Reclaiming Reagan (Unsaintly Kings MC Book 2)

by A. Lynn

  “Hey, Ma, I brought you a—Hey, Rea! I have been missing you,” Skylar says coming into the office. “Why the radio silence, chica?”

  “Thanks, Hija, but the inquisition has to wait. We are waiting for your stupid-ass brother to get here.”

  “What’s Crow done now?”

  “Yeah, what have I done now? Surely it wasn’t worth you first naming me,” Crow says from the doorway, not taking his eyes off me once.

  “Have a seat, Kane,” Stella glares.

  “Hey, Reagan. How have you been?”

  “Skylar?”

  “Yeah, Rea?”

  “Will you please tell the bastard—formerly known as Crow—to shut the fuck up talking to me, please?”

  “Hey, bastard—formerly known as Crow—shut the fuck up talking to her,” she laughs.

  “I was just being polite. I don’t have anything to say to this skanky bitch anyway,” Crow says, digging the knife in a little bit deeper.

  “Watch your fucking mouth, Kane,” Stella grits.

  “Whatever. What did you need? I have shit to do.”

  “When were you going to tell me you and Rea broke up?”

  “I didn’t realize I had to, we are adults, after all.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that one, smart-ass,” she acquiesces. “I’m pretty sure I had the right to know that you got her pregnant!”

  “You’re pregnant?” Skylar asks.

  “Five weeks,” I confirm.

  “Quit lying to them, Reagan! That’s not my baby and you know it!”

  “I’m not doing this with you again, Crow. If you don’t want to be a part of the baby’s life, that’s fine, but don’t you dare take away the family that does!”

  “Ma, that’s not my baby. Don’t let this whore lie to you.”

  Stella looks at me with doubt in her eyes, and that hurts more than I care to admit. But it is Sky who speaks, “How do you know it isn’t yours, Crow?”

  He drops his head into his hands and says, “We only had sex for the first time the Saturday before the ‘attack’—”

  “Did you really just use air quotes on attack, Crow? Really? You are such a fucking asshole. You’re lucky I’m pregnant.”

  He shrugs and continues, “They called her to come in on Friday because of her blood work or some shit. Her blood said she was pregnant. Even I know it takes more than a week to test positive.”

  “I didn’t test positive, dumb-ass. My hCG hormone levels were elevated and it indicated that I was pregnant, but since it was still in the gray area, I would need to be tested again.”

  “Doesn’t matter, it changes nothing. There is no way that I got you pregnant.”

  “Um, Crow… that’s not true, hCG levels rise immediately. They will show a clear negative or a positive at five to eight days after conception,” Skylar confirms. “What was your level, Rea?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  “Wait a minute. Are you saying that is my baby in there?”

  “Yes, unless she is the whore you just called her,” Skylar smirks.

  He looks at me, his face drained of color and fear in his eyes, “Baby…”

  I get to my feet and turn to Stella, “Did you get to the bottom of this as you wanted?”

  “Rea, I’m so sorry,” Stella says.

  “No worries, Stella. Did you get what you needed?”

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  “Good. If this situation happens again and I feel trapped like I just did, I will quit on the spot.”

  “Okay, Rea.”

  I glance at my phone and see I have forty-five minutes before I meet with the contractor—who is going to do some work on the house—at nine-thirty. Just enough time to get all the Christmas gifts in the house and the decorations brought down from the hall closet.

  “Is it okay if I come back on Monday?”

  “Sounds good to me,” she says with a smile.

  “Great. I have to run, though, I have a meeting with my contractor shortly.”

  “What are you meeting with a contractor for?” Crow demands.

  “Stay in your fucking lane, bro,” I snap.

  “What lane is that?”

  “The ‘what Reagan does is none of my fucking business’ lane.”

  “Everything you do is my business.”

  “No, Crow, it’s not. It stopped being your business when you accused me of setting up the attack—oh I’m sorry, ‘attack’—that only happened because you and your fucking club stuck their noses where they didn’t belong.”

  “You did not say that, Kane!”

  “He most certainly did,” I tell her. “I told you that you were crossing into the unforgivable. You didn’t want me anymore, Crow. Now’s the time to keep that up, because I sure as fuck plan to.”

  “Baby,” he says grabbing my hand.

  “I am not your ‘baby’, dick,” I say, ripping my hand from his grasp. “I did what Gunner asked and now I’m done. Stay away from me, Crow.”

  “We can get through this, Reagan. Please,” he begs.

  “We could, but I don’t want to, I deserve better than this, Crow,” I say before walking out of the office.

  “Wait, Reagan. Let’s talk about this,” he pleads, following me out of the office.

  “Wasn’t it you who said that you’d been there, done that, wouldn’t buy the t-shirt? Calm down, Crow, you will forget all about my rancid-ass soon enough,” I say, smiling sweetly at him. “Say hi to Cleo for me, yeah?”

  “FUCK!!” I hear Crow yell as the backdoor closes. A genuine smile plasters itself on my face, and it feels good. I don’t remember the last time I smiled just for the sake of smiling. Feels a little foreign, but I’m going to roll with it. I refuse to let him ruin me.

  Except I kind of feel like he has, because I am, in fact, ruined for all other men. The love that I feel for him doesn’t come around that often, some never experience it. It is… was epic. I will feel the echo of that loss for the rest of my life.

  They say it’s better to have loved and lost, but I am not so sure I agree with that. I will never regret what we had, but only for the life that grows inside of me now. I guess I will always have a small piece of him to keep for myself. It seems like a fair trade, I suppose, considering he took a large part of my heart with him when he walked out on me a month ago. And of what remains? Jordan will share with the baby I carry now. There isn’t anything left to give to someone else. And I will just have to be alright with that.

  When I pull into the driveway at the house, the contractor is already there. I rush out of my car with a smile on my face, “Mr. Crews, I presume? I’m Reagan Marks,” I say extending my hand to him.

  “That’s me. A beautiful home you have here.”

  “Thank you. I grew up here and then inherited it when Grams passed.”

  “Lucky! When my grandparents passed, all I got was a coin collection.”

  “At least it wasn’t debt!”

  “I think you may be right about that,” he says with a chuckle. “Should we get down to business?”

  “Absolutely. Let me grab some bags from my trunk and we can head inside,” I say popping the trunk and loading up my arms.

  “Here, let me help with those, Ms. Marks.”

  “Please call me Reagan, and help would be great. Some last-minute Christmas shopping,” I say sheepishly.

  “Isn’t that what all Christmas shopping is?”

  “Normally,” I say with a laugh. “But I had the last month off and was able to do quite a bit online shopping.”

  “I tried doing the online thing a few years ago, but all of the gifts were horrendous. I am not the best gift-giver under normal circumstances, but not being able to hold the item in my hand is my downfall.”

  “I’m the best gift-giver,” I smile smugly. “They’re mostly for my son, though. He is a little biased.”

  “Maybe I should request your assistance then,” he says as I shut the trunk door.

  Wait, is he flirting with
me? Am I flirting back? What is happening right now?

  “Eh, it could be fun,” I reply coolly, turning for the front door.

  “How old is your son?”

  “He just turned three in September.”

  “That’s a fun age. Well, I think they are probably all fun ages—for me at least. I can have all the fun with them and then send them home to their parents,” he smiles evilly.

  “That’s kind of fucked up,” I laugh, dropping the bags on the floor in the living room.

  “Yeah well, my dad taught me to never hit a girl, even when they are your bratty-ass big sister. Got to strike back when and where you can!”

  Shaking my head, I ask, “Would you like some coffee or something, Mr. Crews?”

  “Water is fine. You can call me, Asher, Mr. Crews is my dad.”

  “Okay, we can talk in the kitchen.”

  “Right,” he says, taking a seat at the table. “All the message said was that you had some work that you wanted to be done immediately. Can you elaborate on that for me?”

  “Of course,” I pause, breathing deep.

  “Reagan? Are you okay?”

  “I feel I need to give you a little back-story, so you can understand how important this is to me. Please don’t say anything until I finish.” He nods. “Okay, first off—Jordan isn’t my biological son. I adopted him at birth. Long story short, his birth mother is my former best friend. She is a heroin addict who just signed her rights away. I don’t want her to come back and have access to the house. Secondly—I was attacked here a month ago, by two men who just broke in because they could.”

  “Damn, Reagan…” he looks like he’s about to get sick.

  “The guy I was with at the time changed all my locks and put in a brand new security system. But as it stands, I don’t want him having access to my house either.”

  “That's understandable, Reagan. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

  “Well, I want the security system removed completely. I don’t care what you do with it, I just want it gone. I want the new one to have cameras and floodlights for the outside of the house.”

  “Do you want cameras on the inside, too?”

  “No, I don’t want to feel like I have no privacy in my home. Maybe have cameras pointed to the lower windows and all of the entry points to the house.”

  “Okay,” he says, taking notes.

  “Will having a dog door put in interfere with the alarm system?”

  “It can, but you can always have an alarm on the door itself. Most modern doors come with electronic locks that require an RFID—or radio-frequency identification—chip to unlock. The chips are typically in the collar.”

  “But will it set off the alarm?”

  “Yes. We would just have to bypass the area where the dog would come in. It will leave a small section of your house completely unprotected, but that would be remedied with the self-locking door.”

  “Can you do it?”

  “I can.”

  “Good. The last thing that I need from you is five-foot-tall wrought iron fencing around the house. You don’t have to include the driveway, but I do think that I want floodlights on them,” I add. “Would it be possible for you to change the garage door remotes?”

  “I can do that,” he confirms, blowing out a deep breath. “It’s not going to be cheap, Reagan.”

  “Money isn’t an issue, but timing is.”

  “What kind of time frame are you thinking?”

  “I am hoping by Sunday.”

  “This Sunday? Like four days from now?”

  “Realistically, I know that you won’t be able to get everything done by then. The fence isn’t priority number one, but I do need it in the next couple of weeks. The dog door can wait until then, too, if that makes it easier for you.”

  “The door will need to be put in when the alarm system goes in so it can be bypassed when installed.”

  “So, can you meet that time frame?”

  “Yeah,” he replies, rubbing the back of his neck. “But that means more hands on deck, which will make your price a little higher.”

  “What are we looking at?”

  “For supplies only—eight thousand for the security system, cameras, door, remotes, and floodlights; and at least eight thousand for the fencing—about sixteen thousand dollars. I would plan for ten to fifteen guys, but with the expedited completion date, the number of workers would be inflated to somewhere around twenty. With the extra hands and tasks to be done, you’re looking at twenty-five thousand.”

  “This will include the fence going up now, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me grab my checkbook.” Getting my purse. I write him a check for thirty-three thousand and hand it over.

  “I said twenty-five, not thirty-three.”

  “Consider it a bonus for meeting my crazy-ass timeline. I’m just ready for my son to be home, but I don’t want him to be here until all my bases are covered,” I shrug.

  “Thank you,” he says getting up and heading to the front door. “I will draw up a contract tonight for your signature in the morning.”

  “Sounds good,” I say, opening the door and stepping out with him. “What time should I expect you?”

  “Eight.”

  “Great, I’ll see you then.”

  He steps into me and says, “I'm sorry for what happened. I have been told that I am a really good listener.”

  “Who the fuck are you?!”

  I drop my head in exacerbation. “What are you doing here, Crow?”

  “I told you I will always be where you are. I meant that shit, baby.”

  “I think I’m going to go,” Asher says.

  “You think?!”

  “Stop being such a dick, Crow.”

  “What? I am just looking out for you and my baby.”

  “The baby that you didn’t want? The baby that you threw away right along beside me?”

  “I’ll see you in the morning, Reagan,” Asher calls as he gets to his truck.

  “It’s about fucking time he left.”

  “Maybe you should follow his lead,” I retort.

  “Why would I do that? I came here so we can talk.”

  “I have nothing to say, Crow.”

  “Well, I have plenty to say, baby.”

  “I think you’ve said enough, don’t you?”

  “I feel like complete shit for the way I acted when you told me you were pregnant. I didn’t think it could happen so soon.”

  “So your first thought was to call me out of my name? To treat me like shit? Who does that, Crow?”

  “Tell me how I can fix this and I will do it. I love you too much to let you go.”

  Why does he keep doing this to me? Why do I keep letting him do this to me? The answer to that question is staring me right in the face. My heart is saying, “Because we love him and his dick is glorious!” but my brain is yelling, “Shut up, bitch! It’s because we’re fucking stupid! He does have an amazing dick, though”. Both voices are right, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want them to shut the hell up. They aren’t fucking helping.

  “No, you don’t. Because if you did, those words would have never come out of your mouth.”

  “Yes, I do!” he insists. “How can you tell me I don’t?”

  “I’m not going to keep going around in the same circle about this with you.”

  “Who’s not fighting for us now?” He accuses.

  “You’re right, I’m not,” I shrug. “I told you that day that there was not going to be back peddling this time when you figured out you overreacted, again.”

  “Baby, please,” he whispers.

  “I love you… but it’s not enough. This shit is toxic and it has to end here. Go home, Crow,” I say, closing the door in his face and on my heart

  ******

  Walking up to knock on Sasha’s door is harder than I thought it was going to be. I want my baby at home with me so badly, but I need to make sure that the hous
e is adequately protected. God, I’ve felt like a shit mother these past weeks.

  “Reagan,” Sasha says with a smile as she opens the screen door. “What a nice surprise! It’s good to see that beautiful face, too.”

  “Hey, Sasha. How have you been?” I ask as she ushers me into the house.

  “We’ve been really good. He misses you, though,” she says making me feel shittier.

  “I miss him so much, too. Going this long without him hurts something awful. Just talking to him on the phone every day doesn’t cut it.”

  “I think he feels the same way. He just seems to be missing your face.”

  “The feeling is very mutual,” I sigh. “So, have you gotten around to reading the paperwork I gave you?”

  Her face falls and she nods. “I don’t know what was going through her mind when she filed those papers. I am so disappointed in her; that is not the girl that I raised.”

  “I doubt she will ever be back, but if she does, she is not allowed to see him.”

  “I think you’re right, though, she won’t come back. If she knows what’s good for her, she will never darken my doorway again.”

  “I—” I start.

  “Please don’t take him away from me, Reagan.”

  “What? Why would I take him away from you? You’re his MiMi, he loves you, Sasha. He has enough people walking away from him—by their own choice—what do I look like pushing the only other family that he has away? It takes a village, right?” I ask, grabbing her hand.

  A sob escapes her throat. “Thank you, Rea. I have been tying myself up in knots thinking that my days with him are numbered.”

  “You’re the only family that he or I have anymore,” I pause, “and this one, too, I suppose. I keep forgetting that I am pregnant.”

  “I forgot, too! How are things going?”

  “Pretty good, actually. I am five weeks along and my due date is August twentieth. I haven’t experienced morning sickness, and for that, I am truly thankful,” I answer with mirth. “Ryan is the only person I have been around that was pregnant, and she made it look dreadful.”

  “She kind of made everything about being pregnant look dreadful.”

  “That she did. Kind of makes sense now, you know?”

  Changing the subject, she asks, “Was that a construction company truck at your house earlier?”