by M. Robinson
Me.
NINE
*Creed*
I took one last drag of my cigarette, stubbing it out on the side of the safe house, flicking it out to the front yard. Mia told me some shit about always making sure I put out my cigs before throwing them into the woods. Rambling on about needing to prevent forest fires. A fucking bear named Smokey taught her that in school when she was younger. I looked at her like she was fucking crazy, reminding her that bears didn’t talk.
I don’t know where she came up with half the shit that left her mouth, but I loved her nonetheless. I chuckled to myself, remembering the morning I was teasing her about sleeping on me instead of on the bed. She responded with some more shit about us being fucking lobsters. Mating for life. Trying to convince me that was how they slept. Saying her Aunt Lily had been telling her that story all her life, and that she needed to find her own lobster one day.
So, I guess I was her fucking lobster. Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.
I nodded over at the two brothers who were standing guard outside, before opening the front door to the safe house.
“Hey!” Mia called out from the couch when she saw me walking in. “You actually came back during daylight. This is new. I was beginning to think you were only nocturnal.” She smiled, walking over to where I stood. Rising up on the tips of her toes to kiss me. “I like it.”
“I fuckin’ missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
I hadn’t seen her in a few days, too many for my liking.
It had been well over a month and a half since she’d gone missing. Nothing had changed back at the clubhouse, same ol’ shit different day. We continued to run in circles, heading down the same road to nowhere. Watching over our shoulders everywhere we went, just waiting for more bullshit to occur.
I kept thinking about the cryptic text message Martinez had sent me the day he died. But to be honest, I was so consumed with the situation at hand that I had no time to actually put any effort into it. As soon as I knew Mia was out of harm’s way, you best believe I’d be getting to the fucking bottom of it. There was a reason he sent me that compromising photo of my ma. I just needed to take some time and look at the disc he gave me. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to fucking like what I saw.
Mia’s parents’ still held onto the hope that their baby girl would be found, safe and sound. Organizing search parties, holding town meetings, and spreading missing person signs up all over the nearby counties.
I hated walking into the convenience stores, seeing Mia’s face plastered all over the registers. Only reminding me she didn’t deserve this. Detective McGraw was more relentless than ever, still sticking his nose where it didn’t fucking belong. If it wasn’t for Mia considering him as family, I would have put him to ground already. He was a cocky son of a bitch who rubbed me the wrong way one too many times. The more time I spent at the clubhouse, the more I realized this was no fucking place for Mia to be hanging out.
Especially with a baby girl.
The club’s normal activities were worse now than ever. The boys were getting restless, their minds focused solely on figuring out what the hell was going on and who wanted our fucking turf. Club whores, drugs, and booze were the only way we’d ever blown off steam. I never stayed more than I had to anymore. Foregoing the festivities. Taking care of club business and coming back to Mia was the only thing on my mind these days.
“I’m fuckin’ filthy. Need a shower, babe. Don’t get too close.”
“I don’t care. I’ll take you any way I can, Creed Jameson. I’ll even join you in the shower.”
“Is that right? You like it when I make you nice and dirty, Mia Savannah Ryder?”
She gave me a questioning look. “How did you know my midd—”
I kissed her, throwing my backpack to the ground, picking her up by her ass so she could straddle my waist. “Pippin, how you smell so fuckin’ good all the time?” She giggled in that cute-as-shit sort of way when I started to rub my facial hair all over her neck. I hadn’t been shaving lately, no time. “Who’s my girl?”
She melted in my arms as I carried her back to my room, spending the rest of the morning proving to her that she was. Not giving a damn about what Noah said on the porch. She was my girl, and I wanted to fuck her.
So, I did.
“I was going to do my laundry today. I don’t have any more clean clothes here,” Mia informed, coming out of the bathroom. Walking around my room with a towel wrapped around her, while I threw on a pair of clean jeans.
Foregoing a shirt.
“Grab one of my shirts from the dresser and meet me in the kitchen so you can make me a sandwich.”
“Excuse me, I didn’t hear a please in that sentence.”
I grinned, pecking her lips. “If I was gonna say please, might as well do it myself.” I spanked her ass, and she yelped. “Feed your man, he’s fuckin’ starvin’.”
“Okay.” She nodded, side stepping me. “I’ll go find him.”
I chuckled, gripping onto the back of her towel. Tugging her against my chest, I wrapped my arms around her from behind. “You mad cuz I didn’t say yeah?”
“Yeah isn’t a please,” she sassed, trying to block off my attempt to tickle her neck with my beard.
“But look at ya. Already barefoot and pregnant, just how I want you. Now make me a fuckin’ sandwich, yeah?”
“You’re such a barbarian!” she laughed, swatting me away. Her weak efforts to get free were no match for me.
I spanked her ass again, letting her go. “And it’s why you fuckin’ love me.”
She rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she walked over to my dresser. I left to go wait for my sandwich in the kitchen. It didn’t take long for her to find me sitting at the island, looking sexy as sin with my shirt on. Her perky tits showing through the white fabric that fell just above her knees. I made a mental note to have her wear my clothes more often.
“What’s this?” she asked, trying to hide her amused expression. Throwing a bunch of baby magazines on the counter, right in front of where I sat. “Found them in your drawer when I was grabbing one of your shirts.”
“Brought these back for us. Thought we could find some baby shit together.”
She smiled wide, her face beaming. “I’d love that. I’ll go make you your sandwich first.” Stepping in between my legs, she threw her arms around my neck and whispered against my lips, “I’ll even throw in some French fries and a milkshake.”
I kissed her. “Good to know ya came to your senses and realized your place, woman,” I joked.
But not really.
*Mia*
I swear he loved trying to get a rise out of me. Although he was right, I did love him, barbarian and all. There was something about his way with words that I found sexy. He was crude, vulgar, and said what he felt or thought, no matter what.
But he was one hell of a man.
My man.
I made him lunch, deciding to make some for myself, as well. Baby girl was starving. She had the appetite of her daddy and Creed. Most of the food would always be gone because of them, even though they weren’t around every day like I was. They reminded me a lot of Mason and Bo. Momma was constantly stocking our cabinets, yelling about them eating us out of house and home.
I set the knife down on the counter, feeling a sharp pain in my chest. My heart breaking into a million pieces at the mere thought of my family, again. I missed them so much, and each day away from them became far worse than the day before. It didn’t help that I knew they were worried sick. No parent should ever have to go through this.
I placed my hand on my belly, imagining myself in their shoes. How awful it would be to lose a child and not have any idea where they were or how to find them. How to bring them back home safely. I prayed every night that they still felt my presence, knowing I was still alive and not dead in a ditch somewhere. Hoping it would at least give them some peace when there wasn’t any to be had.
&n
bsp; I shook off the haunting thoughts and pain in my heart, focusing on lunch. Trying to suppress the ache as best as I could. It probably didn’t help that Noah hadn’t been coming around as often as before, either. I knew he was trying to keep his distance from me like I requested. But I didn’t mean for him to not come around at all. It made me sad just thinking about it. I didn’t like being the cause of another person’s pain.
“Pippin, why don’t ya tell me some of your favorite things so I can try to bring ‘em back for you,” Creed remarked, pulling me away from yet another plaguing thought.
I spun around, glancing back at him from the stove. He was looking down at one of the baby magazines, flipping the pages with a marker in his hand.
“What?” I questioned, caught off guard by what he was doing.
“You heard me,” he simply stated, flipping another page.
“What kind of things?”
“Just some of your favorite shit.” He shrugged, still not looking up at me, marking something down on one of the pages in the magazine.
What was he doing? “Like what? Give me some direction.”
“Favorite books, movies, food, lotion for your belly—shit like that. Anythin’ to make the time go by faster for you and baby girl. Know you been gettin’ restless and don’t fuckin’ blame ya.”
“Lotion for my belly? How do you know about pregnant women putting lotion on their bellies?”
“Read it in one of these magazines.”
“You read that tidbit right now?”
“Ain’t got all fuckin’ day, Pippin, out with it,” he asserted in a neutral tone, ignoring my question.
“Okay…” I grabbed our food off the counter, setting his plate in front of him. He didn’t waste any time, picking up his sandwich and taking a huge bite. His eyes never wavered from the pages of the magazine.
I finished preparing our milkshakes, deciding to stay standing on the other side of the island to eat. So I could nonchalantly get a better look at what he was doing. “My favorite books are anything in the romance genre, pretty much, especially historical romances. I guess you could say I love the old-school heroes who were in charge of everything. Alpha male types who were dominant and demanding. Kind of assholes with hearts of gold, which is all that matters.”
He hid his grin, placing the straw between his lips and sucking down his milkshake.
“The Bronze Horseman are my all-time favorite books, they’re a trilogy… but uh… do you like to read?” I casually asked. Noah’s words echoed in my mind about not knowing a thing about him. Silently hoping he would answer my question and not disregard it again.
“When it interests me.”
Out of the corner of my eye, the Parenting 101 magazine beside him, caught my attention. My stare wandered from one magazine to the next, noticing for the first time that all the bindings were worn, and the pages were somewhat crinkled.
I bit down on my lower lip, suppressing a squeal. Excitement bubbled from deep within me. About to erupt like an active volcano. These weren’t new, at least not for him. He’d read them before bringing them to me. My eyes immediately went back to the magazine lying open in front of him, finally realizing what he was jotting down. It wasn’t a magazine he was gazing at this whole time. It was a Babies R Us catalog. He was circling the things he liked—furniture, toys, and anything else that interested him.
My heart melted at the sight of him. The initiative he had, planning for baby girl’s arrival. I wanted to go over to him and tackle him to the ground. But I stayed put, mentally biting my tongue. If I called him out on it, he would stop. I’d embarrass him. He was trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. As if what he was doing didn’t mean anything to me.
When it meant everything.
“So, what other shit you like to do, besides surfin’?”
“Oh! I love that crib!” I blurted after he circled it.
He nodded, not paying me any mind. “Figured you would since your favorite color is pink. Baby girl will prolly love pink, too. Just keep it in her room, yeah? Don’t want our place to turn into a fuckin’ playroom.”
I jerked back, confused. “Our place?”
He set the marker down, leaned back on the barstool, and pulled something shiny out of his jean pocket. “Come here,” he ordered, finally peering up at me with an expression I couldn’t read.
I did, rounding the island till I was close enough for him to grab my hand. He pulled me in between his legs, caging me with his arms placed on the granite behind me.
“The clubhouse ain’t no place for a baby girl to be runnin’ around. Screamin’, hollerin’, fuckin’ playin’. Ma’s house will always be my home, but it ain’t ours. Ya feel me?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He softly kissed me. “Got us a place, a house on the water so you can surf whenever you want. It’s near your parents’ place, but not too close that they become a bigger pain in my ass. Hoping maybe one day they will accept me, but don’t hold it against them if they never do. I wouldn’t want my baby girl with a fuckin’ biker, either. But I’m tryin’, Mia. Wanna change for you, have changed for you. Time to start a life with you and baby girl. I know I ain’t the biological father, but it don’t matter. She’s mine, too. Already love her like she’s my own. I wanna be the man you deserve, babe.”
My eyes watered with tears.
“I know you’re young, but from the second I met you, you’ve been wiser beyond your years. Often puttin’ me in my place, only person I ever let do that,” he chuckled, rubbing the tip of his nose back and forth on mine before he pulled away, staring me deep in the eyes. “You got your whole life ahead of ya, and if you’ll take me, I’ll spend each one of those fuckin’ days by your side. Protectin’ you, cherishin’ you, and lovin’ you. Grateful as fuck you let me.”
“Oh my God, Creed, are you propos—”
“No, I’m doin’ somethin’ that means more to me than that. Somethin’ I never thought I’d fuckin’ do,” he interrupted, reaching around to grab his cut from the back of the barstool. Handing it to me with a huge grin on his face.
I took it in my hands, noticing it was much smaller than the one he wore. My eyes widened as soon as I took in the embroidered stitching on the back.
“Property of Creed,” I read out loud, locking eyes with him.
“This is your cut. You wear this and everyone knows you’re mine. No one fucks with you, unless they wanna fuck with me. And trust me, babe, no one wants to fuck with me.” He grabbed the black leather from me, turned it around, and laid it on the counter. Nodding to the front side. “Added some patches, too.”
“Love the life you live. Live the life you love,” I recited one of them, moving onto the next. “Despite the look on my face, you’re still talking,” I laughed, while he wiped away some of my happy tears. “La la la I’m not listening.” He grinned when he saw me eyeing the last few. “A women’s place is on her man’s face,” I huffed, shaking my head, moving on to another. “Don’t mess with a biker’s old lady, unless you want to die.”
He smiled wide. “That one’s my favorite.”
“Of course it would be,” I giggled, reading the last patch. “Don’t even look at me. My biker is VP.”
There were no words to express how I felt in that moment, especially when I read the patch Pippin where my name should be. My mind drifted to the night I went to the party at the clubhouse, remembering how I saw some women wearing cuts. Never imagining I would be one of them in my lifetime. I now understood why none of the brothers were looking at them the way they did with the other women. They were already taken.
This was the MC’s wedding ring.
“So this means you’re officially claimin’ me?”
“Baby, I claimed you the day you were born. You were made for me.”
I threw my arms around him, kissing all over his face. His words hit me in the feels, consuming every fiber of my being. I couldn’t believe this was happening. It was all I ever wanted,
for as long as I could remember.
He abruptly stood, taking me with him. Lifting me up like I weighed nothing, wrapping my legs around his waist. Walking us back to his room.
“I like to be outside, feel the sun, the breeze, the air all around me. It’s what I like to do other than surfing,” I answered his question from earlier in between kissing his face. “What about you? What’s your favorite thing to do?”
He kicked the door shut behind him, laying me down on the bed and hovered above me. Looking deep into my eyes, he said, “You, Mia. Bein’ with you is my favorite fuckin’ thing to do.”
And with that, he handed me the key to the new house that he bought for us, so I would love him more than I already did.
TEN
*Creed*
Mia was now in her third trimester, seven months pregnant and popping. It was like baby girl decided to grow double in size in only a few weeks time. I left for a few days and came back to a very pregnant Mia. She was still cute-as-shit, fucking adorable, walking around with this basketball under her shirt, or at least that’s what it looked like to me. Mia was all belly. You couldn’t even tell she was pregnant unless she turned to the side.
The season changed over to fall, and it began to get a little colder outside some days. Her clothes were no longer fitting as comfortably as they were before, and I couldn’t take her shopping to see what fit, so we made due. She just started wearing my sweatshirt or long sleeved shirts. It wasn’t like she had anywhere to go or anyone to impress.
She drowned in my clothes, barely being able to tell she was even pregnant anymore. I fucking loved it. Seeing her waddling around, wearing my things. I always made sure I took something with me when I left, so I’d have something to remind me of her since her addicting scent lingered in the fabric. Offering time and time again to try and bring her back some maternity clothes when I left, but she refused, saying my things were perfect. All she wanted was for me to come back home to her safely.
