Outlaw's Baby: Devil's Edge MC

by Naomi West

  Then I thought of the day my father died and wasn’t so sure.

  Sensing I didn’t want to talk about Ivy, Bax changed the subject. “How was our friend Carlos?”

  “Batshit insane, as usual.” That guy with his cold, dead eyes even gave me the shivers when I was being honest with myself. Which I was doing an awful lot of today. Something about Ivy and--

  No, don’t think about Ivy. I don’t need her shit. I don’t how long I can afford to keep her around. Why did I try so hard to save her life? Why had it been so important? I thought back to the amazing sex we’d just had; she literally let me do anything I wanted to her, and she liked it just as rough as I did. Just thinking about her blushing, her legs spread to me, her eyes hooded with mischievous pleasure-filled--

  Nope, don’t think of Ivy. But it wasn’t just the crazy, hard sex. The kind of sex that tore sheets and put holes in walls. No, it was something more than that. The kind of soft spot that made men do stupid things. What am I going to do?

  I had to push those thoughts away, though. Ivy would be Ivy’s problem and no one else’s soon. For her own sake and the sake of my sanity, I had to get rid of her. Fast.

  I glanced over at Bax, then around the room to see if anyone was close by. “Carlos wants to meet. Says either I come to terms with them or the Carrion Club is going to team up with some of the other boys and invade, coming after Kelly.”

  “He said that?” Bax whispered back, his hands clutched too tight around his bottle. I knew what he was feeling; an all-out battle between the Edge and Carrion would be a bloodbath. It would put everything we’d built and loved in jeopardy, including our people, my child, and the club itself. Carrion might not survive it either. “Shit.”

  I nodded, sipping on the beer. It was disgusting; some cheap American thing, but it was cold. And beggars couldn’t be choosers, so I swallowed it down without complaint.

  “What should we do?”

  “The way I see it,” I said, staring into the dark, brown glass of my beer bottle, “we have three choices. We can tell Kelly.”

  “That will bring the cartel in force into our turf to defend it, most likely. They’ll send an army.” We were both silent for a long moment. We both knew what that meant too; once the army was here, none of them would ever leave. They would most likely take over the Edge without anyone lifting a finger against them.

  “We can not tell Kelly,” I said, bile rising in my stomach. Those words felt like betrayal in my mouth. It would lead to all of our deaths, most likely.

  Every choice seemed to end in the death of the Devil’s Edge. Except one.

  “Or, we work with Carlos and get Kelly overturned, running the cartel out of town and putting a new leader in his place.” I was gripping my beer so hard I expected it to shatter under my fingers.

  Bax stared at me, his mouth gaping and his eyes incredulous. “Creed, those are some dangerous words.”

  “Just words, Bax.”

  “Still dangerous! I’ve been a fan of opposing this whole cartel thing from the beginning, but what you’re talking about, getting rid of Kelly...” He shook his head. “You’ll end up like your pa.”

  I nodded, my head suddenly feeling heavy. “I know, Bax. I just don’t know what the best thing to do is anymore. Every choice feels like a bad one, and it’s Kelly that got us here. Kelly and that Christine woman.” She was still probably wrapped around his leg like a serpent, dripping poison into his ear as Bax and I spoke.

  I wanted to ring her neck, that conniving bitch. Where had she gotten hold of Kelly in the first place?

  Bax was silent for a long time. He finished his beer, then drank another. He seemed to be considering my words carefully, weighing out all of the possible futures. And from his expressions, all of them looked really bleak.

  “How is the club recovering?” I asked, unable to stand the silence anymore. I wanted to stop the rush of images inside of my mind. I pictured Josh, hiding behind some bikes in the corner of the clubhouse, his tiny chocolate eyes going dark and empty as he watched Kelly rip my throat out. Just as I had watched my father die. What would become of him? But worse, what if I did nothing, and the cartel came for us all? Was that a kinder end? I didn’t think it was.

  “The rebuilding is going well enough. It won’t go anywhere if we’re trying to hold off an army, though.” Bax pressed his head against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. He seemed to be deep in thought, still, his mind not really on the current conversation.

  Not that I can blame him; I did just drop some bad news in his lap. News none of us want to hear.

  Rubbing his face with his hands, Bax turned and looked at me, his eyes searching my face in a way that made me uncomfortable. “Maybe you’re right, Creed,” he said unwillingly, his face a tangle of emotions. “Those things you’re saying, don’t let anyone else hear them. Not even Pearl. Not your son. Keep them to yourself; you probably shouldn’t have even told me.”

  I nodded. “You might be right.” We drank in silence again for a long time. But before I could think of something else to say, some kind of reassurance that I was going to think it all the way through before making a decision, Bax stood up from his seat and walked away. I didn’t watch him leave; I didn’t have to. I knew his shoulders would have been slightly slumped in defeat.

  No matter what we did next, we would lose.

  I swallowed down the beer, though it was suddenly deeply bitter in my mouth. Without Bax to keep the memories at bay, I found myself drowning in them.

  # # #

  “I need to do what’s best for my son,” my father said, holding out his hands imploring. “And the Edge isn’t a safe place for him.”

  Kelly frowned, looking like he was ready to bite a piece off of my father. “Finding out you have a child has made you soft, Charles.”

  I know my father asked me to leave the Edge, to walk away from the possible violence and get to the bus stop. I was ordered to leave without him if Kelly refused to release him. But I knew where my loyalties were. I belonged at the Edge, just like my father belonged at the Edge.

  I watched him impassively as he begged for my release from a life I’d never been intended for. My father looked small and weak in my young eyes. But he continued to beg for me. Not himself, just me. He wanted my freedom and must have known he was putting himself at risk for it. But none of that crossed my mind at the time. I just remember thinking about how old and tired and weak he looked.

  “So you would go against the Devil’s Edge and me just to save your precious son from what? A future he wants?”

  My father swallowed hard and looked down at the ground. “A future he thinks he wants.”

  “Is it really so bad here, Charles?”

  There wasn’t a safe reply to that, so my father kept his mouth shut. He’d made his case. I stood behind the stairs, my eyes watching to see what Kelly would do. I’d worked hard to land my position in the Edge; I was furious to think that my dad was going to throw away all of it.

  To my surprise, Kelly didn’t yell or scream. He very calmly went over to the wall, grabbed something off one of the shelves. His whole body was relaxed as he turned, swinging the golf club with an efficiency and emotionlessness that only came from true psychotic tendencies. When the club connected with my father’s skull, I gasped, but the sound wasn’t loud enough to cover the wet crunching noise as my father’s skull crumpled under Kelly’s swing.

  Kelly stood over my father, lying on the ground. He was bloody, broken, his breath wheezing between broken teeth out of a punctured lung. Blood spilled from his mouth, his ears, his nose. The slowly growing puddle of red was too big. There would be no coming back from it. I watched with wide eyes. I was barely tall enough to see over the half-wall of the stairs from where I watched.

  My father wheezed again, his face so swollen I couldn’t recognize him. He tried to speak, but instead of words, blood spilled out.

  “There now, Charlie. Still want to leave the Devil’s Edge, you lying sa
ck of shit?” Kelly asked, pulling my father’s head back by his bloodied blonde hair. “I didn’t think so.” With a sickening, wet crunch of bones shattering, Kelly slammed my father’s face against the pavement one final time.

  At the time, I was shaken, but I knew that my father had gotten the punishment he deserved. By as I’d grown older, I knew that to be wrong. Kelly had sucker punched my father; it was the only way he could have won against my dad in a physical fight. I knew now what Kelly was; I wish I could have seen it when I was still young enough to flee. Before Josh was born, before I became so tangled up in the whole life.

  Kelly was a psycho and a coward. If I did end up going to Carlos, it would be only what he deserved. Sighing, I glanced around the broken building slowly being put back together. But in my mind’s eye, the whole place was filled with already dead bodies, Christine and Carlos standing over our dead bodies, getting ready to battle one another.

  And the Devil’s Edge was turned to dust.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Ivy

  I think Creed making me part of the Edge has only made things worse. I glanced around the building. Instead of being ignored or tolerated, I was watched much more closely by the men and women of the Edge. Their attention was from a distance, however. Not a single one spoke or looked at me once I got too close. It was like I was diseased or unlucky.

  Feeling a little like a pariah, I sought out Pearl. Perhaps she would be able to tell me what I could do.

  Thrills trickled over every inch of my body when I thought about how I had been claimed as Creed’s woman, but the feeling of being a part of the Edge still eluded me. I wished Creed hadn’t run off so quickly; I just wanted his to explain my place. As amazing as the sex was and forgetting the feelings I had for Creed, I didn’t belong here.

  And Creed is furious. Now he has two people to be used against him instead of just one. I knew how much of a burden I’d become, but I couldn’t see how to fix it.

  Wandering around the Edge, I watched as a few of the members worked to put bikes, walls, and rooms back together, cleaning up broken pieces and salvaging all of the pieces that were worth reusing or fixing. I wanted to help, but I knew I would be next to useless. I’d never been good with my hands.

  After about ten minutes of wandering aimlessly, I found Pearl. She was standing beside Patrick, slightly favoring her injured leg. They stood side-by-side, their backs straight and their hands busy. Patrick was putting a workbench of some kind back together, and Pearl was holding a slat up for her other half.

  Envious, I watched the two of them. They worked together like two hands attached to the same brain. It always seemed like the other knew exactly what the other needed without asking. It was so different from the stumbling, floundering feeling I got when I was Creed, I felt the air leave my lungs in a rush and refuse to return for a long moment. Knowing I could never be that to Creed, never be the cog that helped the wheel of the Edge turn, left me feeling breathless and hollow.

  So I have to change it.

  Determined, I pushed my shoulders back and walked over to them.

  “How can I help?” I asked, my voice more of a whisper than the firm, loud, confident voice I’d wanted.

  Neither of them turned to look at me for even a second. Pearl’s mouth turned down in a frown, but that was the only indication I got from either of them.

  After a long second of silence, Pearl spoke. “Creed’s woman, huh? How do you expect to help with those injured hands, exactly?” She was dressed as usual, in bright, gypsy clothing, but there was something darker about her today. Pearl’s eyes had dark circles wrapped around them, making her skin look pale and thin. Her hands shook like she’d lost all of her steadiness. I was in awe at her ability to stand with her injury; Pearl was so much stronger than I was. I couldn't even be useful with some scratches and cuts on my fingers.

  I glanced down at the white wrappings around my wrists and my fingers. I’d wrapped them myself, awkwardly, but the bandages held. They seemed to do the job. “I don’t know. Measuring, cooking, cleaning? Hell, I’d even walk down 5th naked if it would somehow help.”

  Pearl finally looked at me, her eyes as hard as glass. “Well, Creed’s woman, I don’t think any of that will help. Perhaps you should take up some embroidery or something.” She stared at my eye for a moment, unblinking. “Elsewhere.”

  The cruelty in her voice shocked me; I just gaped at her, unsure of how to respond. What had changed that made Pearl so against me? “I--”

  Pearl held up a hand. “Don’t bother. If you want to be useful to Creed and the Edge, I figure you should find something useful to be.”

  “To be?”

  Wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, Pearl grimaced. “As you are now, you’re awfully useless.” She straightened out her back and Patrick paused in their work, his eyes locked on my face. “Without some spine or something useful to contribute, neither Creed nor Kelly will let you stick around long. You aren’t good for Creed as you are now, so you would be better off disappearing. Like you should have done in first place.” Pearl’s voice was lined with shattered glass and cut deeply into my body and soul. Her voice was so cold that it stung.

  But she was right, of course. But what could be done? How could I prove to her or prove to Creed that I was worth saving? To truly be part of the Edge, I would need to be stronger, louder, and riskier. I would need to go hunting and bring home dinner for the pack.

  I met Pearl’s eyes, feeling my own features harden into stone. “You’re right,” I said, balling my hands into fists. “You are absolutely right.”

  And that’s when both Pearl and Patrick smiled, lights warming the ice that had formed in their eyes. They nodded in tandem before returning to their work. I felt a little better, but also a little worse. Glad that Pearl was just trying to teach me a lesson the hard way and that I hadn’t lost her friendship, my heart lightened a little. But at the same time, I felt the weight of her words on my shoulders. What can I do to make myself look strong and useful to Creed?

  I had no ideas, and nowhere to start.

  Wandering around the Edge, I pondered my past, my future, and all of the possible ways I could impress these people. I started forming a plan in my head; I didn’t know if it was a good plan, but it was more than just doing nothing.

  Josh found me after a while. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, bouncing on his feet. His sneakers looked a little worse for wear, and he had a few bruises on his face and arms, but he seemed unfazed by his kidnapping.

  “You’re so much braver than I could ever be,” I told him. “I’m glad you’re okay, too.”

  He smiled, kicking debris everywhere with his feet. There was a little bit of a shadow over his eyes, but Josh seemed to be in good spirits. “I wasn’t sure my dad would go back to get you, but he did. I-- I’m glad.”

  Smiling, I brushed my hand over his cheek. “I didn’t want to be left behind, so I was pretty happy, too.”

  “So you are part of the Devil’s Edge now.”

  I nodded. “I guess so. Your dad hasn’t explained all the rules to me yet.”

  “We should help out then, I guess. Shouldn’t we?” Josh sounded so uncertain, but he still looked around the Edge, looking for things for us to do. “Let’s go see what Sam is up to. He’ll let me help.”

  So we wandered over to Sam together. Sam was one of the older members, and he was in the middle of holing up one of the back entrances. “What are you doing, Sam?”

  The older man looked up at Josh, then at me, his face creased with a frown. He was grizzled and bearded, his skin like leather. But he was shirtless, and his body hadn’t lost any definition in its age. He looked as tough as nails, and I had to swallow hard to hide my fear down where it belonged. “I’m closing up half of the entrances to make this place more defensible. You, hand me that hammer.”

  Josh picked up the hammer and handed it over. “Here you go!”

  “Good, now hold this. You, girl!” he
called to me unexpectedly. But I ran forward to help anyway. “Hold up the other end of this 2x4. It needs to be level.”

  Without even a glance down at my injured hands, I did as I was asked, holding the bar up so he could nail it to the wall. “That should hold. Come on, you two. Let’s start the next one.”

  And I did. There wasn’t much I could do, but I worked as hard as I could. I helped hold, nail, and glue. I mixed cement and stews, swept up shrapnel, and worked until my hands bled through the bandages. I even served the communal meal all of the workers shared. It may have been my imagination, but a few of the faces looked a little softer towards me than they had in the past.