by Naomi West
“My what?” asked Owen.
“This one,” said Nurse Holiday, pointing to Carey. “She’s been at your side nonstop since you were brought in her. Slept in the chair and everything. No small feat for a pregnant woman.”
“Wait a minute,” said Owen. “A what?”
The color drained from Nurse Holiday’s face. “Did I—Oh, no. Um, let me get the doctor.”
With that, she hurried out of the room as fast as her thin legs could take her.
“She’s not screwing with me, is she?” asked Owen.
“No, she’s not,” said Carey.
Carey moved right beside Owen’s bed, took his hand, and placed it on her belly.
“I don’t think it’s far enough along yet to kick, but it’s in there.”
“Boy or a girl?”
“Not sure. We can find out soon, or we can keep it a surprise. Your call.”
His hand on Carey’s stomach, a smile warmer than one Carey had ever seen formed on Owen’s face. He was quiet, content. She’d never seen him like this before.
“I can’t think of better news for a man to wake up to,” said Owen.
“You mean you’re not mad?”
“Why would I be mad? I’m going to be having a baby with the woman I love—how could I be anything but grateful?”
Tears formed in Carrie’s eyes as she leaned in to kiss her love.
“And the cops?” he asked.
“Brady’s doing his best to sweep everything under the rug, and if he presses charges against you that will make this whole scandal the news everyone is talking about for the next few months.”
Owen’s gaze shifted to Carrie’s hand and he noticed the ring was conspicuously absent.
“I take it the wedding’s off?”
“The wedding’s off,” said Carey, placing her fingers on the now-bare strip of skin where the ring once was. “Brady decided that he was happier back in New York, believe it or not.”
Owen let out a small snort of a laugh. “Then what?” he said. “We ride off on my bike, figure things out from there?”
“Well, believe it or not, my father’s looking for something for you in his company.”
“What?”
“Yep,” said Carey. “Can’t exactly have a biker for a son-in-law.”
“A so—”
He shook his head in disbelief.
“A lot happened while you were out,” said Carey. “But if you want to … try being together, we can make it happen.”
“Me in a fuckin’ suit?” he asked. “Never worn one of those in my life.”
“Let’s take it one step at a time,” said Carey, smiling warmly. “He’s thinking something in security. Might be a good use of your, um, talents.”
“Boys won’t be too happy about this,” he said. “Then again, maybe Liam’s due for a promotion.”
He shook his head, bringing himself back into the present moment.
“But we can figure all that out later. Most important thing is that we’re together.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
Carey stayed by Owen’s side while the doctors ran their tests. Once they determined he was good to go, he was given back his clothes and the two of them were allowed to leave. Their hands together, the two of them stepped out into the early evening air.
“Oh, I made sure your bike would be ready for you when you got out,” said Carey.
She led him to the parking garage, where Owen’s ride was waiting, cleaned and waited to be ridden.
“Second best thing to see when you come out of a coma,” he said, his tone eager. “Come on, kid.”
The two of them mounted the bike and Owen gunned the engine.
“I love you,” he said. “More than I can say.”
“I love you, too,” said Carey.
They kissed passionately. Then Owen revved the engine once more and they were off. Minutes later, they were on the road and headed to parts unknown. As Carey sat on the back of the bike, a smile on her face and her arms wrapped around Owen, she knew that there was no place she’d rather be.
THE END
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He Doesn’t Know: A Bad Boy Second Chance Baby Romance (Devil’s Route MC)
By Naomi West
HE DOESN’T KNOW I HID OUR BABY FROM HIM.
It’s been eight years since the night he took me…
And I still can’t get his taste out of my mouth.
I’m coming back to tell him about our son.
It’s time to bring these old secrets to light.
But there’s something else the biker also doesn’t know:
There’s a killer coming home to find me.
Chapter One
Halley
I took a sip of my drink, looking around the crowded, rowdy bar and smiling a little to myself. God, my parents would kill me if they knew I was here, I thought. I mean, my parents were so conservative that there would have been serious consequences if they found out that at 18, I had a fake ID — let alone if they knew that I had used it to get into one of the most notorious biker bars in the city.
But I couldn't help it. It was my friend Tiffany's 21st birthday, and given the amount of money Tiffany's parents had allowed her to spend on this shindig, this was probably one of the hottest parties of the year. And the whole thing had been organized by Tiff's brother — a sexy, late-20's biker. That meant that the whole crowd was pretty much made up of people older and more street-smart than me, with killer tattoos on every visible bit of skin and sexy motorcycles parked out front.
Anyway, it was nice to just get out from under my parents' strict rules for a night and let my hair down.
“What's a pretty little thing like you doing standing here, all by yourself?” a guy asked, leaning against the bar next to me. He was standing a little too close, and I could smell alcohol strong and sour on his breath. But it kind of gave me a thrill to think that he was into me like that.
I mean, I was under no illusions; it was that time of night when people were coupling off. There was a man at the other end of the bar trading sloppy, heated kisses with two hot blonde girls, one on either side of him. There was another couple pressed against the wall just to my right, and with the way the woman had her long, tanned legs wrapped around the biker's waist with her skirt hitched all the way up… Well, I wasn't about to look too closely, but I wouldn't be surprised if the two of them were…
I blushed a little just thinking about it. But it was nice to think that this sexy, older dude standing next to me might be interested in doing something like that with me. It made me feel older, more mature — kind of powerful.
So, I grinned at him as though he was the best thing I'd seen all night. And I tossed my hair a little, as though I wasn’t a bumbling virgin. Fake it 'til you make it, right?
“I guess I was just trying to find someone who would actually interest me,” I lied. Really, I was feeling kind of tired and thinking that it was maybe time to give it up for the night and head home. “These biker dudes, you know, all they ever want to talk about is their bikes and their babes.”
The man laughed a little, leaning in even closer and putting his arm around my lower back. His hand dropped daringly down to squeeze my ass, and I blushed. But I didn't pull away. I had seen touches like that exchanged all night, and I knew he didn't really mean anything by it. Anyway, what was I supposed to do about it, be the uncool one and be like, “Hey, that's disrespectful. You shouldn’t do that to a woman!”
I don't think so.
The man seemed pleased with my neutral reaction, and I preened a little at that. “I'm Halley,” I said, holding my hand out to him.
He looked a
mused as he shook my hand, and I realized that that was probably a decidedly uncool thing to do. He was probably looking for some random, anonymous sex, and here I was telling him my name. Next thing you knew, I was going to start babbling my whole life history to him.
“I'm Danny,” the man said, though, not making any sort of comment about how uncool I might have been. And I was grateful for that, at least.
I bit my lower lip, trying to figure out what to say next. But before I had the chance to say anything, Danny was leaning in close, and without preamble, his tongue flicked out to trace the shell of my ear. He lightly grazed his teeth against the earlobe, and I couldn't help but shudder, surprised as he awakened a bundle of lusty nerves that I had never known existed. But all the same, there was something holding me back.
I took a step away from him, awkwardly staring down at my mostly empty drink.
“Hey, let me buy you another drink,” Danny said, following my gaze. And he probably thought that that would be it, that he could buy me another drink, get me good and drunk, and then have his merry way with me. I wasn't that type of woman, though.
I shook my head, putting my glass down on the edge of the bar. “No, that's okay,” I said politely. “I really have to be heading home anyway.”
“Nah, come on, let me buy you another drink,” Danny insisted, already flagging down the waiter and pulling out his wallet. “What are you drinking, anyway?”
“It's a cosmo for her,” the bartended said, looking a bit amused — whether at the drink or at the situation, I couldn't really tell. But inwardly, I was cursing the man. Couldn't he sense my distress? Couldn't he see that the last person a good girl like me should be going home with was…
Well, admittedly, Danny was pretty attractive. He could probably have his pick of anyone there in that bar, with that combination of devilish smirk and brawny muscles. But…
My parents had raised me believing that sex before marriage was a sin, but I didn't really believe in that. Sure, I was a good, church-going girl, but I didn't really think God was going to send me to burn for eternity in the pits of hell if I made love with someone who wasn't my husband. To be honest, I didn't think he really could care that much. With wars and poverty and so much other stuff going on in the world, surely who was having sex with whom would be beneath his concern?
Not that I'd ever say that to my parents, but I had to wonder if maybe the only reason I was pulling away from Danny right now was because of that ingrained response that sex before marriage was a big no-no. What did I care if I lost my virginity that very night? Wasn't this a special enough occasion? It was one of the first real adult parties that I'd gone to.
And I'd be going off to college in just a month; this was really one of my first tastes of what college was going to be like. I wanted to do things right, didn't I?
I made a split-second decision, smiling at Danny. “I've been drinking cosmos all night, but I think for a last drink, maybe I'll have a couple shots of whiskey. Neat.”
I definitely didn't need even one shot of whiskey at that point, but I wanted so desperately to fit in with the crowd. And a neat, double-shot of whiskey had always been my dad's drink—not that he or my mom drank very often, and especially not around me—so that was the first drink that came to my mind.
It was worth saying it, though, just to see the way Danny's eyebrows rose. “You heard her, Mac,” he said the to the bartender. “Let's make that two double-shots of whiskey, please. Can't leave the lady drinking whiskey on her own.”
I giggled a little at the fact that he had called me a 'lady' and didn't protest when he slipped an arm around my shoulders, leaning heavily against me. His fingertips were just brushing my breast, but I figured that was probably an accidental byproduct of the combination of our height and the length of his arm.
The bartender handed over our drinks, and Danny paid for them. Then, he turned to me, raising his glass. “To a pretty woman drinking whiskey,” he said, eyes twinkling.
I grinned hesitantly back at him, hoping that the taste wouldn't be too awful. But when I sipped at the stuff, I could feel my throat burning and had to fight back the urge to cough. God, that's nasty, I thought, but fortunately I managed to keep from saying that out loud.
“Ah, whiskey, what a lovely mistress,” Danny said pretentiously, a hand clapped over his heart, as though he thought he were some sort of poet or something.
I didn't roll my eyes, but just barely. And I still had most of the two shots left to drink.
Danny made small-talk as we continued sipping at our drinks, growing increasingly handsy as time went on—and by the end of it, although I was growing used to his poor attempts at conversation, his wandering hands were making me more and more uncomfortable.
“Look,” I said for the third time, making to leave, “I really need to be getting home. Thanks for the drink, but—”
Danny grabbed my wrist before I could move away from him, his expression stormy. “Hey now,” he told me. “That's not how this works.”
“How what works?” I asked angrily. “I'm tired, and it's the end of my night. Just because you bought me a drink, doesn't mean I have to stay and keep you company for the rest of the night. But if it really means that much to you, here.” I thrust twenty dollars at him. “That should cover it, right? Now—”
“No,” Danny said, crowding me back against the bar. “That's not how this works. I bought you a drink. You're coming home with me.”
“Uh, what Neolithic century do we live in?” I asked, trying to shimmy sideways. But he put his hands on either side of me, pinning me there. “Seriously, Danny, I'm sorry, but I really don't want to—”
“Yes, you do,” Danny informed me, arrogantly. He bent down and pressed his lips to mine, forcing entry into my mouth, pillaging with his tongue.
I pushed futilely against his chest, trying to get him away from me. But of course, I was no match for his size and muscles.
“Hey,” someone said from behind Danny, and the biker pulled away from me. There was another biker standing there, and holy hell, if I had thought Danny could have his pick of any woman in the bar, he had nothing on the newcomer. He had curly black hair and bright, sea-colored eyes. The man was a biker as well, but he just somehow seemed cleaner than Danny. Like he was somehow a better guy.
But at the moment, he looked practically murderous, scowling down at Danny. “The fuck did Marsha say again about coming on to people in here?” he spat. “You fucking scumbag.”
Danny shoved the man away, looking just as incensed. “Fuck off, Ryce. This is totally consensual. And none of your business.”
“Totally consensual, huh?” The man — Ryce, was it? — sneered at Danny. “Then why the hell does the girl look terrified? And why is she trying so desperately to get away from you? She's one step short of screaming, and you know that as well as I do.”
“Fuck off,” Danny repeated, shoving the other man again. But before he could say anything else, Ryce's fist snapped out and collided with his temple. He slumped to the ground, clearly out cold, and Ryce made some sort of a signal to the bouncer, who swooped in to scoop up the man's limp body.
Then, my savior turned to me, holding out a hand. “My name's Jake, Jake Ryce,” he told me. “Are you all right?”
Chapter Two
Jake
I fiddled with the old radio, trying to find a station that was playing something, rather than just trying to sell me a bunch of useless shit. God, I hated that stretch of the afternoon when radio companies seemed to think everyone was at work and they could just blast everyone with dumb talk shows and bullshit like that.
Finally, I found a decent classic rock station and left the thing on that, humming along under my breath to the Journey song that they were currently playing. But wouldn't you know?
As soon as that song was over, it was time for yet another commercial break.
I almost threw my wrench across the shop in frustration. The only thing that kept me from doing
so was the reminder that if I chose to do that, I would only be making more work for myself — and we were working on a deadline that day. A deadline that I already wasn't sure I was going to be able to meet — at least, not unless I wanted to stay in the shop until midnight, which I definitely didn't.
I loved being the owner and sole proprietor of Reaper Custom Choppers and having the flexibility to schedule my own hours and hire whoever I really wanted to work with. That said, I was a bit of a workaholic, and that made owning my own business a bit of a nightmare. I had a really hard time pulling back and making time for myself…
