TRIP'S BABY: The Pride MC

by Nicole Fox

  I said nothing. He smirked and walked toward me, circling around me. It was like he was a predator eyeing prey, sizing me up, trying to see how much of a bite he could take out of me. it was honestly sickening, but there was little that I could do about it. He got closer, reached out and fluffed his fingers through my hair. I stepped away from him and he reached out and grabbed my upper arm, pulling me closer to him. It would almost have been considered a lover’s embrace, but he was far from a lover. I could smell the cloves on his breath and the hints of his cologne on his skin. I hated the combination of those scents.

  “Did you miss me, Misha?”

  “Like someone misses cancer,” I griped.

  He chuckled. “That’s rude. And here I have a house for you, a bed for you, food for you. And this is how you treat me. You run away, and then when I give you your little vacationyou come back to me with an attitude. I don’t like that all too much, Misha. Not at all.”

  “I’m sure you’ll live, Rigger.”

  He laughed again, and this time he let me go, though he continued to circle me.

  “So, did you enjoy it? Your little rendezvous with your old flame? Was it enjoyable? Did you have fun?” He eyed Rose. “He put another one in you?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Aw, the silent treatment. That’s so cruel. I thought we could talk about your vacation, like old friends. But apparently I was wrong. You come back thinking that you can talk to me any way that you want. Didn’t you learn anything while you were here under me, Misha?”

  I didn’t answer him again. This time, his stare got nasty.

  “Tut, tut. You give a girl a little bit of freedom and then she’s ungrateful for it.”

  Before I knew it, a hand came across my face. It was hard, and knocked me to the ground. Rose yelled out, but I didn’t respond; my ears were ringing from the force of the hit across my face and I felt the blood starting to run down my nose.

  “Misha, you know I hate marking you up,” he said, stooping down to take my face in his hand. He made me look at him and his head was tilted, that predatory gaze staring back at me in those evil blue eyes. I glared at him.

  “You like it, and don’t even try to tell me that you don’t. I know you, Rigger. You’re a disgusting, sadistic son of a bitch.”

  “Ouch. Such foul language. And in front of the girl. Tut.”

  He let go of my face and stepped away. He started to approach Rose, and she began to back away from him.

  “Come now, girl. Don’t be shy. You remember Uncle Rigger, don’t you?”

  Rose whined, stepping further away from him, out of his reach. She was getting closer to the door. I saw this as her chance.

  “Rose, now!”

  She spared me only a single glance before turning and bolting. One of Rigger’s men tried to reach out and snatch her, but she was too fast for him and ended up darting out of his grasp and out of the front door. It banged open, and I watched as my daughter’s figure flitted away into the darkness before the door banged closed again. A few of the men moved toward the door, intent on going after her. To my surprise, Rigger called them off.

  “Forget about her. She’ll get lost in the dark and the woods and she’ll either come back or she’ll deal with the elements and the animals.” He looked down to me. “Clever, I suppose, but not wholly. If you think she’s gonna get away quick and fast, you’re wrong.” With the toe of his boot, he rolled me over, onto my back on the floor. I looked at him from my place there, hating him with every fiber of my being but knowing at the very least that this was going to give Rose a head start. She wasn’t totally helpless; she had a phone that was almost all the way charged and she was smart even if she was young.

  “You know, I always thought you were such a handful. Even when you were Holland’s, walking around like you were untouchable just because he threw you a bone or two here and there. And then getting uppity when we finally had the chance to keep you in your place.”

  “You’re a piece of shit. Of course I want nothing to do with you,” I snapped.

  Callum smirked.

  “Well see about that. We’ll see—”

  Suddenly, the front door bust open. I was startled, and looked over to see Trip charging in, along with the other Pride boys. My heart jumped in my chest, elated, but not when I saw guns drawn on both sides. My eyes widened, knowing there was going to be some sort of firefight.

  “Misha, get out of the way!” I heard Trip’s voice as he shouted at me, moving in on Rigger. I couldn’t lose him.

  I knew Rigger needed to go down first. I kicked my foot out as a shot rang out loud and Rigger let out a surprised grunt as he began to fall to the floor.

  Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. I saw the anger on Rigger’s face, and I saw the gun pointed at me. I heard someone shout my name—it might have been Trip, it might have been someone else. All I knew was that Rigger was going down to the floor, and there was a sharp pain that radiated out from the right side of my body.

  More shots rang out, but I slumped against the floor, my eyes turned up to the ceiling. I saw people run past, and more shouts. There might have been another set of shots before they died out, but I couldn’t pay attention to them.

  My thoughts were on Rose. Was she okay? Had she made it to the road? Would the Pride boys follow her? Would they take care of her? Of course they would. She was Trip’s blood and he wouldn’t let a damn thing happen to his little girl.

  “Misha? Misha?”

  I felt hands on me. Sweet, warm hands, that held me so tightly against a solid body. I blinked; I hadn’t realized that I had closed my eyes at all.

  “Trip …” His face swam in a blur in front of my face, but it was him.

  “Misha, come on. You’re gonna be fine. Keep your eyes open.”

  “I’m so tired, Trip.” Why was I so tired?

  “Misha, you need to stay awake for me, okay, baby? Come on. No, don’t close your eyes again—”

  “I love … I love you … Trip.”

  “Misha? Misha!”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Trip

  Waiting was the worst thing. So many hours. So many questions.

  The hospital was accommodating. They knew about the Pride as they knew about the Jackals and the fewer questions they asked, the better off they would be. The heat wouldn’t be on us—but the heat wasn’t what was most on my mind.

  Misha lay in a hospital bed before me, hooked up to machines. She’d just gotten out of surgery to remove the bullet and stabilize her lungs. She didn’t have a trace of blood left on her, but it was caked on my clothes from where I’d held her, dying in my arms.

  This was never supposed to happen. I was supposed to be the one that protected her from this shit, not brought more of it down on her. But why else had this happened? I’d thought that I could fucking … play God or some shit. I wasn’t sure.

  My head was a mess. My girl was a mess. My daughter was a mess.

  She was on the hospital bed with Misha. Curled on her. She refused to move. Travis had gone after her when she’d bolted out of the house and managed to get her before she’d gotten away too quickly. Lifesaver, that man. Now she refused to leave Misha’s side. I couldn’t blame her.

  I wished that the sight of my girl and my daughter sleeping together could have brought me more joy than the ache that was currently in my chest, but that just wasn’t in the cards for me right now. I didn’t know what was going to happen when Misha woke.

  I sighed. I stood. Rose wasn’t going to wake anytime soon and neither was Misha. I stepped outside.

  Travis and Brig flanked the door, like bodyguards.

  “I’m going for a smoke,” I said. They nodded.

  I hadn’t smoked in forever. Not since Misha first disappeared. She’d always hated the smell of cigarettes and I’d always pretended to be a little hard ass despite that.

  I needed them desperately right now, though. The front of the hospital was the only smoking zone that
was there, so I took myself down the few levels and out the front. I was surprised to see Holland’s old lady—Hellen, I think her name was. Her presence sent my hackles up.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. She held out one of her own, and despite my apprehensions, I did her the favor of lighting her cig for her.

  “Waiting for you to get stressed and worked up enough to smoke. You men always do.”

  “What’s your excuse?”

  “Son, I been smoking longer than you’ve been alive. Don’t try me.”

  “Hmph.”

  Our silence didn’t lapse long.

  “How is she?”

  “You care?”

  Hellen scoffed.“You’re not the only one capable of having feelings. You forget, I housed that girl in my home for five years. Holland wasn’t the only one that took to her, though I guess my interest in her was more motherly than anything else.”

  “How kind of you.”

  “If you’re just wanting to have a pissing contest, I can leave.”

  “What do you want?” I didn’t have the patience for … well, whatever the fuck this was that she was doing.

  “I wanted to check on Misha and on Rose. You know, there are Jackals that care about her.”

  “What, like Jared?”

  “Jared isn’t a Jackal. He’s a spineless little puppy that was misfortunate enough to wander into the lot with the other dogs. I meant me. The club girls. Misha’s not the only one that’s been burned by Jackal men, and she looked out for them—and me. I just wanted to make sure she was going to recover well. And to give her this.”

  Hellen pulled an envelope out of her jacket. I eyed it suspiciously.

  “What is that?”

  “What was left to her after Holland died. I kept it safe and out of Rigger’s grubby hands. You should be glad that you ended up shooting him down; he’d have died to get his hands on this.”

  With that, she flicked her cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. She started to walk away before I caught her.

  “Wait.”

  She turned to look at me. “What, boy? I have a club to go back to and business to sort.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You know. If you ever want to swing by—”

  “You’re inviting a Jackal into your house, boy?”

  I scoffed.“I’m inviting a friend of my girl’s. Apparently, I guess you did for her … She’d want to do for you. After everything.” Hellen looked surprised.

  “Hmph. Well. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  With that, she was gone.

  The envelope I held was fat. Long. I wondered what was inside it, and maybe Misha would be upset with me but … I had to know. There was a lot that Misha had told me about her time with Holland, interspersed here and there as she spent more and more time with me in our home.

  I slid my finger into the envelope, opening it. It was filled with hundred dollar bills, and a note. It was single paged. My eyes widened, and I pulled out the note.

  Misha,

  What’s in here isn’t much. I say that knowing that there’s no amount of money that changes what I’ve done to you. I don’t regret getting you in my life—I regret the way I did it. What it put you through. What it put Rose through.

  I’m not going to apologize. You deserve better. Know that if I’m dead now, I hope that youcan find your way with what I’ve left you. You know I love my Hellen, but I love you, too.

  Watching you from the other side,

  Holland

  It was short. I couldn’t help but feel a surge of jealousy from it, but it was largely overshadowed by the fact that he had thought about her, tried to care for her, and had had enough foresight to include him in his dying wishes.

  I didn’t like this manor what he had put Misha through. I would never forgive him, either. But I figured this was the best as far as reconciliations were going to go, and it wasn’t up to me to reconcile, anyway. That was up to Misha.

  Finishing my cigarette, I went back into the hospital. Travis and Brig were still outside her door, and when I went in, I was greeted with Misha sitting up, just a little, petting through Rose’s hair.

  I drew in a breath. She looked tired—I couldn’t blame her. Weary. Considering I had thought a day ago that I was going to lose her, it was beyond a relief to see her somewhat functional. I walked over, not wanting to disturb Rose, who had been through a lot. I sat at the edge of Misha’s bed, tentatively placed my hand on hers. It was chilly. I rubbed my fingers over it.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey.”

  “How’re you doing? Feeling? Have your nurses checked on you—”

  “I just woke a few moments ago.” Her voice was raspy. “They haven’t been in yet. They probably will be soon though.”

  I didn’t know what to say. There didn’t seem to be enough words to say anything. So I leaned forward and kissed her tenderly. Nothing to work her up or anything, just enough to show her how much I had worried, how much I loved her. She kissed me back, pressing her forehead to mine.

  “That was a close call,” she said.

  “Yeah, it was.”

  “Rigger?”

  I raised a brow. “Misha, we don’t have to talk about this right now.”

  “I want to know what happened, Trip.”

  I sighed.

  “After you kicked him down, he was pissed,” I said. “Saw it in his eyes, knew what he was doing. All hell broke out. Someone shot —we don’t know who. Had each other popping off and shit.” I ran a hand through my hair. “He shot, and I saw red. I put a couple in his chest before getting to you. There was … so much blood. You weren’t breathing well. You kept closing your eyes and muttering. I thought—”

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay.” I shook my head. “It’s far from okay. Misha—”

  “I’m fine, now,” she said. “And Rigger’s … Rigger’s gone. I guess the cops aren’t getting involved?”

  I shook my head.“Cops don’t want their hands in this shit; they’re staying off books and hands off with it. They figure that it’s good riddance Rigger’s gone; they preferred Holland.”

  “Most people did. What about the others?”

  “They scattered after Rigger went down for good. They didn’t wanna stick around and to be honest, it was probably good that they didn’t. I wasn’t discriminating.” That made her quirk her lip a little.

  “And Jared?”

  “Slimy little motherfucker bailed as soon as the shots were fired.”

  “He was working with them,” she said, somewhat sadly. “Hellen told me.”

  “Brig thought he was up to some shit.” I kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry, babe. I really am. I tried—”

  “Trip,” she stopped me. “This has nothing to do with you, or what you could or could not do, okay? Don’t go blaming yourself. I see that look on your face. Don’t go there. Please don’t go there.”

  I sighed. It was hard not to.

  “I failed you.” I looked down to Rose. “Both of you.”

  She shook her head. Despite the bags under her eyes, there was a fierceness in her gaze.

  “There is nothing about this that is your fault, you understand?” she said. “Nothing. Rigger was a crazy asshole, and he was going to try something one way or another, with or without you looking over me. He’s just—he was—just that kind of man. I’m not going to blame myself for Rigger being disgusting, and I won’t have you doing it either, Trip. I’m not going anywhere, okay? So you can just hush yourself.”

  I smiled. I smiled, and then I laughed. Her brows furrowed as she stared at me.

  “And just what is so damn funny?” she asked, her bottom lip poking out.

  “You. You are. I love you so much, Misha.”

  She cracked a smile.“I love you too, Trip.”

  After that, the nurses came in. They were happy to see that she was awake, less happy that she had two people in her bed. I was promp
ted to get up, and get Rose, too. She didn’t even stir, she was so tuckered out. I stayed to watch them poke and prod at Misha. They checked her vitals, and she was looking good—to say that she had just come out of major surgery and had been shot, that is.

  That evening, I took Rose to a nearby hotel after getting the green light from the nurses that Misha would be okay, and the insistence from Misha that I needed to sleep in a real bed, and so did Rose. Travis elected to stay at the hospital, just in case. Said he felt responsible in part for how far south everything had gone.