by Lee Savino
“It’s all right,” he tells me gravely. “You’re safe here.”
The words bounce off my brain. My wide-eyed stare says, I don’t know what you’re telling me.
Lincoln reads my unspoken confusion. “Saint and I talked.” He squeezes my legs, massaging them as he explains. “We want you to stay here until the baby is born, and afterwards. We’ll help you. You don’t have to worry about working or doing anything for us…”
I drop my head to his chest, unable to hold up its weight. Lincoln stops talking. He holds me, stroking my back and squeezing my tight muscles with strong, gentle hands.
“You can talk to me.” Lincoln says. “Anytime. You know that.”
I blow out a breath and nod against the firm plate of his pec. His hands keep massaging me. They tell me: Shh. It’s okay. Whenever you’re ready.
“We’re with you, whatever you decide,” he adds. “We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”
Chapter 8
Sierra
For the next few days, I lay low. I leave my room for showers and meals, choosing times when the guys are gone and the lodge is empty. Jagger and Elon try in vain to coax me out. After a few days, they stop, and I bet Lincoln and Saint told them to back off. I stay in bed, with a book, and stare out the window.
I think a lot about what Lincoln said. How he and Saint will make a place for me and the baby. I believe they want to help, but what sort of life could we have out here? A woman and baby with a lumberjack crew. What would it mean? What would be my relationship with them? Even if I can be sure the Hell Riders won’t find me and rain down revenge on everyone who helped me hide, I can’t believe all the guys would be comfortable giving room and board to me indefinitely. Not when I’m a single mom, and not just a convenient piece of ass.
But I don’t really know what the guys are thinking. I’m too afraid to leave my room and find out.
One afternoon, I’m lying in bed, stroking my stomach when my door flies open and Mason stomps in. I scramble up, my hair tumbling around my face and shoulders, but he doesn’t look at me.
“Here.” He slams something down on the dresser so hard it rattles. “You need to take these.” After shooting a glare into each corner of the room, he leaves.
I wait until the door slams behind him before going to examine his gift. A bottle of prenatal pills. My heart twists and I struggle to swallow or take a breath. I bring the bottle to my mouth and press the cap to my lips.
Some guys bring chocolate or flowers. Trust Mason to say ‘I’m sorry’ with a necessary daily dose of folic acid.
That night I leave my room for the first time in a week, and head to the dining room. The guys’ chatter falls to a murmur as I approach. The bearded faces hold lots of speculative looks, but when I get close, Saint pushes a chair out for me so I can sit.
“Thank you,” I say. As soon as my butt hits the chair, Oren is handing me a plate, Roy is passing the biscuits, and Mason shoves the butter my way. I keep quiet and focus on my plate, but can’t help a small smile.
Maybe we can make this work after all.
Lincoln
“Fly’s open, man,” Tommy whispers, grinning at me as he passes.
I nod to him and zip up my jeans, peeking back into my room. Sierra’s asleep in a pile of blankets, her black hair spilled across the pillow and hands cupped around her belly. She’s been napping a lot more lately, her body working to grow the little life.
Carefully, I close the door and head down the hallway. Somewhere in the kitchen, a pot clangs to the floor.
“Shhh,” someone hisses before I can say anything. “Be quiet. Sierra’s sleeping.”
Ducking my head to hide a smile, I stride to Saint’s room and rap on the door.
“Enter.” The big man sits on his bed, frowning at a notebook in his lap. “We need to do something about Jagger. He skipped three shifts this week, and showed up late to the rest smelling like skunk. We haven’t caught him, but he’s probably smokin’ on site.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Stupid fucker,” I mutter. “I could ignore it, if he just kept it off the job.”
“He ain’t exactly the brightest crayon in the box.” Saint drawls. “Last time he was in town, he was asking around for harder stuff. Talked to some shady ass people.”
I drop my hand. “That I will call him on. I don’t need law sniffin’ around here. Or dealers.”
“Wanna know the real fucked up part?” Saint continues. “I think he’s doing it to impress Sierra.”
Words can’t express Jagger’s stupidity so I just shake my head.
“Yeah,” Saint agrees to my unspoken opinion.
“He better stay the fuck away from her. He does anything to endanger her or the baby, I won’t just fire him. I’ll knock him out and dig his grave myself.”
“You’d have to beat Sierra to it. She’s fierce.” Saint flashes a white smile. “Tough as nails.”
The thought of our little dancer pushes the anger out of me. Leaves nothing but pride. “She’ll be a great mother.”
“The best.” A moment of silence where we ponder our tiny dancer, her slight belly starting to swell. We didn’t ask to give shelter to a pregnant woman, but now that she’s here I can’t imagine anything else. Every time I rub her feet, or the twins run into town to get the salt vinegar chips she’s craving, or Saint piles more food on her plate, we’re all thinking the same thing. None of us would admit it, but we wish that baby was ours.
I’ll do anything to protect Sierra, and the precious little life growing inside her.
I hit the door jamb. “I’ll see about Jagger,” I promise.
“Do that,” Saint says. “Before he does somethin’ really stupid.”
Chapter 9
Sierra
“It’s been quiet lately,” Jagger says, glancing from the road to me. “Nights aren’t the same without you.”
Fiddling with the zipper on my jacket, I flash him a smile. Sundays were awesome lazy days. I’d just finished an epic nap in Lincoln’s room. His bed was my favorite--big, covered in plaid blankets of all sizes. If I was lucky (and I usually was), he’d climb in with me and cuddle. In a spooning contest, he’d win Best Big Spoon, everytime.
“I miss nights with you too,” I murmur. Not just Jagger, all the guys. Next doctor’s appointment I was going to ask about reinstating sexy time. Nothing too acrobatic, but I was craving my men’s bodies in a big way. “Thanks for taking me to town today.” When I’d woken up, he’d been at the door, offering to give me a drive to buy new clothes. Everything fit tighter now. I was so used to hiding my body under sweaters and sweatshirts, it was a shock to see my belly pooching out from under my small t-shirts.
The guys didn’t say anything, but a few days ago Lincoln handed me his bank card and said next time Saint went into town I should “buy some things for yourself, anything you need.” I tried to refuse, but he shoved it in my pocket and drilled me until I memorized his pin. And Friday Tommy hugged me and slipped me a few twenties.
“No prob.” Jagger drove one-handed, his left arm hanging out the window. Good thing too--he smelled like pot. He’d been avoiding me since the wanted poster. Maybe this trip is his way of saying sorry.
“You doing okay?” Jagger shoots a frown my way. I realize I’m rubbing my belly and stop.
“Yeah. Everything’s good. My next doctor’s appointment is in another two weeks, but everything seems to be going fine.”
“Good, good.” Jagger bobs his head. “If you need anything, money or anything, just let me know.”
I twist in my seat to study him. His usual light-hearted expression is serious. “Why?” I know the question is blunt, but after a lifetime of watching my mom being let down by men, it’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that good guys exist.
“Sierra,” he scoffs. “You have to ask? We care about you.”
I bite my lip, wanting to question him further. I wait until he turns onto the highway before saying light
ly, “Good to know.”
“You know, when you first said you were pregnant, there was a moment when I thought it could be mine,” Jagger said. I bug my eyes at him, but he’s focused on the road.
“Did I scare you?”
“No,” he says quickly. “No. Well, a little. But the main feeling wasn’t panic. It was excitement.”
I nod slowly, turning his words over carefully, checking them for subtext.
“I mean it.” He glances at me for such a long time, I want to snap at him to watch where he’s going. “There’s not a guy there who wasn’t wondering what it’d be like to be the father.”
“Maybe not Roy and Tommy,” I mumble, and he laughs.
“Okay, maybe not them. I’d have to ask them. But seriously, Sierra, we’re all glad you’re with us.”
“Even if my pussy’s about to get all stretched out,” I try to joke, but can’t bring myself to smile.
Jagger rolls his eyes. “I get you don’t want our charity. But has it occurred to you that our lives are better because you’re in them? Not just your fantastic pussy. You.”
I cock my head to the side. “My pussy is fantastic.”
“All right.” He shakes his head as if to say, Go ahead, keep joking. I’m trying be sincere.
I let a mile pass before I say quietly, “I know what you’re saying, and I appreciate it. It is hard for me to accept charity. And… I like keeping things simple. A child changes everything.”
“Change isn’t necessarily bad.”
“No.” I ponder this. What will be changing? Lincoln will still be protective, Saint subtly dominant. The twins and Jagger still try to draw me out and make me laugh and have fun. Even Mason still pretends to scowl at me. I haven’t had sex with them since the announcement, but that was my choice. I could return to their beds in any moment and they’d welcome me. Or not, and they’ll just cuddle and spoil me.
So far, all the changes have been good.
“I know you might not stay with us,” Jagger says. “But it’s great having you around. Not as a ready lay. As… as a woman. A friend.”
I clear my throat. Damn hormones, making me teary every other minute. “Thanks, J. That means a lot.”
He shrugs. Leaning over, I peck him on the check, eliciting a familiar giggle.
“Besides”—I settle back into my seat—“second trimester hormones are supposed to be insane.”
He smirks. “Something to look forward too.”
After filling the backseat with shopping bags, Jagger checks his phone. I wait while he texts someone. The air is crisper than I remember. It’s been so long since I’ve ventured outside; I need to get out and get some exercise. I can do regular walks through the forest if the guys will show me a trail.
“Hey, you hungry?” Jagger asks, his eyes still on his phone. “We can stop for food before we head back.”
I shrug. “I could eat. But Saint is cooking tonight, and I want to have an appetite.”
“All right. One more errand, and we’ll stop for gas and snacks before heading back.”
When we’re back on the road, a motorcycle rumbles by and I shrink down in my seat automatically. My memory of Jack’s death seems so far away.
“I gotta be careful of these potholes. Hit one the wrong way and you might give birth.”
The car stops and I sit up straighter, recognizing the hotel where I fucked Lincoln.
“It’s okay, Sierra. Just a quick stop.” Jagger winks at me, and lopes off. Saint hinted about Jagger’s drug use. I wonder if the blond has a hookup in town. The last time I used anything was with the Hell Riders.
I slump in the passenger seat and let my eyes drift close. Memory whispers in my ear, my voice, strained and slurred.
“What did Dex want?”
Jack fiddles with his beer bottle a moment before setting it aside. “Nothing, baby. Just club stuff.” He tugs my hand and pulls me into his lap. I perch stiffly on his knee, refusing to relax as he massages my breast.
“You sure?” I glance at the door. I made sure Dex was gone before coming inside, but it’s his place. He could return at any moment. “He’s the president of the club. He scares me.”
“Nah, he’s good. Come on, S’erra.” He hiccups. “I’ve got some stuff for us to try. Dex says we can use his back room.”
I let him lead me down the hall. The walls are old-fashioned wood panels, once nice, now stained. It’s still a nicer place than anywhere else I’ve lived.
Jack pulls me into a dark room and onto a bed. It smells like stale cigarettes, but the blanket’s soft and warm. I snuggle into my boyfriend and give myself to trust. In a minute he’ll give me a taste of whatever the Riders are dealing, and we’ll fuck each other through the high. I’ll fall asleep against him until nausea grips me. I’ll stagger to the bathroom, grab the sink and hang on, keeping quiet as heavy boots head down the stairs. They’ll be a murmur of men’s voices and then—
A gunshot jerks me awake. I sit up, blinking, mouth dry, heart slamming in my tight chest. It takes me a moment to realize it wasn’t a gunshot, but the sound of a bike. The rumbles increase and I duck my head, nearly braining myself on the dash. The motorcycles roar past and I wait, counting to ten, then twenty, then a hundred. Jagger should be back by now.
What’s happened?
I scramble out of the truck, which room did he go into?
“Jagger?” I call. “Where are you?”
“In here.” I follow his voice to room sixty-one. The door is cracked. I push it open and freeze.
“Hello, Sierra,” Dex says.
Chapter 10
Sierra
Dex is a good-looking son of a gun, with a dark tangle of hair, knife sharp cheekbones and haunting blue eyes. The seams on his face and rough tan from a lifetime riding a bike under a sunny sky only add to the weight of his presence.
I’d call him hot, even handsome, if I didn’t know what a mean snake of a human he was.
Call her inside, Jack. It’s time to share. I remember his rasping voice, the smell of sweat and weed and raw hooch heavy in the air. And Jack stammering and dissembling, while I hid in the shadows wishing I was anywhere, with anyone, besides in the house that belonged to Dex and the Hell Riders. That’s the trouble with saying no to the head of the club. His will was law.
Still is.
“Still pretty.” He cocks his head. “Bustier than I last saw you. But still pretty little Sierra.”
“We’re here for the reward,” Jagger voice comes, offbeat and off-key. I barely hear him with the rushing in my ears. Dex’s icy gaze on mine.
“Oh, J, what have you done?” I whisper. I knew he was a dense pothead, but I didn’t think he’d sell me out.
“It’s cool,” Jagger says with a grin. “Your uncle just wanted to make sure you’re not really missing. Tell him you’re fine and we can get the reward and —”
“Jagger.” I fight to keep my voice steady. “This is a mistake. You need to leave.” It’s too late for me, but maybe I can save him.
“I thought you’d want to see your friends,” Jagger tells me. I shake my head at him, sadly. Stupid, superficial Jagger, just like so many men my mother and I trusted.
My heart was breaking. This would be the last time I’d see anyone. Dex was gonna take me into the back, and do whatever he wanted with me. I might survive. I might not.
“It’s not what you think it is. You gotta leave, Jagger. Please,” I break down and beg. Dex liked women to beg. He might show mercy.
Jagger thrusts out his chin and faces Dex. “You got her stuff?”
“No, but I brought money,” Dex says in a neutral tone I don’t trust at all. He grabs a duffel from the bed and tosses it Jagger’s way.
Jagger catches it. “See,” he turns to me with a big, dumb smile. “This will help you—”
The gunshot catches him mid-sentence. Jagger stutters, eyes wide, and folds over slowly.
I scream and fall to my knees by his side. “Jagger? Jagger?” I
repeat his name as I pat his face, brushing back dirty blond locks to see if he’s still with me. Blood seeps onto the floor. I’m kneeling in it, trying to stem the tide. Breath rattles in Jagger’s chest, red saliva bubbling from his lax mouth. I watch as the light slowly slips from his eyes, weeping with my eyes open. It’s Jack dying in my arms all over again.
“Sierra,” Dex says from far away.
I close my eyes, tears running down my face in earnest.
“Sierra. Get up.”
“What does it matter?” I rasp, my bloodstained hands over my belly as if to protect my baby. “You’re just gonna kill me anyway.”
“Not necessarily.” Dex sits with the gun propped on his knee, casual as if nothing happened. He can kill a man and order pizza in the same breath. Evil is ordinary for someone like him.
“Not the brightest bulb,” Dex mutters, mocking the man he just shot. “Sierra, be a good girl and fetch me the bag.” He motions me to come, not worried at all that someone might call the cops. He knows the Riders control this town, and put him above the law. Holding my breath, I grab the bag and bring it back. I’m his bitch now. Until he plans to let daylight into my torso like he did Jagger’s, which he could at any time. My tears are not for me, not really. I knew it could end this way at any time.
I only wish I could save my child.
“You won’t get away with this,” I tell him. I’m dead anyhow, so…
“Get away with what?” Dex asks like there’s not a man bleeding out on the floor. “This? I can and will. My dear, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
I shake my head.
“But yes. We were worried, so worried, when Jack turned up dead.”
