“Ginger and Cash are one in a million,” I admit.
Roberta nods. “So, you see, your club, it scares me,” she whispers.
“I would never purposely put Ginger, or Evalyn, in danger,” I mutter.
Roberta shakes her head. “I know you wouldn’t, Prescott. I can tell that you love my daughter. I’m asking you though, pleading with you really. Let them go,” she whispers.
My head jerks to the side and I look over at her in surprise. “Let them go?” I repeat, sounding just as dumbfounded as I feel.
She nods. “Let them go. Let them live a normal, safe and happy life. Don’t put your baby in danger. Just being yours and breathing, there’s an unknown target on her, isn’t there?” she asks.
I try not to think about it, about her question being a reality but she isn’t wrong. There is a target on her, any rival club, or gang, any law enforcement that wants to use her as leverage, they all could. Same goes with Ginger.
Clenching my jaw, I wonder how Fish does it, how any of my brothers in Idaho, California, and all over the states do it. They do though. They all have families, Old Ladies, and kids. Some even have grandkids. They don’t walk away just because of some imaginary future threat.
“You want me to abandon my family, or push them away, to save them from an unknown threat in the future?” I ask, wanting to be sure of exactly what she’s asking.
Roberta shrugs. “They don’t deserve to be targets, Prescott,” she states.
My shoulder muscles bunch together, but I don’t say anything. I give her a nod and slide out of the pickup. I help her out as well, along with her luggage and I tell her which room she can find Ginger in.
What I don’t do is go back inside of the hospital with her.
I need to think about her words, and her concerns. I understand them, I really do, but I don’t agree with them at all, whatsoever. I also don’t want to go in there and be angry.
I don’t want to upset Ginger or Evalyn. So, I choose to get back in my truck and head toward the clubhouse. I need to decompress for a little while, then I’ll deal with my mother-in-law.
GINGER
There is nothing, absolutely nothing like a shower, and fresh clothes, to make you feel like an entirely new person. I braid my wet hair down my shoulder and smile when the door to my room begins to open. I expect to see Prescott walking through, but instead, I’m met with my mother.
“Mom?” I breathe. She gives me a smile and pushes her luggage to the side of the door before she rushes over to me.
“How are you? Oh my God, I’ve been so worried,” she gushes as she sits down on the side of the bed and pulls me into her arms for a hug.
I return her embrace, a little taken aback by the affection. My mother and I have always been a bit standoffish and I’m surprised by the sudden display of warmth. “I’m okay, just really tired and a little scared,” I admit.
She backs away and holds my hands in her grasp. “I don’t blame you for being scared, your life is just completely upside down right now,” she sighs. My brows tug together and I feel confused, but I don’t ask her to elaborate on her words.
She starts talking to me about home, about everybody in Georgia and I halfway listen, my eyes constantly shifting to the door, expecting Prescott to walk through it. “How did you get here, Mom?” I ask after she’s been talking non-stop for at least thirty minutes.
“Oh, Prescott picked me up and dropped me off. You know, that boy looked scared out of his mind. He looks like a runner. Now, I’m not trying to be mean, I’m just letting you know. His lifestyle, coupled with all of this added responsibility of a wife and baby, he doesn’t look like the type to stick it out, sweetheart,” my mother announces.
My stomach twists at her words, and I open my mouth to tell her just how wrong she is, but somebody else beats me to it.
“Why are you fillin’ my wife’s head with bullshit, woman?” Prescott asks from the doorway.
I lift my eyes to meet his, and I find that his green eyes are fucking pissed off.
“I-I-I, you know that’s not what I was doing,” my mother stutters.
Prescott snorts, taking a step inside. “Listen. I get it. You’re scared because your daughter is married to a big, bad biker. Just so you know, about fifty other big bad bikers have sworn to protect Evalyn with their lives. They’ll protect Ginger too, and not because she’s my Old Lady, but because they love her.” His voice rumbles throughout the room.
My lips turn up into a giant smile. I love this man, wholeheartedly, one hundred percent. Before Prescott can say anything else, I reach for my mom’s hand and give it a squeeze.
“Prescott is a good man, Mom. He won’t leave us, and he’ll never let us get hurt, not ever. Spend a few days getting to know him and his club, I mean really getting to know them,” I suggest.
“His life is dangerous,” she hisses.
I snort as Prescott looks at me, his eyes full of obvious wariness and worry. He thinks the same thing, and he’s been struggling—he’ll probably always struggle with the life, especially after what I’ve been through. What he doesn’t understand is that I don’t struggle.
Every day with him is a gift, every minute at his side, I feel not only blessed to be his woman, but I feel brave. I’ve suffered, and I’ve been through some serious nightmares, but I’m not scared. Not anymore.
“I know it is, Mom. I don’t care,” I grin.
“You should care, for your daughter’s sake,” she snaps.
I turn my gaze away from Prescott’s to my mother and I tip my head to the side. “Life is dangerous, Mom. It doesn’t matter where you are, who your man is, or if you’re alone. Shit fucking happens,” I snap.
“Now, if you have anything else to say on the matter, I personally don’t want to hear it. Prescott is my husband, and I’m his wife. Our daughter is ours, and that’s the way it’s going to be. You’re more than welcome to be here and enjoy being a grandmother. However, you trying to talk me into leaving Prescott, or the other way around, won’t be tolerated.”
My mother’s face turns to stone and her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t say anything. I watch as she breathes in and out of her nose a few times while she holds my gaze. I don’t turn away from her when I feel Prescott walking around the bed, or when his hand touches my shoulder.
After a solid minute of staring at one another, my mother’s shoulders drop, and she lets out a deep breath. “I’m just scared,” she admits with a whisper.
I take her hand in mine, again and I squeeze. “Yeah, we understand. However, this is our life, and we’re happy in it,” I whisper back.
She nods once. “Okay, okay,” she mutters to herself. Inhaling deeply before letting it out again. “I won’t try and talk you into leaving, neither one of you, again.”
“Well, thank fuck for that. ‘Cause I ain’t going anywhere,” Prescott grunts behind me. I can’t hold back a small laugh at his words, and my mom even smiles a bit as well. “How about you see that baby now, Roberta,” Prescott offers.
“I would love that,” my mom whispers as she stands.
I stand as well, deciding that I need to walk a bit like the nurse suggested. Prescott wraps his arm around my middle and he allows me to lean against him as I attempt to walk.
I’m slow as hell, and his long legs are probably itching to move me along, but he’s patient as we make our way to the NICU at a snail’s pace.
My mom and I go into the NICU together while Prescott waits outside of the doors for us. He wants us to have our moment, and he said he had some calls to make anyway.
I have a feeling he just doesn’t want to hear us cry over Evalyn, maybe there’s just too much estrogen in one place for him. Whatever the case, I don’t mind.
We need this bonding moment, the three of us, and hopefully, it will bring us all a little closer together.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SNAKE
My mother-in-law stands at the sink and washes a dish before placing i
t in the dishwasher. Ginger is asleep in bed, and it’s just the two of us awake. I watch her, wondering what was going through her mind when she tried to get me to abandon my family. I understand her concern of safety for Ginger and Evalyn, but to really expect me to leave? I don’t get it.
“Ginger doesn’t talk about her father,” I state, leaning back in the chair at the breakfast table.
Roberta’s back stiffens, and her shoulders hike up to her ears at my mention of Ginger’s father. I’ve never asked Ginger because it didn’t matter to me.
My mother is dead and my father is a piece of shit who abandoned me when I needed him. Then I killed the fucking bastard. However, with the way Roberta behaved the other day, I’m curious as to what happened to her husband.
“He doesn’t matter,” she snaps.
I cluck my tongue, letting out a low whistle. It matters. Everything about her body language proves that it very much matters. I don’t say anything though. I have a feeling that she’ll tell me whatever I need to know because there is definitely a story there.
“Our parents always matter,” I inform her.
Roberta turns the water off at the sink, before she turns toward me, leaning her ass against the kitchen counter. My eyes stay glued to hers, and I wait. She inhales a deep breath and then lets it out slowly before she speaks.
“He left me when Ginger was five. He walked out the front door and I never saw him again. A year later I was served with divorce papers and the day after they were final he was remarried to a woman half my age,” she spits.
“So, if I left Ginger now, then I would what? Be saving her from a sure heartache?” I ask, arching a brow.
She sighs, shaking her head once. “I really am genuinely concerned for her safety. I didn’t lie about that, it’s scary.”
I almost snort. Roberta has no fucking clue just how scary my life is, or what Ginger has been through. I don’t enlighten her though, it would just add more fuel to her fire. Ginger has already made it very clear that she won’t be leaving, and I would never leave her.
“I love Ginger, Roberta. I’ll protect her as much as I possibly can from any harm, but I can’t put her or Evalyn in a bubble, no matter how badly I want to.”
She nods, then lets her head drop, looking at her feet before her gaze comes back to me. “I would like you to at least consider moving back to Georgia. I would feel better if they weren’t so far from me, if I could be around to help,” she announces.
“The Cash Bar is here, Mom,” Ginger announces from the kitchen’s entryway. “My home is here, and I don’t plan on leaving.”
Roberta’s body jerks and she looks back at Ginger, then to me, then back at Ginger again. “I just want to help take care of you and Evalyn. I just want to be there to support you,” she murmurs.
Once again, I don’t doubt my mother-in-law’s good intentions, but they aren’t for us. I’m thankful that Ginger sees it, and feels it as well.
This is my club, and this is our life.
I could ask for a transfer. I wouldn’t be a president, and I would have to prove myself to a new club. I would probably be miserable, but I would do it for my peaches if she asked me to. However, I’m glad that she won’t. I agree with her statement, this is our home.
“I know you do, Mom, but we won’t leave here. We’re happy,” Ginger announces.
I watch as she slowly makes her way toward me. She’s moving better than she was just a few days ago, but she’s still moving slowly, her stitches obviously bothering her with each step she makes. Once she’s in front of me, I help guide her to my lap as she sits down on my thigh.
“Okay, you’ve made yourself clear, more than once. I had just hoped—”
Ginger snorts. “You’d hoped that Evalyn and I would run back to Georgia. That we would beg you for help, and you would be the one to save us. I know you love that shit, Mom. You live for it. I haven’t needed you for a long fucking time, and you probably hate that.”
The hand wrapped around Ginger’s thigh flexes and I frown. Not liking the way this conversation is going. I don’t want anybody to fight, not about this. “You’re right,” Roberta says.
I can’t stop myself from jerking back slightly. Ginger grunts at my sudden movement and I give her thigh a squeeze as an apology for possibly hurting her.
“I had hoped that you would see how dangerous your life here with Prescott was and that you would bring Evalyn to Georgia, and think of her safety rather than thinking about yourself,” she snaps.
Ginger growls, but I’ve had enough. Roberta is hot and cold, accepting our refusal to leave in one breath, and then attempting to manipulate Ginger in the next. I’ve officially had enough. Keeping my tone even, and trying to keep my voice calm, I speak.
“If you cannot accept our lives, and the way we choose to live them, then you’re no longer welcome in our home. Ginger is my wife, we share a last name, we share a child, and my name is permanently marked on her neck. We aren’t leaving Canada, we’re happy here.”
“Well I never…” she gasps. “I’m Ginger’s mother, and Evalyn’s grandmother,” she pointlessly announces.
I grunt. “Bitch, you came to visit Ginger once, once in the three years she’s lived here. She’s spent her Christmases at the bar, or with me, along with birthdays, and any other fucking holiday that’s come around. You’re just here to be a controlling conniving cunt. I won’t have it. I’ve tried to be cool with it, but my patience is now nil.”
Roberta’s eyes narrow and she turns her gaze to Ginger. “Are you going to let him talk to me like that?” she snaps.
“Mom. I love you, but Prescott isn’t wrong. You hardly call, you don’t ever visit, and you obviously came here to start shit. We’ve had enough shit lately, yours is honestly just an annoyance, but my patience level is about the same as Prescott’s these days. All I want to do is go to the hospital and see my baby. You’re keeping me from doing that and it’s pissing me off,” Ginger snaps.
Roberta’s eyes narrow even more, turning into extremely small slits. “Fine, I’ll leave. I know when I’m not wanted. Don’t come crying to me when shit hits the fan,” she states and stomps off.
“All of this, it seems really extreme,” I say a few minutes later.
Ginger sighs, turning slightly to face me. “It’s the way she is. That’s why I really didn’t want her coming here. I knew that she would be overly dramatic. I just didn’t think it would be quite like this. She’s extreme, Pres. Her moods have always been this way, and she makes snap decisions. It’s why I was so glad to have the opportunities Uncle Cash gave me, even in death.”
“Fuck,” I groan.
Ginger leans forward, pressing her lips to mine gently. “Give her time to cool off. Let’s go see our girl,” she whispers.
Lifting my hand, I wrap my fingers in her hair, twisting them and tangling them between her strands and I kiss her back. I let my tongue caress the seam of her lips until she opens her mouth for me.
Slipping inside of her warmth, I taste her. I’ve missed this, and I know we can’t go much further, but I at least need this small taste from her.
GINGER
My mother. She pisses me off, consistently. She always has. I think that we butt heads the most because unlike my other siblings, I don’t do exactly what she wants when she wants it. This is just another example. I’m happy here in Canada, and although the weather isn’t exactly my favorite aspect of the area, this is home.
I haven’t been back to Georgia since I left, and I have no desire to go. In a lot of ways, I am my Uncle Cash, content to leave everything behind me and live this life here. Except, unlike him, I don’t want to live it alone. I need Prescott at my side to survive.
Prescott and I make our way toward the hospital and I can’t stop thinking about my mother, about her sudden mood swings. She seemed okay after I talked to her a few days ago. Then today, she just became unreasonable. I don’t know if there’s more going on, but my gut is screaming that that’s
the case.
All thoughts of my mother and her issues leave me as I approach Evalyn’s little plastic bed. She looks stronger just since last night, or maybe that’s my wishful thinking.
Prescott is quiet as I sit down and reach for her, holding her against me as I adjust and attempt to breastfeed, again. It hasn’t really been working, and I’m about to give up on the whole concept.
I’ve tried everything and even researched, but my body just isn’t cooperating. I’m pretty sure it’s stress related, at least that’s what I’ve read.
A nurse approaches us, and I look up to watch her. She doesn’t say anything at first and I’m a little uncomfortable until she speaks. “The doctor wanted to speak with you, I let him know you were here,” she says with a smile.
“Pres?” I whisper after she’s left. He grunts, and I glance up to see that he’s watching her walk away. “She was a little odd,” I whisper.
Prescott nods, his gaze still focused on the direction the nurse walked away. She’s gone, but he’s still staring. “I’m getting a weird feeling. Between my mom, and this nurse, I don’t know…”
“Same here, peaches,” he mutters.
He leans down, pressing his lips to Evalyn’s head before he mutters that he’ll be right back. He leaves us, and I can’t shake that bad feeling as I attempt to feed Evalyn and wait for the doctor to arrive.
I want to take Evalyn home with me. Leaving her here kills me every time, but with this mysterious nurse, now I’m just plain scared.
“Mrs. Gordon?” the pediatrician asks. I let out a sigh of relief, I recognize him, and I trust him. “Evalyn is doing spectacularly. She’s eating, and she’s gained a little weight. Her bilirubin levels have improved tremendously. I see no reason why she won’t be headed home with you by the end of the week,” he announces.
Laced with Fear (Cash Bar Book 1) Page 24
