Pride and Pregnancy (A Devil's Dragons Motorcycle Club Romance)

by Nikki Wild

  No way, I told myself.

  Is he just trying to keep me dependent?

  “This is coming from the guy who struck down a Mexican cartel twice,” I reminded him, shoving my doubts back down for the moment. “I thought you were fearless. Where the hell is that indomitable spirit?”

  “Princess, I’m alive today because I know when to fold ‘em. You’re putting yourself and our baby in some seriously deep shit. I’ll take care of this, and once I do, I’ll come back to you…”

  He did sound legitimately alarmed. Either he was acting, or something had shaken him. “Let me ask you something, Hunter… who the hell scared you this bad?”

  Hunter took a deep breath.

  “Your detective’s missing container belongs to Soroka Sarkonov, an international arms dealer. I know the name means nothing to you, but Soroka is more dangerous than you can possibly imagine.”

  He seemed rattled, but how dangerous could she really be? Who was one woman in comparison to the Viboras Verde?

  “Princess, this is bad,” he reiterated wearily. “Sarkonov is so many leagues above the Outlaws, above the cartels, above everyone. The woman’s a legend in the underworld.”

  “So what do you know about her?”

  Hunter thought on this. “I didn’t, not really. Not until just now… I’d heard the name, but I thought she was just the fucking boogeyman of the underworld. And my trump card had to work through layers of secrecy just to get to the name…”

  “Alright, so tell me about this ‘Sarkonov,’” I insisted. I was doing my best to keep my voice from sounding too weary at his sudden spiel.

  “Soroka Sarkonov is an international arms dealer who works through proxies… representatives who meet with cartels, criminal organizations, and warlords on her behalf. Allegedly, she’s financed coups, armed dictators, and called down assassinations. Her whole thing is shrouded in mystery, and when someone goes off-script, heads roll.

  “There’s no telling who her proxies actually are, or how many there are… could be one, could be fifty. But when one of these people shows up, nobody crosses them, and nobody exposes them. It’s a fucking liability just to deal with one of Sarkonov’s proxies, in case you piss off the woman in charge…”

  “This shit is way bigger than us, Princess. I’d never imagined that she actually existed, or that you or I would ever wind up on her radar. I have to get you somewhere safe before I figure out my next moves, or else you and the baby are going to be in serious danger…”

  “You’re spinning me a good story,” I smiled confidently against the phone, “but you’ve gotta be kidding me if you think I believe it for a second.”

  “You’ve gotta listen to me, Sarah,” he insisted quickly. “Soroka Sarkonov is real. She’s connected to that shipping container. She’s the one who paid you to find it through one of her fucking proxies and there’s no way in Hell I’m going to let you keep looking.

  “Do you understand me?”

  There was a conspicuous pause.

  “No, Hunter, I’m don’t,” I replied as coolly as I could. “I get it. You don’t want me working on the case. But you don’t have to make up some shit about scary arms dealers to try and prove a point.”

  “Sarah,” he growled down the phone, “I want you to listen very carefully to me…”

  “No, Hunter, it’s time that you listened to me,” I retorted angrily. “I have put everything – EVERYTHING – on this case. Do you think it’s easy for a private eye to find work when they ran a quick, week long stint as a detective?

  “I struggled to just get my foot through the door on this one. I need you to understand something: this is it. I have to find that container. I’m being paid one hell of a lot of money to do it, and there are more jobs coming if I can pull it off. I’m going to make a life for myself after the fallout from Juarez. This is my chance.”

  “Princess, you’re not thinking straight–”

  “No, this is the straightest I’ve thought in a long time,” I bitterly cut him off. “When you left my life, I threw myself into police work. I ground myself to the bone to build up my career, and the second I got promoted into being a detective, you came back into my life.”

  “You came to me,” Hunter countered, trying to stop my momentum. “Just like you stood there and let me leave without you, in the middle of a goddamn police raid led by your father–”

  “DON’T,” I lashed out. “Don’t you dare... I threw my entire career out the window on my first detective case to help you, and I–”

  “You helped me save the lives of fifteen girls that nobody knew about, and the three missing cheerleaders you were sent to find, Sarah. Are you forgetting how important that is? You even found the plans we’ve been using to cripple the rest of the cartel!”

  “I’ve just become a private investigator… I had to work for months to build myself up and find a case to take… and the first one I land, here you are, trying to force me to give up…”

  When Hunter responded to that, his voice was flush with surprise, betrayal, and bitter disappointment.

  “If it’s between you dying in a puddle on the fucking floor or living to help me raise our child, then yes, I’m asking you give up yet another career…”

  My chest swelled with indignity.

  He continued angrily: “I know you want your independence, but you’re pregnant. You don’t need to be out there doing shit like this! What if you get hurt? What will you do if you lose the kid?

  “I can take care of you! We can take care of you. I love you, Sarah. I’ve always loved you. And I’ll always take care of you and the baby…”

  My boiling point was met, and everything I’d held in all this time came roaring out.

  “Can you, Hunter? Can you really take care of us? Because the last time I checked, not only did you not have any kind of remotely stable situation, but you willingly throw yourself into danger against the kinds of people better left to fucking INTERPOL!

  “What if you’d died during that fight against Viboras Verde? What if you died when you attacked them the first time, the one eight years ago?”

  “Sarah, don’t do this,” Hunter replied, trying to cut me off, but I wasn’t done.

  “You and your club fly around the desert, no place to call home, and you lead a small army of thugs and criminals. What happens when they get police attention, and the finger gets pointed your way? Or when the peace breaks, and civil war opens up? What about when your little club draws the wrong attention and you spend more than a couple of nights in prison? You can’t keep us safe, Hunter. I’m an idiot for even thinking you could. I’m not letting my child grow up in a motorcycle club one step away from the street…

  “Sarah,” he said again.

  “Don’t you dare ‘Sarah’ me. I can’t count on you, Hunter. I need my independence so I can care for this baby no matter what happens to you. I couldn’t care less if the stupid goddamn crate belonged to Satan, Prince of Darkness… I am pursuing this case, with or without you… and if you decide to make it without, then don’t you dare try to stop me.”

  The silence on the phone line filled the air with something heavy and toxic. For a moment, I almost regretted snapping so viciously at him…

  Panic grasped at my lungs.

  What the hell had I just done?

  “Fuck you, Sarah,” he growled.

  My world came shattering down.

  “Hunter… I…”

  “I have done nothing but try and keep you safe, ever since we were stupid fucking kids,” Hunter snarled down the phone. “You were so desperate to follow me down this path, and I tried to stop you. It broke my fucking heart. I’m telling you that you can’t keep looking for this container. Let me put you in a safehouse and I’ll handle this shit.”

  The phone was quivering in my hand against my face. At first it was fear, but now it was anger.

  Who the fuck does he think he is?

  My patience had run out.

  With him…<
br />
  With this…

  I was done with everything.

  “Sarah, if you don’t drop the case–”

  “I’m not dropping the case, Hunter,” I told him under no uncertain terms. “I’m going to Los Angeles, like I just said, with or without you. If you’re not man enough to support me and help me with Talon, then I’ll go myself.”

  “Listen to me, Sarah. You have no idea what you’re doing,” Hunter pleaded down the phone. “I’m asking – begging–”

  “Goodbye, Hunter.”

  With an angry swipe of my thumb, I hung up the line. Moments later, my phone was on silent as I stepped out beneath the hot El Paso sun.

  It felt great to be in control.

  It felt great to turn Hunter down.

  Since he clearly wasn’t going to support my independence or my career, I would just have to prove him wrong and crack this case wide open by myself. Hannah was right. I needed to put this baby first and find that shipping crate.

  If I was fast, I could be in Los Angeles by morning.

  I turned the key in the ignition.

  I hit the gas.

  The rocks scattered behind the big wheels on the back of the Crown Victoria, and I was on my way towards this case, towards that port, and towards my fucking destiny.

  11

  Hunter

  The entire gang roared around me as we rode hard onto the interstate, prepared for the long and difficult drive to Los Angeles. Thirteen hours of riding stood between the port and us; we would be left alone with only our thoughts for the long and harrowing journey.

  I instructed my Dragons to bring weapons, just in case. Most of them packed pistols and handguns, although I spotted a few strapping shotguns over their shoulders. We had no idea what we were riding towards, but I wanted to be ready for anything.

  We were going to be fucked if we ran into the local law on the way across a few states, but it was a gamble we were willing to take.

  At least Hannah was still safe.

  When I’d updated her on the news, she’d wanted to come along, but I wasn’t about to bring her into this shit. I offered to let her stay in the bar alone for a few days, not knowing when we’d be back, but she chose to say her goodbyes and hit the wind.

  “You have enough to worry about,” she had told me.

  “You focus on Sarah and the baby. Let me work on figuring out who the hell was sending us those letters. I’ll find you when I have answers. Don’t go getting yourself killed in the meantime.”

  Just like that, Hannah was back out of my life for the foreseeable future, and I was freed up to concentrate on the matter of hands.

  If my men had any qualms about following me straight to Los Angeles knowing the man we were going to face, they sure as shit didn’t show it.

  Some of them remembered Talon. That night, there were only a handful of us left from the betrayal that decimated our club. We’d bolstered our numbers since then, adding another twenty plus men…

  Good men…

  Most of them had only hearsay of our enemy to go off of, but they stomached the stories and chose to accompany the rest of the gang in following me towards Hell. Fifteen minutes after I got off the phone with Sarah, we were riding west.

  The fuckers were loyal as fuck.

  They were my men, I was their leader, and that was apparently all that there was to it.

  We were about an hour past Phoenix when I started thinking a little clearer. Nagging thoughts had been dragging me down:

  What do we do when we hit Los Angeles?

  What if we’re in for the long haul?

  What happens if we have to stick around?

  I decided on a small break to limber up the muscles – and to give my men a few moments without cradling rumbling, heavy engines between their legs. We pulled into a rest area and I gave them all fifteen minutes to piss and stretch.

  My men had awesome stamina, but I knew that riding a bike for upwards of thirteen hours was exhausting. They would need rest before we went knocking on Talon’s door. There wasn’t any way that they could make it to the port in one straight go, and even if they did…

  Talon had all the advantages.

  Talon had more men, men who had enjoyed a full night’s rest without a long interstate drive. They were better equipped than mine. It was their turf, and they knew how to defend it.

  Fuck.

  Riding in full force with weapons, rested or not, was a bad call on my part. It would send the wrong message.

  I needed diplomacy.

  I needed humility.

  I needed to ride in there alone and ask for a meeting.

  It was my only chance to gain his ear without shedding blood. Granted, that might still happen, but if it was the only real card that I could play…

  I knew my men to be fiercely loyal and protective, and they’d only let me go alone to see Talon over their dead bodies.

  Or their sleeping bodies...

  My Dragons and I took to the highways again.

  A few speed cops tucked away behind overpasses and bushes looked like they were taking interest in us, but we kept on the safe and narrow throughout the long ride, keeping speeds to five over the limit.

  The night spun above us as mile after mile flew by under our tires. Just as the sun was rising behind us, Los Angeles loomed ahead. It had been a long, long time since I’d been to this crazy city.

  Just like that famous rock song from the Nineties had proclaimed, the city was a character all of its own – a constant companion to those it sheltered. I always felt the gaze of Los Angeles upon me when I was near. In those famous words, “The city, she loved me.”

  Or maybe I’m just sentimental.

  My men were goddamn tired, and the first order of business was getting them a place to crash while I slipped away.

  Half an hour later, I was booking rooms at a sleazy little motel on the edge of the city. Everyone was exhausted from the ride, and just ready to crash and catch some sleep.

  I was pretty fucking tired too, but there were much more important things to do.

  The plan was to give it thirty minutes, let everyone pass out, and slip away unannounced. I figured that one or two of them might notice, but that I could get away without the proverbial alarm sounded.

  That… didn’t exactly happen.

  My eyes shot open, and I glanced over at the alarm clock in a panicked daze.

  Aw, fuck.

  I’d been asleep for two hours.

  As quietly as I could, I stepped out of my motel room and made my way to my bike. I fired it up, the rumbling engine filling the parking lot with noise, but nobody in leather came crashing out to stop me.

  It was time to go see Talon.

  Alone.

  With the late morning traffic, getting across the city was an absolute bitch and a half. My motorcycle was a little too thick and rugged to pull the old in-betweener trick on the lanes, and I wasn’t sure I’d want to do it even if it could. The drivers here were all too quick to flip between lanes, and the use of blinkers appeared to be optional.

  I kicked my own ass over falling asleep. For all I knew, Sarah had been in serious fucking trouble for hours…

  It didn’t help that she wasn’t answering her phone. At least it wasn’t going straight to voicemail. That meant that it was still, you know, intact.

  I brushed the negative thoughts away.

  Talon was a vicious fuck, but he had a certain sense of chivalry towards the women. If she’d already went to him, she might be in some trouble…

  But she’d still be alive.

  That was more courtesy than I figured Talon might be willing to give me.

  I was riding into danger alone.

  No backups.

  No weapons.

  No plans.

  My one hope rode on the fact that he’d accept this as a brief olive branch and at least tell me that she was okay. The bad blood between us was just that – between us – and from what I knew of him before,
he was at least somewhat reasonable…

  I’d only been to the Port of Los Angeles twice, accompanying my old leader Eduardo and the rest of his outlying Devil’s Dragons. Eduardo had come to pay his respects to his friend, technically his boss.

  This meant that I knew the way.

  My destination was Terminal Island, one of the major regions of the sprawling port – which dominated over forty miles of coast. If Sarah came here, she was bound to run into some men in Talon’s pocket…

  The thought made my blood boil.

  I rode through Long Beach and through Seaside Freeway, fighting the traffic and the shipping trucks every step of the way. When I finally came to Terminal Island, I noticed a surprising lack of security and passed on through.

  This doesn’t bode well…

  Riding through the port on a motorcycle wearing the leathers of the Devil’s Dragons drew some attention. I could see dockworkers glancing my way with confusion, and I noticed a couple of them acknowledge me with suspicion.

  They were my ticket in.

  Sure enough, I spent less than ten minutes later riding through the port when I soon heard something over the thrum of my engine. Stopping and killing the bike, I heard distant motorbikes coming my way…

  Here comes the welcoming party.

  I had stopped in something of a large intersection between walls of storage crates and warehouses. It wasn’t much longer before a large group of bikers – easily thirty or forty – came a-rollin’ on through.

  Patiently, I watched them perform their little intimidation tactics. They boxed me in with a circle, riding around me and trapping me in the intersection, loudly cheering and jeering at the sight of their unwelcome guest.

  But when they caught notice of my emblem, the taunts turned more malicious. The circle started shrinking, and guns came into view…

  The motorcycles had built a makeshift ring, making escape all but impossible. The crack of a whip sounded over the roar of engines. I knew what was coming next…

  Him.

  From between the rumbling engines he came, stepping into sight just as the bikers killed their bikes. The sound of his black boots crunching against the asphalt crackled into the air; against his black jeans, two silver chains bounced and lightly clanged; his leather jacket bore the insignia of the Devil’s Dragons, the word “President” blurred from age in its stitching; long, curly gray hair flowed down to his shoulders, shifting with his footsteps.