BIKER DADDY_The Chain Gang MC

by Claire St. Rose

  Jack scoffed, and he felt Mindy sit back behind him. “Come on,” he said. “Ran off? You saw the girl come out to talk to me. Saw us head out.”

  “You were gone a long time,” Cook snapped, and then Jack felt the tingle of concern in his stomach snap into full-throated worry. There was something going on with Cook, and he didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t like it. Bodhi had already taken off, and Jack found himself looking for snipers and checking for bolt holes. He didn’t like how easily he slipped back into that mindset, but there was no denying that being on high alert had saved his life more than once. He didn’t like it, but it was still a skill worth having.

  “Back off,” he heard himself say, his voice belonging to a different man from a different time. Behind him, he heard Mindy hiss his name, but he didn’t pay her any mind. He was between her and danger, and he was going to make sure she was alright. Not just because of the baby, though that would have been enough, but also because of her. Because she mattered to him. Because she’d come back to him when he asked her to. “We’re just here to collect her things and be on our way.”

  He heard Mindy’s drawn in breath behind him, and he considered for a moment that it was possible he wasn’t doing the right thing. But he pushed that consideration away. It wasn’t helpful; it didn’t meet the goal of protecting the woman and her baby.

  Cook looked confused. “What do you mean? Collect her things?”

  Jack wanted to punch the other man, right in the stomach, and then walk over his writhing body to get what he needed. “That’s what I said. I’m taking her to the clubhouse where I can watch over her properly.”

  “Jack.” Mindy’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was sharp, and it cut through the growing fog around him, the fog borne of training and experience and the need to survive. He glanced back at her and was surprised to find anger all over her face.

  “What?” Okay, it wasn’t the best or most insightful question he’d ever asked, but he didn’t think he entirely deserved the look of pure hatred that shone over her face when he spoke.

  “What the hell do you mean by ‘I’m taking her to the clubhouse where I can watch over her’? I don’t know if you’ve got some other girl on the side because there’s no way you asked me what I thought about this plan.” She had her hands on her hips, and the fire in her eyes about set him off right there. But that wasn’t the point, and he told his dick to settle the hell down. He needed that blood in his brain.

  “Mindy, come on. You know the Wardens are trouble. That’s who grabbed you that night we—” He felt his cheeks go red, actually blushing. God, that was ridiculous. He was a grown man, a motorcycle club president. He for the love of God did not blush. “Anyway. They’re causing trouble for us, for the Chain Gang, and if they find out about the baby, they could hurt you. I want you—and the Bean—to stay safe.”

  That was the wrong thing to say—revealing her pet name for the baby when she had been very clear that no one knew but him. He knew it as soon as the words escaped his mouth, but he couldn’t take them back. But beyond that, his overprotective streak was shining bright and strong, and oh she was not going to have a single word of it.

  He braced himself for the tongue lashing that he was very sure was coming, but instead, she stared at him. He couldn’t even call it a glare, not really, just a long, revealing look that seemed to tear him down all the way to his soul. And then she turned on her heel and walked directly to Cook.

  “Cook,” she said, her voice shaking even though her hands were steady on her hips, her back turned entirely to him now. “I need a ride home. Can you help a girl out?”

  Cook’s gaze flashed between her and Jack for a few heartbeats, and Lord she was going to make him pay for that later, but that was Cook’s problem. Jack shook his head; there was no chance to push a girl like Mindy into a choice she wasn’t ready to make, and that was just the truth. He could feel the point when he’d gone wrong—been too brash and too pushy—and she had every right to be angry at him, as much as it pissed him off that she wouldn’t just admit that he was right. He had to let her get to the right conclusion on her own. He’d do the shit Bodhi had suggested later—send her a card and some flowers or something, or ask to take her out to dinner, and sell the idea right. She’d come around to his way of thinking.

  Still, it stung like hell seeing her get into Cook’s car as the other man threw furtive glances over his shoulder at Jack. Jack tried to give him a steady look, to show that this wouldn’t be forgotten, but that he also understood what was happening, and he wouldn’t be coming after Cook for helping the woman out. He would have done the same thing in the same situation.

  Watching the two of them drive off, Jack entertained the thought of following them. He could hang back far enough that they wouldn’t see, and he could make sure she got home safe. But it would just add fuel to the fire of him doing—well, whatever it was she was saying he was doing. Being controlling, overprotective, whatever. She was right. But he also wasn’t going to stop. She was pregnant with his child, she’d said as much. They were going to need to talk about what her accepting his help meant. He didn’t want to be controlling, but he also wanted to make sure that his child had the best possible care and start and all of those things he hadn’t had when he was a kid. So, he’d let her cool down, say he was sorry, and then they’d talk more.

  But he couldn’t shake the feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was doing something very wrong.

  Chapter Ten

  Mindy rested her head against the window and tried to think. As soon as she’d gotten into the car, Cook had asked her what she needed, and the cold truth was that she didn’t know.

  “Do you want to stay in town?” His voice had been so gentle and kind.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.” She closed her eyes tight and tried to will everything away. There was no more pretending now. She wrapped her arms around her belly and silently swore to Bean that everything would be alright; she would take care of everything and make sure that it was all fine. Stomping away from Jack had felt like the rightest right thing she’d ever done, but as soon as she was in Cook’s car and driving away, she realized how very much she’d wanted him to stop her. For him to rush over, grab her hand and yank her to him, demanding that she go with him to wherever he told her she could go. She’d wanted him to stop her from acting like an idiot by being an idiot. Mindy, girl, that’s never going to work out in your favor.

  She’d told Jack the truth, and he’d behaved very well. She’d heard about guys who didn’t handle it half that well finding out that their girlfriend was barely knocked up, never mind halfway to birth. And he’d gotten protective, but what did she expect from a guy who wore leather and rode a bike and was the president of a group of thugs and highwaymen who deliberately chose to be outlaws? Wasn’t that half of what turned her on about bikers and that type of guy? Wasn’t that what she’d always said before? That they were fiercely protective of what was theirs but didn’t hold hard feelings once you were done being theirs?

  And yet she’d run the moment Jack gave her that kind of protection. Was it because she had finally found a place where she could maybe rest? Was she going to be one of those sorts of troubled women who demanded that everyone love them even as they refused to be loved? Was she going to be just like her mother, and was she going to pass that kind of horseshit along to the Bean in turn? She wanted so much better than that. Not for herself, she knew better than to wish for good things for herself, but for the Bean. For the baby, and the child, and the adult that the Bean would eventually turn into.

  She thought about telling Cook to turn around, but what were the odds the famous Jackdaw, the one the waitresses all called Mr. Big, would still be there? He wasn’t one to wait around, and hell, maybe she wasn’t even the first woman he’d knocked up. He could have children spread across a dozen states, not one of whom knew their daddy. She didn’t know a thing about the man, and here she was thinking about having a l
ife with him, about him protecting her. It was nonsense, and she knew it was nonsense, and it was time to smarten up. So, she let Cook keep driving.

  “Let me take you to a motel,” he said. “I can pay for the room if that’s a problem. Let you get your head together somewhere he doesn’t know where you are. So you can be calm, happy, rested, and figure out what you need to do next. Does that make sense? Sound right?”

  She didn’t know what to do or what to say. She let her head loll against the window and closed her eyes. It was just easier. Easier, right now, to be passive. To let someone else take care of things. She wished she’d let Jack take care of things. That would have been nice. To just rest with him and let him be the one who figured things out. Yeah, she didn’t know much about him, but she was having his baby, so surely it would be good to get to know him. Just in case he really was some kind of dirtbag jerk who should never be allowed near a child. Because she’d already made the call not to run away, so surely—positively—it made sense to do it this way?

  Yeah. Yeah, she’d let Cook take her wherever he wanted to take her, and she wouldn’t fight because it was going to be easier this way. And then she’d call Jack on her phone, tell him where she was, and tell him she’d made a mistake rushing off with Cook. That she should have listened to him and talked to him instead of disappearing. He would understand, and they’d work things out.

  But right now, she was so tired. She’d swear the Bean sapped all of her energy. It was better than the first trimester when she’d been so constantly sick, but her energy hadn’t ever recovered, and she could trust Cook, she could rest here. That was good. That was okay.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was a voice that pulled her out of sleep. She couldn’t quite make out the words, they were so quietly spoken, but she heard them. She thought it was Cook talking, but she wasn’t sure. Something about on his way, something about a girl. Maybe she was dreaming, maybe he was listening to the radio. By the time she pulled herself together enough to open her eyes, sit up, and wipe the drool from her lip, Cook was silent in his seat, both hands on the wheel, focused on the distance. It had gotten dark while she had been asleep, and the headlights didn’t do much to illuminate the darkness, outside of showing the winding twists of the old road.

  They weren’t on the highway. Why weren’t they on the highway or one of the main routes around town? Nothing was on these old back roads.

  “Cook,” she said, hearing the gravel in her voice. “Where are we?”

  He was startled by the sound of her voice, glancing over at her with a nervous expression she didn’t remember seeing him wear before.

  “Hey,” he said, his voice just a little higher pitched than she was used to. “I thought you’d sleep longer.” He winced, and she didn’t know quite why. “You just looked so tired.”

  She remembered her thoughts from before she went to sleep, how very tired she had been, and how she’d longed for someone else to make a call for her. How passive she’d gone. Looking at Cook now, she was entirely sure she’d made absolutely the wrong choice.

  “What’s going on?” She tried to make her voice firm and calm at the same time, but the fear that was swelling in her stomach was making that extremely difficult. She tasted acid on her tongue and tried to steady her breathing.

  He shook his head hard; he seemed even more upset than she was. “You need help, Mindy. I know you don’t want me, and that’s just fine, but you and your baby need help. That man is a monster, he’s done terrible things, and all of the Wardens know it. I don’t know why the Chain Gang still follows him. He’s a monster. Your baby will belong to a monster if you’re not careful.”

  He spoke with a conviction that she might have admired in a different circumstance. At this moment, however, the fear in her stomach solidified into something that was dragging her down, fast and hard.

  “Cook, answer me. Where are we, and where are you taking me?”

  “I’m taking you to a motel. Just like I said.” His jaw set, hard and fast, and she stared at him, trying to read between the lines.

  “Who’s meeting us there?”

  He winced again, and she got it, all of a sudden.

  “One of the Wardens. Because they want to get me and get the baby, to use against Jackdaw.”

  “It’s not like that,” Cook snapped back. “It’s not like that at all. They’re good men, they’re just trying to survive in a bullshit situation, and he doesn’t understand. He won’t admit what he did to them, and that makes it harder for them to do their work. They want to clean up this town, and remove the unsavory element.”

  Objectively, she noted that she was fighting back as if she was somehow involved in the Chain Gang. But then, maybe she was. Maybe she already was. Maybe that was going to be a thing she was going to need to admit and deal with before she could move forward.

  “Cook, how are you involved with these people?”

  “I didn’t want to be,” he said, shaking his head again. “I didn’t want to have anything to do with them. I wanted the diner to be neutral territory. Neutral. I just wanted to make food and keep my head down. No more gambling, no more ladies, no more things that I shouldn’t be doing. I was going to get my shit together and then I was going to go back and win big. Pay off the diner, and then I’d have enough money for the rest of my life. It only takes that one big score, you know? That one big win, and then you can retire. You can be done with it. But Wester knew about it, I don’t know how, but he did, and he said—horrible things, if I didn’t do what he said, horrible, terrible things. And he’s right about Jack Dawson, Mindy, you have to believe me. Wester showed me the evidence that Dawson killed Grim Teller. There’s no other possibility. No one else could have done it. And it was after that, things started going wrong in the diner. They were fighting and arguing. Wester said he’d make it all stop. And all I had to do was help him take down Jack.”

  His eyes were so shifty and nervous that Mindy almost didn’t recognize Cook as the man she’d worked for these past few months. There was an urgent desire to scream and yell, but it wouldn’t have done any good. It wouldn’t have changed anything. She couldn’t jump out of the car on a dark road in the middle of nowhere, so she was just going to have to go as far as Cook planned on taking her, and then see what would happen next. She was going to have to be brave. She was going to have to take care of herself, and trust that doing so would help her take care of the Bean. But the good news? Mindy was pretty damn good at taking care of herself after all these years.

  “Okay,” she said, completely comfortable in the lie. “I think you might be right. I trust you.”

  She saw Cook relax a little. “I’m so glad you think so,” he said. “I just think this will be the best thing for you. For you and the baby. Babies need good fathers, you know? Fathers who are present in their lives.” He stopped short of saying that he could give that to her and the baby, but she got the sense that it took him serious effort.

  She nodded, though. “I know. I grew up in a broken home, too.” It was a gamble, but it got her a furious nod, so she went with it. “Kids need their parents. They need people who are present and who love them.”

  He breathed what she could only take as a sigh of relief. “I’m just so glad you agree.” His hands relaxed on the steering wheel, and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief. That was one step down. If Cook trusted her, she would be more likely to find an opportunity to get away from him and call someone for help.

  Chapter Twelve

  They had driven for maybe another ten minutes before she saw on the horizon the lights of an old cowboy and biker bar that looked like it had been lifted directly from a movie set. There had to be two dozen bikes parked outside, with a bunch of pickup trucks lining the parking lot itself. Men milled around the front of the building, long neck bottles in their hands and a certain rowdiness to every step they took. But not all of them. There were two men standing in front of the bikes, backlit by the lights of the roadhouse, and they s
tood at a kind of attention that made her nervous. She didn’t think there’d be any talking them down or convincing them that she was harmless. No, they had something much more sinister in their postures.

  “Who’s that?” she asked Cook, but he didn’t reply. He did, however, start to clench the steering wheel again as he drove directly up to the two men.

  “Wait here,” was all he said to her as he stepped out of the car. She couldn’t hear what he said, but he walked over to the big man, extending his hand. The bigger man—Wester, she realized suddenly, the shithead who had pulled her down into his lap in the diner that day and started this whole goddamn mess—ignored the extended hand. He said something, jerking his head at the car. Her presumably. Cook nodded and said something back. Wester nodded. He glanced at the man next to him. It was an odd combination of speed and incredible slowness as the other man pulled a gun and shot Cook in the stomach.

  Everything inside Mindy convulsed with a toxic combination of fear and rage. She screamed, slapping at the dash so hard her hands hurt. Cook collapsed in slow motion, his mouth frozen in a wide O of shock and fear and something so very much more. She pressed her palms against the glass, an echoing noise through her head that she didn’t even realize was a scream until it stopped.