KNOCKED UP BY THE REBEL: The Shadow Hunters MC

by Nicole Fox

  I shrugged one shoulder. “I guess.” I had risen before the sun, listlessly throwing my few belongings in a bag.

  He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly through pursed lips. “I know you aren’t saying anything about it, but I know what’s wrong.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?” His surety about my mindset irritated me. He was young and reckless, even more so than I was, and he had no idea what was really going on.

  “Come on. Everyone knows, even if they don’t say anything. Every morning, you come out here and you watch the road, waiting to see Bambi come back to you. You don’t know how she’s going to get here, if she’ll have grabbed a cab or hopped on the bus and walked from the station. But you still think she’s coming back.” He looked out across the road again. The sun highlighted the freckles that were scattered across his nose and cheeks, which made him look far too youthful and innocent to be in a motorcycle club.

  I clenched my jaw, irritated that he really did understand. “Is that such a bad thing?” Very little had been said about Bambi since that horrific night when the cops had tried to arrest me. They’d let me go with nothing more than a warning to stay in the area in case they needed to talk to me, but that didn’t mean I could just shrug it off as though it hadn’t happened.

  “Well, I guess not. But I think we all know at this point that she isn’t coming back. She went running back to her mama. That’s what all women do eventually, anyway.”

  I turned to him fully now. “And just when did you become such an expert on women? We’re not just talking about some quick fuck in a dark parking lot, Axle. This is different.”

  “I’m just going off of what I see, man. My own mom did it, running back to live with Grandma when she couldn’t stand fighting with Dad anymore. He said he should have seen it coming a long time ago, or maybe even sent her back home himself. Said all women are like that.” Axle shifted slightly, his boots crunching against the dirty concrete of the parking lot.

  “I’m sure some are,” I agreed, “and I’m sure some of them are like that because men made them that way. But not all of them.” My stepmother certainly hadn’t left, even though her relationship with my father had been tenuous. For all I knew, they were still together. It wasn’t like it mattered anymore. “Bambi is different.”

  “It’s been a month,” Axle argued. “It’s time for the club to move on, and it’s time for you to move on, too. You’re just bringing everybody down, and you have no proof that Bambi really was different. I mean, how do you know she wasn’t the one who called the cops on you? Have you ever thought about that?”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time something like that had happened.” Rusty had just come out of his room, and he walked up to us with a duffel bag of clothes over his shoulder. “And you have to admit, she was a little too clean for this group.” Rusty had forgiven me as soon as he had mopped the blood off his face, but he had been a little more distant in the intervening weeks. I couldn’t blame him. I’d been an ass, but hitting his smug face had felt good. There was still just the faintest trace of a bruise down the length of his nose. I hadn’t broken it, but I had come close.

  “Maybe so, but you know just as well as I do that she wanted to be with me. She only left because she found out about that bet. Which I still won, by the way.” I smiled at the last part, an expression that felt odd on my face after feeling somber and numb for so long.

  Rusty punched me on the arm. “Maybe we should send her the money just for having to put up with your ass.”

  It was meant as a jest, but there was a certain sense of logic in the joke. “Yeah, you do that.”

  Bruiser spotted us from across the parking lot and came striding over. “You boys ready to go?”

  Axle and Rusty nodded, but I remained neutral.

  The president studied me. “The Warriors have been in one spot for too long. We need to hit the road and get somewhere far away. There have been too many people coming around, trying to see who we are and wondering if we’re all kidnappers. That’s not the kind of attention I want for us. I know that wasn’t your fault, Snake, but even you have to admit that enough is enough. It’s still hot enough that we can ride north for quite a way and get a good distance from all these high-and-mighty southerners.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Axle volunteered, rubbing his hands together. “I think I’ve pretty much run through all the available women around here; well, those that are worthy of me, anyway. I’m ready to see what northern girls are like.”

  Rusty let out a loud laugh that thundered against the side of the building. “They’ll reject you just the same as the southern ones do.”

  Axle lifted his hands. “Hey, it’s still worth a try, right?”

  Bruiser hadn’t taken his eyes from me while the other two bantered. “What do you say?”

  I looked him straight in the eye. A slim scar ran down his forehead, skipped over his eye socket, and darted down his cheek. It remained pale despite the deep tan of his skin, a prominent reminder to anyone who thought he wasn’t a fighter. Bruiser had scared the hell out of me when I’d first joined the club, but I knew a lot more about him now. I knew that no matter what kind of vows I had made to stay loyal to the Warriors, he would understand what I had to do now. “I’m staying.”

  He gave me a long and serious look. “I don’t know if that’s a wise idea. You won’t have any of us for backup, you know. We’ll be far away, and we probably won’t be coming back this way for at least several months.” He looked down at his boots, shook his head, and looked back up at me. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Snake.”

  “I like to think so. I have to go after her.”

  “What happens if you can’t find her? Or she rejects you?”

  I didn’t like those ideas. I knew, though, that I would search until I did find her, and that the chances were good she was ensconced somewhere in Myrtle Creek. As for her rejecting me, well, I would just have to make sure she didn’t. “I guess I’ll just have to deal with that if it comes about.”

  Bruiser clapped me on the shoulder. “You know how to get a hold of me if you change your mind or if she decides to come back with you. You’re welcome to come find us; both of you are.”

  Rusty stepped forward and shook my hand. “It’s been good riding with you, brother. I hope we see you back again, no matter what happens.”

  Axle was next, and he grinned at me. “Now that you’re out of the way, I’ll get laid a lot more often. Good luck.”

  By this point, Rubble and Moose had noticed our little gathering and joined us. “It’s a shame, because I’ll be stuck playing cards with these idiots, but you gotta do what you gotta do.”

  “I hope you find her,” Rubble said as he shook my hand. “And if she has a sister, bring her back for me.”

  “Anyone who’s even distantly related to Bambi wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole!” Moose laughed. He smacked Rubble on the back and nearly knocked him over. “We’ll see ya, Snake.”

  I watched as the men mounted up and cranked their engines. The noise in the parking lot was like a massive swarm of loud bees, and nothing could be heard above it. To others, it was nothing but noise. To me, it was a sound that would reverberate through my bones until the day I died. It was a rumbling music that would always resemble a big part of my life. Bruiser led the way, and the motorcycles fell into two rows as they pulled out onto the road. The Warriors made a long black line that snaked down the road and around a curve. I stood where I was until the very last bike faded into the distance.

  My bike was the only one that remained in the parking lot. The few other cars that belonged to the guests had been parked on the other side, making my ride look like the only one in the world. Alone, just as I felt. I hadn’t realized until Bambi had come along just how much I needed to have someone in my life, and my young adulthood had taught me to keep my distance from anyone who might hurt me.

  I swung my leg over the bike and settled into the seat, taking in a d
eep breath. There was no telling what stance Bambi’s mother had taken on the whole thing, but at least she must have dropped the kidnapping charges. Even so, I very well might run into cops who still thought I ought to be in prison. Even once I got back to Myrtle Creek, I would have to deal with anyone who recognized me and the citizens who were pissed at me for taking away their queen. After that, there was still her mother. And after her, came Bambi. She was the most important obstacle. I had to get her to understand, even if nobody else did.

  Firing up the engine, I left the motel and my life as a Warrior behind. I turned to the right instead of the left as the rest of the club had done, heading off for Bambi.

  Chapter 14

  Bambi

  That night, with the makeup rinsed away, the numerous hair products shampooed out, and two new outfits ironed and ready to go, I lay in my bed and stared at the ceiling. It was the same ceiling I had seen my entire life. In fact, there was very little of my room that had changed. Sure, the frilly pink bedspread had been replaced by a dark purple comforter, and the frilly dresses in the closet had been replaced by sweaters and jackets, but I still knew this to be the bedroom of my youth. Like most little girls, I had spent hours in here pretending I was a princess or a movie star. But there had been plenty of other times when I had imagined I was the president of the United States, a scientist, or a chef. I made my own little cooking shows in front of a toy camera, adding invisible ingredients to my triple-layer cakes and explaining how to make the frosting nice and fluffy. I had pretended that I wrote the books on the little pink shelf, gladly signing copies at the fictional bookstore in my mind. There had been more to me once. I’d had dreams. I wondered where those dreams had gone.

  I hardly slept that night. Though my belly had not gotten very big yet, it was already uncomfortable to sleep on my stomach. I flopped from one side to another, never quite comfortable no matter if I stretched my legs out, curled them up toward me, or put a cushion between them. My pillow was too hot or too cold. The worst part was that I didn’t even feel tired, but I knew I had to get some sleep in order to prepare for the interview the next day. I wanted to argue with Mother about it and tell her I wasn’t going to do it, but I knew even without trying that she would never accept my refusal. I would just have to find a way to turn the tide in my favor.

  When the sunlight pushed through my curtains and cast bright streaks across my comforter, I went ahead and got up. I made myself two fried eggs, a piece of toast, and a banana. If nothing else, I would make sure my baby got all the nutrition it needed, even if I wouldn’t be able to give it anything after it was born.

  Mother stumbled into the kitchen an hour later, her makeup smeared across her face and her hair in curlers, to find me staring out the kitchen window over a cup of coffee. “I see you’ve changed your mind,” she remarked with a smirk. “Coffee isn’t good for babies.”

  “It’s decaf.” I didn’t turn to look at her, and I curled my fingers tighter around the handle of the mug. I kept my focus on our backyard, watching the birds swoop through the trees as the sun rose higher in the sky, marking a passage of time that I couldn’t feel. “It was in the back of the cabinet from the last time Grandpa visited.”

  “Oh well. Just don’t have more than a cup. It’ll stain your teeth.” She swept past me in her flimsy nightgown and retrieved a box of sugary cereal from the cabinet above the stove. “So, the reporters had originally asked to come by this morning and do a recorded session, but then they called back the other day and requested we do it live on the five o’clock news. You know, create a bigger story out of it. Of course, I told them they could. That way they can’t cut out any parts of our interview, and I want to be sure I have a chance to say my piece. They don’t think the people notice when they omit parts of the story, but I know it.”

  I took another sip of coffee. It was nice and hot, and that seemed to be the one thing that made me feel better, and despite Mother’s wishes I was already on my third cup. I didn’t respond.

  “That should give us just enough time to get the house all cleaned up,” she continued. “I want you to take care of the kitchen. I plan to have them do the interview in the living room in front of the fireplace, but I plan to invite the reporters and the cameramen to have a cup of coffee or a glass of tea. And I already called the young man down the street and asked him to come give the front yard an extra trim this morning. No doubt, they’ll take a few shots of the front of the house, and I want everything to look immaculate.”

  I frowned. The house was clean, just as it always was. The only thing to really be taken care of were the few breakfast dishes in the sink, but I was sure Mother would insist that I dust every shelf and knickknack. As for the living room, there hadn’t been a fire in that fireplace for years, but Mother would use the mantel to show off her old photos. There was always an agenda.

  “Once we’re done, we’ll do our hair and makeup and get dressed. We haven’t had this much attention around here since you won the crown. I know I’m excited. Aren’t you?” She sat down at the table and began crunching loudly on her cereal.

  “Mm.” I made a noise just to keep her from jumping down my throat. I finished my coffee, set the mug in the sink, and wandered down the hall to the linen closet to find the cleaning rags. I did as Mother asked and cleaned every square inch of the kitchen, working languidly. I couldn’t have cared if the interview was done in a hovel, but I would never hear the end of it from her if a single speck of dust happened to show up on camera. All of this was my fault, and I had to do everything she said to keep her happy. I just wondered what I needed to do to make myself happy.

  The news van showed up right on time. Mother had brushed and curled and dabbed at me until I once again looked like the beauty queen she had worked so hard to turn me into. Instead of wild braids and ponytails that became ratty in the wind, I had soft, full hair that caressed my shoulders. Gone were the dark eyeshadows, heavy eyeliner, and deep shades of lipstick that suggested I was far more feral than I was. Instead, my lips were dapped with a pale pink gloss the color of a baby’s cheek, and my eyes had been enhanced and contoured with shades of soft gold. I didn’t look at all like the woman who had ridden on the back of Snake’s bike and spent so many nights making love to him in random hotel rooms.

  In some strange way, as I dressed myself and put on my shoes, I found that I missed him. He had made a mistake when he had turned me into a bet, but at the same time he had been kinder than Mother ever had been. Still, it didn’t matter. I had no idea where he was now. I indulged myself in a horrid fantasy of him picking up some chick and taking her off into the sunset on his motorcycle. He probably didn’t even think about me anymore.

  Mother had positioned a wingback chair in front of the fireplace, and this was where she positioned me as the reporter came in the door. She was a woman in her late twenties, her dark hair sprayed into a helmet around her head and her suit jacket perfectly ironed. She smiled at me with perfectly white teeth as she held out her hand to shake mine. “Clarissa Thurston for Action News 12. It’s so nice to meet you. I covered your story when you were missing, and I have to tell you, it was such a boost to my career! Everyone was desperate to get you back.”

  “Thank you.” I wasn’t sure what else to say, but it didn’t make me feel any better that this stranger was using me just as much as my mother was. She didn’t really care about my story; she just wanted to talk about me on television so that she could someday be promoted to anchorwoman.

  Mother shoved her way between us and took the woman’s hand. “Monique Bidwell. I believe we’ve met before.”

  “Oh, yes. Of course.” A faint look of discomfort passed across Clarissa’s face, but she quickly pasted it over with another newscaster smile and turned to the cameraman, who stood just behind her with a heavy piece of equipment on his shoulder. “Are you ready, Marty?”

  “Hold on, just a second!” Mother dashed around behind the chair to arrange my hair once again, and she scrutinized
my makeup carefully before she turned back to the news crew. “Okay, I think we’re good to go now.”

  Clarissa smiled at me. “I’ll just be asking you some simple questions about your life over the last few months. Remember to just relax, smile, and pretend the camera isn’t even there.”

  Marty cleared his throat and began pushing buttons on the camera. “All ready for the test run.”

  I should have been comfortable there in my own home, but there was nothing comfortable about it. The pantsuit my mother had stuffed me into was cutting in at the waist, and the shoes pinched my feet even when I was sitting down. She’d had the chair reupholstered recently, and though the fabric was pretty, it was extremely scratchy. Somehow, with just a reporter and a cameraman focused on me, I felt as though the whole world was watching. Mother’s frantic gestures from behind them reminded me that it really would be.

  Cold sweat clung to my skin as I tried to focus on the reporter, who smiled at me enthusiastically. She was no doubt thinking of the ratings she would get once the interview aired. “Let’s do a quick test run. We just want to see how well the camera picks up your skin and make sure your voice can be heard well. Do me a favor and just state your full name and spell it out for me. That’s how we make sure the technicians don’t goof it up when they do the chyron.”