Chance: The Wild Ones (Jokers MC Book 4)

by Jessie Cooke

  He walked over to the little dresser that Sharon had let the kids paint, and he pulled open the top drawer. Tiny little blue and green and yellow pajamas stared back at him, pajamas for a baby she’d never get to hold or rock or cuddle. He pulled out the drawer and with a loud growl, he hurled it across the room. It hit the wall hard and the clothes scattered, but Chance’s attention was diverted to the figure that was now standing in the doorway of the room.

  “Chance...” Sally opened her arms and Chance didn’t hesitate to move into them. She was a foot shorter than him, but she hugged him tightly and held onto him as he sobbed and shook. He had no idea how long they stood there like that, but when suddenly he came to his senses, he pulled himself upright and began apologizing to Sally,

  “I’m sorry. Shit...please don’t tell Blackheart. I know I’m not supposed to be here, but I didn’t want her to come home and see all of this...I don’t know why I threw that drawer...”

  “Hey, shh...” she said, taking a step forward, reaching up and brushing the lock of hair that had fallen down over his eyes. “It’s okay, Chance. It’s okay,” she said, softly. “I know you’re hurting too.”

  “Did you see her?” Sally nodded.

  “She’s going to be okay.”

  “The baby...?”

  Her pretty eyes filled with tears and he knew what she was going to say...at least he thought he did. For several seconds after she spoke, he just stared at her, in shock once again. “They delivered him, Chance. He’s early, and he’s so small...”

  “He’s alive?” The relief that brought him was indescribable, even knowing he was still in trouble...he was alive.

  Sally nodded. “But you have to understand...”

  “I want to see him. Sally, I didn’t mean to hurt her, or him. Please...I need to see him.”

  “You should go home tonight, and get some rest and tomorrow...”

  “No,” he said, trying to step around her. “I need to see him now.” Sally stood between him and the door. He could have easily moved her aside, but he would never put his hands on his president’s old lady, not like that. “Please, Miss Sally. I love Sharon and I would never hurt her or the baby...He’s my baby too. He might not have my DNA, but I’ve spent this whole time thinking about him, and thinking about being a father.”

  “I know, Chance. About Sharon first – that door barely bruised her, and cut her arm a little. The baby was already coming. She was just overwhelmed and scared and in pain when she made those accusations against you. They’ve got her on a lot of medication right now, but she told me that she was sorry for what she told the police about you, and it took me a lot of convincing to get her to go to sleep and contact them in the morning. She loves you too, Chance.”

  “No. She hates me.”

  “No.” Sally shook her head and touched his face again. “No, she doesn’t. She loves you, Chance. You just have to understand the myriad of emotions she’s been dealing with. Between the rape and then the hormones...always wondering if you really could be the father to a baby you knew wasn’t yours...”

  “I love him too,” he said, realizing just at that moment that he meant it. A rush of something he’d never felt before overwhelmed him and he said it again. “I love him too. Please, Sally, make them let me see my boy.”

  The hospital was deserted. It was after one in the morning when Sally finally held Chance’s arm and led him down the long, cold hallway. They stopped in front of a door that said “NICU” and Chance’s breath caught in his throat.

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Chance? He’s not going to look like you expect...”

  “I’m sure,” he said. Sally nodded and said:

  “Okay, give me another minute.” He waited while she went through the door, and a few minutes later she came out with a blue paper gown, shoe covers, gloves, and a paper hat and made him put them all on. She pushed the door open then and said, “I’ll wait out here for you, take as much time as you need.”

  “Thank you,” Chance whispered, before taking a deep breath and going inside. The room wasn’t completely dark, but the overhead lights weren’t on, so it was dim. It was filled with machines beeping and making noises and at the back was a desk where three nurses sat. One of them got up when she saw him and came over to lead him to a metal bassinet in the corner of the room. It had a plastic cover over the top of it and there were holes on either side. Inside of the bassinet lay the baby, all two and a half pounds of him. The little guy had stickers on his chest with wires coming out of them, IVs and other tubes pushed into his tiny body, and a blue cap on his head that was smaller than Chance’s fist. Hell, his whole body was smaller than Chance’s hand. He stared down at him, once again feeling something that he’d never felt before. It was something that he wasn’t even sure how to interpret. It was love, he was sure of it, but it was a possessive, protective kind of love, stronger than anything that he’d ever experienced before.

  The nurse smiled up at him and said, “You can touch him, gently.” Chance wanted to touch him. He wanted to hold him. He wanted that more than anything. But he was afraid. The baby had blue veins running through him that looked almost like they sat on the surface of his skin, and Chance could count the ribs on his side. His little legs were as big around as Chance’s pinkie and he had his teeny, tiny little fists rolled up into balls. The biker took a deep breath and slowly moved his hand through the hole in the side of the plastic hood. He touched the baby on his arm, wishing he didn’t have to wear the gloves, that he could feel the little guy’s skin. He ran his finger down to the baby’s fist and slowly and gently worked his finger in between the tyke’s fingers and palm...and then he felt the earth move. The baby closed his fist again, this time around Chance’s finger, and as hot tears poured down his face Chance said:

  “Hey there...it’s me, the guy who used to talk to you when you were in Mama’s tummy. My name’s Chance, but I’m hoping, I’m praying hard, that you’re gonna call me daddy. Cause that’s what I’m gonna be, little man. That’s what I am. I’m your daddy and from this second forward I promise you that nobody, or nothing, is ever going to hurt you again.”

  5

  “Hey! Wake up!” Chance opened his eyes to find a shirtless Blackheart standing over him. He sat up straight, disoriented and unsure of where he was. Blackheart’s intensely blue eyes were on his face, and Chance had a feeling he was in some deep shit...but he couldn’t remember what he’d done. “Sally’s got the coffee ready. Have some, and then get out.”

  Shit! He was at Sally’s house. After she took him to the hospital, she’d insisted he come back here. She’d made him eat and then she’d given him a pillow and blanket and told him to sleep on the couch. “Sorry, boss, I...”

  “Sally told me. Get your coffee and then get to Harrison’s office. He’s got some paperwork he needs you to sign.” Harrison was the club’s lawyer and Chance was suddenly reminded of the “shit” he really was in... they were charging him with assault, with hurting the woman he loved. “They’re dropping the charges.”

  Chance was already on his feet, but it took him several seconds to process what Blackheart had just said. “They dropped the charges?”

  “Yep. Harrison said Sharon called the detectives this morning. She told them she was hysterical, and she had the medical records to prove that you hadn’t done anything to her to cause the baby to come early. They weren’t in the mood to press it, I guess.”

  Chance felt relief wash over him. He was relieved he wouldn’t have to do time, but more so to know that Sharon knew he hadn’t meant to hurt her, or the baby. “Thanks,” he said to Blackheart.

  “What’s going on with your sister?”

  And just like that, Chance’s good feelings were gone. He’d almost forgotten about Poppy. With a heavy sigh he said, “She’s saying now that she thinks I killed Bubba.”

  “If the cops thought that kid had been killed, they would have come after you by now. I checked yesterday; they still have him listed a
s a runaway. There’s no evidence at all that he’s dead. When’s the last time you talked to your mother?”

  Chance curled his lip at the mention of the woman who gave birth to him and said, “I found her in Baton Rouge the second time Poppy came back. Bubba had been gone about a year by then and Poppy was making a lot of noise about me not protecting him. Poppy went with me to see her. She denied seeing him since the night they took him away and put him in the group home. Same song and dance she gave your PI too. The next time I went to look for her, she was gone. Poppy and I tried to track her down, but so far we haven’t had any luck.”

  “You believe her?”

  Chance shook his head. “I don’t believe shit that comes out of her mouth usually...but I did believe Bubba wasn’t there in Baton Rouge at least. She’s got a new old man and she was pregnant when we saw her.” His stomach turned at the thought of another half-sibling of his out there somewhere, having to endure the kind of shit he and Poppy and Bubba had. “She’s all about herself, and she didn’t even want her new old man to know about us. She rushed us out of the house before he got home, and they moved not long after that. But that week we spent a lot of time watching the house and never saw any sign of Bubba. We saw her old man come home after work that evening and talked about confronting him, but we didn’t. Now, I wish we had.”

  Blackheart nodded and said, “Well, I’ll have my investigator start by looking for her. But meanwhile, the last place he was ever seen was still at that group home, so you need to tell your sister to talk to them and knock off all that shit about you doing something.”

  Chance chuckled, but he wasn’t amused. It was just to hold on to the last bits of his sanity. “I’ll try, boss, but once my little sister gets something in her head, it’s practically impossible to change her mind.”

  “We’ve got a lot going on. We have that meeting with the Green Sons this week; I’m going to need my executives all there.” Chance had recently been promoted to SA, and it was a title he was damned proud of. He didn’t want to risk it because there was too much drama going on in his life to fulfill his duties. “So, will we finally get to meet the elusive Deacon Riley?” Chance asked. Riley was rumored to be filthy rich, cultured, and downright evil. Blackheart had held off doing business with them for years, but the club needed money and the Sons were looking for a “security” detail to ride along with Deacon’s men when they transported guns from one seaboard to another.

  “Maybe,” Blackheart said. “If he doesn’t show up this time, it’ll be the last time I fuck with them at all.” Blackheart didn’t do business or make deals with flunkies. If the top rung of the organization thought he was too good or too busy to meet with Blackheart, the Jokers president nixed the deal and moved on. This would be Deacon Riley’s second chance, which most men didn’t get.

  “I’ll take care of Poppy, boss. I’ll be ready.”

  “Good. Now get your coffee and get the fuck out...”

  “Evan!” Chance cringed at the look on Blackheart’s face, but it was focused on him, not Sally. Blackheart did his best to keep her out of the goings on of the club, but somehow it seemed she was always getting dragged into it, and lately it had been because someone always seemed to need to patch him up. Sally never addressed their president by his given first name in front of the guys, and Chance hadn’t even known who she was talking to the first time he’d heard her say it when he’d been shot. When neither Sally or Blackheart said anything else, he cleared his throat and picked up his kutte and said:

  “I’ll just grab some coffee on my way to see Harrison. I’m going to run by the hospital after that, if it’s okay?” Blackheart nodded and Chance said, “After I see Sharon and the baby, I’ll head over and talk to Poppy again.” Blackheart nodded again, and before leaving, Chance thanked Sally for everything. Sometimes he wasn’t sure the boss knew just how damned lucky he was to have her. He promised himself on his way out the door that he wasn’t going to make that same mistake with Sharon. She was a good woman, and she’d walked through the fires of hell and back and still come out the other side with her good heart intact. She’d been moody lately, but if she didn’t have reason to be, he didn’t know who did. He was going to be the old man, and the father she deserved...and keep his ass out of trouble, as soon as he convinced his sister to go home.

  Sharon was shaking all over as she watched them take her baby out of the incubator. They’d had her gown up and put on her gloves and take a seat in the rocking chair where she usually sat and touched him through the holes in the plastic cover. But that morning when she’d gotten out of the wheelchair the nurse had rolled her down to the NICU, and the nurses there had told her that she was going to be able to finally hold her baby. He was barely thirty hours old, but to her it felt like it had been thirty days. She was craving the feel of him in her arms, and at the same time, she was worried about hurting him because he was so small.

  “Okay, Mama...here you go.” The nurse, a pretty older woman named Lucille, gently laid the baby in Sharon’s open arms. He wasn’t even as long as her forearm, and there was no weight to him, but her heart was so full as she finally brought him against her chest gently and held him there. Tears were flowing down her cheeks, and she was so focused on the tiny little dark blue eyes looking up at her that she almost didn’t process what Lucille said next.

  “I’ll bet his daddy can’t wait to hold him too. The girls couldn’t stop talking about how cute he was with him last night.”

  It never surprised Sharon when women talked about how “cute” Chance was. He was one of those men that every woman, no matter what age they were, what type they had, all found attractive. He oozed charm, and that was part of the reason she’d fallen in love with him. But what she was surprised about was that he’d been at the hospital and no one had told her. “When was he here?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

  Lucille picked up a chart that hung on the end of the incubator and flipped through a few papers before saying, “About 1:30 a.m.” Her smile grew then and Sharon thought she might even have tears swimming in her eyes as she said, “The nurse that was here, Gloria, she says he cried the whole time he was here with the baby, and kept telling him how much he loved him.”

  Sharon was already crying, overwhelmed with emotions about being able to hold her tiny baby. But knowing Chance had been there, telling the baby he loved him, caused a tsunami of tears – a sob that wracked her body so hard that the nurse took the baby out of her arms. Sharon immediately grabbed a tissue off the metal table next to her and began drying her face. “I’m sorry! Please don’t take him from me...”

  “Oh, honey, I’m not taking him away. Just giving you a chance to pull yourself together. We don’t want the baby upset. I’m sorry, it was my fault.”

  Sharon finished cleaning her face and smiled up at her. “No, I’m just an emotional wreck,” she said, holding her arms back out. As Lucille lowered the baby back into them, she said, “How is he doing, medically? The doctor hasn’t been back in to talk to me since yesterday.”

  With a soft smile Lucille said, “His vital signs are strong, and he’s been taking a little more than half an ounce with each feeding, which for his size, is great. He’s a strong one, this guy is.”

  Sharon was staring back down at her beautiful boy. “Yeah, he sure is. Can I feed him when it’s time?”

  Lucille nodded. “As long as you’re doing well, you can come down and feed him each time now and soon we can even move him into your room. Dr. Eastman just wanted to give him time for his oxygen stats to stabilize, and that happened very quickly. We encourage you to spend as much time as possible with him, as long as it doesn’t jeopardize your own health.” Sharon felt another rush of tears, but she held them back and smiled up at Lucille and said:

  “I’ve never been better, now that I have him in my arms.” Lucille smiled again, and then left her alone with the baby. Sharon had been a wreck throughout her pregnancy. She’d been a terrible mother to her twins, L
ogan and Layla, and a shitty old lady to Chance. Between the trauma of being raped and wondering if she was doing the right thing keeping the baby, her emotions had been all over the place. When she first found out she was pregnant with her rapist’s baby, she and Chance had talked about abortion. Sharon didn’t have any religion and she wasn’t necessarily against abortion...for women who wanted one...but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. After she’d made that decision, they talked about adoption. But that would mean carrying the child to term...growing him inside of her body, and then giving him away. Every time she thought about that, it felt like she was considering cutting off one of her body parts and giving that away, not to mention that her other kids were already asking questions about her growing tummy. She didn’t want her eight-year-olds to know she’d been raped, ever, so she’d told them the baby was Chance’s, and he’d backed her up on that. So then how could she give him away and explain that to them?

  After several months of knowing he was there, Sharon realized she was just as much in love with him as she had been her twins. That was when her mind turned to wondering if Chance could really handle it...raising Gregor the rapist’s child. He already hated himself for not protecting her, although she didn’t hold that against him at all. Chance hadn’t been there that night and had no way of knowing what was being done to her. Once he found out, he nearly died trying to set things right. Sharon loved him even more for that, and she was sure she’d still love him if he couldn’t love the baby, at first. But as time passed and her belly swelled more, she got it in her head that he was only doing what he thought was expected of him. If he didn’t seem as excited as she thought he should be, she’d ruminate on that until she made herself angry and then she’d find something stupid to blow up at him about. As soon as their fight was over, she’d feel guilty about it, but then somehow her hormones would take over and she’d do it again the very next day. She thought about the horrified look on his face the day he’d tried to get to her through the window – the cry he let out when he realized the door he’d busted down had fallen on her, the tears that rolled profusely down his face as he spoke to 911, and then Gabriel, on the phone. Chance might not have planned for, or even wanted to raise another man’s baby, but now that the baby was safe and in her arms, and she was thinking more clearly, she knew that she hadn’t given him the credit he deserved. She hadn’t planned on it either, and she still loved the little guy. So, it was entirely possible that Chance did too. He was a good man; she just needed to remember that when her emotions got the better of her.