by Harper Riley
“Yeah, he is,” I reply through gritted teeth.
“Sunday... should I...” I nod towards Larissa who leaves as quickly as she can. She doesn’t look up at Bear when she brushes past him. Who knows what she must be thinking, but I know it’s not going to stay in this room for long.
“Can we have the room please?” I ask politely. “It will only be a minute. I’m so sorry about this.”
The staff and doctors who had poured into the room file out one by one past Bear. No one dares get close to him, even though he looks harmless as he stares, mouth agape, at the monitor.
The door shuts, and I turn to him. “How did you find me?” I demand.
“Why, Sunday?”
“How did you find me?” I press him.
“Kitka. She told me to find you here.”
That bitch. I should have known. She had been acting like she owns me for weeks now, and I let her get away with it because she knew my secret. Now I should have seen that this was her revenge plan all along.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.
“Because I couldn’t,” I say in a hushed voice. “Our lives... this baby’s... it’s already fucked up. We can’t be together and keep this kid safe.”
“You made that decision on your own,” he replies.
“No. I didn’t. Kitka found out and told Killer. Killer felt guilty for letting me sleep with you in the first place and came up with the whole Cobra thing. It was the only way I could keep the baby and you safe.”
“You should have told me, Sunday,” Bear answers. He sounds more upset than angry, and my heart breaks for him. It was unfair of me to do this, but he needs to see that what I did was the best for everyone involved.
“It was my only option. And it still is. Larissa out there is gonna tell everyone, and you’re not safe here or with me.”
“I don’t care!” Bear slams a fist into the wall behind him. “I don’t care what the fuck they’re going to do to me, I’m not gonna leave you or my baby again.”
“You have to. They will kill you and me.”
“Come away with me,” he shoots back. “Let’s get the fuck out of here before they can find us.”
“It’s too late for that.” I point at my beach ball or basketball of a stomach. There’s no way I’m in any condition to get on a bike for a road trip to who knows where.
“We’ll find a way.”
“This is the way!” I shout. “Bear! Please! Go back to your life and your club. Forget about the baby and me. We’ll be fine. I’ll take care of him.”
“Him?” He tilts his head to the side.
“I don’t know,” I mutter, “I just feel like... Ugh. Bear. Please!”
“I don’t want to leave you, Sunday. I’m not taking no for an answer. Get the hell up and let’s go.” He walks towards the door, ready to burst it open.
“There are other girls out there, girls who aren’t impossible or tainted,” I quietly say. I remember those rumors about him wanting Filth and Butcher girls and how he may have hit on Kitka back in that locker room before the boxing match. That story hasn’t left me in the months that have passed, and it calls back to me now.
“Other girls?” Bear exhales deeply. “Sunday, there hasn’t been another girl—not since you.” He walks back towards me and takes a seat at the doctor’s rolling chair. His large hand rests on my cheek. Every part of my mind is screaming to push him away, to make him take a step back, but I can’t. I don’t want to let go of the feeling of his skin on my skin. I tilt my head up towards him, my mouth ready.
“Bear...” I sigh. And before I can finish whatever it is I’m trying to argue his lips are there. Tilted to the side, I struggle to cling on, but as soon as we link, it’s like lightning. The baby kicks and dances, and I seriously think he or she can feel this too—this electric current that pulses through me when I’m with Bear. Time stops, at least the urgent time that pounds the seconds passing in my eardrums, and I feel as if I could float right here on the doctor’s office table.
“We can do this, Sunday,” Bear says as he pulls away. “You don’t know what I’m capable of. I could protect you. I could die for you. Come away with me. Please. Say yes.”
A million pieces inside of me pull apart at the seam. Everything in me, including the dancing baby, is crying out to take his hand and leave everything behind me. But there is no future in that. There is no security—just open roads and knowing that we will always be on the run. No matter where we were, we would always be looking over our shoulders.
My head trembles as I shake it. I will myself not to cry. I’ve already said goodbye to him three times now. Why couldn’t this stick? Shouldn’t I be used to it by now?
He stands up slowly, pushing the chair behind him so that it rolls away towards the wall. He doesn’t say a thing to me, just walks out of the room and back towards the waiting area. I struggle to catch my breath before Larissa bursts into the office.
“Oh my God, Sunday! Are you okay? What did he do? What did he say? Was he upset when you told him it wasn’t his?”
“Uh...”
“Don’t worry about it. I called Killer and Cobra. They’re on their way. If they find him, they’ll know what to do with him.”
I sit up straight, the blood pooling to my head. “You did what?!” I cry.
“I called them. They should know when you’re under attack. Bear could’ve killed you.”
“Oh, Larissa...” I grab a towel off of the table and wipe the goo from my stomach. After throwing my shirt back on, I barely give her a glance before I storm out of the room and off towards where I heard Bear go. The nurses shout at me, but I ignore each one of their cries. This was more important than knowing the sex of the baby or paying my bill.
This was me saving his life.
Chapter 12 - Bear
How could she? How could she think she could hide my own child from me? Goddammit. My blood is boiling, and my ears are ringing. I’ve got the urge to slam my fist smack into a brick wall right now. But I don’t have time for that. I’ve got to control myself until I get the hell out of this office. The last thing I want is some red-nosed nurse calling the cops on me and nailing me for some bullshit trespassing charge.
It shouldn’t be trespassing considering it’s my fucking baby Sunday’s carrying! I have every right to be in there with her. If that’s a crime, then damnit, maybe I should be locked away.
It was just a few hours ago when Jack found me. I was minding my damn business, getting my shit together for my night shift, when he basically accosted me in the parking lot. He yanked me hard by the sleeve of my jacket as he whispered, “Dude. You need to fucking know something.”
“What?” I had asked, totally pissed off that he’d pulled rank like this in front of the rest of the guys. I was just getting my reputation back. The last thing I needed was someone who was ranked under me getting in my face.
“I saw that girl... that girl you slept with from the Filth and Butcher.”
I waved my hand at Jack and turned back towards my bike. “I don’t give a shit about her, man. I don’t want to hear about her either.” It had been too many months to count since I last saw Sunday. But I still saw her when I slept; imagined the curve of her body against mine. No one I tasted compared to her. No girl I threw a bone to managed to come close to her. She was still that ghost haunting me, always coming back to remind me that I’d never be satisfied. Now, hearing anyone refer to her was like resurrecting her from the ground I’d buried her in.
“I was walking to grab some lunch at Fredo’s, and I saw her with another chick.” Jack paused like he wasn’t sure how to drop the next part. I’d rolled my eyes before he spat out, “You should know, Bear. The chick, she was pregnant.”
I admit that I wasn’t fazed by this. The main thoughts that ran through my head were the rumor Kitka had passed off to me the night of the big fight and the day after when I stole Sunday up to the Hollywood sign only to be rejected like a punk. There wasn’t
a real denial there that she was with Cobra. I wasn’t convinced then, but hearing she got herself knocked up sealed the deal.
It wasn’t until Jack added, “I mean, she was like, ready to pop.” He had that big, hairy caterpillar of an eyebrow raised suggestively. “My old lady looked like her at eight or nine months.”
I’ve always sucked at math—fucking hated the subject as a kid. All it was good for was figuring out the invoicing for my shifts and measuring out the miles on the road. But I could do this math real quick. No way in hell was that baby Cobra’s if she was that far along. Unless she had something going on—on the side—that she wasn’t telling me or anyone else, which seemed way outside of her character. Yep, there was only one person who could be that baby’s father.
I didn’t thank Jake for the info. I didn’t even say a word to him. I tossed him my supplies for my run and got on the bike. I first headed towards the last place I saw her, back to Cobra’s apartment complex, but I stopped before I could pull into the street. The last place I should be is here. But there was someone who could help me; someone who was more than willing to speak. I know a guy who knows a guy who knows that Kitty Kat girl. And while she may be the last person on the damn Earth outside of Cobra and Killer I would want to talk to, I remembered the hurt that dripped from her eyes when she told me about Cobra. He betrayed her by picking up with Sunday. And no doubt time hadn’t healed a wound that large yet.
Sure enough, within minutes, I was on the phone with her. She laughed as she exclaimed, “About time you fucking figured it out. I thought word would’ve gotten around to you months ago, but fucking riders are stupid as hell when it comes to ladies...” She gave me the address to some clinic—told me that Sunday would be there with another FB girl, but Cobra wasn’t around, nor was Killer. None of them cared enough about it to be there—another sign that the kid wasn’t Cobra’s.
I raced off towards the doctor’s and was lucky enough it was one of those places where it was a few rooms and a small waiting area. No security to mess with, no oversized doctors to contend with. I walked myself in and got to Sunday’s room within seconds. It was when I saw the image frozen on the screen, the snapshot of the kid floating in a pool, its hands held before its head like it was gesturing to me, that I knew. I was a dad.
I can’t get that image out of my head. My baby... my fucking baby! Whatever reason she had for denying me the right to my child was not worth it. I would give anything—my whole world—for her to have gotten off of that table and walked out the doors with me. I would keep them safe, move mountains for them, change my life for them. Whatever Sunday wanted, I would give to her. Whatever that kid needed, it would be his or hers—if its mom would just give me a chance.
I’m too lost in my own thoughts to notice the sound of the bikes roaring to a stop next to mine. Maybe it’s because I’m immune to the smell of gasoline or the sight of boots on the ground to think them out of place at a women’s clinic, but it’s a fatal mistake. As soon as I’m seated on my bike, I’m knocked down by a man throwing himself on me. My Harley, the one possession I care about most in my life, topples over me. I managed to yank my leg off so I’m not pinned under, but the man’s weight keeps me stuck to the ground without the bike’s help. A fist slams into my face, and I hear the ringing in my ears. It distracts me from the boot slamming into my side. I manage to roll myself over, crawling on the gravel with my fingers digging into the dirt.
Above me, a hazy figure leans over towards my shoulders and pulls me to my feet. Even with my busted eye, I can make out Cobra’s giant snake tattoo as he winds up for another slam. This time, I’m ready. I duck straight down, landing an elbow to his chest. With a burst, I deck him in the cheek so hard that the blood splatters out of his mouth. He clearly isn’t a fighter because he makes the rookie mistake of opening up his chest with his arms out. It’s enough for me to jab his throat. He tumbles backward.
I’m ready to go for round two. The cloud that was clogging my head is clear, and I’m on the attack. I can feel the adrenaline spike in my blood as my mouth waters. I’m not letting Cobra get away with this. No one pussy jumps me like that and gets away with it! But as I am near mid-air, I hear her voice crying out, “Stop it! Stop it! Don’t do this!”
Sunday and her friend stand in the doorway of the clinic, mouths agape. To my surprise, Cobra doesn’t stop. He barrels into me without caring about her at all. I’m fully on the ground, my fists ready to go, when Killer appears above us. He grabs Cobra by the neck and shouts, “Get the hell off. I’m not having you two start a fucking scene in a public parking lot like this.”
“You piece of shit!” I shout to Cobra. “What, you can’t even fight your own battles? Yeah, that’s it, ain’t it? You’re too much of a little bitch to be a man!” I know I’m inciting shit, but hell if I care. If he is gonna play dirty, damn straight I am too!
But it’s Sunday who has the reigns on me. “Please, Bear! You’re as bad as they are.”
“No, I’m not.” I spin around towards her, wiping the blood from the small cut on my lip off with the back of my palm. “I’m not the one pretending to be that baby’s father!”
“You think I fucking want this?” Cobra snarls. “But that’s my woman now, and you’re out of your damn mind if you think you can walk in here and challenge that.”
“That’s my baby!” I shout. “I didn’t give a fuck who you are, but that’s my kid, and I’ll go to the grave for it.”
“Good. ‘Cause that’s where I’m about to put you.” He starts again, one of those running gags you see in cartoons where their feet never leave the ground but the rest of them look like they are in a sprint. Killer barely holds him back. Cobra snarls as he says, “You may be good with fists, but what about knives?”
“Are you challenging me?” I scoff. No one challenges me—not after I put that Filth and Butcher kid in a coma. No one’s wanted to touch me in the ring since then.
“You’re fancy on your feet, and with those punches, I’ll give you that. But if you want Sunday, you best earn it. Bring a blade, and I’ll gut you like the fish you are.”
“When?” I ask, my interest piqued.
“Bear... please, no. Just walk away. Go back to the Wilderkind. You don’t have to do this.”
I don’t look her way, keeping my eye contact on Cobra’s beady black eyes as I respond, “Like hell I don’t. I’m done with this. For once and for all, I’m putting this guy under—for us.”
“She doesn’t belong to you,” Killer jumps in with that slick calmness of his. “She’s Filth and Butcher property.”
“Not if I win her,” I throw back. “You want a show, I’m gonna give you a show. And if he manages to take me down, you guys can come back knowing you’ve taken down the Wilderkind’s number one fighter. And if I survive and he wins, I’ll leave you and Sunday alone for good. It’s a triple win for you.”
“Bear... please. You can’t do this.”
“Stop!” I shout at her. “I told you what I would do for you back in the room. Now I’m gonna prove it.”
“Ha!” Cobra laughs that nasally laugh of his. “The only thing you’re gonna prove, brother, is how much you can bleed out.”
“Do we have a fight, or not?” I ask Killer directly. He and Vance are the only ones that can approve of a duel like this. No doubt that after this, he would have to send out a formal request to my boss. That’ll be waiting for me back at Wilderkind headquarters, but I couldn’t care less about that. All I need is Killer’s handshake for it to be written in stone.
“Tuesday night,” Killer sighs with what seems to be the weight of the world in his voice. He looks over at Sunday who clutches her stomach with both of her hands. He reaches out his hand for me to take, and like that, I’ve sealed my fate.
“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU do?” Vance roars as I enter the clubhouse. I should be surprised at how fast word travels. It was only a twenty-minute ride from the clinic back here, but every eye is turned on me like they’re in
the know.
“Clear the room!” he shouts to the group of guys playing cards at one of the round folding tables. “Get the hell out of here and get back to work!”
The men slowly stumble out one-by-one. Each gives me the side eye glare. I don’t think any of them really know what to make of me agreeing to knife fight Cobra over a Filth and Butcher chick. I can’t say I blame them or Vance for being pissed.
When the room is empty, Vance kicks one of the metal folding chairs over towards me and orders, “Sit the fuck down.”
I lift my hands defensively in the air as I take a seat under the glaring light of the break room. He paces a few steps, cracking the joints in his hands as he goes. The guy doesn’t have many tells, but I’ve learned that him popping those bones is one of them.
Finally, after a few agonizing minutes of silence, he composes himself enough to ask, “Do you know what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into?”
“Vance, it’s—”
“Shut up!” he cuts me off. He charges towards my chair as he shouts, “You put us all in jeopardy! You fucking lose that fight, and you destroy everything we’ve done to build our street cred up!”
“We’ve done?” I scoff. “More like, I’ve done. If it weren’t for me winning those two fights, we’d still be picking up street scraps from the Filth and Butcher!”
“Don’t get smart with me! No one authorized you to shake on fights, did they?”
“I’m not going to lose,” I reply. The words are as strong as ever. I’m not. I’m not going to die because of Cobra. I know that in my heart.
He doesn’t answer back straight away. Instead, he mulls over his thoughts before replying, “You could.”
“I’m not, Vance. I’ve got too much at stake here. And you saw what I was capable of last time. That’s when I was pissed off over this girl.”
“What’s different? You score her pussy again, and now you need to get her from that dipshit asshole boyfriend of hers?”
