by April Lust
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to confirm that. You are going to need some medication for all your bumps and bruises. I don’t want to give you anything that could potentially hurt you.”
Emma found herself frowning. “I hate to say this, but with everything that happened to me tonight there is no chance that a baby would stick around.”
The doctor shrugged and patted her shoulder. “Better safe than not.”
It was, Emma decided, a good thing that the doctor had taken that test. At the end of the day all she could prescribe was a few tablets of Tylenol.
“What?” Kellan asked, having returned to the room after his hip had been stitched up. “What do you mean Tylenol?”
The doctor took a deep breath and shared a look with Emma. Without another word she stepped out. Emma reached for Kellan’s hand. There were a million ways she might have been able to tell him what was going on. Poetic statements and flowery phrases that might have worked with a different kind of man, but none of them were for Kellan.
“I’m pregnant,” she said softly. “I’m going to have a baby. If you want to, we are going to have a baby.”
He stared at her with open-mouthed disbelief. “What? How?”
She raised her brow at him. “I was pretty sure you understood the mechanics of the whole thing.”
He took his hand out of hers and walked in a little circle. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. Emma, I love you, I meant it when I said it and I mean it now, but I would be a terrible father.”
“Why?” she asked as gently as she could. “What makes you so sure?”
“My father—”
She cut him off because she didn’t want to hear it again. “Your father was his own person. He was a terrible person but he wasn’t you. My father was a biker, a high school dropout, a criminal, a killer, and a thief. Of all of those things, I’m only one of them.”
He opened and closed his mouth several times. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Get over yourself,” she said flatly. On a different day she might have held her arms out to him and let him cry, but it had been too long a night with too many emotions for her to hold his hand through this particular one. “Because you are going to be a dad.”
He flopped down into a seat and held his head in his hands. He was shaking and she could see it. She made a small sound. Apparently she would have to do some handholding anyway. She held her fingers out to him and motioned him over.
“Kellan, I love you. I love you so very much. You are stubborn, and difficult, and arrogant, and you manage people the way other people manage money. But you think very little of yourself where it matters most. You rushed in to rescue me, to do the thing that needed to be done even though you didn’t know what might happen to you. If that’s not fatherhood material, I don’t know what is.”
“What if I mess up?”
She gave his fingers a squeeze. “Then I’ll be there to set it all right.”
“I don’t know if I am ready.”
She pulled him towards her, and placed her lips gently against his. “You’ll be ready.”
For the first time since she told him the news a flicker of hope and happiness moved across his face. His lips teased up in a tiny grin. “You know, if we weren’t already married, I’d ask you to marry me.”
“Well,” she said, her lips splitting into a truly amused grin, “it’s a good thing we already got that covered.”
Chapter 19
The smell of burgers and hot dogs wafted through the deep summer heat nearly a year later. Rocco, whose fur had almost recovered from the cast he had hobbled around in for too many months, circled the grill with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. His tail thumped against the dirt in hope.
“What do you want?” Kellan asked, flopping down in a nearby chair and resting the heel of one foot on the toe of the other. “You know burgers are bad for you. Emma says so all the time.”
“What?” a low country drawl said as the meat flipped on top of the grill. “A li’l bit’a meat never killed none of my hounds I tell ya. Gave them just a little bit with their dinner. Besides, what is in all that fancy meat at the grocery store? Tofu? Naw.”
“Whatever you say, Wayne.”
The man turned around, the Prospect patch clear on his chest. His shot hair was half hidden beneath an honest to god cowboy hat. He tipped it in Kellan’s direction and gave a big grin. “I mean, what would happen if I just happened to drop a piece on the ground?”
Rocco circled around, his tail flopping back and forth, back and forth. He gave a yip of demand before a fat piece of meat rolled of the grill and landed at his feet. Rocco was just about to demolish it when a golden blur beat him to it.
Kellan laughed. “Look at that, old dog, the pup beat you two it.”
The younger dog, who had the look of a golden retriever and something far hairier rolled, onto his back, and onto the discarded burger.
“Samantha!”
The pup, hearing her name called with a very stern voice, sprang to its feet and rolled over. A large hunk of food clung to her fur. She gave a shrill and youthful bark before charging across the yard towards the open backdoor and the woman who stood there. His heart did a slow twitch in his chest that made him feel breathless.
The real Samantha was locked up in the women's state prison. Apparently she had been helping the brothers sell of plenty of young pretty girls to the highest bidder. Kellan hadn't understood why Emma had wanted to name a good dog after such a horrible person, and when he had ask she had just fixed him with a smile and shrugged. “Because she's a bitch.”
His woman had the strangest sense of humor.
Emma had tossed her hair into a messy tail at the top of her head, decked out in medical scrubs. A simple golden band sat on her finger, matching the one that sat on his. Her work outfit was pink, and made her face look flushed and happy. Though that might have also been because of the baby positioned on her hip.
The hair was as black and curly as his own, but the eyes that twinkled out of that tiny, round face were the same blue as Emma’s.
“Can you come help me?”
It wasn’t really a question, and they both knew it. He tilted his head at Wayne and raised a beer in salute. “Man the grill. My woman wants me.”
Wayne tipped his hat again and called out for Sargent, a middle-aged man whose arms were speckled with Naval images, including the Marines symbol on his visible bicep. He dragged a much younger man, nearly as skinny as Kellan’s thigh, to plop down around the grill in camaraderie.
He headed inside, taking his time to get there. He paused long enough near the back door to tell Phantom to make sure the new guys didn’t set anything of fire. There were only six Beasts now, and he didn’t much want to lose any of them. There had been enough of that.
“Hey,” Rudy said when Kellan stepped through the door, “your wife was looking for you.”
“So I heard, where’s yours?”
“Being a whale,” Hannah called from the living room. She hefted not only herself and a child, but a very pregnant belly. “My feet feel huge.”
“You should be resting.” Rudy tried to guide his wife into a chair, but she was having none of it.
“I’m pregnant, not dying. I want a salad and five hamburgers.” She placed a hand on her back. “Kellan, Emma was—”
“Looking for me, so I hear.” He stopped and gave Hannah a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t you let this big oaf push you around.”
“Never.” She winked at him and motioned him on. “Get on with you, Emma looked ready to throttle something.”
He made his way down the hall and found Emma in the bedroom. For a moment all he did was watch her. Childbirth and a comfortable life had added a bit of curve to her hips. He fought an urge to bury his teeth in them. Being a mom definitely suited her.
The baby was laid out on the bed, a diaper and diaper cream laid up next to him. He had one foot gripped in one hand, and was curren
tly trying to bring it to his mouth.
Emma adjusted her ponytail, plopped her keys into a bag, and turned to him.
“You rang?” he asked, leaning casually against the doorway.
“Took you long enough,” she fussed. She was distracted as she turned to look in the mirror. “It’s your turn to change Leon. I need to get ready for work.”
Kellan smirked and wandered over to the baby, tugging the plump foot out of his toothless mouth. “Hey there. Hey there, little guy.”
He took his time with Leon. It had taken him weeks to master the act of putting a diaper on a squirming baby. Kids, he had decided after the first month, had no desire to wear clothes or do much of anything. When everything was back where it should be, he hefted Leon up to give him a hug. Emma was watching him. There were tears in her eyes.
“What?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
“You are such an idiot.”
He blinked. “I missed something. What happened.”
She slapped a hand against his arm. “You thought you were going to be a bad father. You’re an idiot.”
He laughed softly and wrapped an arm around her back, tugging her close. “I’m sorry.”
“I love you,” she whispered, pulling his head down to give him a kiss.
“I love you, too.”
THE END
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A Gift to My Readers – His Perfect Angel: Shadow Reapers MC
I just bought my perfect angel, and now I’ll use her as I please.
Nora’s boyfriend was a lowlife. She deserved better. She deserved me.
So I bought her.
Now, I’ve got her tied naked to my bed. She’ll be whatever I want her to be:
A toy. A hobby. And a vessel for my baby.
Nora was a good girl in a bad situation.
She fell for the wrong loser, and before she knew it, her life was a mess of lying to cops and suffering her scumbag boyfriend’s abuse.
But then she walked into my MC’s den, and everything changed.
I didn’t just want to have her; I needed to have her.
That flawless skin deserved to bear my ink.
That flawless mouth deserved to give me pleasure.
And that flawless belly deserved to grow heavy with my seed.
It didn’t take much for me to get what I desired.
And once the money changed hands and her now-ex-boyfriend is booted unceremoniously out the door, it’s just her and I alone together.
Her clothes will come off.
Her legs will spread open.
And I will use her to get the son I’ve always wanted.
Chapter One
Nora
“Take this,” Ryan said as I helped him pull his camping pack off his shoulders. He shrugged it off and let the straps fall down his arms. I set it down by the door and grabbed his coat, pulling it off for him while he panted as if he’d walked all the way to my apartment.
Layers of cold came off of him while I removed his gear. He had brought that inside with him as well. It lingered by my door, slowly dissipating into the small one-bedroom apartment he paid for but didn’t share with me— except for a few nights every six weeks or so.
I dropped all of his gear and extra layers in a pile by the door and walked back into the kitchen where I’d been working on dinner in anticipation of his arrival. I knew he’d need a hot meal when he finally arrived. I had also expected that he wouldn’t be affectionate or grateful. He never was.
“What’s for dinner?” he barked from the couch.
“Beef stew,” I told him. So I hadn’t exactly slaved over it. It had been cooking in the crock pot all day. All I had to do was serve it up when it was ready, and it should have been about ready for us.
“I’m fucking starving,” he said, making no effort to actually get off the couch.
I didn’t say anything. I knew he was tired from crossing the border.
He didn’t cross at the border checkpoints since he didn’t want to risk going through customs with his cargo. Instead he had a path through the wilderness that he used to get across. Even on the northern border with Canada, there were a lot of people crossing by foot, illegally, and they all had their reasons. Ryan crossed for business.
He didn’t walk the whole way. He drove to a point on the Canadian side where he could camp and park his car for a few days. Then walked across and picked up the truck he kept on the U.S. side of the border, came to the apartment, and stayed with me while he conducted business.
He’d bought everything in the apartment for me. He paid the rent and utilities, and he kept it furnished. So, if he wanted to come in and crash on the couch with barely even a hello, much less any sign of affection, that was his prerogative. I was in no position to rock his boat. My job was to be there when he showed up and to be a loyal, serving woman to my man.
“Are you ready to eat?” I asked, pulling out a couple of bowls and silverware.
“Yeah,” he grunted, getting up from the couch and trudging into the dining room. He sat down at the table and waited on me to serve him.
I filled his bowl and grabbed a beer from the fridge on the way to the table. I set his food and drink down, and then I went back for my own. When I finally sat down, I was able to get my first good look at him.
“Rough trip?” I asked.
He looked up at me with his dark eyes. They were brown, but sometimes they seemed almost black. His tired, haggard face told the story of a troubled crossing. The weather probably hadn’t cooperated either. He hadn’t shaved in days, and his cheeks were a little sunken in. He had dark circles around his eyes, and his thin hair was a matted rat’s nest on top of his head.
“You have no idea,” he croaked.
“Well, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you tonight,” I said in a soothing tone. “Eat some of this stew and get a hot bath. You’ll feel better then.”
“I hope so,” he remarked, returning to his food. “I wouldn’t have crossed if I’d had a choice,” he said a few moments later.
“Why did you, then?” I asked.
“Those fucking impatient bikers, man. We can’t keep Shadow Reapers waiting.”
Shadow Reapers was a local MC. We were in a small town near the border, but the Reapers had big city dreams. The MC was Ryan’s number one buyer, so I understood why he wouldn’t want to keep them waiting.
“Well, you’re here now,” I told him. “The worst is over, and you get a few days to rest.”
“You’re right about half of it,” he said as he continued to eat. He didn’t say much else, just kept eating. He got up at one point and refilled his bowl. When I realized what he was doing, I protested, telling him I could have done it for him, but he shrugged off my offer to help and sat back down to eat.
Without a word, he got up after he finished and put his bowl in the sink. Then he went down the hallway toward the bathroom. I heard the door close, and then water running. I sat at the table with my half-eaten bowl of stew and listened as the man who was supposed to be my boyfriend went on about his business like I wasn’t even there. I finally got up and dumped the rest of my food in the trash.
Ryan never talked much, but the last few times he’d crossed, he had grown shorter with me. I had long since accepted that our relationship was little more than a business arrangement for him, but that didn’t mean I didn’t get lonely.
I had met Ryan back when I was in high school. He rescued me from an abusive foster home. He needed someone to help him keep a kind of home base while he ran back and forth across the border, and I needed a safe place to call home. That was when he’d set me up in my own place. Well, in our own place.
“Babe, this is only for a little while,” he’d told me the night we moved into this apartment. “After about
a year, I should have enough money to live off of. Then, we’ll get married and I’ll take you away from here.”
I couldn’t remember feeling happy and hopeful at the time, though I was certain I must have felt that way. Otherwise, why had I put up with him for so long? No, what I remembered was feeling grateful. The gratitude I had felt then was what had kept me with him for so long. That, and the fact that in between his visits, I had about six weeks to myself at a time.
I stayed loyal to my man, which meant only having sex a few times every few weeks when he was on the U.S. side of the border. Even then, sex was more of a chore. Like cooking dinner, it was something he expected of me when he was home. It was also something I needed by the time he made it back across, so it worked out for both of us.