MC Bear My Baby (Beartooth Brotherhood MC)

by Bella Love-Wins

  “Okay everyone,” Silas boomed out so loudly it could have shaken the walls. “Stop this fucking bullshit. I’m the fucking alpha dog in here, and this is how it’s gonna go. Asher, get your men to shift and heal Kitt. He won’t come back from that injury by himself. If you have enough men, send them with Axe, Cole, and Tate to check the place. I’ll stick around here.”

  Everyone went about their orders, panther and bear shifters alike, some tending to Kitt and others moving through the sprawling warehouse. What Tate wouldn’t give for a fucking gun. It would be handy with a random killer on the loose. But oh no, they had to go and fucking agree to showing up for a sit-down with no weapons and become sitting ducks, playing it safe and not hurting each other. And now they were moving through a warehouse with hiding places everywhere, looking for a guy who was probably still aiming his sniper rifle at any fucking one of them.

  Brilliant.

  Tate ignored the boom sound in his ear from the crackling of all the shit that was burning in the warehouse on account of the explosion. Adrenaline flooded his veins and he relied on his heightened shifter senses to make sense of the attack. From the neck wound on Kitt Reese, the sniper’s vantage point had to be on the main floor behind the panther president. He split off from everyone and went back there, certain that if it were the main floor, the shooter would not have stuck around long enough to get hit by his own shrapnel. Chances were they weren’t going to find the sniper, but maybe he left a trail behind.

  He pivoted around a corner and partway shifted his bear snout, sniffing everything out. If the shooter was a shifter, he’d smell them out. If they were human, he’d smell fear a mile away. There was a shuffling off to his right a few minutes later. A small ping from above. Tate glanced up with his heart clogging his throat. No shadows. Not a damn thing. And there was no noise from the other guys either, all was quiet except for the tread of super silent sneakers on concrete. A low growl trickled past his bear lips and he circled the suspected quadrant of the warehouse again, tracing and retracing his steps, looking for some kind of evidence the assassin had left behind.

  A bullet struck from behind and ripped through one side of his chest in a burning blaze of pain. He barely had the breath to scream as he fell to the floor. His bear rose up on all fours inside him with a war cry that would have scared any other animal for miles. It was too late.

  In and out. In and out. In and out.

  Small bits of the world flashed back and forth into his brain. Every now and then, a jolt of fresh fucking pain spread through his body. It felt like his lungs were cannibalizing themselves and there was just not enough strength to breathe before everything went black again, sending him into unconsciousness before it started again.

  In and out.

  “…almost there, bro. Hang on…”

  Snippets of conversation.

  Phone static.

  Blinding white lights.

  An overwhelming heat pouring through his veins until he thought his skin might melt from his fucking bones. His bear was trying to heal. There was something bad about that…something he couldn’t put his finger on yet. There were hands all over him. Lots of ‘em. Crisp night air rushing across his chilled skin like jumping in a river in the middle of winter on a dare. His teeth rattled in his head.

  “Lay him out here…”

  “Fuck, is he…”

  “Quick…we need to be quick with this healing…”

  “No! Don’t. The bullet wasn’t a through and through…”

  “Fuck…”

  Out again.

  26

  Molly

  “Do you have everything you need?”

  Molly glanced at Silas with hot tears pushing past her lashes as she tried to take a second to calm her rushing thoughts. Thank God for Silas. He’d called her the second Tate had been shot and she’d been able to steal her mother’s keycard to the hospital’s supply room. She’d been waiting at the clubhouse, trying to create a sterile environment. The bullet or a fragment of it was lodged in one part of his heart. If they didn’t get it away from his heart, his shifter powers would heal around over the pieces. They couldn’t allow that to happen when shifting pieces of the bullet could pierce his heart and kill him at any second.

  “Whatever we have now, it’s going to have to do. We don’t have time to get anything else.”

  Not even a doctor.

  The MC had an underworld doctor and it was no surprise to Molly that they all called him Mob Doctor, but the man lived all the way in Vegas. He’d never make it in time.

  “He’s all ready when you are,” Silas agreed.

  Molly nodded. “I’ll hurry.”

  Silas nodded once, pale and covered in his brother’s blood. She had to do this right the first time around. There was no room for error. She squeezed her hands together to stop the shaking and took a deep breath.

  Silas took a big step back. “If you need me I’ll be outside. I can’t watch this shit.”

  A battle-hardened criminal couldn’t watch her go digging in her baby daddy’s chest cavity.

  “It’s okay. I’ll call out when it’s done. No one enters until it’s over. Got it?” She doubted that would be a problem with these men who went weak in the knees at the sight of a makeshift surgical procedure. Molly snapped on two pairs of gloves, met Silas’s wide gaze, swallowed, and turned back to the makeshift operation table—the pool table. She parted through all the plastic they laid down in thick sheets until it looked like a cross between a serial killer’s torcher room and a meat locker.

  Her stomach dipped into her shoes. Her hands went into fists as she surveyed the injury from this distance, then she closed her eyes. They’d come so far, she wasn’t about to accept this as Tate’s fate. Her son deserved to know his father, and she was the only one who could make that happen for both of them. Tate was face up, shirtless, and groaning, even though she doubted he was actually conscious. It was easier to think he was unconscious because if he was conscious then what she was going to do to him was going to really, really hurt. Molly pressed her lips together until they went numb.

  No time like the present.

  She picked up the iodine tracing his chest with her finger. One quick swipe around the area. It had to be one hell of a big bullet to leave a hole bigger than her fist in Tate’s chest. The gaping hole and folds of the wound were already shrinking, reknitting back together. They were running out of time. With a deep breath, she banished all her emotions into a deep recess of her brain and made the first cut on one side of the bullet wound in his chest. For a beat, time stood perfectly still as she inserted the pair of surgical steel pincers into the wound, blindly digging around in his chest. A human would never survive this most rudimentary method. Tate’s chances were slim too, but it was better than all the other alternatives any of them could think of. She had called her mother, who had warned her that under no circumstances was she to take Tate to an ER ward. The gunshot wound would trigger police involvement, and heaven forbids if he turned while in his unconscious state, it could be game over.

  Tate’s breathing grew sharp and he flinched, moaning as his limbs seized up for half a second. She had to ignore it. Ignore everything but the problem in front of them. It was nasty and crude, but it had to be done. So she did it. Piece by bloody piece. After she got all the bullet fragments out and he healed with the help of his MC brothers, then she could beat him to a senseless, bloody pulp for leaving himself so open and nearly leaving her to raise their child by herself. Right now she had to save him with little more than a nursing degree’s worth of surgical knowledge and her love.

  With small breaths, she dug close to his heart, extracting small fragments of metal with the instrument and dropping them into the metal tray situated on a bar stool by her side. Every couple of seconds she had to readjust the angle, searching carefully so nothing was left behind. There was so much blood, but no time to think about that. There wasn’t time. After what seemed like three hours but was probably on
ly three minutes she had him taken care of as best she could—given the circumstances. She was almost positive she’d gotten everything. Her cramped, burning fingers clinked that last fragment into the tray and she took a long breath, taking in the scene.

  “You made a mess of yourself, love.”

  It wasn’t good. He’d still lost a lot of blood and without x-rays they’d never know if she got everything out of his system. Mob Doctor would probably arrive within an hour but there wasn’t much more he could do unless he was equipped with everything they’d normally find in a paramedic van or operating room. She had to get the other bear shifters in here so they could heal him now. Keeping him exposed without the proper medical care was not as dangerous as all the blood he’d lost. The shifters on the other side of this plastic were the only ones who could help him the rest of the way. She called out to Silas. When Cole, Axe and Dean showed up, she left the way they came in, snapping off her bloody gloves.

  Now was the waiting game.

  27

  Molly

  Sometime in the morning Molly had consented to moving Tate back upstairs to his bedroom. She sat on the armchair beside his bed, unable to sleep but in an exhausted haze. The world wavered with shiny patches of light and dark. Every noise was too loud. She rested her head on the back of the armchair, keeping her hand in his. Why hadn’t he woken up yet? Even Silas was surprised, as according to him, most shifters would be alert and awake right after a healing. Mob Doctor was a sweet little old man. A real doctor too, not some back alley veterinarian looking to line his pockets. Still, he was not much help without equipment, not after Silas and the others had already done their healing bit. She started to second guess how thorough she really was at removing all the bullet fragments. Christ, she hoped she’d gotten them all.

  Molly remained by his side. And she talked. Well, babbled was more like it. She threw out all her hopes, fears, and deep, deep worries about the baby while he was too vulnerable to say anything back that would deflate her little safety bubble. She told him about what she’d learned about her father after thinking she knew the man and her family all these years, and about how messed up she felt inside not know what having turned wolf shifter DNA while carrying his baby, which she already loved. Yes, and she told Tate she loved him too. She’d said everything she was dying to say, then leaned forward and rested her head in his unresponsive hand, and waited.

  Axe knocked gently on the door jamb. “Hey, mind if I come in? I got a present.”

  She nodded and waved him in. They’d all been through hell the past couple of hours, waiting for any signs that their brother was going to recover well. Aside from small grunts and an occasional finger twitch he’d barely moved as his body stayed in some sort of limbo that none of the MC members had ever seen before. Molly promised herself after this was all over she’d start researching and taking notes on shifter healing and medicine. Clearly the knowledge wouldn’t be easy to come by, but it was a decent goal and maybe her involvement could help.

  “Yeah, sure. You don’t need to ask my permission, Axe.” She wiped her hand across her face and gave him a weak smile.

  “Here.” He thrust out a pill bottle. “I figured you could use it while you’re with us. A friend of mine helped me out.”

  A friend was code for a drug dealer, but on closer look, her eyebrows raised when she read the label. She nearly rolled her eyes. It was the same horse-sized maternal supplements her mother had bought her. It was cute, sweet even, and she promised herself inwardly that she’d take them, even if she had to crush these suckers into powder with the back of a spoon to get them down her throat.

  “Thanks Axe. This’ll help a lot. It’s good stuff.”

  “Only the best for my boy’s little one… and for you.” Axe cleared his throat and looked at Tate in the bed. “He’s gonna be cool. You know that, right? You don’t need to be doing all this goodbye, spew your feelings bullshit. He’ll be there for you…and the baby. I won’t even have to force him or anything.”

  Molly sharply glanced up at him, putting the pills on the bedside table with narrowed eyes. Axe had been listening in on her confessional? A slow stream of anger simmered beneath her skin but she kept it in check. Maybe he had a good explanation. Though she doubted it very much.

  “It was more for me than anyone, cathartic as hell.”

  “No doubt. I hope you don’t mind that I mentioned it. Couldn’t help it. You’re not quiet and uh, my room is right next door. Bear shifter hearing and all…oh, and can I be the first one to call you Wolfy?”

  “You mean bastard,” she said jokingly. “Christ, you heard that?”

  “Uh-huh, but don’t worry. I won’t hold it against you.” He cleared his throat. “But…in case you ever doubted it, that stubborn son of a bitch loves you too, Molly. I promise you that. The past little while he’s been different. He hasn’t even been whoring around since that night when we all found out about the little one. For this guy, it’s a major dealio. Sure, he still acts like a clown and all round douche, but that’s because his head didn’t catch up with his heart. We’re stupid like that sometimes. Anyway, what I’m saying is don’t confuse his silence for not caring. You know the shitty past he’s had. Trust me when I tell you this is his once in a lifetime shot to be a real family. He’d give anything to have that, even if the fucker will probably take a whole lifetime to admit it.”

  Molly nodded but couldn’t say much.

  Axe rubbed the back of his head. “Okay it looks like this spewing feelings and shit’s contagious or something. I, uh, I’ll be downstairs getting my made for TV drama sounding ass a drink.”

  She took a second to take in everything. Her heart pounded in her ears and she swallowed knowing that her fear of rejection was nothing compared to the fear she faced when she thought Tate might die.

  “Okay…and thanks.” Axe nodded, saluted, and was on his way out the door when she added, “But, Axe?”

  He swiveled in the doorway, rubbing his beard with his hand, and his eyebrows raised in question. “Yeah?”

  “If he’s a dick and doesn’t want this, I’m kicking his ass when he gets better.”

  “I’ll be right beside you with the shotgun. Promise.”

  They shared a light smile, then Axe trooped out. She heard him move across the hallway and down into the bar. With a sigh, Molly turned her attention back to the pale man lying half-naked in bed. Even unconscious and bleeding he was eye candy to her. Which probably made her a bad person, but she could always blame it on the baby hormones. After a few hours of waiting and light sleep, Tate stirred on the bed, his fingers twitching around her own.

  She drew closer to him. “Tate?”

  He grunted, stirring even more, and her heart picked up speed. She couldn’t take her eyes off him almost too afraid to hope. Her gaze moved from the steady rise and fall of his chest to his shut eyes. Suddenly he blinked, and immediately she turned into a teary-eyed, blubbering, ugly-crying baby. She couldn’t contain the relief as her whole body sagged in her chair. He might just make it.

  “Tate, can you hear me? Are you okay?” That came out all hyphenated with whimpers and sniffled inhales.

  He grunted again, wincing, and slightly twitching around on the bed. Without thinking, she snatched up the water glass by his bedside and tipped it at his mouth. After a couple tries he worked his throat enough to get some liquids down.

  “Let’s try this again,” Molly soothed. “Can you speak?”

  “Stop asking me shit,” he whispered, then he let out a huge breath as if he’d run a marathon, and made a pained noise.

  She couldn’t help it, she laughed at him. There was nothing really wrong with him, nothing so wrong that he’d lost his sense of sarcasm. His gaze swept across her face then he closed his eyes again.

  “You need your rest, but it’s a good sign that you’re responsive. Can you do one more thing for me before you go back to sleep?”

  “I don’t think mounting me is a great idea yet d
oll, but I’m up for trying.”

  Molly grinned through her tears, glad he hadn’t said a word about them. “Smartass. You’ve been a royal pain, buddy.”

  “And you’ve missed me,” he said weakly.

  They were both silent because she knew she couldn’t lie to him. Even half in his right mind he’d probably see right through her as usual. He took a few more sips of water that she’d offered him, moving his arms across his chest and resettling against the pillows. She knew deep down it was now or never. A conversation they very much needed to have and if he was vulnerable then he had to listen to whatever she had to say—so much the better for the both of them.

  “Tate, I’m keeping the baby. I’m going to raise our son…and I’d really like you to be a part of that…with me…as a family.” Molly swallowed, twisting her hands in her lap. She straightened her spine, lifted her chin slightly, and got ready for his rejection. “I know you and I have a different lifestyle…I’m not asking you to change anything. I’d just like you to be a part of our son’s life, when you have time. If you have time.” She glanced at the carpet. Even with his eyes closed she wasn’t sure she could look at him while he seemed to process what she’d said. Too much was laid out on the table for them to take back now. “I know this isn’t the ideal scenario, but it is what it is…” she trailed off, realizing she was babbling because he hadn’t said a word.

  She wondered why she’d said a damn thing at all when a minute passed, but then remembered she’d given him the silent treatment for two weeks. This was probably his way of making her stew.

  Bastard.

  28

  Tate

  Tate clutched his chest. It hurt to breathe like a son of a bitch, but it had nothing to do with his injury and everything to do with the last three minutes hearing Molly lay it on the line. For a second he was scared shitless, fearful that maybe this was a dream. If it was a dream, he didn’t want to wake up, because in this fantasy, the woman of his dreams was offering him everything he’d ever wanted with no strings attached. Except, he wanted those strings, in a big way. Despite the fire raging through his chest cavity, he swallowed through his parched throat. Water only went so far at a time like this.