It’s Friday now, and I’m sitting in my doctor’s office, lifting my shirt while he rubs cold goop on my belly. The little wand he uses presses against my stomach and then the quiet room is filled with the sounds of my baby’s heartbeat. It’s gorgeous and miraculous all at once.
I am so pissed that Pierce isn’t here to witness it.
Once I am finished at the doctors, after I answer all of his questions—yes, I feel okay; morning sickness isn’t too bad; yes, I’m drinking plenty of fluids; and yes, I’m taking my pre-natal vitamins—I go home.
I’m tired and I feel nervous.
I've tried calling Pierce since last night, worried that I hadn’t heard from him and worried he wouldn’t make it today, but there was no answer. I had a right to worry. He never showed and he still hasn’t called.
I change into a pair of leggings and a tank that is too tight around my belly. I’m home alone; nobody is going to see me. I just need to breathe. Hours tick by with nothing—no texts and no calls.
I wonder if the pressure of this new life has gotten to him.
Has he run off, never to be heard from again?
I don’t think he would leave his club; the men there are like brothers to him. And he’s their leader – their president.
A knock on my door around eleven in the evening startles me. I walk to the peephole and see none other than Bates Lukin standing on the other side. I don’t hesitate. I open the door and he strolls right inside.
Once I have closed the door behind him, I look into his face and I gasp. He looks worried and stressed. I haven’t seen him look this way since the day he left for boot camp all those years ago.
“Bates?” I question. He sighs.
“Sit down, babe,” he mumbles as he sits on the corner of my sofa, his arm across the back and his legs spread out.
I do as he instructs, my body automatically moving. Something is so wrong, I can feel it in the room. It’s so heavy, I can practically taste the doom swirling around us.
“It’s Fury,” he says. I shake my head.
“No, he’s hurt? Worse?” the words fall from my trembling lips. Bates just shakes his head.
“Arrested. Don’t look good, babe,” he informs me with a blank stare.
I can’t stop the tears from flowing.
“Where is he? When will he be out? What happened?” I rattle off.
Bates moves closer to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
“Gun trafficking across the Canadian border means federal time, babe. He’s being held in Boise without bail. Has a good lawyer, so hopefully he won’t be in for too long,” he mutters.
I look into his eyes. They’re full of sympathy and pity and I hate it.
“When can I see him?”
“He didn’t put you on the list of visitors,” he grunts. My breaking heart shatters.
“Seriously?” I ask as the tears continue to fall from my eyes.
“I’m going tomorrow to see him. I’ll try to talk him into putting you on the list, and I’ll get more details about the whole thing then,” he explains.
It fucking hurts.
The outright pity he’s looking at me with kills.
“What am I going to do, Bates? I just moved in here and I can’t afford the rent, let alone anything for the baby. I am so fucked,” I whisper. Bates gives me a little shake.
“The baby?” he asks. I nod.
God, he doesn’t know. Pierce never told him.
“Don’t worry about any of that right now, babe. I’ll help you figure something out,” he says.
I want to believe him, I truly do, but I see nothing but doom for my future. Destitution and doom. I have no familial support aside from Connellee, and Pierce is gone.
“You’ll let me know more when you find out?” I ask through my sobs.
He just hums as he holds me close. It’s friendly. He’s my friend, and he’s exactly what I need right now. Eventually, I feel my exhausted eyes begin to close. Then my body is being lifted and carried to my bed.
“Sleep. I’ll contact you when I know more,” he murmurs, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead before he leaves me alone.
So fucking alone.
I can’t help myself.
I cry some more.
Bates Lukin - Sniper
That dickhead.
I get on my bike, leaving Kentlee alone and fucking broken.
I ride to the clubhouse for emergency church.
Drifter will take the gavel as acting president since Fury is gone. Drift is a good guy, but a total hothead.
I walk into the room for church, dead last. Usually, I would give a shit, but I don’t today. Not after watching Kentlee fall apart in my arms.
“Nice of you to join us,” Torch says.
I flip him the finger before I flop down in my chair.
“Okay, Fury’s locked up,” Drifter announces, as if we didn’t already all know.
The few guys that were with him scattered as soon as they saw the cops, and I should be glad only one of us is caught, but I’m not. Brotherhood means watching your brother’s back, not abandoning him as soon as you see trouble. And never fuckin’ leave your president’s dick blowin’ in the wind.
“What’s the lawyer say?” Buck asks. He’s older, hard assed, potbellied, and an all-around decent guy.
“Trying to get him a deal. Plead out, three years of a five-year sentence and then a year of probation,” Drifter informs.
I groan at the length of time. Three fuckin’ years and his woman is pregnant, scared, and alone.
“Got another problem,” I voice.
Everybody looks at me.
“The club?” Dirty Johnny asks, referring to the strip club that I’m in charge of managing.
It’s supposed to open in three months and it’ll be a shit-ton of income for us. We need it open, sooner rather than later.
“Nope,” I say. This problem has nothing to do with the club and everything to do with Kentlee.
“Fury knocked up his piece,” I say, trying to keep myself looking impartial.
“How in the fuck do we know if it’s his?” Bull barks out laughing.
“It’s his,” Torch says quietly from the end of the table. Everyone looks at him.
“What, you were there or some shit?” Dirty Johnny cackles. I roll my eyes.
“Kentlee Johnson ain’t a whore. The baby is his; he moved in with her last weekend on the DL. Promised to take care of her and the baby,” I inform them, even though I know it would piss Fury off like nothing else. The whole room looks at me with shocked expressions.
“He never claimed her, and I’ve never even seen the bitch,” Drifter points out.
I curse Fury in my head.
Fury and his need to keep Kentlee separate from the club.
“He was into her, he’d want his baby taken care of,” Torch says. He’s on the same path as I am, but that’s only the two of us.
“We vote. Those in favor of financially helping the woman claiming to be knocked up by Fury?” Drifter asks.
Torch, Dirty Johnny, and I raise our hands.
“No’s?” Drift asks. The rest of the room raises their hands.
Twenty to three.
Fuck.
“Tell you what? You want to employ her at the club once she pops the baby out? Feel free. That’s about all we can offer her without Fury actually claiming her,” Drifter says. I watch the other guys nod.
Kentlee Johnson working in a strip club?
The thought is almost comical. Fury is going to be fucking livid. Even if I put her as a cocktail waitress and not on the stage. He’s going to flip the fuck out.
I decide I just won’t tell him. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt.
I lie to myself.
The guy is going to be fuckin’ pissed.
I saddle up for the eight hour ride to Boise. I have to get Fury’s instructions on how he wants to deal with the Bastards at this point, and tell him about his baby mama—beg
him to put her on his fucking list.
He should have claimed her and taken care of her, not hidden her like some prized possession he didn’t want his brothers to know about.
Kentlee is a good girl, a sweet girl, but she’s fuckin’ strong, too. She deserves everything good in life, not to be someone’s dirty fuckin’ secret.
Fury
Visitor’s day.
Fuckin’ bullshit.
I dress in my trousers and brown tee, with a long sleeve shirt over the top and buttoned. I roll the sleeves just past my elbows and tuck the shirt in neatly. On my feet, old man white tennis shoes.
I hate the bullshit they make us wear, the regulations, and all of the fucking rules.
Everything is timed.
Breakfast at a certain time, lunch, labor, working out, and even leisure time is on a goddamned schedule. I line up with the rest of the men I now share a home with. Punks, assholes, creeps, gang members of all kinds, and then other brothers like myself—some enemies and some allies.
I walk into the big empty room and make my way toward my designated table, waiting for my visitor.
One of my only approved visitors, Sniper. He comes toward me, jeans, black tee, and boots. No cut and no chains hanging from his pockets. Searched.
“Brother,” he says, dipping his head when I stand to greet him with a handshake.
“How’s things?” I ask.
I’m asking about everything, the Bastards, the Aryan’s, Cartel, Canadians, and of course, Kentlee.
“Need to know the news on those guys with no fathers,” he says, talking in code. He wants orders on how to deal with the Bastards.
“Should be smoked out,” I instruct.
I want them gone, cleared out of our town.
“Will do, brother,” he says with a nod.
“How’s she?” I ask, needing to know.
I need to know she is okay and safe.
“Not good. Wants to see you,” he says.
The air leaves my lungs. Fuck no. No way in hell would I let that pure creature step one foot into a federal penitentiary.
“Can’t let her see me like this,” I say, looking into his worried eyes.
“You guys have a baby coming, man,” he remarks, as if I could fucking forget that I left my woman alone and pregnant to be locked up.
“Keep an eye out for her; get the brothers’ help,” I say. He shakes his head.
“Didn’t claim her. They voted; they’re not doing shit for her,” he informs me.
It makes my stomach turn.
I didn’t claim her for a reason. I didn’t want her getting dragged into shit. I didn’t want her seeing all the bad shit that comes our way.
I wanted to keep her clean, and pure, and fucking perfect. I should claim her now, but it won’t matter. It’s been voted and it won’t be overturned.
Fucking useless.
“Fuck. You’ll watch out for them?” I ask, knowing that Sniper has a soft spot for my girl. I’m going to use his obvious pining over her sister to keep my woman safe.
“I’ll do what I can,” he says. With that, our time is up.
I have a meeting with my lawyer next—plea deal.
I watch my brother leave and my slick suited attorney waltz in. He doesn’t belong here in his thousand-dollar suit, but he’s here and I hope he has good news for me.
“Three years, one-year probation,” he says, cutting the bullshit.
“Time off for good behavior?” I ask hopefully.
“Nope. Three years, full sentence, and one-year probation. It’s your first major offense, they’re willing to work with you,” he explains. My back stiffens.
“Three years, full sentence?” I ask, curling my lip in disgust.
“I’m advising you to take it. You never know the judge you’ll get in court. You get a hard ass, it could be double that time, Pierce,” he informs.
I sigh heavily before I take the paper from him and reluctantly sign the fucking piece of shit.
“There,” I hiss, thinking about the fact that I won’t be free for three fucking long ass years.
“Sucks, man. Wish I could get you out of this one, but being caught red handed leaves little to doubt,” he murmurs.
I have to agree with him.
I was fucking caught driving the goddamned guns over the border, or at least trying to.
Once I’m back in my tiny as fuck cell, I lie on my cot and close my eyes. I think about Kentlee, how her body was already changing and how I won’t see her fully develop.
I won’t see her fat with my kid. I won’t watch my kid come into this world. I won’t hear its first words or see its first steps. All that shit that I was actually looking forward to.
Then I think about money. I made her move to a place she couldn’t afford and she has the extra expense of a baby now. I hope that her parents will help her out. Maybe she can tell them what a fuck up I am and they’ll take her back into the fold?
I’m a coward and a piece of shit for not making sure my shit was square. I was being a cocky asshole and now? Now, my woman is alone, without family, and without the club at her back.
I’m too much of a pussy to contact her, to let her see me in here, weak and locked up.
I hope that she’ll forgive me when I’m out.
I hope that she’ll give me a second chance.
I fuckin’ love that girl and I never told her.
Kentlee
“He doesn’t want you to see him like that.”
Bates’ words play on a constant repeat inside of my head. It’s been four long months and I haven’t heard a word from Pierce. Not a letter or a phone call. I’ve been waiting by the phone and checking the mail religiously, in hopes of some form of communication from him.
I have received nothing.
I have cried and mourned his absence from my life.
Bates has been invaluable to me. He shows up weekly, like clockwork, to do whatever it is I need help with.
Last week, he built the baby’s crib, a gift from my brother. A gift I needed too badly to send back. I thanked him from the bottom of my heart, with tears rolling down my cheeks.
“Proud to be an uncle, Kent. I’ll do whatever I can. I wish I could do more. If I weren’t so busy in school, I’d come there and help you,” he says, his words hardly above a whisper. It’s late and surely his roommate is sleeping close by.
“You’ve done more than I ever expected or could dream of, Conn. Thank you so much. When you get a break, will you come and meet him?” I ask. He agrees.
Him.
My baby is a him.
I found out last month that Pierce and I are having a beautiful boy, and he will be beautiful. Pierce is stunning, so I know that this baby will be blessed with good looks, too.
Only four months of his three-year sentence have passed, and already it feels as though it has been a lifetime.
I only had him for mere weeks, but I feel his loss fully. The knock on the door alerts me to the fact that it’s time for my weekly visit from Bates.
I live for these moments.
“Hey,” I say with a fake smile on my face.
“Hey, LeeLee. Fuck, little dude is growing like crazy,” he says, placing his rough hand on my swollen belly.
It’s true. It seems as though my stomach has doubled in size in just the last few weeks.
My smile softens, turning real at his gentle touch. I don’t want Bates, not at all, but it feels nice to be around someone who is genuinely kind to me. I haven’t had a lot of that lately.
When I told my parent’s about Pierce being in prison, they said an I-told-you-so and ended the conversation. I don’t know what I was hoping for but, that wasn’t it.
Connellee is the only person in my entire family that I have talked to in seven months, and he’s hundreds of miles away.
“I know. I’m going to have to evict him soon if he doesn’t stop growing,” I murmur.
Bates throws back his head in laughter.
“How are you doing financially?” he asks, just as he asks every single time he comes by.
I’m not doing too badly, but I’m not doing that great either. I sold my badass car and got a small four-door, used sedan, cutting my car payment in half.
I’ve been contemplating moving to a cheaper place, but I don’t want to live on the bad side of town. Granted, there is no real bad side of town here; it’s just that I want to feel safe, and this neighborhood does that for me.
Plus, there’s the sick part of me that wants to stay here because of the memories of Pierce here. We only had a few days here together, but I can walk into a room and just picture him here.
“I’m okay now, but I’m going to have to get a different job or something after he gets here; something that pays better,” I answer.
I hate admitting it.
Being broke is no laughing matter, especially when you have a baby on the way, and all the expenses that come with it.
“I’m managing the strip club, LeeLee. I didn’t want to even suggest it, and I’ll help you out as much as I can, but would you consider working there once the baby comes? You’d make a shit ton more cash,” he suggests.
I burst out laughing. It’s hilarious, really.
“Bates, I’m going to be fat and gross. I may never lose the baby weight, and you want me to strip?” I ask.
“Fuck no. Fury would kill me if I let his woman strip,” he says.
I look down at my feet, trying to hide my tears.
Pierce’s woman.
I wish I were.
I’m not.
It was made very clear to me that I am not Pierce’s, by any means. Not only by him, but by the club. Bates explained that, usually, when a member gets locked up, the club helps his Old Lady out. Bills, babysitting, groceries, and whatever she needs, the club is there for her.
This gave me hope, maybe my situation wasn’t as dire as I thought it was going to be. Then Bates hit me with the truth. I wasn’t claimed by Pierce. He hadn’t told anybody about me, or about the baby. They weren’t convinced I was really pregnant with his child, and they all voted against helping me out.
I wish I could be mad at the whole lot of them— but I’m not. I completely understand their reasoning for why they did what they did. The person I’m disappointed in is Pierce. I’m not even angry anymore, just sad and disappointed.
Rough & Rowdy (Notorious Devils #1) Page 13
