Raine Falling (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club)

by Marinaro, Paula

  To give them another chance.

  How was he going to do that when she hadn’t looked at him in months? That was going to take some doing.

  Somehow Raine had made him invisible to her. Even when he was standing in front of her practically waving a fucking white flag, she looked past him.

  He had to find a way to make her see him again. Goddammit. Most of the things he had done and said that night were a blur for him.

  But evidently not for her. Apparently Raine remembered every single thing he had said. Every fucking hurtful word he threw at her, she had caught and used to form a barricade around her heart.

  He had done this and he had to fix it. But for the life of him he didn’t know how.

  Fucking complicated. Prosper had been right.

  CHAPTER 68

  Over the next week, after my run-in with Diego, virtually all the items on my wish list showed up at the lake house door marked rush shipment. Even though I was pretty sure I knew who the gifts were from, I did my best to investigate. I tried the tracking slips, but to no avail. I even put Pinky on snoop detail. She turned up nothing. If I knew for sure that Diego had sent them, I would have returned them. But I knew he would deny it. Without proof, I would just look like a dramatic pregnant woman causing a scene.

  Besides, the stuff was kickass, and they were all the items on my list except they were the highest end in their category. I received a car seat, a stroller, a baby bassinet, a baby sling, a carrier, and some soft receiving blankets in neutral colors. I couldn’t help but be delighted when I opened them.

  I hadn’t picked out the crib or the other baby furniture. There were two small spare rooms in the lake house. They were both too far away from my own bedroom to be appropriate and would require me switching rooms with Claire or Glory so I had waited on that for now. Both of the rooms would require some work anyway. A fresh coat of paint and some carpeting at the least. Prosper wanted to help with that, but he had been away a lot since the party, presumably on club business. Pinky wasn’t saying much and the small bit of info she was willing to part with made me think whatever it was, it was serious.

  The holes in the wall that Mr. “Don’t want anything to do with the baby” had put his fist through had been fixed. Diego had actually showed up himself to do it. But Glory, who was the only one there at the time, wouldn’t let him in. So Claire and I had come home to find two Hells Saints prospects sheetrocking over the holes in the walls that Diego’s fist had left.

  I guess having those holes sealed up was supposed to make me feel better. I would have felt better if they had been sealed up months ago. I would have felt a whole lot better if they had never been left at all.

  But no use crying over spilled milk. Diego was trying to make those words up to me. I knew he was. I knew he regretted saying them.

  I knew he wasn’t that guy.

  I knew it.

  I knew the things he said probably kept him up nights with self-recrimination because he was not that guy. The guy who did and said those things was an utter and complete asshole. I knew Diego was not him.

  But he also was not the guy who wanted a baby. He was also not that guy.

  CHAPTER 69

  I was buttoning up my blouse after my eight-month checkup. Everything was great. My visits were now every two weeks. I could hardly believe that I was at that point.

  My blood pressure was still good, urine was fine, and I added another three pounds to the growing number on the scale. At thirty-two weeks I had a weight gain of thirty pounds. I had been eating a healthy diet and exercising faithfully, so whatever pounds my body was putting on, it evidently needed. My uterine growth was right where it should be. All in all, the pregnancy was progressing just perfectly.

  And I loved my doctor. He was old school. He was in his mid-seventies and although he was no longer taking new patients, he had made an exception for me. He practiced gynecology as well as obstetrics. Pinky and Dolly were not only patients of his, they were also friends. Reno had been delivered by Dr. Gideon. His practice was small and he liked it that way. I was never kept waiting more than half an hour in the waiting room. Once I had an appointment and he had been called into the delivery room; I was told of the situation and rescheduled for the next day.

  The man took his time. He spent as much time with each of his patients as he needed to. He didn’t nag me about my weight, and he didn’t order any tests that he felt were unnecessary. Yet he was thorough. The one thing that did bother him was that I had filled in nothing about the medical history of the baby’s father. He was not pleased with that and had no qualms about telling me how he felt.

  My poor baby. I knew very little of the medical history of our family. I knew a little about my father’s side. But my mother’s side I knew nothing about. I had filled in the sections as best as I could. The part of the health questionnaire that asked about the baby daddy’s history, I had left totally blank. It bothered me. It did. I spent more than one night lying in bed thinking about Janey and her baby, and wondered what had caused the baby to die in her womb and if the baby had been healthy otherwise. If not, did that have something to do with Diego’s DNA?

  I knew it was important. I knew I should find a way to ask him, but I just couldn’t. So I crossed my fingers and toes and hoped for the best.

  “Okay, Raine, everything looks good. Get dressed and meet me in my office.” Then the doctor was out the door.

  Well, this was new. Except for the initial meeting, we had always had all our discussions in the examination room. I had a moment of panic, but quickly squashed it down. Everything had looked good during the exam so I figured we would just be talking about what was to come in the next few weeks. I finished getting dressed and went to Dr. Gideon’s office.

  When I walked in, he had his back to me. He was pouring himself a cup of coffee from the sideboard table in the corner of his room near his desk. Dr. Gideon turned when he saw me and instead of going around to the other side of his desk, he walked in front of it and he leaned against it. He took a sip of his coffee and sighed deeply.

  “Nectar of the gods,” he said and winked at me. “Can I get you some water or juice, Raine?”

  “No thanks, Doctor.” I smiled back. Then, because I was nervous, I asked him if everything was okay.

  “Oh, yeah,” he nodded. “Absolutely, no worries. It all looks fine.”

  “Then why . . . ?” I started.

  Just then the door opened. I knew it before I saw him. The way you know who is going to be on the phone when it rings or that the next card pulled from the deck is going to be the ace of hearts. I knew it was Diego entering the room.

  “Dr. Gideon.” Diego extended his hand.

  “Diego.” Dr. Gideon took his hand and shook it.

  “Hey, Raine.” Diego ignored my astonished face and sat down in the chair next to me. I was speechless and probably in shock. No, definitely in shock.

  “So I brought that family history in for you.” Diego was handing over a form to the good doctor.

  “Dr. Gideon?” I managed to croak out. Had he really gone behind my back and asked Diego for the medical history? How had he even known Diego was the father? We had never had that talk. I had carefully avoided that particular discussion.

  Dr. Gideon took in my flushed face and shaky voice and raised an eyebrow. “Raine?”

  “It’s okay, Babe. I called the Doc here and came in and grabbed the forms.” Diego said it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  I looked at him then. It occurred to me that I had never really seen him much outside of his “element.” When we had been outside the compound, we had been on the bike or alone or with people we had known. I had never really looked at him from the perspective of what other folks saw.

  He looked so big in the small office. His forearms hung over the armrests of the chair he was sitting in. He was hunche
d forward, the worn cut, his long dark hair, and his biceps straining against the sleeves of his white tee shirt screamed outlaw biker. His jeans were clean and worn and fit him like a glove.

  He was beautiful.

  He was a beautiful, dangerous man who had stolen my heart. Then broken it.

  I put my hand protectively over my stomach. Diego was talking. He was talking to the doctor in earnest. And he was talking about Janey and the baby. He was talking about the stillbirth and he was handing him two pieces of paper. I was sitting in a daze and was trying hard to listen, I really was. But the voices sounded so far away.

  “Doc,” Diego was explaining, “I think these might help you. Janey’s father ordered them and because Janey had a sister who might be having babies someday, I agreed. I knew she would want to spare her sister the pain she went through if the baby’s death could be avoided with some sort of testing . . .” His voice trailed off.

  The papers in Diego’s hand were the autopsy reports from Janey and their son.

  My heart broke again. But this time for him.

  Then Diego looked at me. “I’m sorry, Babe. I should have thought of this sooner.”

  The doctor was looking through the papers. Intently. And he was frowning.

  “I know these are old. I don’t know if they will help or not . . .” Diego was wringing his hands.

  I looked at them sitting in his big lap and thought dully that he was lucky he could still feel his limbs. I had stopped feeling anything the minute he had walked into the room.

  Then the doctor looked up. He refocused on us and what he saw written on Diego’s face scared him into looking at mine. He hurriedly spoke up.

  “No, no. Everything looks fine. There’s a lot of medical terminology here that I could put in layman’s terms for you. Basically there’s nothing here to indicate that the baby Raine is carrying would be at risk.” He smiled at us then.

  Then because Dr. Gideon was who he was, he looked at Diego. He saw past the outlaw cut, the hard eyes, and the inked biceps. He looked past all that and saw the worried look of a father for his baby. Of a man for his pregnant woman. And when he saw it, he did his best to ease it.

  “Son, I can see you’re worried. I’m sorry for your loss. Twenty years ago or yesterday, a loss is still a loss.” He reached in and put his hand on Diego’s shoulder.

  He leaned back to take the both of us in.

  “Can genetics play a factor in stillbirths? They sure can. Would this information have been helpful a little sooner? Maybe. But only to relieve you both of any worry that you’re experiencing. Worry that I wish you had shared with me.” Now the good doctor was looking pointedly at me with an arched brow. I blushed uncomfortably.

  “Because this”—he waved the paper in front of us—“is not that.” He gestured towards my baby belly.

  “Now, stillbirths can happen. I don’t want to force statistics down your throat but they do happen and not too infrequently. Childbirth is a risky business with chromosomes and pre-genetic dispositions and a host of other factors. In many ways it’s a crapshoot really.” Then he smiled. “I guess that’s why they call it a miracle. But the two of you . . . err . . . the three of you are in good shape.”

  He stood up. “So if that’s all, I’ll see you in another couple of weeks.”

  He shook Diego’s outstretched hand and smiled warmly at me.

  I could hear my heartbeat but I could not feel my feet, which made it hard to stand when it was finally time to go. So I gripped the rails of the chair and, like pregnant women everywhere, led with my belly. I held on tight for a few minutes, letting the blood flow back into my limbs.

  “Doc, I know this is your office and shit, but you mind giving me a minute alone with my woman?” Diego had stood up. I don’t know if he meant to be intimidating, but he towered over the doctor. He was practically stepping on his toes in the small office.

  To Dr. Gideon’s credit, he did not seem to be the least bit intimidated.

  He clapped Diego on the arm and said, “Alarm is set. I got my own woman to get home to. Take your time. Just make sure the door is locked when you’re done.” And off he went, closing the door behind him.

  Diego turned to me then. “That was me taking care of shit.”

  “Taking care of shit?” I stammered.

  “Damn. I ain’t good with words, Raine, and you know it. I mean to say that was me stepping up. Reaching into the past to take care of you and the baby. My baby. Our baby.” Diego was looking at me.

  I was still standing, but I thought I should probably sit.

  “Prosper told me about Janey and the baby, Diego.” I don’t know why, but I felt it was important to say her name.

  “Yeah, I know that, Babe.” Diego’s dark eyes narrowed like a cornered jungle cat.

  “I’m sorry that happened. I’m sorry. I get why maybe me springing a baby on you out of the blue was a lot, a lot, to handle. But I was . . .” My voice trailed off.

  “You were what, Raine?” Diego asked warily.

  “I was happy, Diego.” And there it was.

  He was hardly breathing and I couldn’t look at him and find the courage to go on. So I looked at my folded hands instead.

  “I was happy, Diego. I wanted this baby. From the minute I thought it was the smallest possibility that I was pregnant, I was filled with utter and complete happiness.”

  And because at this point I really had nothing left to lose, I decided to tell him exactly, exactly how I felt about him and the baby and well, everything.

  I was done being angry.

  I was done being hurt.

  I was done playing the “He is invisible to me” game. Because that was not me. I was not her. And I just didn’t want to pretend any longer.

  “Diego, I was happy not only because this baby was mine, but because it was yours. I was happy because us being together had created something beautiful and miraculous and wonderful.”

  Then because I didn’t want him to misunderstand, I looked at him and added quickly, “I was careful about taking the birth control every day. It’s important to me for you to know that I never ever set out to get pregnant. I want you to know that I would never knowingly put you in a position of being the father of a child that you had no intention of having. I know it sounds stupid, but I’m still not really sure how it happened.” I took a breath.

  “It was those pills that Jules gave to me to give to you, to calm you down after the shit with Gino.” Diego was looking at me. “Jules, the fucking idiot, never thought to tell me they could interfere with the birth control, and me, the fucking idiot, never thought to ask.” He reached out and covered my hands with his.

  Then he went on.

  “Yeah, I was shocked. I was fucking out of my mind when you told me you were pregnant. But despite what I said to you, Raine, despite those horrible fucked-up words that I threw at you like a fucking grenade, it was never about not wanting it, Babe. It was never about not wanting you. Fuck, I hadn’t even gotten that far in the processing before I lost my shit.” Diego let go of my hands, leaned back in the chair, and scrubbed his hand over his face.

  “When you told me, all I could see was a dead you. I didn’t want to lose you, Raine. Fuck, Babe, I still don’t want to lose you. I want you. I want the baby. I want it all. I want the white picket fence and the tire swing in the yard. Cookouts on Sunday and fucking family vacations. I want this baby and a few more like it if you’re game.” He looked at me then, straight in the eye with his heart on his sleeve.

  I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. I just knew I wanted and needed to feel myself in the arms of this big, beautiful, bad man. I made my eyes meet his and in them I saw the love that I was looking for. I knew by the way he smiled down at me that he saw that same love reflected in my own. Everything was gonna be alright.

  It was all going to work out.
>
  I was going to get my happily-ever-after.

  Diego and me and baby makes three.

  I stretched up to him as he reached down to me.

  I was singing that happy tune in my head right up until the time I saw my man do this weird little full-body-dance then crumble down in front of me.

  I was singing that happy tune right up until I felt something hard hit me on the back of my head.

  Fall back. Fall back. Protect the baby, I thought to myself just before it all went black.

  CHAPTER 70

  I’VE BEEN FUCKING TASERED!” Diego was shouting into the phone.

  “At the fucking doctor’s office!

  “They took Raine. They fucking took her!

  “Yeah, it took three fucking times to get me the fuck down but the motherfucking cocksuckers fucking succeeded.”

  Then louder.

  “NO FUCKING IDEA.”

  Then at a pitch that could be heard two towns away.

  “Do not. Do not fucking tell me to calm the fuck down. I need you to get here now. Fucking yesterday. Motherfuckers blew out my tires!”

  Diego was gonna fucking kill his brother if he asked him one more fucking question.

  “Ninety-eight fucking Liberty Street, you fucking moron. I just fucking said it!”

  He hadn’t said it. He knew he hadn’t said it.

  “You fucking tell me to calm the fuck down one more goddamn time I am gonna rip off your balls and shove them down your fucking throat.”

  He took a deep breath because Jules was right.

  He had to calm the fuck down and figure out what the hell had just happened. His hands were shaking and he felt like he was going to be sick. He put his hands on his knees and took three deep breaths.

  “Jules?” he croaked out.

  “Yeah, Brother. I’m with you. Right here, man. Right here.” Jules was working hard to keep his voice steady. Because if they had any hope of finding Raine, they had a very short window of time and they had to keep their shit straight up and fucking think. The club had to start putting it out, calling in favors, taking out marks, doing whatever the fuck they had to do to get D’s woman and baby back to him.