Baby and the Biker: The Ghost Riders MC

by Savannah Rylan

  I couldn’t stand what our club was becoming. The rest of the guys in the MC were just as scared of him as I was, but they were all willing to just go along with his antics rather than go against him and face his wrath.

  “Reagan, could we talk?” I asked.

  “Mmm… sure,” she said. “What’s up?”

  “I need you to talk to me about going away together,” I said.

  I felt her push up from my body as she stretched her arms out to the side.

  “Time for bed,” she said.

  “No, Reagan. We have to talk about this.”

  “I’m not talking about anything with you if it involves leaving the only home I’ve ever known,” she said.

  “Look, I know this is hard. But you have no idea the life we’re in for if we stay here.”

  “I don’t understand how running away from all of this is the problem. You might have a crappy family you want to run from, but I don’t. You won’t even meet my mother. She can’t even come here to help me through this pregnancy. You’ve isolated me completely, Maddox. Because I’m carrying your child. Had I known me staying with you was going to cause all this…”

  I watched her push herself up from the couch as she sighed.

  “What?” I asked. “If you knew staying with me was going to cause all this… then what?”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore,” Reagan said.

  “Do you not want this child? Do you not want to keep our child safe?”

  “Of course, I want to keep our child safe!” she said. “But look at what you’re asking of me! My life is here, Maddox. My family is only seven hours away. My life is here. All of it. And you’re asking me to give that up. Don’t you see how ridiculous that is?”

  “We don’t have a choice. My father is losing it, Reagan. If we stay here-”

  I bit down onto my tongue as I watched her brow furrow.

  “No. Don’t you hold back from me now. I know who your father is. I know what you are a part of. What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Reagan, I-”

  “Maddox, talk to me now or this conversation is over.”

  “My father is causing a lot of people to hate out club right now.”

  “How so?” she asked.

  “He’s trying to take over territory he shouldn’t. Territory and buyers that belong to another club. And people have been dying because of it.”

  I watched Reagan shake her head as tears welled in her eyes.

  “What do you mean, people have been dying?” she said.

  “The Steel Outlaws are fighting back against my father. They have started to take out the charters we created in Portland, and they are threatening to take out us next.”

  The tears sliding down Reagan’s cheeks broke my heart.

  “I can’t right now,” she said breathlessly.

  “Reagan, please. Sit down with me. I’ll answer all of your-”

  “I have to get some rest. I’m so tired,” she said.

  “Reagan, don’t. At least sleep with me in my bed.”

  But all she did was shake her head and walk away. Carrying with her the life we had created. The life I was trying to save.

  I had to get her to come with me.

  I had to convince her that this was the only way.

  No matter what I had to do in the process.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Reagan

  As much as I hate to admit it, my pregnancy had gotten the better of me. I had been hospitalized twice for bleeding and the stress even from my part-time job was creating an unstable environment for my unborn child. I had a long talk with my employers. One that was filled with tears and uncertainty and a bit of regret. But in the end, all of us decided the best thing for me to do would be to step down temporarily from my position.

  I hated it.

  I knew that my boss claimed it was only temporarily, but I knew the demand of my job. I knew they would need to find someone to take over the work load and I would be surprised if my job was still there for me when I got back. I had cultivated a life at this publishing house. A following unlike any other I’d ever been capable of. It made my boss sick to let me go and it made me sick to give up the view from my corner office, but it had to be done. I had to start thinking like a mother and less like a businesswoman, which meant placing the needs of my child before my own.

  So, on the last day of my last full paycheck, I began packing up.

  For someone who had been at a job as long as I had, I didn’t really have much in the office. Not much I cared to take with me anyway. I didn’t have a need for the pictures or a need for the endless red and purple pens I purchased for my job. There were no books on the shelves despite my career choice. Only manuscripts that had been sent to me as a ‘thank you’ for pushing specific books through to publishing.

  I stacked them in my small cardboard box before I turned to look out the window.

  I would miss the view. I had woken up to it every morning for the past few years. Coffee in hand and relaxing in the buttery-soft leather chair my boss had ordered for me to commemorate my first year on the job. It had been the longest they had ever retained an editor at this place, and it was something he had wanted to celebrate.

  Now that chair would be passed onto the next editor in hopes they could fill my shoes.

  I sat down in the chair as my hand rested on my stomach. I was five months along and just beginning to show. The paunch at my stomach was getting firmer and if I closed my eyes and paid attention, I could feel the life growing inside of me.

  I could feel my child kicking about.

  I swiveled the chair around and stared at my desk. I would miss this place. Being cooped up and doing nothing wasn’t part of my personality. Sitting in a home that wasn’t mine and waiting for some man to get home with dinner wasn’t part of my upbringing. I was raised to be strong. Independent. Able to make decisions for myself and not to rely on a man to get me things.

  Yet I was thrust in a position where I needed to be exactly that.

  Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck started to stand on end. The cold shivers cascaded down my back as my eyes began to dart around.

  My body was on high alert for reasons I couldn’t explain.

  In a way, it felt like I was being watched. Surveyed or clocked or however the hell someone wanted to put that. I looked around my office and got up from my desk, then took a peek down the hallway.

  Was someone watching me?

  Or were my hormones playing tricks on me again?

  I didn’t see anyone out in the hallway, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling. I blamed it on my exhaustion and decided to continue packing up. This transition was emotional enough, and my body was probably ready for me to get out of there. I went back over to my desk and sat down, then started opening file cabinets and drawers to make sure I got everything I needed.

  Everything to take home with me to remind me of the life I’d once had.

  I opened the front drawer of my desk and went to gather my things. Tears were lining my eyes as the collecting of my things came to a close. I wasn’t ready to leave. I wasn’t ready to give up my independence. I had so much more I wanted to do. More books I wanted to funnel through.

  I felt like my time here was incomplete.

  I opened the drawer to gather my planner and personalized pens. But instead of finding them, I found a note. It was sealed in a crisp white envelope and had my name written on it.

  And it made me smile as I went to open the letter.

  My boss always did things like this for his employees. Random gift cards or a check for a bonus. There was one time where another woman in our company had gotten pregnant with twins and he left her a gift card for the premier baby store in the city in the middle of her desk. I slid out the note and opened it up, prepared to accept whatever gift had been bestowed upon me.

  But instead, my face paled.

  It wasn’t a note from my boss at all.

  In fact, the
note wasn’t even signed.

  And there was a picture of me at the doctor’s office along with it.

  We know who the father is.

  My blood froze in my veins as my fingers ran over the picture of me tacked onto the letter. I whipped my head around, my eyes darting into every corner of my room. I stood up from my chair and pressed my hands against the glass, my eyes cast down towards the pavement below. I was twelve stories up in a building that had no possible outside access to my office. None of the windows opened and all of them stared out to a massive drop that would cushion someone with concrete.

  Which meant the note only get into my desk because someone came in and put it there.

  My hands were trembling and my heart was racing. I could hear my blood rushing through my ears. Maddox was right. We were in danger. I was in danger. Our child was in danger.

  If they could get to my office without anything being triggered by the lobby security downstairs, then we didn’t stand a chance.

  We had to leave if we were going to protect ourselves.

  “Hey there, Reagan. How are things-?”

  “I’m ready whenever you are,” I said as I picked up my cardboard box.

  “What do you mean?” Maddox asked.

  “To leave. Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready to leave.”

  “Reagan, what’s going on?” he asked.

  “I came into work to pack up the last of my things and there was a note. In my desk.”

  “What did it say?”

  “‘We know who the father is,” I said. “There was a picture of me in it. Maddox, someone took a picture of me coming out of my doctor’s office.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “It’s me,” I said breathlessly.

  There was silence on the phone as I got into the elevator. The call dropped as I descended into the parking garage and I ran as fast as I could to my car. The hair on my body was standing on end as my heels clicked across the concrete. I tossed everything into the trunk as it spilled out, then slammed myself into my car.

  I peeled away from the parking space and sped out onto the main road as my cell phone rang.

  “Maddox?”

  “Reagan. What the fuck just happened?”

  “I got into the elevator to get to my car.”

  “Where are you now?” he asked.

  “I’m on the road headed home,” I said.

  “I want you to listen to me, Reagan. Okay?” he asked.

  “Okay,” I said as tears streamed down my face.

  “Go home and go in through the back door. Plug in the alternate code I have for the security on the house. Not the one you always plug in, but the other six-digit code.”

  “Got it,” I said.

  “Then I want you to go into your room and start packing. Anything you can fit in the black suitcase in your closet.”

  “I don’t have a black suitcase,” I said.

  “Yes, you do. There are instructions in there for how to fold your clothes the tightest so you can pack as much as you can. Take whatever you want, but you can’t pack more than that suitcase.”

  “Maddox, I’m scared,” I said.

  “I know you are. And if you give me two hours, I’ll be back with you at the house.”

  “Where are you?” I asked as I sniffed.

  “I’m going to try one last thing before I default to us leaving.”

  “Maddox, please be careful. They got to me in my office, whoever ‘they’ is.”

  “In their defense, anyone could get into your office. That lobby security at your place of work is shit.”

  “Prior place of work,” I said flatly.

  “Two hours. Give me two hours and I’ll be back home with what we need to do. In the meantime, you do as I ask. And however this pans out, know you’ll be taken care of no matter how this goes down.”

  “Maddox, I’m really scared.”

  “I know you are. And I know this is my fault. But I’m going to try and build for us the best life we could possibly have, no matter where we have to do it. You have my word.”

  “I know,” I said. “And I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For not believing you sooner,” I said.

  “No time for sorries. When you have the house armed with that alternate code, I want you to call me.”

  “What does the alternate code do?” I asked.

  “If someone tries to breach the house, it locks it down. Windows. Doors. Back entrances. Everything gets sealed off.”

  “Like a panic room?”

  “Yes. It’ll keep you safe from the inside. That trigger will alert me and I’ll come running. It’s the only way I know you’ll be safe until I get home. Text me when you’ve armed the house. I’m serious.”

  “I will, Maddox. I promise,” I said.

  I hung up the phone and raced to the house. My eyes kept darting around my mirrors, making sure I wasn’t being followed. I sped as fast as I could and kept to backroads so I could easily tell if someone was following me. Then I skidded up the driveway, stumbled out of the car, and ran to the back of the house.

  My hands were shaking as I tried to unlock the back door. I felt like I was going to be sick. Tears were streaming down my face as the key finally slid into the lock. I opened the door and slammed it closed behind me, making sure to lock it before I threw myself at the keypad next to the door.

  I typed in the alternate passcode and heard the robotic voice fill the corners of Maddox’s kitchen.

  “Lockdown sequence activated. Doors, windows, and cellar on alert.”

  My trembling hands pulled my phone out of my purse. I pulled up a text message to Maddox and told him I had the house armed. I sent off the message and made my way upstairs, curious as to this suitcase I mysteriously had. I walked up the stairs and opened our closet, my hands shoving clothes out of the way so I could see.

  And there in the back corner of my closet was a black suitcase with instructions pinned to it.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Maddox

  A note.

  A fucking note.

  I slammed out of the apartment complex I was walking out of and went straight for the car. Two of the men my father had sent with me were on my heels. They were asking me what had happened and if something had taken place. If I needed any sort of backup or if something was wrong with my dad.

  Yes, something had taken place.

  And yes, something was about to be very wrong with my father.

  I got on my bike and sped back to my father’s, despite the fact that the job he sent me out for wasn’t finished. I wasn’t laying a hand on anyone else until I sat with that degenerate and looked him in his eyes.

  I knew exactly who had left that note.

  And it wasn’t the Steel Outlaws.

  That wasn’t their style. If they had found out about Reagan and wanted leverage, they would have kidnapped her and held it over me and the club.

  It was the only fucking person who had the balls to leave it. Who would stoop so low to threaten the mother of his grandchild.

  I knew without a doubt that my father had instructed one of the new prospects to plant it. Because, I knew he loved scaring innocent people.

  If he thought for one second that threatening my family would somehow get me to stay, or provide him some sort of leverage, he was sorely mistaken. As my bike buzzed down the main drag, I tuned out the guys riding beside me. I didn’t want to hear their voices or listen to them yell about how there was a job that needed to be done.

  As far as I was concerned, my job was done.

  I jammed my hand into my pocket and clutched my phone. I was ticking down the seconds in my mind. I knew exactly how long it took for Reagan to get home from work. Seven minutes down the main stretch, nine minutes down the road out of town, two minutes down the left-hand turn up our driveway, and forty-three seconds to get into the house.

  I was counting down every painful second as we approached my father’s
place.

  The world was passing me by, but all I could think about was Reagan. How frightened she sounded on the phone and how she was ready to go. I hated that it took this. That it took someone exposing her pregnancy to her like this in order to get her to leave. It made me sick to my stomach. Whatever game my father thought he was playing, it was over.

  I rode my bike into my father’s driveway and I stormed off once I pushed down the kickstand. My phone vibrated against my hand just as I stepped onto the porch. I pulled it out and sighed when I saw Reagan’s text message. It was a picture of the kitchen with the words ‘The house is armed’.

  I could breathe a sigh of relief knowing she was safe.

  For the moment, at least.

  I drew in a deep breath and told the other guys to stay outside. This wasn’t something they needed to be a part of.

  But nothing was keeping me from this conversation any longer.

  My hand fell to the doorknob and I let myself in. My mother was in the kitchen, cooking up a fucking storm. I walked in and put my hands around her eyes, making her jump as marinara sauce went everywhere.

  She started cursing me in Italian before she drew me in for a hug.

  “Please tell me you are staying for dinner. I have made way too much food for tonight,” she said.

  “Unfortunately, I can’t. I’ve got a late night at work tonight and I’m already beat,” I said.

  “Then let me make you some coffee for the road. I swear, you and your father work way too hard.”

  “Is that my son’s voice I hear?”

  I bristled at my dad’s nonchalant tone.

  I turned around and saw him walk into the kitchen. He had this glimmer of deviousness in his eye. Mom was whirling around the kitchen with flour and sauce hanging from every surface, and yet Dad’s eyes were trained on me.

  Not the mess around him.

  Not the woman he was lucky to keep at his side.

  But me.

  Like he had been waiting for me.

  One last chance. My father was going to get one last chance to let me out of this shit. And then, I was taking matters into my own hands. My father came over and embraced me and it made me sick to even touch him. But appearances were important to keep up when it came to my mother. The last thing I wanted her doing was worrying over some family squabble I couldn’t even talk with her about.