Addicted: A Secret Baby Romance (Rebel Saints MC)

by Zoey Parker

  I looked around the main room of the clubhouse, hoping to see her. I saw a few unconscious bodies here and there, all members of Gareth’s crew. My guys came through like they always did.

  “Pete took her outside,” Joe said.

  “Make sure he’s secure,” I said, nodding back to Gareth. Joe smiled grimly—I had the feeling he would enjoy the hell out of it since it was Gareth’s men who knocked him out earlier. The rest of the guys I ordered out of the clubhouse. “We have to get out of here,” I said, and they understood what I meant. The cops would be around soon—somebody would report the gunshot, even if the block wasn’t all that busy at night. There was always a witness somewhere. Everybody else filed out, Joe included.

  “He’s good,” Joe said. I nodded and pushed him out the door. I had to find Michelle.

  I stepped outside to find most of the crew getting on their bikes and speeding off. Still no Michelle. My heart sank. She ran away. I couldn’t blame her.

  Pete saw me and came over. “She got in a cab,” he said. “She went home.”

  “What?”

  He nodded. “She said she wanted to be with her mom.” He must have seen what could only have been shock on my face, and he put a hand on my arm. “It wasn’t because she was afraid of you or hated you. She was worried about her mom, that’s all.”

  “Right.” I clenched my jaw. He couldn’t see how undone I was by what she did. I didn’t wanna look weak in front of him. All I wanted was to hold her in my arms and make sure she was all right, and she ran away. I couldn’t even say I was sorry.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, as I got on my bike.

  “I’m going to her,” I said.

  “You should get your leg looked at,” he reminded me. I had almost forgotten about Gareth slashing me.

  “It’s not deep,” I said. “I’ll have Spike look at it later, when I get back.” I didn’t wait for him to argue with me, riding away in the direction of Michelle’s house before he could say another word.

  The entire way there, I second-guessed myself. There was no way of knowing how she would react. She might tell me to get off her property, I thought, or refuse to open the door when I knock. And those were the nice options. She might also tell me she hated me and didn’t know why she’d ever trusted me in the first place. She might curse me out and ask why I used her the way I did. If I had only given her the money instead of using it to keep her around, none of it would have happened. She would have gone home and forgotten all about me in time. And I would have forgotten her, too.

  I was glad she didn’t go right home, even if it meant seeing her with a gun against her temple.

  The fact was I fell in love with her the first night. That was why I wanted her around. I told myself at the time that I only wanted to play with her. Then I told myself it was nice to have her around. Really, I had feelings for her from that first time we slept together. I saw how special she was, and felt how easy it was to open up to her.

  I couldn’t tell her at the time. So I made it look like I was fucking with her. Why had I been so stupid? Because she would never have stuck around if I didn’t force her to. I shook my head at myself in disgust, because I knew it was true. If I had asked her to stay with me, and told her how interesting I thought she was and how easy it was to talk to her, she would have left. I couldn’t blame her. If I were her, so beautiful and smart, I would have run like I was on fire. No question about it.

  When you loved someone, you didn’t use them like that. You didn’t play games to get them to do what you wanted. But I had. And it had cost us both. Now she would never want me again. I deserved to be alone if that was the way I treated the woman I loved.

  I pulled up to the house, bracing myself for whatever I found inside. The house looked dark inside for the most part, with just a light on in one of the upstairs rooms. For the second time that night I took a deep breath before approaching a door.

  There was no answer when I knocked. My heart was in my throat. Was she all right? I cupped my hands around my eyes and peered inside. I didn’t see any movement inside. I didn’t hear anything. For a quick, heart-stopping moment, I thought somebody else took her. They might have been waiting for her here, knowing she would run here as soon as she escaped. Was Gareth that far ahead of me?

  A car pulled up behind me. I turned to see her climbing out, and I couldn’t have been more relieved. I beat her there—that was how fast I rode.

  She looked surprised to see me, then shrugged. “I don’t have my purse. I have no money for the cab. I don’t even have my key, but I think the spare should be in the hiding place.”

  I went down to the sidewalk to pay for her, favoring my injured leg, while she ran into the house. I thought the cab driver probably had a lot of questions, between the blood on her face and the way I was limping, but he kept them to himself.

  I tried not to take it personally when she ran away from me—I knew why she was in a hurry to see her mom. All I wanted to do was see her and touch her and know she was okay, but she had bigger problems. I could understand that.

  I followed her into the house and shut the door, then thought twice and locked it. I knew I had no reason to feel unsafe, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

  It was a nice little house. Nicer than mine by a long shot. Cluttered, but I had the feeling that was because Michelle was too busy caring for her mom to worry about throwing out junk mail and magazines, which sat in stacks on the coffee table. Plus, her mom was big on knickknacks. They were everywhere, on every flat surface. She collected owls, and those little Precious Moments figures. My mom used to love them.

  Another stack of papers caught my eye, and I went to it. I groaned when I saw what it was, just what I thought. Bills. Tons of them. Thousands of dollars to hospitals, doctors, radiologists. I looked up the stairs, to where I could hear Michelle talking to her mom. She had been dealing with all of this by herself.

  I walked up the stairs slowly, taking it easy on my leg. There were pictures everywhere, too, a bunch of them along the wall going up to the second floor. Michelle was smiling in all of them. Graduations, dance recitals. She had been loved by her parents, for sure. It seemed like they took a picture for every milestone, and put every picture in a frame. I wondered if my parents would have done that for me if they had a chance. We were poorer than Michelle, but they had loved me. I remembered that much.

  I got to the second floor and heard voices coming from an open doorway. One of the voices was Michelle’s, the other was weak and thin. I decided to leave them alone. They needed private time, and I didn’t think her mom would like a stranger walking in to see her.

  I went to another bedroom instead, obviously a girl’s room. Michelle’s room. Pinks and creams, a ruffled canopy over the bed. She even had stuffed animals around. I hesitated before taking a seat on the bed, but since the adrenaline stopped pumping, I was feeling pain again. My leg was starting to scream, along with my arm. A little blood seeped through the bandage Spike wrapped around it, but I didn’t think I tore any of the stitches. It would have bled harder if that was so.

  Before long, there were footsteps in the hall. Michelle walked into the room with her arms wrapped around herself. I told myself not to act like a fool, in case she didn’t want to have anything else to do with me again.

  “Are you all right?” What a stupid thing to say. Of course she wasn’t all right.

  She was kind to me, though. “Considering that I had a gun held to my head a little while ago, I’m okay.”

  “Your face.” She turned her head so I could see her cheek. It was just a scratch. “You should wash that off. You never know.”

  “You should wash your leg.”

  “How did you know about that?” I asked.

  “I was watching you fight. What did you think I was doing?” Her chin started to tremble. “I thought he was going to kill you.”

  “He didn’t.”

  She hesitated for a second, and I saw her move toward me, then
pull back. I did the only thing I could do. I held my arms out to her.

  She sank to her knees in front of me, wrapping her arms around my waist. I held her tight. It was such a relief. I didn’t want ever to let her go. I wanted to keep her safe forever.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, stroking her hair. “I’m sorry he did that. I’m sorry it was all my fault.”

  She pulled back to look at me. “How was it your fault? You didn’t make him do it.”

  “I kept you around because I didn’t want you to leave me. It wasn’t because I was trying to make your life miserable. I love you.”

  Her mouth opened, her eyes went wide. I hoped against hope her reaction was out of surprise rather than disgust.

  “You don’t have to love me back,” I said. “I’ll pay you the money either way. You need it. You deserve it.”

  She smiled and her eyes filled with tears. I knew it was selfish of me to hope she would stay with me anyway, but I couldn’t help hoping. I held my breath as I waited for her to respond.

  Chapter Thirty

  Michelle

  I wasn’t sure what I felt better about—him loving me or him giving me the money. It was a little bit of both, actually.

  “I love you, too,” I whispered, grinning like an idiot. “I love you so much.”

  He stroked my unmarked cheek. “Even after everything that happened?”

  “Even so.”

  “And after everything Gareth made me tell you? About the things I did?”

  He sounded like a little boy, afraid of being punished. I took his sweet face in my hands. “I know who you are. I knew who you were before today. Nobody had to tell me. I know you’ve done bad things, things that have hurt people. But you’ve never hurt me, and I don’t think you ever would. That’s what matters. Not the past. That’s not my business. I know the man you are. That’s who I love.”

  “Even though I have a record?”

  “Even though you have a record. I don’t care about that. I care about you.” I pulled his face toward mine, knowing a kiss could say so much more than my words could. I wanted to convince him that he had nothing to worry about. I would always love him.

  He kissed me back gingerly, like he was afraid of hurting me. I pulled him closer, pressing my mouth to his with more force, more passion. I needed him to understand that I wanted him to love me with all of him. I wouldn’t break—I thought I’d proven that pretty well, all things considered.

  When the kiss broke, we were both breathless. We leaned our foreheads together.

  “How is she?” he asked.

  “The same,” I said. “I don’t think she remembered that I was gone. I guess that’s a blessing.”

  “You can call the hospice in the morning. Or, hell, now if you want to. I’ll take care of everything.”

  I beamed and pulled away so he could see how happy he had made me. “I love you,” I reminded him.

  “I know. I don’t know why, but I know.”

  ###

  He spent the night with me, in my bed. It was new, having a man there with me. The bed I’d been sleeping in since I was a kid. Nothing happened that night—we were both too exhausted, and there was more relief and love in my heart than passion.

  By the time I woke up, it was after eight o’clock. I couldn’t believe how long I had slept, and as always my first thought was of Mom. I slid out of bed without waking Eric, pulled on a robe and went to check on her.

  She was more lucid that morning, which was a good sign. I fully intended to take Eric up on his offer of the hospice, and was only waiting until their office opened at nine. What a relief, knowing that my mother would finally be taken care of. Her last days could be spent in a little more comfort, with better care than I could ever provide.

  As I fed her the few spoons of broth she would take, and helped her drink a cup of tea, she kept looking at me with a funny expression on her face. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “What is it? You have the funniest look on your face.”

  She sighed. I knew it wasn’t easy for her to talk, but she was determined to get something out.

  “Who is he?”

  She still had the ability to surprise me. I laughed softly, my skin burning deep red with embarrassment.

  “His name is Eric.”

  “And he spent the night here.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “I heard you whispering.”

  “I didn’t think you could hear us.”

  “I’m dying. Not deaf.” She gave me a small smile, and my heart screamed in agony. She almost looked like herself for the most fleeting of moments.

  “So who is he?” she asked.

  “Honestly? I don’t think you’ll like the answer.” She waited expectantly, saving her energy for when she needed to speak again. “He’s in a motorcycle club.”

  “Gang.”

  “They call themselves a club.” I shrugged.

  “Your face.”

  “He didn’t do it! Oh, gosh, no, Mom. It was somebody else. It’s all taken care of—that person is going to go to jail for a long time, trust me.”

  “Why?”

  “You don’t want to know. Just…let’s leave it at that.”

  “Do you love him?”

  That gave me pause. I didn’t know how to answer. I’d told him I did, and I meant it. Did my mom need to hear it though? Wasn’t I supposed to be giving her a small measure of peace before she died?

  I didn’t want to lie to her. “Yes. I do.”

  She grimaced, then closed her eyes for a moment. “Is he a good man?”

  “A very good man. The best. He wants to send you to a hospice so that they can care for you there. You know how much I’ve wanted that for you, Mom, but I couldn’t afford it. He can. He wants to do it.”

  “What did you do for the money?”

  “Nothing, Mom.” She didn’t need to know about that. “He’s doing it because he loves me, and he wants to help make your life better. More comfortable. And he knows how much it means to me to be sure you have round-the-clock care. He doesn’t have any ulterior motives.”

  She stared at me for a long time, and I forced myself to return her stare. I wouldn’t avert my eyes, as though I was ashamed. I wasn’t ashamed of anything I had done, not if it meant being able to take care of her.

  “Do you think you’ll be with him for a long time?”

  “For the rest of my life, if he wants me.”

  “Do you think he does?”

  “I do.” I gasped and turned to find Eric standing in the doorway. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking at the floor. “I didn’t want to interrupt, but I got up and heard what you two were talking about. Mrs. Adams, I don’t want you to think that I’m doing this because Michelle did something for me. It’s not like that at all. I have the money. And to be honest…I haven’t always been a good person. I wanna make up for that. If you’d let me, I would appreciate it.”

  Tears filled my eyes. I looked at Mom, who looked across the room at him.

  “Sit with me for a minute,” she said. “And Michelle can call the hospital to set things up.”

  I looked at Eric, who nodded, and I hurried from the room. Now that the day had finally come, it seemed too good to be true. I ran downstairs to call the hospital, and they said they would send an ambulance to pick her up after referring her to the hospice.

  By the time I got back upstairs, I heard laughter coming from Mom’s room. I could hardly believe it, but when I stood in the doorway, there was no doubting it. There was Eric, sitting on the edge of Mom’s bed—not the chair beside it, but on the bed itself—holding Mom’s hand as they spoke. The two of them were laughing at some joke I had clearly missed.

  “I’m sorry, am I interrupting?” I wasn’t irritated. Far from it. It was the biggest relief I could imagine, seeing the two of them getting along so well. I should have known Mom would like him. She had always been a sucker for a pair of blue eyes, and Eric’s were the blues
t I had ever seen.

  “Your mom is telling me stories about you when you were a little kid,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. Now that the Gareth problem was put to rest, I noticed how much calmer and even younger he appeared. Like he didn’t have as much to worry about anymore.

  “Great. I can’t wait to get teased endlessly.” I couldn’t keep the smile from my face, no matter how embarrassing it was to have my mother tell stories. I could tell she was happy to do it. When I sat beside the two of them, Mom’s beaming smile told me everything I needed to know. I wasn’t sure what they had said to each other when I was downstairs, but whatever it was gave Mom a measure of peace.