Not Warranted (Red Eyes MC Romance Series - Book #2)

by Blair Grey

  I felt surprisingly nervous about my consultation on Monday. It was silly, really. Like I had told Rachel, it wasn’t like I was going to actually get inseminated today. And even if I did, I knew the odds of me getting pregnant right away were basically zilch. But all the same, this was nerve-racking. It was the first step of a series of steps that could totally change my life.

  I didn’t like seeing all the men sitting around the waiting room at the clinic. I knew exactly what they were there for: hoping to make a little extra money by donating their swimmers. And sure, there were a couple of them in particular who were easy on the eyes. But I couldn’t help thinking of how against this whole process Rachel was.

  Maybe she was right. There was something weird about wanting to create a legacy so badly, or even to make money so badly, that you were willing to jack off into a cup, a tube, whatever it was. I didn’t know all the logistics of it.

  And I didn’t know a single thing about any of these men—any of the men who could possibly be the father of my child.

  It wasn’t that I was worried about what Rachel had said. I didn’t care if one of them was a future felon. I was a firm believer in nurture over nature in terms of personality. I had to be; otherwise, I would be forced to acknowledge that one day, I might be just like my own father.

  But all the same, I didn’t know anything about any of these people, and I knew there were biological consequences that I might not know about. What if heart disease ran in his family, or dementia? I knew that the clinic screened all the potential candidates, but what if the odds that they thought were acceptable weren’t odds I was comfortable with?

  What’s more, even if the odds of my child being born with some kind of genetic defect were exactly the same, whether I went with artificial insemination or pregnancy via intercourse, how would I feel, knowing that my child might have been different if he’d just been conceived differently? Not that I believed in God or anything like that. But maybe there was a consequence to not waiting until the proper time before I had children of my own. Maybe there was a consequence to a child conceived in a sterile hospital environment rather than…

  Rather than in an act of hurried passion, on the couch of a man I didn’t even know?

  I still blushed, thinking back to Saturday night. The worst part about all of it was that Marcus had actually still tried to contact me. He’d called, and then he’d texted, just checking in to make sure I was doing okay. That I had gotten home all right.

  It was another part of that sweet side to him, the side I’d seen in flashes. The side I doubted he let many people see. No, to most people, he was that cocky, arrogant prick I had first met in the hospital. For some reason, he had decided to let me inside of those walls.

  I couldn’t do it, though. I knew exactly the kind of shit I was getting mixed up with by being involved with him. If I even dated him, there was a chance of danger. It was part of what made him so sexy and attractive. But I wasn’t a teenager anymore. Sexy and attractive weren’t the be-all, end-all. I knew better than to take things any further than they had already gone.

  So I didn’t call him back.

  “Leila Warren?” the receptionist asked. “The consultant is ready to see you now.”

  I got up and followed her down the hall to one of the offices. I tried my best not to fidget as I entered, but the woman behind the desk, Sandra, was a pleasant, plump, middle-aged woman, and I had to admit, she put me at ease from the minute she shook my hand.

  “Come on, let’s sit on the couch,” she said, leading me to the plush green sofa at the side of her office. “I hate sitting at the desk during consultations; it makes me feel like I’m the headmaster at a school or something like that. Needlessly formal.”

  I grinned and sat next to her. “Well, I’m sure you know why I’m here,” I said, trailing off uncertainly.

  Sandra laughed. “That I do,” she agreed, her blonde curls bouncing as she nodded. “And I want you to know that there’s nothing to worry about here. The process is very straightforward, and we’re discreet about things.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “You’re not going to receive the bill from us in an envelope that has ‘artificial insemination procedure’ all over it.”

  I giggled. “Good to know. Could you tell me a bit about it? The process. I’ve read your fliers and everything, but I just want to hear it in your own words.”

  “Of course!” Sandra said, sounding like there was nothing better that she’d like to do. “So the first thing that we’d do, once you decided that this was really the route that you wanted to go, would be to do some tests on you, just make sure you’re in good health, figure out when you’ll be ovulating, all of that medical stuff. I’m sure you’re familiar with that part of the process since you’re a nurse.”

  “Right,” I said, nodding. “I generally work in the ER, but I read up on the sorts of tests you’d do, and none of that worries me.”

  “Perfect, I won’t go into too much detail there, then,” Sandra said, clapping her hands together. “Once we decided that the process would take for you, which I’m sure it would since you’re young and healthy, you’d sit down and pick the sperm donor. We leave it all up to you, and we have pictures and backgrounds of all the men that donate. They list all the pertinent details about the man’s life like his career and education, his hobbies, basically everything about him.” She winked at me. “Don’t you wish you got something like that when you first started dating someone?”

  I had to laugh. “Oh yeah,” I agreed. Wouldn’t that make it easy to dissuade myself from having anything to do with Marcus? I could find out all that business he was involved in, all those things that I suspected but didn’t really want to know about him. I could feel my mood darken as I thought about that, and I forced myself to stop thinking about him and focus on this appointment.

  “There’s no random selection with your baby,” Sandra said firmly. “You have the ultimate choice in everything. If you can’t find a donor that you like, you don’t get impregnated; it’s as simple as that. We will keep you informed of new donors who join our database, though, if you’re still interested in giving it a try.”

  “I like that, that there’s no random selection,” I said in relief. I shook my head. “I like the idea of knowing something about the father, even if he’s never involved in the baby’s life.” I paused, a sudden thought striking me. “Does that ever happen?” I asked. “Do you ever get fathers who want to be involved in their babies’ lives?”

  “Oh no,” Sandra said, shaking her head. “First of all, we steer clear of calling them ‘fathers.’ I know that biologically that’s what the man is, but that word carries so many connotations with it. The sperm donors here sign over all their rights to be involved with their children. They aren’t even allowed to know if someone has used one of their samples, let alone who has used their sample.”

  “But I could find him, couldn’t I? If I really wanted to?”

  “I supposed you could, but you’d have to do a lot of digging,” Sandra said. “Although we give you plenty of information about the sperm donors, we never divulge his name or where he lives. Easier for both parties.” She paused. “If you’re looking for a situation where the father is actively involved in your child’s life, perhaps this isn’t the right route for you,” she added delicately.

  I shook my head quickly. “That’s not what I’m looking for,” I assured her. “Like I said, I just had some questions about the process.” I grimaced. “I’m not on the best terms with my own father.”

  “I see,” Sandra said, looking sympathetic for a moment before she started telling me all about the rest of the process, such as getting pregnant and going through with the pregnancy. She went over all the risks that went along with artificial insemination, all of which I had already done my research on. Still, it made me feel better, listening to her outline all of it in her matter-of-fact tone.

  I had to admit; I was really thinking about this. All my worry from when I’
d first come into the clinic had disappeared, especially when Sandra brought out a sample bio and started showing me how detailed all of it was. I might not know the guy’s name, and there was still the possibility, like Rachel had said, that he could be a future convict. There was also the possibility, as there always was with a pregnancy, that something could go wrong.

  But after reading through the sample bio, I almost felt like I knew the sperm donor. He had been raised Christian but now identified as agnostic. He was a music teacher at a local university and volunteered at the soup kitchen on weekends.

  These weren’t the scary people that Rachel was warning me away from.

  In fact, I started to have the opposite fear. Reading about someone who was perfect for me, someone I wanted to be the father of my baby, just might make me feel like I had some attachment to him. It was enough to make me feel some obligation to tell him he had a child, even if he had made it clear that he didn’t want to know, even if he had signed away his rights to know. It was probably a good thing I didn’t know who the man really was or where he lived.

  “You don’t have to decide anything right now,” Sandra said soothingly at the end of the appointment. “Think it over. Decide if you’re sure. Then we’ll start those medical tests, and then you can think it over again and decide if you’re really sure about this.”

  I laughed and shook her hand. “Thanks so much for meeting with me, Sandra,” I told her. “This has really been helpful.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” she said warmly. “And seriously, if you have any questions at all, or if you’d like to set up another appointment, definitely feel free to call me. I’d love to talk through any more concerns you might have.”

  “Thanks,” I said, really meaning it. “Hey, would you mind if I take a copy of that sample bio? I’ve been talking about this with one of my friends, and she’s really against the idea of it. I think if I could show her that, she might come around.”

  “Of course!” Sandra said, handing over the folder. “And if you need any other information for her, or if she’d like to come to a meeting with me and you, you know where to find me.”

  I walked out to my car with a big smile on my face. The more I thought about it, the more certain I was that this was what I wanted to do. It cut out the messy relationship factor and any potential dad issues further up the road. It would be just me and my little baby, just the way I wanted it to be.

  I couldn’t wait to talk to Rachel about this.

  17

  Marcus

  Tuesday

  I was at the clubhouse on Tuesday when Braxton came in. He dropped onto the couch next to me and winced. “Head hurting you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him. The officer hadn’t been too gentle with him the previous day, and I wondered if Braxton had even bothered to get it checked out.

  “It’s just a headache, nothing big,” Braxton muttered.

  “Head injuries are nothing to mess with,” I said seriously. I got up and grabbed my wallet off the side table. “Come on, let’s go. We’re taking you to the hospital.”

  “Dude, I’m fine,” Braxton said.

  “Did you even bother to check for a concussion?” I asked him. “Let’s go. We should get it check out, just to be on the safe side. If you fall into a coma, Landon’s going to be a useless mess.”

  Braxton looked guilty when I mentioned his twin, and that got him moving. He climbed slowly to his feet. “All right, all right,” he muttered.

  I felt sort of guilty for dragging him along with me. It wasn’t that I wasn’t concerned about his head injury, but I was partly also using this as an excuse to go to the hospital and hopefully see Leila. I still hadn’t heard from her, and I was starting to feel worried. I was sure that she had gotten home fine, but I just wanted to make sure she was okay. That I hadn’t done something wrong the other night.

  I helped Braxton fill in all his paperwork when we got to the hospital. “Here, I’ll take it up to the counter,” I told him. “I can tell your head’s killing you every time you move.”

  Braxton scowled at me, but he made no move to protest or to stop me. I handed over the checklist and then said casually to the receptionist, “Does Leila Warren happen to be working right now?”

  The receptionist rolled her eyes at me. “You were the guy who was in here before, aren’t you? The one who refused to see anyone other than her, even though she was on her break at the time?”

  “That’s me,” I said, grinning. I was kind of glad that she remembered me. However embarrassing it was, maybe it meant I wouldn’t have to jump through as many hoops this time to convince them I wasn’t going to settle for anyone other than her.

  The receptionist rolled her eyes again. “What, do you have the hots for her?” she grumbled, but she got on the phone for a second and then directed us to a room, letting us know that Leila would be there shortly.

  We waited in the room for Leila. She froze in the doorway when she saw me, double-checking the information on her clipboard. “Braxton?” she asked the twin, totally ignoring me.

  Braxton eyed her up and down and then looked over at me, a smirk on his face. “Dude, did I die when that officer hit me?” he asked. “Because shit, I thought you only got nurses this sexy when you died and went to heaven.”

  “Shut the fuck up, man,” I snapped, feeling on edge. I watched Leila carefully, expecting her to storm out of there and demand that someone else come to help us. If she did that, there wasn’t much I could do in response. But instead, she just went about examining Braxton’s head. Braxton was fortunately silent, seeming to realize that I was serious when I had shushed him before.

  She looked just as good as ever. She was in pale blue scrubs today, and they accentuated her tanned skin and pink lips. Her hair, rather than being up in a messy bun, was braided down her back, and it was the first time I realized just how long her hair was.

  I had a sudden image in my head about taking her to bed, letting those silken waves tumble across her shoulders and down her back. I tried to push it out of my mind before I started to chub in my pants. That would be embarrassing, and, given that she still wasn’t talking to me after Saturday night, she might never talk to me again if she saw that.

  “No concussion,” she finally said, “but you do have a pretty decent cut back here that I’m going to need to clean.” She worked in silence for a few minutes as Braxton squirmed in pain. “Done,” she finally said, stepping away and taking her gloves off. “The headache you mentioned on your form is probably mostly to do with a sort of whiplash from having your head pushed around so fast. Standard muscle relaxants will probably help.”

  “Thanks,” Braxton said, and for a moment, I thought he was going to flirt with her, but then he looked consideringly over at me, jumped off the table, and headed out the door.

  I caught Leila’s arm before she could follow him. “Hey, you,” I said quietly. “Why haven’t you returned my calls? Did I do something wrong the other night?”

  Leila looked up at me for a long moment, and I could see that she was uncertain. But then, she shook her head. “Look, Marcus, whatever life you’re living isn’t one that I’m interested in,” she said finally.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, wondering if she knew about the Red Eyes thing. If so, how did she know?

  But it wasn’t that. She shook her head. “I know you were trying to get me to believe it was a cat that attacked you when you first came in here, but we both know you got cut with a knife,” she said quietly. “And not only would that be one hell of a kitchen accident for you to do that to yourself, but you’re right-handed, and the cut was on your right forearm.”

  I grinned. “Very astute of you,” I told her. “First you figured out that it was a knife cut, rather than a cat, and now you’ve figured out that I didn’t do it to myself in some sort of fucked-up attempt at suicide that I later went back on.”

  She rolled her eyes. But then, she sighed. “Look, I had fun the other night. And the sex w
as really good.”

  “Yeah, it was,” I couldn’t stop myself from saying. I reached for her, but she took a step back.

  “But,” Leila continued, “I don’t want to get caught up in the middle of whatever bullshit you’re caught up in.”

  “Things are settled down for now,” I told her. And it was the truth. Ray had just told all of us to go on vacation until he sorted things out, and even though I’d still been planning on figuring out some way to make the Unknowns pay, I was starting to wonder if maybe it would be best to just do as Ray had asked. Take a vacation. Spend some time with Leila.

  But Leila’s mouth twisted bitterly. “For now,” she said.

  I grinned. “I can’t predict the future,” I told her. “But come on, I have a couple weeks with nothing to do. A vacation of sorts from work. Give me the chance to show you that I’m not the guy you think I am.”

  Leila continued to stare at me. “Who do I think you are?” she finally asked.

  I blinked and then smiled crookedly at her. “I don’t really know, to be honest,” I admitted. “But I can tell that whoever it is you think I am, you don’t like me all that much.”

  Leila rolled her eyes. “You’re pretty arrogant,” she said finally. “You walk in here like you own the place, interrupting my work like you think you have some right to do that.” Then she paused. “But I know you’re not really like that, deep down.” She said the last part quietly, almost as if she was saying it just to herself. She bit her lower lip.

  Again, I took a step toward her, and again, she took a step back. “If you really want to show me what kind of person you are, if you’re really the caring person I think you are, then I’m attending a fundraiser for children on Friday,” she told me. “It’s at the fairgrounds. Set up is around ten a.m., and I’m going to need help with some of my equipment.”

  “Some of your equipment?” I couldn’t resist asking, waggling my eyebrows at her.