Raising Riker (Hells Saints MC)

by Paula Marinaro

  “What happened that night?” Prosper repeated with narrowed eyes.

  Riker shot Prosper a puzzled look because really? He didn’t think the events of the night — the night that almost cost him his patch— needed any further explanation.

  “Yeah, you know with Abruzzi’s daughter—that whole PTSD episode. It wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t bring those girls in and I realize that.”

  “Yeah, well there’s that too.” Prosper mumbled and stared at his empty bottle.

  Riker made himself wait through the pause, but this was getting irritating—not to mention kind of creepy with Prosper looking all serious and acting all hesitant.

  “You got something you want from me?” Riker blurted out. “’Cause you know that’s all you got to do is ask. Anything, anytime, anywhere for a brother, you know that. Just please stop with the fucking hemming and hawing, it’s creeping me out.”

  Prosper sat back in his chair, folded his arms, and took a deep breath.

  “Turns out that night had further reaching consequences than any of us anticipated.” Prosper’s tone was serious and his words weirdly formal.

  Damn, boss, just get to the point for fuck’s sake.

  “Okay.” Riker nodded. “And?”

  “And those consequences have landed straight at your door.” Prosper hedged.

  “Shit, boss, will you please just tell me what this is all about?” Riker pleaded and scrubbed a hard hand over his face.

  “Gia Bonzini is pregnant.” Prosper blurted out.

  Riker was dumbstruck. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, then opened his mouth, then closed it again.

  Like a fish gasping for air.

  “I ain’t saying it’s yours, but I ain’t saying it ain’t either. Just saying that the timeline points that it sure as hell could be. Getting rid of the kid is not an option that Gia is willing to take. And she ain’t gonna be raising the kid alone either. Apparently, single motherhood doesn’t meet with the Mafia code of moral ethics.” Prosper snorted. “So, you can see this doesn’t leave the woman with a lot of options. Once Gianni finds out about this pregnancy, he’s going to be shitting bullets and be hell bent on seeing her married. According to Dolly— who’s the one who came to me with this clusterfuck— Gia is scared that she’s going to be forced to marry some ass clown who she’s already turned down once. She can’t stand him, but I don’t know why. Guy might be a straight shooter and she might be the messed up one, who the fuck knows—only know the woman is dead set against it.” Prosper took a breath before he continued.

  “With Gianni’s Catholic upbringing, and all that family honor crap, the big issue for him is going to be that his niece is married, he’s not gonna give a shit to who. So, if the girl doesn’t want to be disowned or excommunicated or whatever the hell else those damn archaic values dictate, then she’s got to find herself a husband. So, right now her options are to marry this guy she don’t want to be tied to under any circumstances, or to marry you, the one night stand who she says is the father of the kid. And apparently, Gia thinks you’re the better option.”

  Prosper paused to let everything he had just said sink in. “You with me, brother?”

  Riker nodded wordlessly.

  “Okay, good.” Prosper said with relief. “Now, I consider the message delivered and my part of it done. So, hear me clear on this, Riker, aside from all the other things that you might be wondering right now, you might be wondering where your president lands on all this. Where I stand is in the neutral zone—I’m fucking Switzerland. There’s been a lot of law I’ve handed down to the club over the years but forcing a man to marry a woman ain’t one of them.”

  Prosper got up and placed a couple more bottles down on the table. Riker reached for the brew and chugged it down like he was a dying man and drinking a bottle of cold, hard cider was his last wish.

  “Wow.” Riker finally managed to burst out.

  “Clusterfuck, ain’t it?” Prosper nodded in effusive agreement.

  Riker got up and paced around the room as he muttered a string of words that Prosper couldn’t quite hear. Prosper waited him out as Riker paced closer and closer to the front door.

  “I really can’t fucking believe this!” Riker paused long enough in his pacing to scowl.

  “I’m with you, brother.” Prosper shook his head and sighed.

  Riker paced around the room for another good five minutes. Then he came to a sudden stop and swiveled on his heels to face Prosper.

  “Gia Bonzini considers me her best option?”

  Prosper’s jaw dropped. “Really, man? That’s the part of the conversation you find hard to believe?”

  Riker looked down at his boots for a moment then looked up at Prosper. “Yeah, I find it hard to believe. I had Gia in my bed and, without sharing in a way a gentleman ain’t supposed to share, I’m gonna tell you I had a pretty good time. We didn’t do a whole lot of talking—so the question of her being on birth control? That I can’t answer, but I know for shit sure that I didn’t take any precautions. So, if she’s got one in the oven, then yeah—it could be mine. No surprise there, with all due respect, boss—that’s simple biology.”

  Riker took a deep breath before he continued.

  “But the other thing? Let’s keep it real. I ain’t exactly Prince Charming. I got engine grease under my finger nails, road dust on my boots, and a broken winged angel inked on my back. School and me parted company in the tenth grade and the only money I ever saved up, at any given time, is what’s in my wallet. Pretty safe to say that I ain’t ever been anyone’s best option.” Riker snorted as he lit up another cigarette, drew deep and let out a long curl of smoke.

  “Shit. So, me and Gia Bonzini, huh?”

  Prosper watched in amazement as Riker broke out into a shit-eating grin.

  Gia’s hand was shaking as she looked into the mirror and wiped away the smudge of mascara. Then she took in a deep breath and tried to steady her hand as she applied some lip gloss. She had arranged to meet Riker at a small Mexican restaurant south of the town border. It was one of the best places in the area with an extensive menu, exceptional food, and a warm and friendly atmosphere.

  Gia thought that Riker would appreciate (and could probably use) a couple of drinks from the highly rated tequila bar. The outdoor seating was arranged around an ornate and soothing water feature. There was also a small and select area where the tables were fitted into private alcoves. It usually took weeks to get one of those tables, but Gia did something she rarely did and cashed in on her family name to reserve one of those special seating arrangements.

  She had also taken special care with her appearance. Although, regretfully, the extra amount of grooming was more necessary than contrived these days. The horrible nausea that continued to plague her had taken its toll. Gia had lost weight, had dark hollows under her eyes, and her skin tone had taken on a greenish pallor.

  So, the glowing, radiant pregnant woman thing?

  Not so much.

  And Mexican food— what the hell had she been thinking! Gia was halfway to the table when the spicy smells from the kitchen washed over her like a tidal wave. Swallowing down yet another bout of nausea, she made her way to the table where Riker was waiting for her.

  He cleans up good was the Gia’s first thought. Riker had ditched the road leathers for a crisp white, button- down shirt with the Hells Saints MC logo stitched on the collar. His long, dark hair looked freshly washed and his normally scruffy beard was trimmed close. Riker’s jaw was square, his lips were full and his teeth even and white. However, there was some bruising on his face…remnants of a black eye maybe…and his knuckles were cut and looked swollen.

  Gia reminded herself not to let those hey baby eyes of his fool her. There was something dangerous and predatory about this man. The air between them crackled with a compelling and captivating tension that made her head spin.

  When Riker’s eyes met hers over the table, images of him naked and on top of her flash
ed through Gia’s mind. She felt her blood warm as she remembered their one brief night together. She felt his dark eyes scan her with an intensity that made her blush. She was suddenly very glad that she had taken the extra few minutes to freshen up her make-up. The force of his scrutiny could only mean one thing—that when he looked at her, his mind was flooded with images of their sexual escapade just like hers was. To Gia’s utter horror and complete embarrassment, she soon found out that that wasn’t the case.

  Not even a little bit.

  “Jesus. Gia, you okay?”

  “What do you mean?” Gia reached up to smooth her hair.

  “What the hell do you think I mean? You’re all pale and skinny and what the fuck are those dark circles under your eyes from? Babe, seriously, you look like hell.”

  Gia looked at Riker and was horrified.

  Absolutely and utterly horrified.

  So much for the hour she had spent putting on her makeup and blowing out her hair. So much for the two hundred- dollar fuchsia colored dress that the clerk assured her was her color.

  So much for trying to look her best to rein the baby-daddy in.

  What a damn joke.

  Gia chewed on Riker’s words and wondered how she ever let herself get to this point in life. Now face to face with the man she was going to try desperately to convince to marry her, his first thought was how skinny and pale and all around ugly she looked.

  Gia had no choice but to finally confront the situation for what it was.

  Completely ridiculous.

  What the hell had she been thinking?

  Then Gia did the only thing she could do when she came face to face with the absurdity of the predicament that she found herself in.

  She began to laugh.

  And what she let out was not just a small ha hah.

  Gia began to heehaw a belly laugh that resembled the braying sound of a donkey.

  Except with a few snorts and hiccups thrown in.

  Then that hysterical laugh turned to just plain hysteria—and that hysteria turned to tears.

  Riker watched on, in confused alarm, as Gia quickly cycled from a laughing lunatic to a sobbing, blithering mess right before his eyes. When a waiter passed by the table holding a tray full of burritos, guacamole and chili, all those spices mixed together, and the aroma settled over the table like a heavy blanket. Gia clapped a hard hand over her mouth. Her pale face immediately turned green and she began to swallow convulsively in what appeared to be a desperate attempt to stop her stomach from tossing up her innards.

  Riker watched on, in mute fascination, as Gia cycled through what appeared to be an impressive round of emotion and extreme nausea in rapid succession.

  However, that fascination quickly turned to serious concern. Because, although Riker had seen his share of people taking on that sickly green pallor— mostly from being hungover— he had never seen anything quite like this. Gia looked bad, really bad and if this was due to the pregnancy, something was seriously wrong. Riker had ten nieces and nephews, so he knew all about that too.

  “Hold on.” Riker got up and pulled Gia out of her chair. Then he hurried her out of the seating area and away from the smells of the kitchen. He continued to keep a tight hold on her as they continued down the path that would lead them to the parking lot.

  They had just cleared the wooded area when Gia lost the fight. Because her stomach was already empty from that morning’s bout of sickness, her retching was violent but non-productive. Even though the dry-heaving was like a knife tearing at her insides, she was glad that she hadn’t eaten anything. Gia didn’t think she could stand the shame of projectile vomiting on Riker’s boots. Bad enough she was on her knees retching at his feet. Despite the extreme embarrassment she was sure to feel later on, Gia was profoundly grateful for the way Riker’s cool hand cradled her forehead and the way his arm held her from collapsing to the ground. When the bout of violent surges was over, Gia collapsed against Riker’s legs.

  “There’s water in my purse,” She rasped out weakly. “And crackers.”

  Riker lifted Gia up and pulled her against him while he dug into her purse for the bottled water and crackers.

  “Little sips.” He kept a tight hold on her and said gently. “Just take little sips of the water and small bites of the cracker.”

  With a shaking hand, Gia lifted the bottle to her mouth spilling some of it along the way.

  “Jesus, Gia. You’re as weak as a kitten.” Riker frowned as he held the bottle for her. “How often do you get sick like this?”

  “All day, every day.” She murmured sorrowfully.

  “What does your doctor say?” Riker frowned.

  Gia shrugged and looked at him guiltily. “I haven’t really seen one yet.”

  “Seriously?! How come?!” His voice was loud and incredulous.

  “Don’t yell at me!” Gia hissed at him. Then she immediately groaned and put her hand against her stomach.

  “I’m not yelling!” He lowered his voice and grabbed a hold of Gia as another wave of nausea hit. Riker felt the cold, clammy sweat as it seeped through Gia’s pores dampening her skin and hair. He helped her over to the car where he opened the door, plopped her down on the passenger seat, and belted her in.

  Gia watched on, through a haze of sickening headache pain, as Riker rifled through her purse for the car keys. Then he started the engine and pulled quickly out of the parking lot.

  “Where are we going?” She managed to squeak out through the dull throbbing in her temples.

  “This isn’t normal, Gia. The way you’re getting sick like this, it ain’t right. I have a pack of nieces and nephews and know more than I should, or want to, about what happens to a woman during a pregnancy—and babe, you just shouldn’t be this sick.”

  “I don’t know how bad I should feel or shouldn’t feel. It’s not like I’ve ever done this before.” Her voice barely above a whisper.

  “Gia, really? Come on, babe, common sense should tell you that something is wrong.” Riker said in exasperation. Couldn’t the woman see how ill she was…one look in the goddamn mirror should have told her that her body was in serious trouble…

  Gia moaned and muttered something he couldn’t hear. Then she added in a voice strong with desperation. “Riker! Please! Pull over!”

  When the last bit of heaving turned her lips to a bloodless color, Riker bundled her back into the car and pressed the pedal to the medal.

  “I think I’m gonna die.” Gia began to cry. “And I’m worried about the baby. You’re right. I should have known better. This can’t be good.”

  “I got this.” Riker’s only thoughts now were to reassure Gia and get her the help she needed. He reached over with one hand and gently put his strong fingers on the pulse on her wrist. “Your heart is pounding like it’s gonna jump out of your chest. You have to relax. Deep breaths —that’s it, honey. Nice and deep and slow. Good. Now take a drink of water, just a little sip. Your only job right now is to lean back and try to relax your body. All that vomiting has got to be making the muscles in your back and neck sore as hell. If you need me to pull over again, just say the word. Keep sipping on that water, we have to rehydrate your body. That’s it, Gia, that’s good. Now lean back, close your eyes and I’ll handle the rest.”

  Riker really hoped she could hold it together, so he could get her to the hospital asap, but as it turned out, Gia’s nausea continued on in almost a steady stream during the ride. Riker had to pull over several times while she dry-heaved on the side of the road. The last bout left Gia depleted and totally worn out. She lay with her cheek on the cool grass refusing to get up.

  “Just let me die here.” She muttered.

  Riker had never seen anything so pathetic in his life. He picked her up gently and put her next to him in the car. Then he drove at breakneck speed to the exit that would bring them to the hospital.

  Gia had the vague sense of being lifted into strong arms and held against a chest that felt like granite warm
ed by the sun. A deep male voice was whispering soothing things to her while he carried her with long purposeful strides into a place filled with fluorescent lighting and the smell of antiseptic.

  Gia tried to talk but found that she didn’t have the energy that it would take. Her head throbbed, and her reflexes seemed to be working in slow motion. She had the vague impression of being placed in a wide, wobbly chair and someone was asking her a bunch of questions.

  Despite Gia’s obvious inability to respond in any kind of coherent fashion, the questions not only droned on and on, but the tone of the interrogation changed from mildly concerned and somewhat bored to indignant and insistent. Gia felt herself fading off. She let out a soft moan in the direction of the voice and said weakly, “Please just stop talking and get me some help.”

  “No information, no admittance.” The receptionist snarled out.

  And that’s when it happened. All hell broke loose as Riker’s voice boomed out into the room. Startled out of her daze, Gia sat up wide-eyed now as she watched Riker lose his shit on the woman at the desk. Then she held on for dear life as he careened the wheel chair right though the swinging doors and past a sign that read STOP AT THIS POINT. While Riker bellowed out for a doctor, Gia began to vomit up the sips of water and tiny bits of crackers that she had been trying to hold down.

  Too weak, too exhausted, and just too damn sick to care anymore, Gia leaned her head on the low, wide back of the wheel chair and placed all her bets on Riker.

  The man was in a serious rage…and thank god for it. The last thing she heard was Riker calling out her name in alarm, then everything went black.

  When Gia regained consciousness, she was lying on clean, crisp sheets and a mattress that was surprisingly thick and comfortable. There was something pinching in her arm and she lay in a fuzzy cloud of confusion. The sound of voices wafted through the air and their words buzzed like worried bumble bees around her head— dehydration, electrolyte disturbance, fetal monitoring. She tried to speak but failed, then everything went black again.