Anguish

by Bella Jewel

  Five minutes later the ambulance arrives.

  They take Diesel from Mack, and he’s smart enough to give him over. They start shouting things and pressing devices to Diesel’s tiny body. I clench my jaw, fighting my tears as they turn to us. “Who wants to ride with him?”

  “Mack,” I whisper.

  “Jaylah,” he says, but I don’t let him argue.

  “He’s your son,” I say. “Go.”

  He stares at me, then his fingers go out and trail down my cheekbone before he gets in the ambulance and leaves. The moment they’re gone, I run to my car and get in.

  The entire way to the hospital I cry, because I’m terrified about what is happening. If something happens to Diesel, I’ll never . . . I’ll never be the same. That baby has become a part of me, and letting him go is something I’m not willing to do.

  I ring Santana on the way. She needs to know.

  “Jaylah,” she answers happily.

  “Santana.”

  “What’s wrong, honey?”

  “Diesel is sick, really sick. We’re taking him to the hospital. I just wanted you to know.”

  “Oh no,” she breathes. “We’ll be there soon.”

  I hang up without another word.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  I run through the doors of the hospital, demanding to know where Mack is. A nurse quickly shows me the way and I see him standing outside of Emergency, his arms crossed, his head down. I run towards him and he lifts his head when I near closer.

  “Diesel?” I ask.

  “Checkin’ him out now.”

  My chest seizes, and I feel as if I’m going to stop breathing at any moment. I reach out and take Mack’s hand, but he jerks it away softly. It burns, but I say nothing. It’s not the time, nor the place. We stand there together, silently, saying nothing until Santana, Ash, Maddox and Krypt come in.

  Santana rushes over and I let go of Mack’s hand. She throws herself into his arms and he holds her, really holds her. My chest seizes and I look away. Of course he holds her; I’m the reason his baby is in the hospital. Why would he want me anywhere near him? Santana gives him comfort while Ash takes my hand. I jerk at her touch, but I don’t pull away. I just stare at the floor.

  A moment later, the doctor comes out.

  “Who is responsible for this baby?” he asks.

  Mack nods, letting Santana go. “I am, and her.”

  I nod weakly.

  “His temperature is alarmingly high, and it would appear he’s got an infection in his left ear as well as in his chest. Have you noticed any coughing, struggling to feed?”

  My knees shake. This is why I should have never been a nanny. It’s not just about feeding, and changing, and taking care of a child, it’s about knowing if they’re sick, and being able to make sure it doesn’t get worse.

  “He was coughing mildly,” I whisper. “A few nights at most. It seemed to settle after a feed . . . I didn’t know . . . I didn’t realize.”

  The doctor reaches out, giving me a soothing pat to my shoulder. “It’s not your fault. With babies it can be hard to tell. The milk would have soothed his chest and throat, so therefore it would have stopped with feeding.”

  I’m a horrible person.

  “What about his ear?” he continues. “Was he pulling it?”

  “Only this morning, probably a few hours before I brought him here.”

  “Has he been restless?”

  He had been restless for a few nights. Another reason this wasn’t the job for me.

  “Yes.”

  “Listen, he’s going to be okay. He’s on a drip with something to treat the infection and make sure he’s hydrated. With babies his size, that’s the most important thing. He’ll need to stay a night, but you’re both welcome to stay.”

  “This is my fault, isn’t it?” I croak.

  The doctor shakes his head. “No, babies get sick all the time. It’s part of being a parent. He’s ready to be seen.”

  The doctor leaves, but I stare at his retreating form.

  “I’m not a nanny,” I whisper to no one in particular.

  “Honey,” Ash begins.

  “I’m not a nanny, and because of that, I missed the signs.”

  “Jaylah,” Santana cuts in.

  “He could have died, because of me.”

  Tears break out and spill down my cheeks.

  “Shit,” Maddox says.

  I turn to Mack, and whisper, “You need to find someone else. I’ll find a way to pay you back, but . . . I can’t do this. I’m . . . not a nanny.”

  Then I turn and run out of the room, down the halls and out into the parking lot. I go to my car, lean over it and start sobbing. He’s sick because of me. I didn’t notice the signs. I didn’t realize something was wrong. If I were qualified, I would have known. My body shakes with each sob, and I don’t even try to control it.

  A firm hand curls around my shoulder, and I’m spun into a hard chest. It’s Mack’s chest; I already know that. I press my face into his shirt, and I cry. Hard, ugly and broken. “It’s not your fault,” he says, his voice low.

  “I didn’t notice, Mack,” I croak. “He could have died because of me.”

  “Not your fault.”

  “I’m not a nanny.”

  “And a mother isn’t a mother until she has her first child.”

  I flinch.

  “Do you think first-time mothers don’t make the same mistakes? Do you think they don’t have to learn and figure it out?”

  “I’m not his mother.”

  “No, but you’re the closest fuckin’ thing he’s got.”

  I flinch and start crying again.

  “He could have died.”

  “He didn’t.”

  “Mack, you should get—”

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  I shake my head in his chest, trying to pull back, but his arms tighten around me. “If it’s about the money, I’ll get it, and—”

  “It ain’t about the money.”

  “Mack . . .”

  “It’s about you being the only one with the guts to push my son on me. It’s about you makin’ me feel so fuckin’ good when I’m inside you. It’s about you talkin’ to that baby in a sweet-as-fuck voice that shows me how much you love him. It’s about you bein’ perfect for us, because you’re not a nanny.”

  I cry harder.

  He holds me tighter.

  “Mack,” I squeak.

  “You’re not leavin’, Lah.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “Now, pull back, get your shit together, and come and be by his side. He needs you.”

  I pull back and look up at him. He leans down, curling his fingers behind my neck and he kisses me, hard and fast. Then he turns and walks back inside.

  And I realize Mack touched me, held me, for the first time without hesitation.

  My heart melts.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “Hush, sweetheart,” I murmur, stroking Diesel’s hair.

  He squirms in my arms, croaking, his little cry hoarse. I press him closer to my chest, and he tries to nuzzle me there. I know he’s hungry, and Santana has gone to get him a bottle and find Mack.

  “It’s coming, darling,” I say, rocking him.

  It’s late, and I know everyone is tired, but they’re all being so kind, staying around with us. It’s been a long night, and we’ve all discovered a little something about ourselves tonight. What we’ve figured out, more than anything, is that Diesel is one of us. There’s no way this little man is going anywhere. He’s a member of the Joker’s Wrath Motorcycle Club, and he’s our youngest, most cherished member.

  “Here we go,” Santana says.

  She’s shaking the bottle, her finger pressed over the teat. Mack comes in behind her, and she doesn’t waste time. She hands me the bottle, flashes me a smile and disappears, leaving Mack and I alone.

  “That was subtle,” I murmur.

  Mack’s lips quirk, but
he doesn’t smile. His eyes are on Diesel, whose little arms are making not-so-subtle grabs for the bottle.

  “He’s got an appetite.”

  I snort. “That’s an understatement.”

  I’m about to press it to his lips, but I stop and look to Mack. “You want to feed him?”

  Something flashes in his face, and I can see he’s about to protest, so I say, “Don’t go back now, Mack. You’re better than that. He’s your son, and as hard as you are, we both know you’re not letting him go. So why not try bonding with him? He’s part of you.”

  “He’s also part of her,” he says, his voice low.

  “That makes him even more beautiful.”

  His eyes flash to mine, and there’s something deep and warm in them. I stand and walk over, passing Diesel to him. He takes him awkwardly, and mutters, “I don’t know how to do this.”

  “Sit,” I order, my voice still soft. “I’ll show you.”

  He sits down, and I adjust Diesel across his lap, propping his head up in the crook of his elbow. Then I hand him the bottle, and direct his hand in. Diesel latches on, and Mack smiles. He smiles, a beautiful, heart-wrenching smile that has me beaming.

  “Jesus,” he says. “He’s goin’ to pop the top off this thing.”

  I laugh. “No, but he’ll give it a good go.”

  He looks at his son and my heart cracks.

  “Why are we so fuckin’ stupid as humans?” he asks.

  I look to him, tilting my head. “How do you mean?”

  “We run from shit, but when it goes bad and we lose it, our first comment is ‘I wish I would have done that’.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  He looks up at me. “If he’d died, I would have never forgiven myself, yet I pushed away from him. It would have taken him passing for me to realize what a fuckin’ idiot I was. It’s the same with so many. They don’t talk to someone, they avoid them, but when that person dies, the first thing they say is ‘I wish I’d been there, I wish I wasn’t so stupid’. That brings me to my point. We’re stupid as humans. It shouldn’t take that shit for us to pull our heads out of our asses and fix shit.”

  I nod, understanding. “You’re right,” I whisper.

  “I got you to thank for this, Jaylah.”

  “No.” I shake my head, sitting on the bed and watching them. “This is all you.”

  “Wrong,” he says, but doesn’t go on.

  His word is enough for both of us to understand.

  I lie back on the pillow, exhausted.

  “Jaylah?” he says as my eyes flutter closed.

  “Mmmm?”

  He hesitates, then in a voice so low I’m not sure if I dreamed it, he says, “Thank you, honey.”

  ~*~*~*~

  MACK

  “Never thought I’d see the day,” Maddox says, standing at the door, watching Diesel sleep in my arms.

  My son’s warmth is radiating through my body, and every now and then he reaches out and curls his tiny fingers around one of mine. Breaking my heart with each movement. Breaking it because I was such a fucking asshole.

  “Can thank her for that,” I say, nodding my head to Jaylah who is curled up, looking fuckin’ perfect, sleepin’ on the bed.

  “She’s a good girl, Mack.”

  “I never said she wasn’t.”

  He turns his eyes to me, and they grow serious. “Let her go.”

  I blink at him. “What?”

  “Let her go, bro.”

  “What are you fuckin’ on about?”

  He shakes his head. “She cares about you, it’s written all over her, and more, she cares about that baby. You ain’t gonna give her what she wants, then you need to let her go. She’s a good woman. She deserves to be more than a fuckin’ bedmate.”

  “Jesus, Maddox,” I grunt.

  “You care about her?”

  Fuck.

  I glare at him. He goes on. “You don’t, you let her go. Don’t hurt her, Mack. That’s one woman who deserves more than just an occasional fuck.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” I hiss.

  “Then you’ll let her go.”

  “And if I don’t want to?” I grind out.

  He turns, looking back over his shoulder. “Then you’ll give her what she needs.”

  Fuckin’ bastard.

  He’s always right.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  “Dammit, why can’t I have an ass like yours?” Santana groans, turning and staring at her ass in the mirror.

  I laugh, smoothing my tiny skirt down over my thighs. “Santana, you have a killer body.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I don’t. I’m getting fat.”

  I snort. “You’re growing a baby.”

  “Still . . .”

  I button up my skin-tight shirt and stare at myself in the mirror. “Is this too slutty?”

  “God, no. If I had a booty like yours, I’d be wearing that, too.”

  “I agree,” Ash says, coming out of the bathroom in a tiny black dress.

  “Whoa, Momma!” I laugh.

  She twirls. “Krypt is going to have a fit.”

  “Let him.” I grin, releasing my hair from the curlers and letting it flow down my back.

  “Krypt ain’t goin’ to be the only one,” Santana murmurs.

  I turn, and they’re both staring at me. “What?”

  “Yeesh, you’d turn a woman lesbian.”

  I laugh, shaking my head. “You girls are over-reacting.”

  I step in front of the full-length mirror and gasp. It’s been a while since I’ve dressed up, and I must admit, I like it. My hair is flowing in loose curls around my shoulders and down my back. I’m wearing a tight black top that buttons all the way up the front, literally. I can open it or close it as much as I want. I’ve left the two buttons at the top down so my cleavage is on display. I’ve paired it with a short white skirt. It’s a little short, but it suits the top.

  My shoes are black pumps, strappy, and fucking high. I look good; even I’ll admit that. I’ve got makeup on, but I’ve left it light and smoky, almost seductive. I breathe out, and then grin. “Damn, we’re going to have a good night.”

  “You’re right about that.” Santana beams.

  “How did you go dropping Diesel off?” Ash asks.

  I frown. “It was hard, but she’s a great woman, and I know it meant the world to her that we asked if she could have Diesel for the night.”

  “Tracy is really sweet. How’d you get Mack to agree?” Santana asks.

  “I told him that he either gave Diesel over or he couldn’t come.”

  Ash pouts. “I can’t believe the guys are crashing our girls’ night.”

  “Protection,” Santana grumbles.

  “Dammit,” I mutter, but secretly, I’m not overly upset that they’re coming. I’m looking forward to being around Mack.

  “Well,” Ash says, adjusting her hair. “Let’s go.”

  We all hook arms and head downstairs. The guys are waiting in the living room, with a few beers. They’re all in black, looking like a bunch of sex gods. I watch as Maddox and Krypt’s eyes go lusty as they take in their women. I grin and turn to Mack, whose eyes have gone far beyond lusty. He looks as if he’s going to throw me over his shoulder and say, fuck the girls’ night.

  “Honey,” Maddox murmurs, “you’re pregnant. You’re not meant to attract more male attention.”

  Santana snorts. “I might be pregnant, but I’m not an old woman.”

  “No, you ain’t,” he mutters.

  Krypt has his face buried in Ash’s neck, and he’s kissing her. She’s giggling, her cheeks pink, and I can’t help but smile. I’m not paying attention, therefore I don’t notice that Mack has moved closer and curled his arm around my hip. He pulls me close to him and his face drops to my ear. “Before we go in, I’m parkin’ my bike, liftin’ that skirt and fuckin’ you hard and fast.”

  I shiver.

  “Got me?”

  I nod.
<
br />   “Time to go,” I say breathily, and everyone looks over to me. “What?”

  Maddox grins, Krypt gets a knowing look in his eye, and the girls giggle. Yeah, yeah, so they know what’s going down. So what? Mack’s arm stays curled around my hip, and it feels nice, maybe even like it’s not just sex.

  “She’s gonna flash every car with that skirt.” Maddox nods at my ass.

  Mack’s fingers tighten on my hip. “Not when she’s pressed against me.”

  Oh, boy.

  “Let’s ride,” Krypt grins.

  We all head out the front and I stare at Mack’s bike, realizing I’ve never been on it. I have been on a bike before, but not a shiny, sexy Harley-Davidson with a super-hot biker. He notices I hesitate and turns to me. I get a good, solid look at him now, and my mouth goes dry. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans that fit him perfectly. He’s got a dressier shirt than usual on, which surprises me, but he makes it look so fucking hot. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and the top few buttons are undone. Plus, it’s untucked.

  Bad boy.

  He’s got heavy black boots on, and his jacket is slung over his shoulder. His hair is pulled back with a tie at the base of his neck, and this allows me to see his sculpted jaw, and God, it’s nice. His skin is flawless, so fucking perfect. Even with slight rubble, he looks like a damned god. Like he belongs in a museum.

  “You scared?” he asks.

  “No,” I whisper.

  “Then get on.”

  He hands me a helmet and I very, very carefully slide it on. This is why I went with leaving my hair down instead of doing an up-style. I didn’t want it to get too messy. I can fix it like it is. Mack pulls his own helmet on, puts his jacket on, and then climbs on the bike, before ordering me to, “Get on.”

  I do as he asks, careful not to flash everyone. When I’m on, I press myself to him, my pussy to his back. God, if he didn’t have a jacket on, he’d be able to feel me. He’d be able to feel how wet I am. My cheeks go pink as I wrap my arms around him, and as if hearing my thoughts, he turns his head slightly and says, “You wet for me?”

  Oh, God.

  “Yes.”

  “Fuck.”

  Then he starts the bike and we speed off.