn’t even have any fingerprints. But she wasn’t just kidnapped. I saw how she grabbed her stomach on the big screen TV when that man walked her out. She was pregnant. And considering my friend’s sassy mouth, there was a good chance she’d get hurt—or killed. I couldn’t think about that right now because the only thing I could do to help was keep this little girl safe.
Maisie slept peacefully, her body snuggled up to mine with such confidence. Such trust. Her right arm and right leg were flung across my midsection, her head resting on my shoulder while her long hair hung across my neck. She was such a sweet little kid, so trusting and precocious and certain in the love of every adult in her orbit.
I would do everything I could to make sure she remained in that sweet, happy bubble. But sleep wouldn’t come, and if I lie here awake any longer, all the moving around would wake her. Since I hadn’t heard a bunch of bikes descend on the ranch yet, I figured we were still alone. I slid my feet into slippers and checked the window before creeping, quietly, downstairs. The small creaks and squeaks kept my nerves on edge.
Tea. Definitely tea and maybe some of Martha’s cookies would relax my mind enough that I could get a few hours of sleep in before Maisie woke up. Without sleep I wouldn’t be focused and without that focus I couldn’t keep my word to Peaches. I couldn’t keep Maisie safe. So…cookies and tea.
The kitchen was dark aside from the light above the stove. It shed just the perfect amount of light on a night like this where the stars and the moon were shining bright. That and too much light would make it easy to see right inside the windows. A big figure with wide shoulders sat shrouded in black, hunched over the kitchen table, startling the crap out of me.
“Oh, shit! Wheeler? Are you okay?”
Obviously not, since he was sitting in the dark. Completely quiet. But I knew, even before I asked the questions, he wouldn’t share a damn thing with me.
“You know I’m not,” he said without even turning to look at me. “You made damn sure of that, didn’t you?”
“Right,” I snorted. “It’s all my fault you’ve got problems you refuse to share with anyone, even your own damn brother. You have pain that you refuse to address unless or until it’s convenient for you. But sure Wheeler, blame it all on me.”
What difference did it make? Wheeler would believe what he wanted no matter what I said or did. So I busied myself making a cup of basil and lemon tea to go with the pineapple upside down cake I found in the oven, slapping a slice of cheddar on top before popping it into the microwave. It was a treat I hadn’t let myself enjoy since medical school.
“Gross,” Wheeler snorted when I set the plate and saucer on the table across from him.
“It’s a good thing I didn’t offer you any, then.” He was looking for a fight and I wasn’t in the mood, not with some psycho out there doing who knew what to Peaches.
“Maybe, but now my curiosity is piqued, and I want a bite.” He leaned forward, revealing that too handsome face with sparkling blue eyes as a slow smile
spread across his mouth.
“Maybe I’ll save you a bite,” I told him disingenuously. There was no way that anyone was getting even one little sliver of this amazing treat. My mouth watered even thinking about taking a bite. I looked at him closely, noticing the tension around his eyes and mouth. “Seriously Wheeler, how are you feeling?”
He shrugged, thinking about bullshitting me I was sure, but I was happy in the end he didn’t. “The pills wore off hours ago, but the pain has been hovering somewhere around a six.”
I nodded, biting back at least ten different responses before I settled on one. “For the love of God, Wheeler, take off the damn prosthetic. You’ve told everyone the truth so stop being a baby.” As a physician, it went against everything I believed in to be so callous to someone so clearly in pain, but the man was damn infuriating. He would rather let the pain kill him than admit to having a weakness.
“Easy for you to say,” he grunted in his usual disgruntled tone.
“Actually it’s not. You think it’s easy for me to sit here and watch you in pain when I know how much you’re suffering? Well, it’s not, dammit.”
I sipped on my tea and turned my gaze to the cake. “Do what you want, you will anyway.” One thing I’d learned in dealing with my father, other physicians, and patients in the medial field, was that people did what they wanted, regardless of professional advice, past history, or common sense. In that aspect, Wheeler wasn’t so different than the average man.
We sat in silence for so long that it almost became comfortable. Almost, but nothing could ever be classified as comfortable, not with the underlying current of dark desire that arced between us whenever we were together. “It was my fault. I didn’t see the IED.”
I had to search my memory bank for what the acronym stood for and I nodded when I remembered, saying nothing. But I remembered seeing photos of bodies mangled and injured by those explosive devices. It wasn’t pretty, but it gave me some clue about what Wheeler had gone through.
