I can’t look at her now. Not while she falls apart because she’s carrying my baby. It must be fucking hell on earth to know she’s knocked up with hell’s spawn, but shit, does she have to sound like she’s dying? Her sobs are extra loud thanks to the bathroom acoustics. I’m so numb I don’t think I can unfreeze my legs and take the three strides needed to go to her side and comfort her if my life depended on it. Besides, I really fucking doubt she wants me to touch her right now.
“It’ll be okay,” I say, and the words sound as dull as speaking underwater. The words are hollow to my own ears.
“I’ve got to take another test. These two must’ve expired on the shelf,” Molly says between her panicked cries.
“That’s test number two and three. They all say the same thing, but if you want another test, I’ll get you one.” I stumble back to the gas station concession area and find another test. Hell, I pick up two again. She’ll probably want another. After paying, I take them back to her, passing them over the stall door so I won’t have to open the door and see the fear and pain in her eyes. She snatches it from my hands and is silent for a few minutes.
“I can’t pee. I’m out. Let’s just get back to the clubhouse. I’ll check it then. Crap, I need a drink. Shit! I can’t have a fucking drink if this is really happening. Gawwwwwwd…all that alcohol I’ve been drinking…”
She really bawls.
I dig my nails into my palms until stabbing pain washes up my forearms. It’s time to man up and own up to my mistakes, and from the sound of Molly’s sobbing, she agrees. This news is a life-changing, wrecking ball of a blunder.
“I won’t hide this from Silas and the brothers when we get back.”
This way we can confront what she really feels so she won’t need to be in denial. It’s better to get this out in the open. She needs time, but I’d prefer to know where her head is at so I can harden myself to the truth.
She’s in denial because she doesn’t want a baby.
She’s panicking because she loathes that it’s mine.
“Okay. I agree,” she says, stepping out of the stall.
“Ready to go home?” I smooth my hands down my jeans and look everywhere but at Molly.
“Home?”
“I meant the clubhouse. My place.” I blindly reach an arm out, offering my hand now that she’s in a family way.
“I just puked a little in my mouth,” she announces and grasps my hand. “I have to tell my mother.”
“Right. Okay.”
Let’s just add horrible at my fucking job to the list of things wrong with me too.
I speed past the road sign about five minutes from the clubhouse. On our way out of the bathroom, I found a note taped to the gas tank of my bike. I only saw it under the light of the gas station, which is fucked up because I’m sure it wasn’t there when we left the fight club. The note is from Molly’s ex. Jett’s message says he’s been watching us and isn’t keen on how much time we’re spending together.
I went apeshit, searching the parking lot and looking around everywhere, but turned up nothing. At that point, Molly just wanted to go home. I couldn’t blame her at all. I want to punch something. The idea that he’s been close enough to catch is bad enough. And he’s touched my ride too? I should’ve done more. Maybe I could’ve found the bastard where Molly works. I let him slip through the cracks.
I park in a spot close to the clubhouse entrance as we arrive in the parking area. Turning off the bike, I help Molly off. Her hands are shaking. I lead her inside and don’t let on that her world has shattered into eight million pieces.
Because of me.
But at least one of us needs to be cool. If anyone looks at Molly, they’ll know something’s up. She looks like hell after that girl-fight, and now this.
“How do you want to do this?” I ask as we step inside.
“Rip off the Band-Aid.”
I eye the bar, intent on getting epically shitfaced after we tell the guys. Once they know, especially their old ladies, I can take a load off my mind. The less I remember about today, the better.
“Hey, look who it is,” Axe calls out from his spot behind the bar. “We were wondering if trouble found you. Any updates on the sick son of a bitch stalker yet?”
“We have all sorts of news…actually,” Molly says and takes a seat at the bar.
I immediately notice her staring longingly at the sack demons’ drinks. I think of the whiskeys she downed earlier and hope those didn’t already fuck up the kid. Fuck, that’s a sobering thought. If this is really happening I need to do a lot more research.
Axe notices the bruises on Molly’s face. “The fuck? Did your ex do that to your face?” He turns to me. “If I was the sole owner of our security firm, I’d fucking fire you on the spot. You let someone do this to her?”
“It’s not Tate’s fault,” she tells him. “This one’s all on me.”
“You had one job,” Axe says to me, ignoring Molly. “One fucking job.”
“Just pass me a drink and get the brothers out here.” I motion for the whiskey bottle in his hand. This is no time for moderation. He slides over the whole bottle. I knock back long gulps of the liquid. We’re about to share the kind of earth-shattering news that warrants less mental alertness.
Ten minutes later, Silas, Cole, Dean, and Axe are looking at Molly and me, waiting to hear what I have to say. A few of the officers and members gather around.
That doesn’t stop Molly from blurting shit out.
“I’m pregnant…” Molly throws it out there into the room. No taking it back. She rips that Band-Aid off, just like she said.
“That’s one way to do it,” I mutter, taking a huge burning gulp from the bottle.
The room goes dead silent. It sounds like the music stops too. I can’t tell if anyone moves an inch while I nurse my whiskey bottle.
“Is this some kind of practical joke you two came up with on the ride home?” Cole asks. He’s skeptical enough for the whole room. “You people woke me up for this?”
“This is no fucking joke. She’s carrying my kid,” I answer.
Cole hits the top of the bar with the flat of his hand. “Okay. Congratulations.” He starts walking back to the stairs.
Silas squeezes my shoulder. “Congrats, Daddy… and Mom-to-be.”
Silas spreads his arms and Molly climbs off the bar stool. She sinks into his chest, clinging to my president. I quickly let go of the glass before it shatters in my hands.
“What’s going on down here? It’s like someone died…” Silas’s mother, Cindy, comes down the stairs and I know in one glance she’ll have more to say than everyone else does. Especially after that threesome. Then again, Molly can deliver the news. It’ll probably go over better, woman to woman.
“I’m pregnant,” Molly announces again and takes a sip from the bottle of water Axe gives her.
In one second, Cindy leaves her spot at the bottom of the stairs and in the next, she’s reaching for Molly’s throat. “You man-trapping bitch!” she yells.
Silas leaps up and holds back his mother while I move in and stand between the ladies. I never saw that coming, not from Cindy.
She tilts her body to the side to get a look at Molly around my torso. “It’s easy to snag a man, honey, but getting knocked up? That’s desperate. You’re using the oldest play in the book, and after all this time I figured you’d come up with something more original.” Cindy reaches for Molly again. Silas picks up his mother and carries her off to separate them.
“I’m going up to the guest room,” Molly says. “But I’m really tempted to find my way home.”
“You’re not safe there.”
“And after this shit Cindy just pulled, I’m not sure how much safer I’ll be here. I don’t want to sleep with one eye open.”
She has a point.
“Cindy doesn’t live here. You know that. She’s probably staying the night for some other reason.”
“Well, this is more her home than m
ine. I’ve never seen her behave that way toward me. Since when did she think you and her were a thing?”
“First of all, we’re not a thing. Second, I don’t know what her deal is.”
“Whatever.” She shrugs off my arm around her shoulder. “You don’t have to do this overprotective boyfriend turned expectant father routine.”
“Whatever you want, Molly.” I back off but it stings like a knife to the gut. It isn’t supposed to be this way. Fuck if I know what way it’s supposed to go down. I’m not expecting an overnight miracle, but I didn’t think she’d turn this cold so fast.
I walk her to her room and she slams the door closed, shutting me out. If she pushes the issue tomorrow, I’ll take her home and be her bodyguard from wherever location she wants to be. I won’t insert myself into her life if she doesn’t want me there—even if my gut is saying different.
Chapter 13
Molly
“I can’t deal with this right now.”
I only left the guest room for a minute to ask for bottled water, but on my way back I bump into Jenny and Sabrina.
News travels fast.
They know.
I avoid the concerned looks and offers to help at the top of the stairs. I just want to go to my room so I can start a new day and forget today ever happened.
“Thanks, but no. I’m sorry… Space. I need lots of space.” I wave them off and haul ass down the hallway, closing the guest room door behind me when I get inside.
I can’t stay here. Between Tate’s behavior, my unexpected pregnancy, Cindy’s emotional flare-up, and the moves the MC is beginning to make to stop Jett from keeping up his stalker act, it’ll be a miracle if I get through my first trimester. I take a seat on the edge of the bed and cradle my stomach. God, how has this even happened? With a second to myself, I come to terms with the reality of the situation.
I’ve no idea how to feel about becoming a mother.
Tate has been…good. Surprisingly and weirdly tender with me. But I’m not entertaining any fantasies.
“Don’t even think it,” I say out loud.
“Think what?” Tate stands in the doorway and pops his blue Mohawk into the room before he comes in. I turn to look. He steps inside and shuts the door. “I was going to give you what you wanted and leave you alone. But neither of us are great at following orders normally, so why start a trend I can’t keep up. I’m here now. Your own personal punching bag.”
We hold each other’s gaze and he stuffs his hands into his pockets.
“You mean that literally or figuratively?” I ask.
He shrugs. “However you want it.” The beat of silence between us seems to go on forever. Neither of us glances away. “What do you need?”
“That’s a loaded question, Tate. I’m not sure about anything—”
An intense pulse of sound blasts from outside the window. I jerk my head around to look, and see the tail end of a fireball against the sky. Is that…flying metal?
“We can’t go a handful of weeks without someone trying to fucking blow us sky high?” Tate runs to the window. He looks out and freezes, gripping the window ledge. I clear my throat to get his attention. Nothing. He doesn’t move an inch or make a sound. He doesn’t even look like he’s breathing.
“What just happened? Talk to me.”
I suppose I can go to the window myself, but I don’t trust my wobbly legs all that much.
He pushes away from the window and charges out the bedroom the door.
“What’s wrong?” I shout down the hallway.
“Motherfucker. Hold on a minute.”
He’s gone for a while. I’m curious, but at the same time, exhaustion has set in, and I can barely move. I relax back on the bed, drifting off to sleep with my legs hanging off the side of the bed. When I open my eyes, it’s because Tate is lifting my feet and slipping them under the bed sheets.
“What happened?”
“He’s going to die.” Tate’s voice is low and dangerous. “That Jett son of a bitch is going to meet his maker—nice and slow.”
“What are you talking about? Start over, if you don’t mind.”
“My bike. The fucker torched my bike…it’s spread out over a square mile radius… in hot little shiny pieces, some of them still burning.”
“Gosh, I’m so sorry this is happening. How do you know for sure it was him?”
“The idiot left a note on the clubhouse door.”
Great, now Jett has gone and done it.
“Wait, but he a Satan’s Saints member in one of the Louisiana chapters. Can’t Silas do something to bring him in line? That’s kind of why I came to you guys to help.”
“Jett’s a member. Or at least he fucking was. No way he’s getting to keep his patches after this. No fucking way. But do you honestly see anything he’s done as normal behavior? A conversation won’t stop this madman.”
“Silas is going to get involved, right?”
“Yeah, hopefully before I find him and beat the life out of your ex.”
“I’m really sorry. I know you loved that bike.”
“It’s not your fault.” He offers up a weak smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, then walks over to the window again. I start to believe he’s fine, but I see him shaking off his hand.
“Did you get hurt?”
“Nope. I did this… to the wall downstairs.” He lifts it and shows me his bloody knuckles. “It’s fine.”
“Pass me my medical bag and come over here. I’ll take a look.”
He takes a seat beside me but ignores the rest. “It’s not the first time I’ve put my hand through drywall. I washed it off. Nothing’s broken. Stop worrying.”
I take his hand from his thigh to look, but his fingers curve around my wrist. Raw pain is shimmering in his eyes as we look at each other.
“Are you still upset?” he asks.
I am, but I shake my head and turn off the onslaught of emotions swirling inside my head. He pulls me closer. He’s so gentle this time, I lean on him. I’ll always go to him. My twisted, torn up vigilante.
“Kiss me,” I say without thinking. I’m frightened and emotional, but I’m sure that being with him is good for me. “Whatever’s going on between us, I need you to kiss me and make it all better.”
“I can do that,” he whispers against my lips, his voice gravelly. He pulls me to sit on his lap and relaxes back on the bed, taking me with him.
He peels off my clothes, then his own, dropping items to the floor or on the bed without a care as to where it lands. His hands skim my waist. He cups my breasts in his large palms as his thumbs toy with my nipples. It’s the gentlest either of us have ever been with each other. His hands and lips caress my flesh, and soon I’m gasping for breath, aroused by just his touch. There has always been other toys, props or scenarios—hell, sometimes other people.
This is raw. Real.
He rolls us until I’m on top of him and lifts his head to my neck. His teeth gently nip its way down to my breasts. Then he glances up at me with eyes that hold a million emotions. For the first time since I saw that last pregnancy test stick, it hits me that this man will be the father of my child. A gorgeous, complicated man with a shitty childhood, a ton of baggage, and a laundry list of kinky proclivities. He’s also someone who does his best even while planning to be at his worst. All club members I know would agree on that without question. Tate is a walking contradiction.
I reach down his body and take his thick, firm shaft in my hand, stroking him and pressing him to my mound.
“Go ahead. Do it,” he breathes out on a sigh. His fingers weave through my raven locks and pull me in for a kiss. “I need to be inside you.”
I lift myself up, position him at my folds, and lower onto his cock at the same time that his hips tilt up. He hits all the right spots. My eyes drift closed, and I start a rhythm with my hips that match the chaotic beat of my pulse against my temples. Sharp, but lingering thrusts connect us at my core, and we feed off each other�
��s pleasure. Tate continues to taste, touch and please me with his lips, tongue, teeth, and hands.
I’m lost.
We both are.
It’s a sacred moment, together.
I kiss him, slow and lingering, relishing the sparks of light flashing behind my eyes. He seems to understand. His hand comes up to cradle my neck just as I think about pulling away. Our kiss deepens as an orgasm starts to build from deep inside my abdomen. All I have to do is let go.
He trails his fingers down my spine in a delicate tease I never would’ve thought could unleash my climax. That touch tips the scales for both of us. I’m so used to seeing him get off from all the extra toys and pain and wicked play that we both bring to the table. But this, simple, gentle intimacy, makes all those times pale in comparison. It’s the idea that we’re enough, just us. As my body trembles above him and rides out the last slow burn of my ecstasy, he grips my hips in his palms, extending the moment as he comes too. He moans and shudders under me, and his fingertips dig into my hips.
I lower my chest to him, curling up against his warmth. Closing my eyes, I rest my head in the hollow of his neck, and his arm twines around my back, nestling me. The feel of Tate’s lips brushing my forehead is the last sensation I remember before I drift off to sleep in his arms.
Chapter 14
Tate
I wake up with a start. Molly's arms and legs are wrapped around me. The warmth radiating from her body is insane. That’s not what woke me up. I’m sure I heard someone knocking on the door, so I gently slide out from her comforting grip, hoping not to wake her up. Only a couple of hours have passed since we fell asleep, so I put some effort into shaking off the drowsiness on my way to the door.
Silas stands there with a hand raised, about ready to knock again.
“What’s up?” I glance back at the woman in my bed as she groans and rolls over. Sliding out the door, I close it behind me.
Silas’s gaze flicks up and then down. His eyebrows shoot into his hairline. I’m not wearing anything, not even a sheet.
Filthy Daddy Page 10
