“Fuckin’ got that right, darlin’.” The corners of my mouth turn up. “I was actually under orders from the prez to kidnap you if I had to.”
“You were?” She sounds surprised Demon would give a damn.
“Too damn right,” I confirm. “You’re one of ours, Mel. Ain’t nothing changed.”
She draws in a sharp breath, and I look at her concerned, but it’s to find she’s smiling.
Inside, I’m delighted it’s the first place she wants to go.
As soon as she steps in through the door to the clubhouse, she can be left in no doubt I’d told her no lies.
“Mel! ‘Bout fucking time,” yells Ink delightedly. His words are echoed from all quarters.
“Alright, alright. She’s been fuckin’ welcomed. Now what the fuck is she having? Some of us have got money riding on this,” Lizard grumbles, while pulling her in for a hug, his actions softening his words.
I glance at her once he lets her go. We hadn’t discussed whether she wanted anyone to know. But there’s a big wide grin on her face, and she gives me a slow nod.
I’ve got permission, so I waste no time, opening my mouth to give a hearty shout of, “It’s a boy.”
Half cheers, half groans, and dollars change hands. Mel’s taking it all in good fun and laughing.
“Congratulations, Mel.” Demon’s stepped up to her, expectantly holding out his hand palm up.
Mel stares down, wondering what he’s doing. It’s not positioned as though he expects her to shake it. I know exactly what he wants, so I slide the envelope out of my cut and extract the photo.
“Jeez. He has got a dick,” Demon’s says, holding the picture close.
“Let me see…” Beef takes it out of the prez’s hands. “That’s a dick? Hope that’s going to fuckin’ grow.”
“Beef!” Steph, who’s hanging onto his arm snorts, while grinning accurately in Mel’s direction. “Of course it will grow. Just like the rest of him. How big is he now, Mel? Describe him to me. What does he look like? Can you see fingers and toes?”
Letting go of Beef, with one hand on Max’s harness, she beckons Mel to follow her into the kitchen where the rest of the women are getting dinner prepared.
The fact there will be another baby boy on the compound seems a topic of awe for my brothers. Maybe because in some ways it makes up for the loss of Skull. Something of him that will still remain proving that part of him lives on. As I watch and listen while they pass that photo around, I wonder if at some point in the far future, that baby will become a man taking his seat in church. One never knows.
“Hey, where’s that picture? We haven’t seen it yet.”
Paladin takes it from Mace and passes it to Jay, who spares a quick kiss for her man, then disappears back into the kitchen.
I mingle, get a beer, but it’s with the hope Mel’s not becoming overwhelmed. I don’t want to intrude, so pause to one side of the doorway so I can hear the conversation inside, I lean in to hear better.
“Now you know it’s a boy, Mel, any thoughts about naming him?”
“Are you going to name him after Skull? What was his real name?”
“Kris,” I hear her reply. “I don’t know, I’d rather go for something more modern.”
“Archie?”
“That’s like the number one name now,” Mel laughs. “Something modern and unusual then.”
I don’t know why I should be relieved she’s not inclined to name the baby Kris. Maybe because it would be a permanent reminder that he’s not mine.
Of course Jeannie persuades her to stay and eat with us. It’s good to see her smiling and joking with the women, while my brothers are pretending not to be interested in the baby talk but are still passing that fucking photo around. I catch more than one sneaking looks from the piece of paper to her stomach as if realising there really is a tiny Devil in there.
Except for Paladin who’s not particularly interested, but then he’s from Tucson, and it’s far from the first sonogram picture he’ll have seen.
“Congratulations, Pyro.” Wills slaps my back loudly.
In a sudden lull in the conversation, his words ring out and catch everyone’s attention. Mel’s heard, and cocks her head to one side as if interested to see my response.
Embarrassed, I offer, “Ain’t nothing to do with me. I’m not the father.”
Mel’s face is unreadable, a sadness flickers over it. Does she regret that I’m not? Nah, I’ve just reminded her his real dad isn’t here, that’s all it can be.
“Hey, let me see.” Thunder takes the photo and examines it. “Ugly motherfucker isn’t he?”
The women gasp, the men all laugh, but when Thunder winks at Mel, she knows he’s joking.
“Better looking than you already, asshole,” says Demon.
“That wouldn’t be hard,” Rusty agrees.
And just like that, thank fuck, the attention is off me.
“Ro, come over here.”
Wandering back into the bar area, I go to where Pal is chatting with Judge. “Wassup?” I pull up a chair, turn it the wrong way around, and sit on it, folding my arms over the back.
“Judge, here, is thinking about getting a new exhaust. He’s looking at this type, have you fitted one like it before?”
I take the parts list he’s been examining. “Hmm, have to do a bit of a workaround, but yeah, I can make it work.”
Of course, we start getting into details and are joined by Sparky who offers some ideas. It’s quite a while later that I look around to see how Mel’s doing and notice her yawning.
Excusing myself, I walk across to her. “You look tired. Want to go home?”
She looks up gratefully. “I didn’t want to pull you away.”
“No worries, darlin’. You need me? Come and get me, okay? Don’t want you overdoing it.”
“I’m okay, but I’ve had enough excitement for one day.”
“Let’s get you home.”
We’re halfway to her house when a question out of the blue startles me. “What’s your real name?”
“Pyro,” I tell her, chuckling. “But if you’re asking about the name the government uses, I’m Brendan Evans.”
“Brendan,” she tries it out, then frowns. “Do you think he looks like a Brendan?”
Fuck. She’s suggesting she might name the baby after me? I’m so shocked the car swerves. Luckily, I catch it fast and straighten it before she notices. “Looks more like a Blob to me.”
“Pyro,” she gasps, swatting at my arm.
Chapter Twenty
Melissa
Even though I’ve been showing his picture around and sharing the news with everyone in the clubhouse, it doesn’t really hit me until I get home that in just a few months’ time I’ll be holding my son in my arms. A boy.
I really didn’t mind what sex the baby was going to be, had been more worried that the sonogram would show whether he was healthy or not.
He was perfect to my eyes, and to the doctor’s. Though I do have some sympathy with Pyro’s comment that he was a blob. I giggle to myself. Sure, he had the undeniable shape of a baby, but still had a lot of growing to do before he becomes fully formed. Running my hands over my stomach, I make a silent promise. I’ll do everything I can to protect him until he’s viable and can live outside the womb. I’ll take the utmost care of myself and him for another five months.
Of course my protection won’t end then. Momentarily I’m scared that I’ll have something totally dependent on me, not just for his physical needs, but for being brought up in the right way. If he turns out like the amazing man his father is, I’ll have done okay.
I pull myself up sharply. Father? His father is dead, but when I picture a dad for my baby, it’s Pyro’s face I see, not Skull’s. Does that make me a terrible person?
Skull. I miss him every minute of every day. Don’t I? Of course I do, except, when I’m with Pyro, there’s something about him that banishes all thoughts of my lost lover.
&nb
sp; Could I see Pyro and me playing happy family? Him moving in, living with me and being Brendan’s dad?
Brendan? Have I truly settled on the name? Well I’ve got months to decide.
Pyro would probably run a mile if I told him, instead of leaving each night, I wanted him to stay.
My phone rings, startling me out of my reverie. It’s my mom. Feeling guilty my first thought had been to share my news with my biker family instead of my blood one, I answer.
“Melissa, honey, sorry to call so late, but I wanted to make sure everything was okay? You had the ultrasound today, didn’t you?”
Settling back with my phone to my ear, I tell her my news. “Everything’s fine, mom. A normal healthy boy.”
“Boy?” she squeals. “I’m going to have a grandson?” Then her voice is more muffled as she calls out, “Rufus, it’s a boy.”
I hear my father’s response. “Already gathered that.” I can just picture him with a fond smile on his face.
“And you,” Mom speaks directly into the phone again. “Everything going well?”
“Yes, I’m good.” I realise I am. While the intense, debilitating grief I’d felt at first hasn’t gone away, it has faded and become bearable. The effort I was making to stay strong for my child, is habit now and not forced. “The doctor said everything’s going as it should. I’ve gained the right weight.”
We discuss the ins and outs of my pregnancy for a little longer, then, when I yawn, we say our goodbyes, with a promise from Mom that they’ll come and visit me soon.
It’s been a busy day. I go to bed, tired, but happy.
When the weekend comes, Pyro turns up. I tell him exactly what I want to do. While I’m superstitious enough not to actually start decorating yet, knowing the sex of the baby gives me the impetus to start thinking about themes, and looking at how I could eventually set up his room.
We have a blast. For some reason after visiting a couple of baby stores, we end up in a Harley store where there’s a mural on the wall. Pyro points to the huge image of a motorcycle and suggests that should be in my son’s room. I only just manage to stop him buying a remote-controlled bike, saying it’s far too soon.
“You’ll be buying him a tank and toy soldiers next.” I roll my eyes as we leave the shop.
His face lights up. “Now there’s an idea.”
“Well, I’ll be buying him a doll house and dolls,” I say, drily.
“What the fuck?” Then he chuckles when he sees I’m holding back a grin. “Choices, eh?”
It’s actually a serious point. I shrug.
“Hmm. Big responsibility, isn’t it? Deciding how to do this right.”
My hands find their familiar position, protectively covering this new life in my womb. “I just want him to be happy, Ro. Whatever he turns out to be, however he wants to live his life. No pressure one way or another.”
Pyro’s large hand easily covers both of mine. “No wonder I love you, Mel.” His words slip out and he pulls his hand abruptly away.
It’s just something a friend would say, isn’t it? I shouldn’t read anything into it.
I respond in the same way, “Love you too, Ro. You’ve been amazing.”
He’s the first to break the silence that follows. “It’s you who’s the amazing one. You’re going to make an incredible mom.”
I wish I had his confidence. I can only try to do my best.
Monday dawns all too soon. I pull on the clothes I wear to work, realising I’m going to have to get maternity clothes soon. My own, even the ones with elastic waistbands are getting uncomfortable.
Dressed smartly, ready for the office, I go out to my car, then drive the short way to my job. I get a hot chocolate from the machine, eyeing people carrying coffee with envy, exchanging pleasantries with colleagues, and brief discussions about what kind of weekend we’ve all had.
Everything is exactly the same as a normal start to the week, until I enter my actual place of work.
Beth, Carter, Shayla and Sian have their heads together near Beth’s desk. Odd, we don’t all work in the same department, and by this time I’d have expected them to be in their own offices.
Ah. The penny drops. Beth came back from Vegas yesterday, I bet she’s telling them the fun she had. My suspicions, I reckon, are proved correct as they’re all staring intently at her phone. Showing off her pictures, I expect. I’ll wait until later to share my news about the baby and show my own treasured photograph.
I make my way across to her desk, still holding my paper cup of hot chocolate. I take a sip as I approach.
“Hey, you had a good time in Vegas, I take it? Did it live up to your dreams?”
As she turns to me, there’s a strange look on her face. She looks almost scared.
Carter’s reaction is odd. He moves around me and takes the paper cup out of my hand.
Shayla draws up a chair. “Sit, Mel.”
My brows knit together. “What is it?”
“Maybe nothing,” Beth says fast. “But you know I’ve been in Vegas the past few days. I could be wrong, but I saw someone I thought I recognised.” Her hand is shaking as she passes me her phone.
“I took a few pictures, so you could see from every angle.”
I look at the first. It looks familiar, but too far away. Next she’s zoomed in. And the next. I go back and look at them again. My vision starts to go blurry, my head feels faint, I drop the phone on her desk and lower my head into my hands. In every picture she’s shown me, I’d seen my old man. I’d seen Skull alive and well, and… his arm is around a pretty young woman, she’s pushing a stroller and he’s carrying bags in his free hand.
“It could be a sister, Mel…”
I shake my head, trying to push through the dizziness and fog which has descended into my brain. It’s not the woman that bothers me. It’s the fact I’ve just seen my man. Alive, when I’d given up all hope and thought he was dead.
He’s abandoned me.
Perhaps he had crashed, hurt his head, got amnesia… Perhaps the pope doesn’t wear a funny hat and bears don’t shit in the woods.
I hit the heel of my hand against my forehead. Of course, a man like Skull wouldn’t have stayed with a woman like me.
“Here, Mel. Take this.”
It’s only when Beth stuffs a tissue into my hand that I realise I’m crying.
They try to talk to me, but there’s only one person I want. Only one man who can help and understand. Another who was left behind, just like me.
I delve into the bag I’m still carrying over my shoulder and take out my phone. It takes a moment for my trembling fingers to unlock it.
The call is answered immediately. “Yo, you got Pyro.”
“Pyro? I need you. C-c-can you come get me from work?”
“Darlin', are you sick? Something up with the baby?”
“Please, just come.” I do not want to discuss this over the phone.
“On my way, sweetheart.”
I place my own phone back where it came from, then reach out my hand. “Let me see again.” Heaven help me, but I’m hoping I made a mistake. What does it say about me that I’d rather Skull was dead?
“I’ll send them to you, hold on a sec.”
She does, my purse vibrates, telling me her messages have arrived.
“I’m… I’m sorry, Mel. I know you’re upset. I wasn’t sure whether to tell you or not.”
“I told her to, Mel. I thought you’d want to know.” I manage a small nod toward Carter. He’s right.
My phone’s in my hand, I’m viewing the pictures again. Carter disappears, then a few minutes later returns, escorting a man into the office. It’s Pyro. He got here fast.
Wordlessly I pass my phone over, looking up to see the expression on his face, wanting the identity to be confirmed, or denied as is my preference. As his jaw goes tight, I know there’s no doubt. Skull’s alive and well, and was enjoying life in Vegas this last weekend.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Pyro growls. �
��Get your shit, Mel. You’re coming with me.” His eyes find Beth’s. “You’ll cover for her?”
“She’s sick and gone home,” Beth confirms.
Pyro helps me to my feet, takes the purse from my hands, and without worrying it could be damaging his masculinity, drapes it over his shoulder instead of my own. He places his arm around me.
I need it. I’m wobbling as I walk, the effort to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other proving almost too much.
“We’re going back to the club, Mel,” he informs me as he opens the door to the car he’s brought.
“I…”
He looks over as I sit in the passenger seat, but I can get no more words out. “It will be alright, Mel,” he tries to assure me.
But how? How can this possibly be made right?
All sorts of stupid things cross my mind, the notion somehow floating to the top that my baby really does have a dad now. A man who could have equal parenting rights. A man I want nothing to do with now I know he left me and allowed me to think he was dead.
The implications of Skull being alive is much harder to deal with than grieving about him being out of the land of the living.
When we arrive at the club, I feel numb. Pyro parks, slips on his cut, then helps me out of the car. Again, his supporting arm encourages me to put right foot after left until we’re walking inside.
“Prez around?”
“In his office,” Beaver responds.
Pyro leads me on through. He knocks on the door, then, once we enter, helps me to sit without waiting for Demon’s permission, or caring what we might have interrupted. He takes the chair next to me, after pulling it closer to mine, so he can place his arm around my shoulders.
When he hands me my phone, I put the security code in, then he passes it over the desk.
Devil's Dilemma: Satan's Devils MC Colorado Chapter #4 Page 17
