by Zoey Parker
Frowning, I finally took a moment to think about it. How did her father even know she was there? Her father, my stepfather, I thought, weighing the guilt of sleeping with my sister against the fact that I had stronger feelings for her than I ever had for anyone else. Thankfully, I didn’t have a lot of time to dwell on it. The police surrounded me and advanced on me, ordering me to put my hands on my head and get off of the bike.
Maybe under different circumstances, I might have tried to make a break for it. But what was the point here? There was no way I was going to elude two cop cars and two police officers without even having my own motorcycle started.
No, I was, unfortunately, going to have to play this the legal way. Which was probably not going to go in my favor.
They came to me, guns pointed at my chest, my hands still placed on top of my head. They yelled at me not to move, informed me that I was under arrest. One of the cops from the building cuffed me, jerking my wrists together harshly until I felt the cold metal digging into my wrists.
He shoved at me, urging me into the back of one of the squad cars. When he closed the door after me, I knew unequivocally that I was toast. No way I was walking away from this one with a clean and clear rap sheet.
As we drove away, I couldn’t help but wonder just how things had gone so very wrong.
***
It took them two days to process me, meaning I was squished in a tiny pod with far too many people as I waited to be moved to a prison outside of town. I wanted to think they wouldn’t have enough evidence to really put me away, but I knew better. They’d find it if they wanted it bad enough, and clearly, they did.
Worse still, the more I thought about it, the more I became positive that the cops coming to find me that day in the hospital wasn’t just a coincidence. How had her father known it was her? Had it been an insurance thing? Had the hospital called him? I didn’t think so. Since she was legally an adult, they couldn’t call anyone unless her life was at serious risk or she gave them permission to do so.
I highly doubted she encouraged them to call.
There was the chance that someone had seen me and recognized me. Although I hadn’t watched the news, there was a chance that my picture was taking up some airtime on it. I’d been warned that the police were still looking for me, though they said mainly that it was “for questioning”. I had doubted then that that was all they wanted from me, especially given that they’d chased me halfway through Mount Cherry before I lost them. Now I was positive they wanted more.
If a nurse or something saw me and recognized me, they might have called the police. But if that was the case, then why let me in to see a pregnant woman in the first place? Yes, I’d claimed and was the baby’s father, but they still could have put their foot down on it. I wasn’t related to the woman—oh, the laughability of that now—and therefore had no right to see her by claims of being a relative. Maybe Carol had insisted, but she’d been in there for a while before they finally caved and let me see her.
It all made me think that, in the end, no one had recognized me.
So then how did he find out? Because the only people who knew where I was headed were the Anarchy’s Horsemen from the cookout that day.
I didn’t want to go down that road, but it was hard not to. While I was being transferred by bus to the prison—I would be arraigned back here in Mount Cherry in a month or so, they promised—it was difficult to not consider that option.
The Anarchy’s Horsemen had known that I was evading the police. And while there were many I trusted within the motorcycle club, more than before I’d met Carol, there was no doubt that some of my men were still unhappy with how things were being run. More importantly, they were unhappy with me being in charge. The dissension in the ranks was dwindling, but I knew for a fact that Horton was still eager to cause problems for me.
But could he sink low enough to turn me into the police? About the only thing worse than a cop and a traitor was a snitch, which really fell under traitor anyway.
I wanted to believe it wasn’t possible, but as the bus arrived at the prison and we were escorted out, I couldn’t help but suspect the police just weren’t smart enough to have caught me on their own.
Damnit, Horton, I thought, anger flowing freely through me.
As I was put into a cell, lucky enough to get one all to myself this time around, I couldn’t help but wonder just how much I’d fucked this all up. I’ve got to get out of here. There was no way I was going to stay in prison while my baby grew up out there without me.
I just couldn’t let it happen.
***
Several weeks went by with little correspondence from the outside world. I’d gotten a visit from Winston, who explained that my lieutenants had put a restriction on anyone coming to visit me. I knew instantly why. Right now, they couldn’t prove that there was a direct association to a lot of my guys, which meant if I had the misfortune of going down, I wouldn’t necessarily take down every member of the Anarchy’s Horsemen with me.
He also explained that Horton was saying we needed a temporary leader—that maybe wasn’t going to stay so temporary. Just in my absence, he claimed, but Winston was grim as he explained the tone in Horton’s voice. Eager and malicious both.
It worried me that I wouldn’t be able to do anything about him from in here, but it mattered surprisingly less to me than a pretty little blonde girl who had to be getting bigger by the day.
I followed the story on the news while I was in the slammer. Mostly, they didn’t let us watch the news since it told us too much about what was going on with the police and who was likely coming in. Something about not wanting to spark rivals or cause more problems than there already were. But every once in a while, we got to watch a little bit of news, usually when it was some feel-good fluff piece.
I didn’t think Carol’s story was a fluff piece myself, but they didn’t know the whole story.
Sitting in the common room, I watched the large screen as her father escorted her out of the hospital. She looked a little pale still, but otherwise in pretty good shape. She looked like she was working hard to keep her expression blank and when people shoved mics in her face, she told them a quiet, “No comment.”
It was good to see her. And it was a relief to know she was well enough to leave the hospital. But I didn’t like that it was her father escorting her out, and I didn’t like that not once during the whole news piece did they mention that she was pregnant.
Because her father is still hoping to make her get rid of it, I thought angrily, gritting my teeth.
I took solace in knowing Carol wanted to keep the baby now. I didn’t know how things between us had changed so rapidly, but I was beyond grateful to know I wouldn’t get out of here only to discover that I wasn’t a father after all.
I wasn’t sure I could think of anything worse than that just then.
The newscaster announced that Carol had fallen ill due to a very serious outbreak of influenza while visiting a nearby city where a close friend of the family resided. The friend had driven her home, hoping she was only a little bit sick, but upon realizing the severity of the situation, she was rushed to Mount Cherry Memorial Hospital.
I snorted. They even found this so-called “friend” and interviewed her. She was a pretty woman, middle-aged, but still in very good shape. She was probably rich enough that a lot of the smoothness of her skin was bought with plastic surgery and Botox, but there was no denying that she was pleasant to look at.
Less so to listen to.
“I wanted to get her home, you see,” she explained, smiling prettily and looking a little vacant. I thought she was familiar, but couldn’t place her at first. “You always feel better when you’re home. And of course, I knew the mayor would be worried. I didn’t want her father to worry; he’s such a dear, dear friend.” She continued to ramble like that, explaining that she grew more concerned as they were in the car and decided that the hospital was a better idea than going straight to the
mayor’s very large mansion. “I was just so worried.”
It wasn’t until the woman finished speaking and turned to smile blandly at the camera that I finally put the pieces together. Why she looked familiar.
The Anarchy’s Horsemen had sold drugs to her. And not just a little bit.
I let out a bitter laugh and shook my head. I was in prison for who knew what, but at least part of the charge had to do with drug trafficking. Meaning selling to people. People like her who ended up with Botox injected into their face and gave very moving speeches to newscasters about how terribly worried they were about a girl they hadn’t seen in God knew how long.
Oh, the irony.
I wanted nothing more than to go to Carol and see her. I hadn’t since being arrested. That hurt a little bit, and at first, I worried she simply had changed her mind and no longer wanted the trouble that came with dating a Horsemen. Not just that, but the leader of the Anarchy’s Horsemen. But Winston had passed along some information that both eased my hurt and made me seriously worry.
“Since she got out of the hospital, no one’s seen her,” Winston explained.
I snorted. “Of course not. It’s not like Daddy’s going to let her hang around with a bunch of bikers he’s been working like a dog to get out of his town.”
But Winston shook his head. “No, I don’t just mean she hasn’t seen us, and we haven’t seen her. I mean that no one’s seen her. Not even her little friends.”
“What little friends?”
Winston took a moment to explain two of the little rich girls that stopped by Black Opus asking about Carol. They’d called her Caroline at first, which threw everyone off, but Bane had realized who they were talking about after a quick description. The pushier and less ditzy of the two had explained that they were concerned about her and wanted to make sure she hadn’t run off with “a bunch of crazy bikers” again. He swore that was a direct quote.
I would have laughed at her brazenness if I weren’t so worried for Carol.
“They hadn’t seen her?” I asked, feeling dread pool in my gut.
Winston shook his head. “No. They came looking around the shop for her, hoping she’d gone and run off again. When I said she hadn’t, they both seemed really worried. I asked them why and they explained that her phone was turned off and when they stopped by her house, her father wasn’t letting anyone in. They asked if she was home, but he wouldn’t answer, simply saying, ‘The family needs some privacy.’.”
The frown that had been starting on my face deepened. If they were looking for her and her father wouldn’t say anything, there was a chance Carol had taken off again, but I doubted it. If her father had escorted her out of the hospital, there was no chance for her to take off.
And since she’d already done it once, it was clear she could try it again. Meaning her father probably had her on lockdown at the house. Her friends were probably just incidental. He was keeping her from everyone, not sure which of her little rich friends might be willing to help her escape and come see me.
It gave me confidence that Carol hadn’t changed her mind, for all the good it did me. I was stuck in prison, and Carol might as well have been, too. She might be in nicer accommodations, but no one was letting her move around on her own either.
“Has he gone out of town?” I asked Winston, referring to the mayor.
Winston shook his head again. “As far as anyone knows, no. He’s still in town. He’s given a few sound bites to reporters, saying how glad he is to have his daughter back safe and sound, but otherwise, he’s stayed at the house. Hasn’t even gone to work.”
“He’s keeping an eye on her,” I said, and by the look Winston gave me, he agreed.
After that our conversation strayed away from Carol. Mostly that was because when Winston asked me what I wanted to do about it, I didn’t know what to tell him. I didn’t have an answer, mostly because there didn’t seem to be a good one. What was I supposed to do? Tell Winston to storm the castle and rescue the maybe damsel in distress at the risk of being thrown into prison right next to me and probably for a lot longer? No, that wasn’t really an option.
And besides, Carol wasn’t happy about being there, I was sure, but her father wouldn’t physically harm her.
But he might harm that baby, I thought, dread washing over me like a thick tidal wave.
In fact, it wasn’t just a might. He most definitely would do whatever he could to get rid of that baby. Especially since it would be a pretty big scandal. And not just because his nineteen-year-old perfect daughter got knocked up without so much as the promise of a ring. No, on top of that juicy little bit of news, there was also the fact that she had gotten knocked up by her older stepbrother.
No doubt Mayor Lautner was working overtime to make sure none of that information hit the news stations. Or anyone in town who might be interested in gossiping about a scandal like that. Damage control was likely the mayor’s middle name right now.
I wanted to tell Winston we needed to go for Carol if only to save the baby, but I couldn’t do that to my men. How could I order them to kidnap a young woman, knowing how bad a shape it would put them in?
Still struggling with my thoughts, I tried to redirect them. “What’s going on with the Horsemen? What have you heard?”
Winston knew I was referring to my suspected mole. My money was on Horton, seeing as how he was the one whispering in everyone’s ears about dissension and what a shitty leader I was. Though these days I wonder if he’s not entirely wrong.
“We’ve got Dean on it,” Winston told me. “He’s playing doubles right now, and hopefully Horton or one of the others will open up to him. Right now, though, we’ve got nothing.”
I nodded. That was the news I had been expecting. Horton was taking over as the temporary leader because that was what the Anarchy’s Horsemen needed and he already had some backing. But if the guys found out he’d turned me in, they would never accept him. It was my only shot at keeping him from permanently taking over.
Dean was good at playing both sides, and if anyone could weasel some information out of the boys, it was him. Every once in a while, it made me a little suspicious about his personal motives, but most days I was able to shove that aside and trust him. Today I did it because I didn’t have much of a choice. It was either trust Dean and sit here and rot, or just sit here and rot. I’d take my chances with Dean.
The worst part, however, was that even if they figured out who snitched on me, it wouldn’t do me much good in here. It wasn’t like the police were going to care that it was the traitor who told them I’d been doing illegal things. All they cared about was that I had been doing illegal things.
Which I had, so I was screwed.
As though sensing my thoughts, Winston told me gruffly, “We got you the best lawyer we could get. She’s a real tiger, they say, and she knows her stuff. We’ll get you off, boss.”
I nodded, though I was hesitant to hope for much.
After that, Winston had left me, and I accepted that I wasn’t going to get many more visitors. I definitely wasn’t going to see Carol, and she was all I wanted to see.
Chapter Seventeen
Caroline
I turned off the news reports, furious. My father—or his secretary, at least—was quite the spin doctor. They’d turned my stay at the hospital into quite the bit of drama, all without mentioning the undeniable fact that I was pregnant.
Of course, I’d come home with my father willingly. Initially, it had been out of a deep desire to work things out with him. I wanted him to love me, and I wanted him to love this baby. I wanted us to be a family, and there had been a minute spark of hope inside my breast when I’d discovered that my father was going to let Asher go and wanted to do what was best for me. He had sounded so sincere at that moment that, despite years of experience proving contrary to his words, I believed him. I trusted him.
Then I saw the news.
Yes, there was that bit about me going to the hospital beca
use I was “so very ill” and everyone was “quite concerned” but the part that really enraged me was the fact that Asher had been arrested.
After my father promised he’d dropped the charges.
“What had I been thinking?” I demanded out loud, furious with him and myself both. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him!
And more to the point, if I couldn’t trust him on that, how could I trust that he wouldn’t force me to get rid of the baby? I let my hand slide over my stomach, caressing the small bump that had finally begun to show. I wasn’t huge yet, but I was moving along quickly, and now that I’d really started to show, it wasn’t going to take long before I was the size of a watermelon.
I was eating more already and was getting pickier about what it was I was eating. My emotions were still roiling, unfortunately, which my father was constantly using as ammunition against me. He was always telling me, “You’re too emotional to make rational decisions,” and “It’s your hormones, Caroline. You can’t trust what you’re feeling.”
