I pull my face away from him to study the lines on his face, the tightened jaw, the strained, eyes. They pop open as they spot me. We hold on to those glances as he pulsates in me one last time before letting out a rush of air. He sits himself up, taking me with him. Our arms hold on as our bodies give way. I feel everything in me sink down to between my thighs. I try to call out, but I am breathless. The heat takes over and I’m gone -- my mind blank and full and blank at the same time.
Gavin’s come with me. His face is distorted beautifully as he releases himself inside of me -- this time without fear of what could happen. His cum fills me up and then drips down, adding an extra bit of warmth to my pussy. We remain in place as he finishes, neither of us daring to move.
I watch as he comes back to me, the Gavin I know. With his cock still in me, we kiss deeply, a thank you to one another. At the end of our embrace, I push myself up and off of him before my body collapses back on the pile of clothing. He follows right behind me, turning himself to face me.
Our breaths begin to come back to our bodies, but I’m still shaking. “I’m sorry, Gavin.” I say, my mouth quivering. I have a million things I want to say to him, but after making love to him for the second time, I need to apologize. “I am so sorry for leaving you and for pushing you away,” I say, my lips trembling slightly. “I was just so scared. I was scared of what my dad would do to me and what my brother would do to you. I didn’t want to hurt you. I don’t ever want to hurt you. And now I feel even more stupid.”
Something about this moment is making me confessional. I have never really had someone just accept me like Gavin has. Maybe that’s why I am opening up to him with such honesty that it practically pours out of my open mouth.
He pulls himself back up to where I lay and looks down on me. His eyes close for a long moment before he answers, “Don’t say you’re sorry to me. You were doing what was best for your family. But I also want you to stop worrying about me. I can handle whatever your dad and brother throw at me. I’m going to be okay.”
“But Gavin, when my dad finds out, he’s going to kill you. You know, he and my mom ran off together before they were married. My mom was worried about what my grandfather would do since he was the head of the clan. When he found out my mom was knocked up, he let them go and gave my dad a leadership role. But I don’t think that is what’s going to happen here. My dad is different. He’s got Martin, and I know he’s going to do whatever it’s going to take to make sure the Bloody Pagans stay in the Barber family.”
Gavin places his hands around my chin and pulls my face so that it turns from the darkened ceiling to his face. “Vanessa. Stop. I need you to hear me and believe me. I am going to be okay. I know what I am doing.”
Part of me wants to ask more. He sounds like he has a plan or a mission or something. But I know better than to press for more information. Whatever he’s got cooking behind the scenes doesn’t involve me. Or does it? He’s the father of my child, shouldn’t I have the right to know?
I have to let this go. I know I don’t have much time here. I managed to sneak out of vet school with the help of a classmate named Ray whom I paid to hide me in the bed of his truck. I was sort of honest with Ray when I told him that he was getting me past a guy who was stalking me. My friends at the vet labs noticed Brock immediately and had asked a million of prying questions -- all which I refused to answer. So when I told Ray that the guy standing guard outside the school parking lot was actually stalking me, he believed every word and had enough sympathy to accept my $20 and an offer for a drink at the Sunset if he could just sneak me out during a down moment in the lab.
Despite that, Brock knows my class schedule, and he knows exactly when I go on my breaks. By my estimate of the time that’s passed, I probably only have 20 minutes to get dressed, say my goodbyes, and get back in Ray’s truck. I could practically see Brock sitting on the green picnic bench outside the doors, staring impatiently at his beat up watch, his phone in his hand ready to call my dad if I’m more than 5 minutes late.
Terror has taken over my happy moments with Gavin. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. Brock is going to be expecting me…”
“Brock.” He repeats the name so matter-of-factly that I wonder if he knows who he is.
“Yeah, my dad made him my watchman or bodyguard or something. He’s with me almost every moment of the day.”
“That’s not all he wants.”
“I know, I know. This is his attempt to set me up with him. I’ve heard that grand plan. But I wouldn’t touch that giant sack of flesh if it were the last person on Earth. I promise you that.” I sit up and feel my way around the floor, grabbing bits of clothing as I go.
“Vanessa, you need to be careful, even with Brock. Any wrong move and this,” he places a hand securely on my belly as I button my shirt back up. “This could be over with one wrong move. We both have to be careful.”
My mind stops in its tracks. If he is going to give me warnings, I have to know more. “What is going to happen to us, Gavin?”
“I’ve got a plan, Vanessa. I just need you to hold on. Lay low. Don’t let anyone, even Alice, know about your pregnancy. We both know that your dad is not going to be cool with this. If he finds out before my plan is ready, we’re both in deep shit.”
I know he’s right, but I still reach out to him to say, “I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to go back there.”
He takes my hand and places his lips to my palm, kissing it gently. He then hands me the backpack near his feet and stands to place it on and over my shoulders. His arms circle me from behind, bringing me into him closer. “You just need to survive and keep our baby safe. I’ll do the rest. We’ll be together again soon.”
“When, Gavin? I just need a date, a time, something.”
He turns me around as I reach my arms around his long neck. My head rests upon his his chest and breathes in his skin as he sighs deeply. “Soon. I can’t tell you when. But I’ll get a message to you when the time is right. In the meantime, we both have places to go, things to do. Promise me that you’ll be safe, and if you need me, you’ll call or text me -- no matter what it takes to get to a phone.”
“I promise.”
Gavin leads me towards the door and peeks his head out first. I remain behind, waiting for the all-clear. When he comes back to the room, he kisses me once more and pulls me into him for one last embrace. His face lingers in my hair as I feel his breath hot against my skin. I whisper through my tears, “I love you. I love you.”
But he doesn’t reply. Words fail both of us as we try to not think of what awaits us on the other side of that door..
CHAPTER 22
She’s carrying my baby.
Wow. I mean, Jesus H. Christ, I never, ever even came close to imagining I would get to say that. Having kids -- that was for family men, guys who knew what mothers and fathers were and did. Bastards like me didn’t get a chance at happiness like this. Every part of my insides felt like it was slowly going to burst from the inside out the more I thought about Vanessa’s belly swelling, a crib in my apartment, a Christmas card like the ones in movies I’ve seen.
Everything’s perfect. And everything’s not. Who am I kidding? The moment she walked out of that door and into the bed of her friend’s truck, everything clicked into motion. I wasn’t just bearing the burden of my own life, I now had two to worry about. And sending Vanessa away full-well knowing what was going to happen to her when she got back home only made the clock tick faster.
I don’t have time to mess this up. As soon as that red truck pulls out of the parking lot, Vanessa’s head just sticking out of the top, I am off. I quickly dial up Thad back at the HQ. When he answers, I can tell he isn’t alone. His voice is muted, totally unemotional.
“Thad,” I say in a low, even voice. “I need you to do me a favor.”
“I’m at work.” He answers shortly. In the background, I can clearly hear Jonah Barber talking to someone else. There’s something about “c
onnections” and “orders,” but the details are lost in the dull hum of Thad’s phone.
“I know you’re at work, but this is important. I need it done within the next two or three hours. You got me?” I’m trying to make my intentions clear, but it’s hard to tell when you’re talking to a wall.
“I will see what I can do…”
“I need the address of Gaylord Avila, the King’s Road Captain. He and I go back, and he should be willing to meet with me. If we’re right and Barber is working with the Senators, then he would have known about it and his details should be somewhere on your computer in HQ.”
There’s a long pause as I struggle to hear what’s going on, but it’s all blank. Finally, he returns to phone and says exasperated, “I’ll try to get you scripts when I get a break, Grandpa.”
“Thad…”
“I’ll talk to you later. I’ll send you a text when I got it.” That’s my answer. He’s going to do it. My heart flutters and a rush of blood flows to my head as I clap my hands against one another. I hang up the phone quickly and walk out the door of the Sunset Bar as fast as I can go.
I pass the next couple hours riding my bike around the back alley’s, far away from Bloody Pagan or King’s territory. The last thing I want to do is grab attention or raise some alarm bells. But as I pass the turn off for Vanessa’s street, I can’t help but circle around. I know Barber isn’t home. He’s with Thad and most likely Martin. This is the best time I’ve got to just get a peek to make sure she made it home without Brock tattling on her.
But by the look of it, no one’s home. No lights on, no sounds coming from the windows, and everything’s locked up tight. Even Olivia, Barber’s wife, is nowhere to be seen, and she’s always there -- another captor in the Barber jail. While I’d give anything to know she’s alright, I take this opportunity to leave her a message, something to get her through the night.
I park my bike just outside a neighbor’s yard, behind a few neatly manicured hedges about my height. In the cover, I reach behind me and pull a small notebook and marker I usually use for writing notes and details on runs from my sack. In my messy, rough, and smeared handwriting, I jot down a few words and then rip the paper from the rings. Folding it up in four, I place it in my pocket and then make the trek back to the Barber house.
Scaling the tree the second time in the crisp daylight is much easier than I had thought. The wide branches make it easy for me to reach over toward her window. Balancing my stomach on one of the limbs, I am just able to stick the folded note through the bottom crack. It was just out of sight that no one, other than her, could spot it.
I climb down deftly, careful not to disturb the tree too much. While I don’t think Jonah Barber to be a smart man, I know him to be an observant one, and sneaking up and down a tree leading right to his daughter’s bedroom was bound to leave a trail if I just hopped down and raced off. Instead, I snaked down, uncaring if my shirt gets torn a bit or my new boots get small scuffs from the rough bark.
As I make my way back to the bike’s hiding place, my phone buzzes against my leg. It’s the text I’ve been waiting for for hours now. It’s only one line long -- an address. I click on the blue, underlined link and pull up a map that puts me directly in King territory. I’ve lived in this area my entire life, and I’ve never set a foot into that hood. No Bloody Pagan would dare. But at this point, it was already life or death.
I count the minutes as my bike speeds off towards the GPS coordinates. Getting through the highway is not possible with the Pagans on runs, so I take regular street routes. It draws more attention from civilians, but there’s a lower chance of seeing club members on duty. Still, I pass a few bikers, guys I don’t recognize immediately, and my skin prickles and the hairs on my neck raise instinctively.
No one’s eyeing me, but as I make the last turn onto the off-road where the address is taking me, I start to feel as if something is following me. A scan in my rearview mirror tells me that, a few cars behind me, is a black SUV swerving side to side as if trying to spot something. I speed up a bit and watch as the SUV overtakes another car, completely speeding through a yellow to get closer.
By the time I finally get to circling the complex, the SUV isn’t even hiding the fact it’s out to get me. It barrels towards me as I pull into the driveway, basically pinning me into an empty spot. Their wheels narrowly miss mine as I manage to spin out to the side to avoid being completely sandwiched against a brick wall and their bumper.
I don’t dare get off my bike. As I wait for the driver to get out of the SUV, I anxiously scan what’s around me for an escape. By the looks of the complex, it’s full of other riders, most likely Senators. Unlike us Pagans, the Senators like to live together in their own beehive, and I’ve managed to drive myself right into the nest.
“Gavin Wren!” A voice cries from the tinted windows, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Who’s asking?” I yell back, my voice catching in my throat.
“The man that’s about to kill you if you don’t tell me your business here.” As he replies, I spot the barrel of a gun popping over the corner of the opened driver’s side door.
I gulp as I raise my hands to chin height and say as confidently as I can, “I’m not here to start shit. I’m here to talk to Gaylord.”
“Who sent you?”
“No one. That’s why I’m here. You think the Pagans would send their best rider out to be killed? I’ve got some business with Gaylord that pertains to both clubs.”
There’s a long, deafening silence as I trying to not count the minutes that have passed. The gun has disappeared back into the car, but he’s still only seconds away from getting a good shot on me. I’d give anything to reach down to the holster near my jean pocket, but I know better. My hands stay up where everyone can see them.
I hear a loud bang as my eyes close tight, waiting for a bullet to hit me. But there’s nothing, just the sound of footsteps against the pavement. My eyes pop open just in time to see the figure of a man grab me by the arm and pull me off of the bike. I don’t fight him off as he leads me into the backseat of the SUV and slams the door behind me. I watch as he eyes the complex suspiciously, his jaw locked tight.
“What the fuck?” I shout, my blood pressure rising. “What the shit is this about?”
“You want to talk to Gaylord?” The man turns around slowly from the driver’s seat, “You’ve got him. What do you want Wren?”
I’ve met Gaylord before, but it doesn’t make him any less impressive. Built like an enforcer, he’s a giant at over 6 feet tall. But unlike me, he’s all muscle bursting through his dark skin. A red bandana covers his bald head and ties at a distinct scar he got from an accident nearly ten years ago when he was still riding with the Pagans and me.
“Never thought you’d see me again, did you?” I say, resisting reaching over to offer my hand.
“I didn’t think you’d have the balls to come find me after the shit went down.” He continues to stare forward while his man keeps his eye out on the complex.
It’s true. Unlike most guys I’ve ever heard of, Gaylord somehow managed to get away from club life. Most men never can, even if they beg and plead to break free. And runners almost always get caught. You either retire a Pagan or you pay the price of desertion. Except Gaylord. He managed to run straight to another club without being caught, and they welcomed him in with open arms, giving him a position at the very top.
“I’m not here to talk about that. I’m here to talk to you about the Barber family and your Senators. I know you know about the double business with Barber doing runs with King resources. I even saw some of your boys a few weeks ago when they beat the crap out of me.”
“Why would I give you details about the business the Senators do. How do I know you’re not going to pull another one over us like you did last month. You killed one of our best riders, you know.”
“He wasn’t that good.”
There’s an awful quiet, the kind of qu
iet where you know your life is literally on the line. His man coughs, breaking it up.
“Then why are you here, Gavin? Just fucking get it over with.” He grips onto the steering wheel tightly, his head still faced away from me.
“I’m here because I know you hate Barber just as much as I do, if not more maybe. You want to see that son of a bitch gone and the Pagans restored to what they used to be -- before that stupid motherfucker and his pussy of a son took over. And you don’t want to see your newly beloved Senators fall for Barber’s same tricks, do you? You know that once he has enough money and power, he’ll just take you over like he did the other Pagan branches. One by one, you’ll be gone, replaced by a Pagan like me. Do you want that?”
“No,” Gaylord grumbles at me, “I don’t.”
“Then I need you to tell me exactly what is going on with Barber and the Senators, every detail.” My hands reach to my pockets as I try to lean in as close as I can to the front seat.
Gaylord says as he says, “All I know is that our second, Jackie LaVoix, asked me to get some of our guys to run down to the Grand Canal a few times a week for a covert mission. But when the guys got back, they wouldn’t tell me what they did or what Jackie had them do. However, I overheard one of them mention Old Man Jonah and seeing him at the drop point for the Pagans, if it’s still in the same spot it used to be when I was running.”
BIKER’S SURPRISE BABY Page 17
