Brage & Dinah

by Debra Kayn

  Brage flinched. He knew how Kelli screwed Peer over. To Norwegian men, family, especially their kids, were the most important thing in their life.

  Deciding that breaking the news would only cause Peer thirty seconds of heartbreak before he faced his biggest challenge, he stubbed out his smoke and said, "You're needed in the clubhouse."

  Peer followed suit and walked across the alley. Sometimes the most painful things in life had to be met head-on. The aftermath was easier to deal with than the actual shock.

  He opened the door and motioned Peer inside. Following his MC brother, he felt the impact of what sat on the table waiting to become a part of Slag Motorcycle Club.

  Peer slammed to a stop at the sight of a baby bundled up inside a car seat. Brage stood beside him in support.

  "An Uber driver pulled up to the gate and handed the baby to Jon. There's an envelope with your name taped on the blanket," he said quietly.

  He kept the information short. For Peer, he'd been handed too much to understand everything being flung at him. Brage gave him time to grasp the most important thing. The baby was Peer's.

  Peer stepped forward, not stopping until he approached the table. Taking the envelope, he tore it open and unfolded a piece of paper.

  Brage stayed back, giving him time. Holly and Nita, two women belonging to Slag members, hovered over the baby, not touching but clearly interested in getting their cuddles in.

  The men had cleared the room, giving Peer time to adjust to the news. Brage knew Peer was waiting for the day he would become a father, despite him and Kelli living separate lives. But any man would be gutted having a baby delivered to him.

  The door opened. Brage looked over his shoulder and lifted his chin to Roar. The president of Slag had taken off, looking for the Uber driver, to get more answers for Peer.

  Roar gave a slight shake of his head. Brage pressed his lips together. It would be harder for Peer to face tomorrow without knowing why Kelli dropped off the baby.

  Little mews reached his ears. He stepped forward. The baby squirmed, its face getting redder.

  "Kelli doesn't want the baby." Peer shoved the letter in his pocket. "It's a boy."

  "You've got help," said Roar, over the baby's cries growing louder. "First thing, did the baby come with any bottles or a —?"

  "There's a bag." Holly picked it up from the floor and held it out to Peer.

  "Go ahead and look." Peer stared down at the child.

  While the women found bottles, formula, diapers, and some clothes, Peer continued standing there as if he hadn't soaked up what was happening.

  Brage shared a look with Roar. Neither one of them could imagine having a child dumped on them without a woman involved.

  "Let the women take care of the baby." Brage stepped away. "I'll get him a shot of whiskey."

  "No." Peer turned. "I don’t want to drink."

  "Okay," said Brage over the kid's wallowing. "He's got a set of lungs on him."

  "He's not breathing right." Peer paled. "He can't catch his breath."

  "He's fine. It's how babies cry when they're young. He's just hungry." Roar stepped forward and pulled the blanket back from the baby. "You want to hold him?"

  "I don't know what I'm doing," muttered Peer. "Do something."

  Roar scooped out the baby from the car seat, cradling the bundle in his large hands, and held the baby's face up to his neck. The baby settled into a soft hiccupping croon.

  Brage had seen first hand how easy it was for Roar to get along with his sisters' children. They all gravitated toward their uncle when they visited Seattle.

  The women returned, and Roar lost the nanny position to Holly who supplied a bottle and open arms. Brage remained with Peer in case he was needed.

  Taking out his wallet, he said, "Nita?"

  "What?" Nita continued gazing down at the baby

  "Take this money and find a Slag member to help you. I need you both to run and grab shit for the kid. A crib, clothes, diapers, and whatever else you think he'll need." He handed over the money to Nita.

  Roar approached, opening his wallet. "Here's more."

  "I don't even know what stores are open at this time of night." Nita folded the stack of cash and put it in her pocket.

  "Target and Walmart are open twenty-four/seven." Holly rocked on the stationary chair holding the baby. "You'll need wipes and a baby tub, too. Oh, and a pacifier."

  "I'll get as much as I can tonight. You guys work on a list, and I can grab everything we need tomorrow." Nita squeezed Peer's arm. "We'll make sure he's taken care of."

  "Grab the keys for the club truck. They're hanging in the kitchen," said Brage.

  The baby quietly sucked on the nipple. Brage stepped away, giving Peer time to get to know his son. He'd never thought much about having kids of his own. Being the vice president of Slag kept him busy. At times, it felt like he was in charge of kids—grown ass men kids, making sure they rode out together, stayed within their crews, and watched over their backs. Their worries became his, and it was hard to keep three hundred men from killing each other.

  Roar approached him. "Hell of a situation."

  "I knew it would be difficult for him to become an occasional father, but I thought Kelli would raise the kid. Never saw her walking away and leaving him the baby. What the fuck would cause a mother to walk away from her child?" he asked.

  Roar grunted. The more Brage thought about it, the angrier he became. He was close to both of his parents. Having an ocean separating him from them was rough. But to think his mother would've ever given him up was unimaginable.

  "He'll be a good dad," whispered Roar.

  "Ja." Brage exhaled in acceptance. "The kid'll be loved."

  Peer turned from the table. The anguish etched on his face warned Brage that he'd finally accepted the events of the night.

  He put his hand out stopping Peer from storming off and doing something stupid. "I'll stay with you."

  Peer's lip curled. "I don't even know my son's name."

  Brage planted his hand on Peer's pounding chest. "Then you'll name him."

  Peer reared back and stormed toward the door. Roar stopped Brage from following him.

  "Let him cool off and get his head on straight. The men won't let him leave the alley seeing his condition." Roar walked over to Holly, leaning over and looking at the baby.

  Brage took out his phone and texted Elling. He would have no problems closing down the bar for the rest of the night if Dinah was having trouble keeping up with the customers while working on her own.

  It was going to be a long night. Those he cared about were unsettled, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to help.

  Chapter 19

  Brage stroked Dinah's hair. She kept her head on his shoulder and her legs wrapped around his back. After having sex, she had no desire to leave him, and he seemed happy to hold her.

  "Poor Peer," she whispered.

  Once the bar had closed, she'd hung around Brage who had stayed with Peer until dawn broke, making sure the man had everything he needed. She closed her eyes, riding Brage's heavy sigh.

  "He was only going through the motions of taking care of his son. Doing what everyone suggested." She swallowed. "He's in shock. I wish there were something I could do to help him."

  "Mhm." His hand lowered to her bare hip.

  She raised her head and gazed into his eyes. "He's been nothing but kind to me since I began working at The Fire Ring. Sure, we had our moments, and he tested me on my loyalty while working, but I've talked to him more than you."

  "You can't fault us...me, for protecting the club." He cupped her face in his hands. "Each member here is my family."

  "Just like Brad and Tony are mine," she murmured.

  Brage hummed, neither accepting that statement or denying it. She crawled off his lap and stood from the bed. Every time the subject of her brothers came up, she was reminded that Brad's name was on her birth certificate.

  Because she couldn't r
emember her parents, she'd calculated in her head the difference in her age compared to Brad. Then, hated herself for even wondering if they'd kept a secret as big as Brad being her father from her.

  Of course, it was impossible. Brad was sixteen years old when she was born. Besides, if he had been her dad, there was no reason to keep it a secret.

  "Babe?"

  She hooked her bra and looked over her shoulder. Brage sat naked on the bed, making no move to get up or get dressed.

  "Open the top drawer in the dresser," he said.

  Expecting to grab him a pair of boxers, her hand stilled over the open drawer. On top of his clothes was a pile of gum. Every brand imaginable, and all cinnamon flavored.

  She hurried back to the bed and tackled him. Giddy as an addict finding a pile of drugs, she kissed him solidly on the lips and ended on a loud smack.

  Brage chuckled. "Happy?"

  "You have no idea. Thank you." She scrambled off him and not able to wait until she finished dressing, unwrapped a piece of gum and chewed. "Oh, my God. This is...heaven. Seriously, the best day I've had in a long time."

  Realizing her declaration sounded stupid after having sex with Brage and going through the emotional roller coaster of being kidnapped, her brother being shot, and all the answers to her problems that still remained unreachable, she turned from the bed and got dressed.

  Mixing pleasure with a friendship—no, what she and Brage had couldn't be considered a friendship. They were together out of necessity.

  She understood the dangers Moroad posed. Her brother had told her as much that her life was also in danger from them. Now she believed him.

  Staying at the Slag clubhouse probably wasn't any safer, but Brage was willing to help keep her safe. Until she knew what was going on or she could contact Tony, the smartest thing she could do was stay here.

  She appreciated Brage wanting her. Any woman would feel good if a man remained attracted through her break in trust. She found him irresistible in ways that surprised her, but she wasn't delusional about what was happening between them.

  Pulling her hair out from underneath her shirt, she glanced at Brage while searching for her shoes. He continued to watch her.

  "Are you okay?" She stuck her toe into her sneaker and wiggled her foot in.

  "Ja." He stood and retrieved a pair of boxers. "We need to talk."

  "Now?"

  "Downstairs." He pulled on his jeans and sat down to lace his boots. "Roar wants to talk to you first."

  "About last night?" She stroked the mascara onto her lashes. "Things were hectic at the bar, but Lizzy helped pour drinks when I fell behind. I think we did pretty well, considering it was a spur of the moment decision and I hadn't handled all the drinks before."

  He slipped on his vest, put an unlit cigarette in his mouth, and opened the door. She followed without him answering her. She wasn't too worried about getting in trouble. Her job at the bar was temporary. She knew that from the beginning, and now it'd changed to when Brage felt it was safe for her to go back to Idaho.

  In the alley, Brage put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. She startled and found him motioning Roar away from a group of bikers.

  Out of the privacy of the bedroom, she leaned closer to Brage for support. When she wasn't working—when Slag didn't need her—she found herself on guard and tense. Everything could change in a heartbeat, and they could send her away. She wasn't ready to leave Brage, despite her need to separate herself from the motorcycle club.

  Roar led them into the back door of the bar and to the breakroom. She relaxed a little. If he was taking her to The Fire Ring, then she must've done something wrong while covering Peer last night.

  "Go ahead and take a seat. I thought it would be easier to talk with you here where we won't be interrupted." Roar pointed.

  She slid into the nearest chair. Both men remained standing.

  "Brage's told me you've had trouble sleeping." Roar walked to the other side of the small room.

  "I'm...fine." She frowned at Brage for sharing something so personal. "A lot has happened."

  "Babe, you're yelling out for your mom almost every night." Brage squatted near her chair. "It's been going on the whole time I've had you in my bed."

  She laughed to cover her embarrassment. "So, I talk in my sleep."

  The dreams had come more frequently since Brage kidnapped her. Stress did wonky things to people, and obviously, her mental state couldn’t handle everything when she closed her eyes.

  "Geez, guys." She shifted to stand, and Brage caught her hand. "Can't a girl keep her dreams private."

  She hadn't discussed them with him. Why would she?

  "We gave you a lot of information when we questioned you. You've got a copy of your birth certificate we obtained." Brage reached up and pushed her hair back from her eyes. "I think you need to call your brother and find out who your parents are. Something isn't right."

  "I told you, I know who—"

  "I believe you were told wrong." His gaze softened. "Roar's agreed to let you use your phone. You can check on your brother, if you want, and ask him about the information we found on you."

  She looked between both men. The whole conversation seemed like a setup. Were they trying to get information about Moroad?

  "The only condition is you allow us to stay in the same room with you." Roar crossed his arms. "We can't have you unconsciously sharing any info that will compromise Slag, and after you're done talking to him, you'll need to give the phone back to me."

  She shook her head. They still wouldn't trust her.

  Unable to look at Brage, because she wouldn't want him seeing how it hurt that he still believed she'd harm him or Slag, she sighed loudly. Her brother was her brother, and because Tony was her only link to family and she worried about him after he got shot, she held out her hand.

  Her heart raced. "Fine."

  Brage squeezed her thigh and stood. She turned on her phone. At least Roar had kept it charged. While the phone loaded, she asked, "Is there anything I'm not supposed to say?"

  "Talk about whatever you need to, just leave Slag out of the conversation and don't talk about staying here," said Brage.

  Her brother was going to ask where she was. She'd be disappointed if he didn't.

  "Keep it on speaker. We'll let you know if something comes up that we need to shut down." Roar turned a chair and straddled it backward.

  She set the phone on the table. "Hang on. I'm not asking Tony about anything you can use against my brother, either. If that's your intent, forget it. I won't call him."

  "You control the conversation. We're only protecting ourselves." Brage remained beside her and lowered his voice. "You should trust me by now, I'm not going to do anything that hurts you."

  Could she trust him?

  Never had she felt so vulnerable. Away from home, away from her family, she'd dug herself into an impossible situation, and yet, all she could go off of was the way Brage had treated her.

  He'd kidnapped her, and because she understood how serious motorcycle club's operated, she couldn't blame him. He hadn't physically hurt her. Scared her to death—yes. But, he hadn't harmed her.

  He'd shot her brother.

  And, Tony had it coming after storming onto Slag property. What had he expected? What was it her brothers always told her? If she hung out with people who were shit, she'd start stinking, too.

  Well, Moroad stunk.

  She picked up the phone, connected the call, and hit the speaker button. Three rings later, she closed her eyes, prepared for the message that he hadn't set up his voicemail when the call connected.

  "Yeah?" said her brother's gruff voice.

  "It's me." She cleared the emotions from her throat. "Are you okay?"

  "No, I'm not fucking okay. A chunk of my arm is gone." A rattling like two beer cans crashing into each other came over the phone. "Get your ass back here."

  "I'm not coming home right now." She peeked at Brage. "Did you go to the h
ospital?"

  "Hell, no." Tony groaned. "Shit's falling apart. Your little stunt cost me two months' worth of pull from the pot. We took a chance coming to get you, Dinah, and the club's pissed. They think I set them up because you didn't come through for me."

  "I'm sorry, but—"

  "You're not sorry," yelled Tony. "I could be sitting next to Brad in the pen because you fucked up or dead and buried."

  Forgetting their conversation was listened to, she panicked. "Don't say that. What am I supposed to do without you?"

  "We never should've helped you," muttered Tony. "You're proving to be nothing but trouble."

  Her spine stiffened, and her pulse roared in her ears. She'd always done what they asked. Every day, she was aware of not putting any more stress in their lives. She'd stayed in school, kept to herself, and not once got in trouble.

  She'd lived her twenty-six years without getting a speeding ticket, being late on a bill, and worked her ass off to make sure Tony and Brad had money when they came up short. Not once had she told anyone how many days they had left her on her own when she was young and had to depend on herself for food and to get to school.

  "Helped me?" Her voice squeaked. "How have you helped me?"

  He remained silent. Her anger grew. All the new information she was learning about her life came flying at her.

  "Tony, where are Mom and Dad buried?" She stared at the table, willing him to tell her. It would be easy enough to make a phone call to the appropriate number and ask for records of burial.

  Tony snapped, "How the hell am I supposed to know. Is Slag Motorcycle Club putting you up to question me? Fuck that. They're dead. Died in a car crash."

  She closed her eyes. "Why is Brad listed as my father on my birth certificate?"

  "Don't question me," muttered Tony. "Are you coming home or do I have to come and get you?"

  She shook her head. "Who is the woman with long black hair from my childhood? Why am I always dreaming about her?"

  "Shut up. Don't you ask—"