Instigation: A Twisted Mayhem MC Novel

by Cat Mason

  “You’re important to me,” he replies, meeting my eyes. “Always have been. That doesn’t change.”

  “You gonna marry me, Schrader? Step in and raise Troy’s baby as your own?” I shake my head. Grabbing some of the papers from the floor, I toss them to the bed. “It’s going to be a reminder of him. I refuse to dump this on the club and have my goddamn life be a part of yet another fucking table vote.”

  “The woman I claimed in front of her Pop and my club is knocked up.” Yanking his jeans up his legs, Schrader charges toward me. Grabbing my arms, he meets my eyes, the deep brown burning with intensity. “I don’t care if you fucked the devil himself, the kid’s also a piece of you. You sure as fuck won’t pay for anything he did. Neither will an innocent baby.”

  “I know that.”

  “Well, now you know that I know that.” Squaring his shoulders, he towers over me. “And, for the record, I already consider you my Ol’ Lady.”

  My stomach drops into my toes. “Ol’ Lady?” I ask, gaping at him.

  “Fuck yeah, my Ol’ Lady. And, if we get hitched, it won’t be because you’re knocked up. It’ll be because I want you carryin’ my name.” I choke on a sob, my damn emotions going completely haywire. Wrapping his arms around me, Schrader pulls me tight to his chest and buries his nose in my hair. “Not everything has to be a battle, Babe,” he says, breathing me in. “Sometimes, you’ve gotta accept what life throws at you and know it’s gonna be okay.”

  “And if it isn’t?” I sniffle, knowing that things aren’t always as simple as having his positive thinking mindset.

  Tipping my chin upward with his fingers, he smiles down at me. “Then we take a drive out to the airport and load up the A.R. as many times as it takes to get your smile back.”

  When Schrader finally releases me, I take a few minutes in the bathroom to clean up and get my raging emotions in check before I have another hysterical breakdown. I hate being so off the wall and overly sensitive. For me, it has always been vital to have a thick skin and be able to shake off whatever comes at me, but lately that has been becoming more difficult to do. Hopefully, it is all some horrible side-effect of being pregnant.

  Because if I am going to cry at the drop of a hat, for the rest of my life, I am going to end up needing Schrader to take me back to his Airport Road gun range on a daily basis in order to keep the body count to a minimum around here.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Schrader

  Lying with Cheyenne in bed, I can’t help replaying the last several weeks over in my head while she sleeps on my chest. My mind also wanders to the kind of mother she will be. I have no doubt she will be sweet and loving, but also fierce and protective. The kind of mom neither of us ever had, but that every child should get. Our mothers both chose themselves and their own bullshit, over their own kids. Thankfully, neither of us lacked for strong father figures. Vic, Huck, and Doc have always been present in our lives, guiding us; yet giving us enough room to hang ourselves when we needed to learn a valuable life lesson. I know Vic sacrificed a lot for me, and there hasn’t been one day of my life where I have not been grateful for him stepping up when my own mother didn’t see me as reason enough to get her shit together.

  Learning that Shy has been keeping something so important a secret was a hell of a shock. Her being pregnant was the last thing I expected, but after she poured her heart out about her fears, I understood why she has been hesitant to tell some of the others. Though, it still it hurts like a bitch knowing she felt like she had to hide it from me too.

  Protecting her has always been a priority for me, long before she became mine. It’s a primal instinct for a man to protect what he cares about. My club, friends, family, my girl. Cheyenne being pregnant only amplifies my gut instinct to keep her safe. Especially knowing there are motherfuckers out there with vendettas against a dead man, along with Colt and myself, who aren’t going to be satisfied without some sort of compensation or retribution.

  Dealing with people like them, only two things appease that need. Money or blood.

  I can’t sleep. The idea of Cheyenne, or the baby, being hurt has my body buzzing like a live wire. They aren’t safe with Lorzano stewing over our offer in silence and Teague putting X’s on all of our backs. None of us are.

  I won’t be able to relax until this shit is over.

  Not wanting to wake my girl, I carefully settle her onto the pillow before sliding from the bed. “What time is it?” she mutters sleepily. Keeping her eyes closed, she reaches out for me.

  “Still early.” Leaning down, I brush the hair from her face and press my lips to her forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

  “’Kay,” she sighs as I pull the covers up over her body.

  Yanking on my boots, I stop by my room to grab a clean shirt from the pile Cheyenne left on my dresser. Not wanting to sit still, I decide that while my mind works over details I might as well take advantage of the fact she is resting and raid the kitchen pantry without the risk of bodily harm by rubber spatula or wooden spoon.

  The moment I round the bar, I spot Stone talking to Huck and Colt. Huck’s eyes land on me immediately, then move down to the shirt still in my hand. “Might wanna put your blouse on before Doc comes back upstairs and sees those Hellcat scratches. My guess, he’d fuckin’ shoot you knowin’ it’s his daughter who give ‘em to ya.” Taking a swig from the opened Mason jar in his hand, he chuckles. “Know I would.”

  Looking down at my chest quickly, I tug the shirt over my head. “This is nothin’,” I inform him, shrugging my shoulders. “You should see my ass.”

  “We’ve all seen your ass,” Doc mutters, storming into the room in time to catch the tail end of my comment. “You got shot, there’s a scar. No one gives a shit. You pull your ass out, I’ll shoot you.”

  “Doc and Blip are movin’ Shawn out to the bunker with Connor this morning,” Stone explains, changing the subject. “Huck and Torch are gonna ride out and pick up the delivery for Wes. McKelvy’s death has shaken up the town and put us behind schedule. It’s time we fix that.”

  “Goddamn shame,” Huck says, shaking his head. Tipping his jar, he pours a little liquor onto the concrete floor as a sign of respect for the dead. “Man fought and survived a war, then died with a donut in his hand.”

  “I’ll ride out to the bunker with ‘em,” I blurt when Colt starts mumbling about donuts. “I wanna have a chat with Connor.”

  “That chat involve you puttin’ a round in his head?” Stone asks, leaning back against the bar.

  “No,” I answer honestly. “It’s about handlin’ our business. About gettin’ Lorzano and Teague off our backs. I don’t wanna kill Connor.” I stop when his brow arches. “Okay, that’s a lie,” I admit. “I’d kill that bastard, with a smile on my face, for a Klondike Bar. But I won’t. Not yet, anyway.”

  Huck laughs hard, shifting on the stool, he clutches his stomach. “Boy, you’d do it for a lot less than dessert.”

  “There a goddamn point to this conversation other than making me hungry?” Colt growls.

  “We already know the fucker’s been lyin’ to us from the jump,” I argue. “Hell, he was in on the deal. I’m willin’ to bet he knows where D.A. stashed the cash.”

  “I’ve grilled that bastard over and over,” Huck replies after swallowing a mouthful of liquor. “If he knows, he’s not talkin’.”

  “He already gave us his part of the take. If Connor knew where the rest was, he’d use it as leverage to stay alive,” Stone says, commanding the conversation. “Right now, the ball’s in Lorzano’s court. As for Teague—” His eyes darken, jaw ticking as rage radiates off him in waves. “Motherfucker’s as good as dead.”

  “You’re damn right he is,” I ground out, wanting nothing more than to see the look on that smug prick’s face when I empty my gun into his chest and watch him bleed out. “I won’t be makin’ it quick either.”

  “Don’t care who’s pullin’ the fuckin’ trigger.” Doc’s tone is frigid. “
As long as he’s gone.”

  “I’ve already got a nice spot picked out in Shadow Ridge to dig the hole,” Huck chuckles. “Then I’m gonna have Jace build an outhouse over it.”

  “Sounds like prime real estate,” Colt laughs.

  “I need food,” I mutter, heading for the kitchen. “And coffee.”

  “Whatcha cookin’?” Colt asks, following behind me. “I’m fuckin’ starved.”

  “Do I look like Betty Crocker?” I ask, digging through the cabinets. Tossing him a bag of chips, I snag a pack of cookies for myself, then start fumbling with the damn coffee maker.

  “I can’t live on this shit,” Colt grumbles, ripping open the bag. Shoving a handful of chips into his mouth, he checks his watch. “What time’s Shy makin’ breakfast?”

  “She’s not.” Once the pot starts to fill, I grab myself a cup from the drainer beside the sink. “I told her to sleep in.”

  “What?” he asks, shaking his head in disbelief. “Shy doesn’t sleep in.”

  “She is today.” Yanking cash from my back pocket, I slap it into his hand. “Here. Go grab a couple dozen donuts.”

  “Cool,” he says, nodding his head. “What’s everybody else gonna eat?”

  Colt doesn’t wait for an answer from me. Grabbing the van keys from the hook beside the light switch, he hauls ass out the back door. Not that I am surprised, Colt doesn’t need an invitation to eat. Especially not when someone else is paying.

  Once I have loaded down my coffee with creamer, I head outside for a smoke. Huck’s dog, Bullet, is sprawled out in front of the fire pit, sleeping like the dead. “At ease, Boy,” I mutter, patting him on the head. Bullet snorts before burying his face with both of his front paws. “Sorry. God knows you need your beauty sleep.”

  Right before I start to sit down, I notice a squad car pulling through the open front gates and parking next to the row of bikes. Looking down at a snoring Bullet, I roll my eyes. “Easy, Killer. I got this one.” The door opens, Detective Ashmead climbs out, her eyes scanning the lot before finally landing on me. “Mornin’,” I nod. “You’re early if you’re expectin’ breakfast. Colt’s not back with the donuts yet.”

  “I passed him comin’ in,” she replies, heading my way. “That’s not why I’m here.”

  “Well, you’re not in the right outfit for Girl Scout cookies,” I inform her, taking a drink from my mug. “What’s up?”

  “Look.” Straightening the front of her shirt, she removes her sunglasses and squares her shoulders. “I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me to be. This isn’t about us. It’s about McKelvy. He was my father’s best friend and the only one who supported my decision to become a cop.” Her breath catches. Bringing a hand up to her mouth, she clears her throat. “He saw the club as an ally. To him, it was in the best interest of the entire town to maintain some sort of balance. It’s what killed him.”

  “Actually, what killed the Chief was three rounds to the chest, fired out of the window of an old Pontiac,” I correct her, sitting my coffee down on the picnic table.

  “Bullets meant for your head.”

  “Well, Detective,” I gasp, shaking my head slowly. “I hope, if my name was on them, it was spelled right.”

  Pressing her mouth into a thin line, she crosses her arms over her chest. “I think we both know what I’m insinuating is far from speculation, Schrader. And, it’s Acting Chief Ashmead now.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “You really think I give two shits about the title?” she asks through gritted teeth. “Tell me what you know about the shooter. Was it a paid hit? Business dispute? You can’t possibly believe I buy what you gave on your statement that day.”

  “On my statement,” I mock her snooty tone. “It says I didn’t know shit. Still don’t.”

  Taking a deep breath, she holds up her hand. “This is off the record. Anything you give me on this is off the record,” she explains, keeping her voice low. Anger sparks in her eyes. “That motherfucker took away my hero.”

  I can understand where she is coming from. The guy basically died in her arms. That shit has to be hard to swallow. Pain like that will make people do desperate things. Makes them crave vengeance. Pain like that doesn’t give a damn what side of the law you’re standing on. It has a way of blurring the lines and making you question the direction of your moral compass. Ashmead’s has led her here, just like McKelvy’s did years ago.

  That doesn’t mean she and I are about to become lifelong best friends. Jackie Ashmead is still the law, and in many ways, she is the enemy. Regardless of Stone’s relationship with McKelvy and his alliance with the club, it doesn’t mean shit when it comes to her. At least not when it comes to me. I could ease her suffering and tell her how I put a bullet in the head of the prick who killed the Chief. Tell her how Teague will meet the same fate.

  Except, I won’t.

  Trust is a byproduct of loyalty and respect. You can’t win me over with pretty words and empty promises. That is earned through blood, sweat, and bullets. I need to test her and see where her loyalty really falls before I can give her anything. Especially, since I’d rather kill Teague myself.

  “Stone has his ear to the ground on this,” I tell her, attempting to give her something appeasing for now. “We’ve all dug in. Keep Hilster off our ass and when we get a hit on somethin’, we’ll reach out.”

  “That biker code for ‘fuck off’?” she asks, her tone sharp enough to slice me to the bone.

  “Trust me, Chief,” I smirk, impressed with her bite. “I’ve never had a problem usin’ the word fuck.”

  “Fine,” she replies, sounding unconvinced. “Keep in mind, I’m a much better ally than an enemy, Schrader.” Sliding her sunglasses back on, she turns for her car. “Don’t make me wait too long.”

  “No problem, Chief. I’ve got your number if anything changes,” I inform her. “It’s still nine-one-one, right?”

  Doc passes her as he walks around the side of the clubhouse, his eyes watching every sway of her hips and ass as she walks. Stopping next to me, he continues to stare until she climbs into her car and pull away. “What did she want?”

  “She wants in on the retaliation for McKelvy’s death,” I reply, taking a smoke from his pack when he offers. “Shit’s personal for her.”

  “Shooter’s dead,” he shrugs. “Teague will be soon enough. Best she keeps that fine ass outta the line of fire and leaves the rest to us.”

  “Well, I don’t see that happenin’,” I inform him. “That ass you were checkin’ out is attached to the new Acting Chief of Police”

  “Fuck me,” he says whistling through his teeth. “The way she walks you’d think she swore to serve and keep me fully erect.”

  “You thinkin’ of breakin’ the law, Old Man?” I ask, snatching his lighter. “See if she’ll frisk you and read ya your rights?”

  Clapping me on the back, he laughs. “None of what I’d do to that ass involves me wearin’ the cuffs.”

  “Watch yourself. There’s nothin’ that spells trouble more than a woman with an axe to grind.” Lighting my cigarette, I toss him back the lighter. Starting for the doors to find Stone, to let him know about Ashmead’s little visit, I find him storming down the stairs with a phone pressed to his ear. His voice is low enough that I can’t hear him as he speaks, but the look on his face says more than enough.

  “Lorzano?” I ask, looking to Jinks, when he steps out the doors.

  Running a hand over his head, he grips the back of his neck, squeezing tightly. “Yeah.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Shy

  The last few days, we have all been trying to find our groove again. The guys have been in and out, trying to catch up on club business, while Ro works and I attempt to keep myself busy. Pop and Huck have been spending nearly every moment out in Shadow Ridge, running the stills nearly twenty-four-seven. This means I haven’t been able to talk to my dad about the baby like I need to. I need to tell him before I tell anyon
e else. Schrader, Colt, and Jace are always lurking around, one of them within slapping distance. Which I have taken advantage of often, especially with Schrader. Specifically, when I walk up on hushed conversations that always seem to stop the minute I get too close. I hate the fucking secrets. They seem to be never ending. Thanks to this, I seem to find myself trying to piece together shit on my own, since I am willing to bet it has to do with me anyway.

  Or more bullshit Troy left to boil over on us all.

  Though, right now, I have bigger things to focus on. Today is my doctor’s appointment.

  “Nervous?” Schrader asks, reaching across the center console to squeeze my knee.

  “Scared shitless,” I answer honestly, staring out the window at the front doors of the Westgate Medical Complex. “I haven’t exactly accepted it yet.”

  “Babe.” Removing his hand from my leg, he presses it to my abdomen. “That baby you’re bakin’ has a timer. Don’t you think we should go find out how much time you’ve got to get your shit together before she gets here?”

  “She?” I gulp, my eyes widening. “You’ve thought about that?”

  “Damn right,” he answers confidently, his lips curling into a smile. “She’s gonna need some pink frilly shit to wear with her shit kickers.”

  Closing my eyes, I cover his hand with my own. I know Schrader is trying to be supportive. He wants me to be excited, and is no doubt hoping his positive attitude is contagious. It isn’t that simple. There are too many what ifs in my mind; too much I have yet to think through to simply sit back and ooh and ahh over every little aspect of my countdown to motherhood. Even if he is overly excited, and making fucking nervous as hell, he is right about one thing. This baby isn’t going to hang out while I avoid the issue or pretend it isn’t happening.

  Ready or not, it’s time to get my shit together.

  “Okay.” Taking a deep breath, I blow it out nice and slow, then reach for the handle. “Let’s do this.”