by Harley Stone
“Telling me?” She choked. “News flash, Houston, you don’t get to tell me anything. I have a dad and a brother, and if I ever feel the need to shut my face and know my place like a good girl, I’ll go directly to one of them.”
She’d used my real name. I didn’t even know she knew it, but she was pissed enough to pull it out. Yep, I’d fucked this up royally. “That’s not what I meant,” I ground out, trying to fix it. “You almost died.” Why couldn’t she get that through her head? Why couldn’t she see the finality of it all and know how valuable her fucking life was?
“Yeah, well I didn’t. Michaels and Stevenson did. My team is down two PJs. They need me.”
The resolve in her eyes had me scrambling out of bed. “Don’t go. Let’s talk about this.”
Ignoring me, she put on her bra.
I couldn’t let her leave like this. She was flying out tomorrow morning and I’d be damned before I let her march right back into danger. What if the next time they got her? What if she never came back. I couldn’t let that happen. Moving to block her path, I said, “Dammit, Nae. Their war isn’t worth your life.”
She tugged her dress over her head, and then paused to frown at me. “I’m a pilot for the United States Air Force. Their war is my war. I chose this path and I’m damn well going to see it through. I’ll see you around, Marine.”
Before I could respond, she stormed out of the door.
That was the second time Naomi walked out of my life, and I was scared to death it would be the last.
Eagle
Two Weeks Ago
LOUD, BOOMING NOISES aren’t exactly what a group of veterans with PTSD need to hear, so the club always heads northeast for Independence Day. We’ve held a standing annual reservation at a remote campground outside of the little one-horse town of Skykomish, Washington since the club’s inception. This year, the fourth fell on a Friday, so everyone gathered at the station on Thursday at noon to eat lunch and pack up the tents and supplies before we headed up.
Emily and Julia were among the ol’ ladies and club whores helping us prepare for the trip. Julia brought Havoc a beer and he pulled her onto his lap, keeping her there while they ate. She was wearing his property patch and geared up to go with us. Havoc didn’t let her out of his sight much since proposing to her after Link’s wedding. The two were planning to fly back east next month to have a little ceremony with Havoc’s family, then we’d throw them one hell of a reception when they returned home.
Link and Emily had been married for almost two months and still acted like goddamn newlyweds. He ate with one arm draped over her shoulders as he laughed and joked with the brothers around him. Link and Havoc were so damn happy these days it was hard to be around them. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy for my brothers and their relationships, but I hadn’t been able to get a certain blonde-haired brown-eyed Pedro off my mind since she fled from my room the morning after her brother’s wedding. Being around Link, Havoc, and their women just reminded me how much I fucked things up with her.
It reminded me that I didn’t even know if she was state-side or deployed.
Whether or not she was in danger.
Hell, I didn’t even know for sure that she was alive.
Granted, Link wouldn’t be nearly this damn happy if anything had happened to her, but sometimes it took a while to notify the family.
I sounded like one serious doom and gloom motherfucker, but I’d seen Naomi’s death more times than I could count, and it was fucking me up. Sometimes I’d see her lying on the ground, her body riddled with bullets and covered in blood, her eyes pleading for help. I’d kneel beside her, trying to stanch the flow, but there was so much blood. It would coat my hands as I tried to scoop it up and pour it back into her.
Sometimes she’d be lying on her side, missing a leg with a beam through her stomach, her eyes already vacant by the time I reached her.
Every night, Naomi died in my nightmares.
I knew it was just my fucked-up mind playing tricks on me, but my God this shit was driving me insane.
“You looking for some company on the road, Eagle?” a red-headed club whore by the name of Lacy asked as she pressed her tits against my back and placed a beer on the table in front of me.
Lacy was good looking and as sweet as they came with a nice rack and a willing mouth, but there was no way I’d let her on the back of my bike. “You know I don’t let club whores on the back of my bike, Lacy,” I replied. None of us did. The club whores tended to get ideas and expectations from that kind of shit. Come to think about it, Naomi was the last person who road bitch to me. She was also the last woman in my bed.
Lacy sighed. “Ah well. It was worth a try. Shari, Kim, and I are driving up together, so if you get a little lonely, let me know.” She ran her fingers down my arm before walking away.
After a six-week dry spell, you’d think I’d be all over that invitation, but my dick didn’t even twitch at the thought.
“You okay, brother?” Havoc asked, watching me curiously.
Shaking off his concern, I nodded and changed the subject. “Where’s Wasp? Is he fixin’ his hair or something before the trip?”
Havoc and Link both chuckled. Wasp had a reputation for being a bit of a pretty boy. We joked that he’d joined our club because he’d never make it as a one-percenter. The first time he got thrown in the slammer, he’d be someone’s bitch for sure.
“He’s not coming,” Link replied. “He’s taking Carly and Trent to Minnesota to meet his family.”
I had to raise my eyebrows at that. Wasp had been chasing the new bartender’s tail since the day she started working at the Copper Penny, but they’d only been together for about a month. She came with a five-year-old son, which seemed like a hell of a big responsibility for someone like Wasp, but he’d surprised us all when he gladly stepped up to the plate. Taking Carly and Trent to meet his folks was a huge step, so this thing between them must be getting serious. Never thought I’d see the day.
“What about Tap?” Morse, our computer guru asked, sitting beside me.
“He’s not coming either,” Havoc replied. “Says he can’t get out of work.”
“Did the motherfucker happen to tell you what he does for a living?” Morse fired back.
Tap was a mystery to us all. He’d been with the club for a little over a year, and before that, he served as an intelligence officer for the Air Force. His name was short for Wire Tap, and that was pretty much the extent of what we knew about him. And even that, he denied or lied about whenever asked. He was the most paranoid person I’d ever met and he stayed off the grid. No social media, no digital footprint, no credit score, nothing. He was such a mystery that not even Link knew what he did for a living or where he lived. Wasp had followed him, Spade had hidden tracking devices on his bike, Morse had even used the city’s cameras to keep an eye on him, but he always seemed to know what they were up to and stayed one step ahead.
“I gave up on that long ago,” Havoc replied. “We all have our demons. Let the man have his privacy.”
Morse grumbled, but agreed. He’d never give up, though. He took Tap’s mysterious life as a personal challenge he had to figure out, whereas Wasp just wanted to know so he could use the information to fuck with Tap. Me… I didn’t give two shits what Tap did or where he lived as long as he stayed faithful to the club and continued to show up when we needed him.
***
After lunch, we got everything packed and loaded up, then the fifty or so of us going camping hopped on our sleds and headed out, a handful with their ol’ ladies riding bitch. Out of all the prospects, Stocks had drawn the short straw, so he drove Havoc’s truck towing a trailer, both loaded down with supplies. Shari’s old Camaro full of club whores followed closely behind the truck, making us look like one hell of a road spectacle.
Traffic bunched up a few times as we made our way out of Seattle toward Redmond, but our road captain, Frog, was no spring chicken and had been directing this ride l
ong before I’d even heard of the Dead Presidents. At one point, some asshole in a Lexus was riding my ass and Frog pulled up beside them and pulled a marble out of the front pocket of his cut. He showed it to the Lexus driver and the dickhead backed off real quick. I’d asked him about the marbles once, and learned that they were an old-school trick and would crack the hell out of a windshield at highway speeds. He’d never actually had to flick a marble at a driver; threatening had always been enough. He’d been clipped by some asshole driver once years ago, and now he never left the fire station without a pocket full of marbles.
It took about an hour and a half to get to the campground and about another hour to set up camp. By the time we finished up, the sun was riding low in the sky. Building a little fire, we roasted hot dogs and sat around drinking beer and shooting the shit as night crept in.
As usual, we weren’t the only bikers who utilized the campground during the holiday. Texas, the president of the Seattle Serpents—a local outlaw MC—held the next campsite over, like he did every year. While we sat around the fire, Texas, and a handful of his men made their annual stop-in to say hello. Link whispered something in Emily’s ear, and she peeled herself from his lap and she, Julia, and the other ol’ ladies and club whores who’d come with us headed into the big tent where we prepared meals. Texas usually wanted to talk business, and the women didn’t need to hear that shit.
Texas stood about five-foot-ten, weighing in at about two hundred and fifty pounds that used to be muscle. He had to be creeping up toward sixty, his long hair and beard now more salt than pepper. He was an Army veteran with one hell of a chip on his shoulder, always ranting about how the government had screwed him over. He used it as an excuse to dip his hands into all sorts of illegal shit. His men were constantly in and out of jail, and their club name made the papers at least once a month, never for anything good. Despite all that, he respected Link and Jake and occasionally stopped by to break bread with them.
The two presidents shook hands. As Texas’s men joined us, he asked Link to go for a walk. He wanted privacy. Knowing something big must be up, I watched the two presidents disappear into the trees before turning my attention to Texas’s men. Our club didn’t have much use for outlaws, but as always, we found common ground talking about bikes. After a time, Link and Texas returned, both looking troubled. Texas and his men headed out and I expected Link to go into the tent and retrieve Emily, but instead he took his seat.
“Everything okay?” Havoc asked.
Link shook his head. “Texas wanted to warn us about some trouble with the Serpents. It appears his little brother is feelin’ his oats. Has some big ideas about how things should go and has been doing some shady shit to build up a following.”
“Buzz?” Havoc asked. “What sort of shady shit?”
Link nodded. “He’s been making a play for the drug trade. Trying to undercut Texas. Fuckin’ with some of the deliveries.”
“But everyone knows Buzz is a crazy motherfucker,” Specks, our club Treasurer, replied. “The Serpents will never follow him.”
“If he can make them enough money, they will. Sure, some of the old guard will stay true to Texas, but the thing about one-percenters is that they’re in it to get rich and live free. Texas isn’t stupid and knows how to ride the edge of what the law will allow. He keeps his club reined in, and a lot of the members don’t much care for being told what they can and can’t do.”
“Shit,” Havoc replied. “The Serpents are bad enough now. I’d hate to see what someone like Buzz could turn them into.”
Link frowned, scratching at his beard as he stared into the fire. “You and me both, brother. We’re gonna need to keep an eye on things. See if we can’t find a way to help Texas keep control.”
Naomi
Present Day
I WAS SITTING on my sofa, poring over my new commission paperwork when Monica rushed through my front door with a drug store bag in hand. The girl hadn’t even knocked, but then again, she never did. Friends like Monica didn’t really understand things like boundaries, closed doors, or personal space.
Which pretty much summed up why she was here today.
“I got it,” she announced, holding the bag out in front of her. “Well, actually, I got three. We’re gonna know for sure, once and for all.”
I didn’t want to know at all. At least, not yet. Not until I had no other choice but to admit it. Ignorance was a boundary I’d built to protect myself but like all my other boundaries, Monica was determined to trample it. Good friend that she was, she refused to rest until all my defenses were nothing more than a pile of rubble. My chest felt so tight I could barely breathe. Trying to remain calm while my insides churned, I turned another page, pretending to read. “I’ve been thinking about it, and we should probably hold off for a little while.”
Monica’s expression fell. “Hold off? You’re talkin’ crazy right now. Why the hell would we hold off?”
“I feel fine now, so it was probably just the flu that’s been going around.”
She propped her free hand on her hip and stared me down. “What flu? There’s no flu going around, Nae.”
And yet, I’d stopped our past three morning runs so I could heave my guts up on the side of the road. Monica was worried that my new daily ritual could be morning sickness. I hadn’t touched alcohol since my brother’s wedding because deep down I knew she was right. I also hadn’t admitted the other signs she didn’t know about, like the tenderness in my breasts, the mood swings, and weird late-night cravings for things like pickled beets with cream cheese and black olives stuffed with peanut butter. Either I was pregnant or crazy.
“You don’t know that,” I fired back, unwilling to go down without a fight.
She cocked her head to the side and studied me. “You have lost your mind if you think I’m gonna walk out that door and pretend like this isn’t happening. Do I really need to call the hospital and ask if the flu’s going around before you pee on these tests?”
I thought about it. Calling around to the hospitals couldn’t hurt.
She shook the bag. “Take the damn tests, Nae.”
It had been a lot easier to avoid this problem before Monica had returned from her latest deployment. If she knew how many mornings in a row I’d spent hovered over the toilet, she’d be far more insistent. Which was terrifying, considering the angry-eyed glare she was giving me now. Huffing out a breath, trying to pretend I was annoyed rather than worried, I set the paperwork down on the coffee table and stood.
“This is silly.” It was a last-ditch effort, but I had to try. “It hasn’t even been long enough. The tests probably aren’t even accurate.”
“It’s been months since you last went home. Unless you’re shacking up with someone local and not telling me about it—which would be terms for murder by the way—your placenta has had plenty of time to produce hCG which is what these little tests measure.”
“Assuming I have a placenta,” I replied.
She thrust the bag into my hand. “You’re stalling.”
Damn right I was stalling. Peeing on a few sticks seemed all nice and easy until you considered the consequences. “Best out of three, huh? What happens if the results are mixed?” I asked.
“Still stalling.”
I wanted to argue, but she wasn’t wrong, and there was no way she was going to let me get out of this. Even if she did, I’d have to take the tests eventually. Might as well get it over with. I carried the bag into the bathroom, pulled out the three tests, and read the instructions for each. Pee on sticks, wait between three to five minutes, then booyah, I’d find out if I was pregnant. How could something so simple have the potential to complicate the hell out of my life?
“You okay in there?” Monica asked, tapping on the bathroom door.
The woman was relentless. “Almost done. Quit hovering.”
“I’m not hovering, I’m providing emotional support and motivation for you to stop being such a little bitch and pee on the damn
sticks.”
Right. Sure. Bossy, pain-in-my-ass support was more like it. I was being kind of a little bitch, though. Stalling wasn’t normally my MO, but I’d sure taken my sweet time with this. It had been nine weeks since Link’s wedding. By now, assuming I was pregnant, the baby would be the size of a cherry, and was now classified as a fetus rather than an embryo. Yeah, I’d done my research. Being in denial didn’t keep me from wanting to know what was happening inside my body.
Monica tapped on the door again. “I don’t hear any peeing going on in there.”
Her ear was probably pressed against the door, the sicko. “You need a new hobby!” I shouted back, sitting on the toilet to do my thing. After submerging each stupid test in my stream, I capped them all and washed my hands, trying not to check the results out of the corner of my eye.
Sometimes having excellent peripheral vision is a double-edged sword.
When I opened the door, Monica almost face-planted at my feet. She did a quick bit of footwork that paid serious tribute to her old cheerleading days and shuffled to the side. “Well?” she asked. “What’s the verdict.”
“Patience. We have to wait three to five minutes, depending on the test. So, let’s check them in five.” I tried to usher her out of the bathroom, but she was having none of it.
“Are lines appearing?” she asked, holding her ground.
Lines, plus signs, there was far more going on with those three little tests than I knew how to process. “We have to wait three to five minutes,” I repeated. I had three to five minutes to get my life together and figure out how I was going to tell Monica. How I was going to admit it to myself.
“Don’t give me that crap. You’re only slightly less impatient than I am. I know you already checked the results.”
It was unfortunate how well she knew me. Unable to keep the truth at bay any longer, I let out a breath, dropping my shoulders in defeat. Finally, I admitted what I’d been trying to deny for two months. “I’m pregnant, Mon.”