DON’T HURT MY BABY

by Zoey Parker

  “Come in.” She tugged his hand, pulling him inside. She shut the door and then shuffled back to her seat in front of the vanity, heart racing. Why was she doing this? She didn’t know, except that Bastard made her do silly things, feel silly ways. He looked around the small dressing room, looking comically out of place in her feminine hideout.

  “How did you find me?” Her words fell like axes in the quiet of the room. She met Bastard’s gaze through the mirror.

  “Business.” He chewed on the inside of his lip. “The club delivers here.”

  She nodded. She should have figured. The owner had made mention of being on good terms with a local biker club. She just hadn’t assumed it would be the Damned Devils, and hadn’t asked out of pure stubbornness.

  “You never went back to Olympia,” Bastard said quietly.

  “Very observant,” she said with a smirk.

  “I’ve been wondering,” he added.

  “Well you found me. Not that you were looking.” She fingered the edge of her compact, unsure where to begin. How could there be so many emotions associated with someone she’d shared so little time with? “Why did you even bother saying anything?”

  “I told you. I miss you.” He stepped closer and her skin prickled. Not a good sign. If she was supposed to keep up her defenses against this man, to resist whatever supernatural attraction she had for him…he needed to stay away.

  “So? Bastards don’t miss their fuck buddies.” She narrowed her eyes, daring him to sass back.

  “Well this one does.”

  She scoffed, rolling her eyes. Annoyance surged through her again. “Real sweet. So that’s what it is, huh? You just wanted a quick fuck again? A month has probably been too long for you without this pussy, huh?”

  His eyes flashed. “It’s not like that.”

  “Well it sure seems like it.” She gritted her teeth, popping to her feet as a new surge of confidence bolstered her. “Here, Bastard. Go ahead. I’m all yours.” She gestured to her body. “Maybe you see me as a piece of meat. After all, your first comment was about my fake tits.” She grabbed his hands, bringing them up to her breasts. She placed his big palms over the cups of her bra, mashing them against her. “See? You feel them? Feel how fake they are?”

  Bastard visibly wilted. “Jesus, Kit. Stop it.”

  She dropped his hands, spinning on her heels. She plopped down in her chair, fighting tears. If this was how the new Kit responded to heartbreak, she barely recognized it. Nothing made sense anymore.

  “Well, is that mystery at least solved?” She snatched a makeup wipe from the container, resuming her work from before.

  Bastard’s jaw flexed. He came up behind her, his heat sinking into her.

  “I’m not here because I’m trying to fuck,” he said. “But you should know you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. In my life.”

  She swallowed a knot of tears, thankful for the makeup removal as a convenient distraction. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

  “Your tits do feel different though,” he said. “Maybe it’s just been awhile.”

  Kit pouted a little as she wiped off her eye makeup. “How would you know? You’ve probably felt so many. I’m surprised you even remember mine. A month is probably like five years in biker time.”

  He cocked his head. “You tryin’ to ask me something?”

  Her heart hammered inside her. “No.” But she was. She wanted to know if he’d been with anyone else. She certainly hadn’t. Which made some of her – calling them symptoms made it feel way too real – as of late a little more worrying.

  He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I don’t normally do shit like this.”

  “Like what?” She tossed a used wipe into the garbage can and reached for another.

  “Like…show up.” His words came out so hesitant and strange that it seemed like someone else altogether had said them. She looked at him through the mirror, only one eye rimmed with eyeliner. Her face looked lopsided.

  “So you’re saying you normally just bail on a girl and that’s it.” She resumed removing makeup from the other eye. “Well I must be pretty special then.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “You are.”

  His words sunk through the air, like sediment settling at the bottom of the ocean. She listened to the echo of his words so many times she lost track of how much time had gone by. When she finally dared look at him through the mirror, his expression was so raw it nearly prompted another round of tears.

  “That’s nice,” was all she could say.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Bastard said, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “I just…I wanted to see you. Say I’m sorry. Probably too much to think you’d want to talk or hang after this, but…”

  She straightened her back, tossing another spent wipe. Her mind made weak circles around his comment about her boobs. They’d been so tender recently. And her period was definitely on the verge of starting. Unless it was late by now. She didn’t normally keep track. But if they looked big enough to be fake…

  “I think my period is late,” she blurted, zipping up her makeup case.

  Bastard blinked a few times, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “Okay. Have you…you know…”

  “What?”

  “You think you might be pregnant?”

  Hearing the words from his mouth made apprehension slither through her. She hadn’t even dated to think the words. “I don’t know.”

  “Did you take a test?”

  She shook her head. “I kept thinking my period would start. But it hasn’t. I’m not sure how late I am. I might be really late, actually.”

  Bastard nodded slowly. “Do you want to?”

  She deflated a little, looking around at her makeup bags scattered on the vanity. “I mean…I guess. But also…” She drew a long sigh, barely able to wrap her mind around the idea of a positive test result. What then? In the midst of all this change and upheaval…a baby didn’t seem like the best next step. It was partly the reason she’d chosen to trudge onward as though everything was normal. Ignoring the painfully large, swollen evidence attached to her chest.

  “You should take one,” Bastard said, his tone softening. “Just so you know.”

  She nodded, reaching for her duffel bag. “Okay. Well, I guess I will then.”

  An awkward silence settled between them. When she looked up, Bastard’s gaze was fierce on her. “I’ll get it for you. We can go whenever you’re ready.”

  “Uh…thanks, I guess. But I don’t need your help. I can—”

  “I’d like to help.” His voice was firm, final. “You can come back to the clubhouse. We’ll do it together.”

  She could only meet his gaze for a split second before the tears came. She bit back a sob, struck by the tenderness of his offer, the sweetness behind his words, and the very real and very warm sense that she should at least do this one last thing with the potential father of her child.

  “Okay then,” was all she could say before she stood, offering her back to him, sweeping her hair off to one side. “Unzip me then and we’ll hit the road.”

  Bastard unzipped her dress in one long, reverent hiss of the metal. It crumpled to the ground around her, a glittering pile of sequins, and she slipped quickly into her street clothes. His eyes burned on her, reminding her of the dangerous chemistry between them.

  “No peeking at my huge boobs,” she warned jokingly as she tugged her sweatshirt on. “Or else I’ll really kick you out this time.”

  “Too late,” he said, picking up her duffel bag once she was packed and ready. “Already caught my fair share when you were out on the stage.”

  She bit back a smile, following him out of the dressing room. She locked the door behind her, a strange cocktail of emotions frothing inside. Though she wasn’t eager to take the test, there was something sweet about doing this with Bastard.

  Even though he’d been a dick, maybe he could redeem himself after all.

  The part of
her that was desperate for him had never stopped rooting his name.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The ride to the pharmacy was surreal. Feeling Kit’s body against him, her arms wrapped around his waist, resonated like a dream he’d been scared to wake up from. Part of him thought this wasn’t real, but when they hopped off the bike at the pharmacy, Kit’s worried face reminded him this was all too real.

  “Maybe I should just take it here,” she said, gnawing at her lip.

  “Inside the store?

  She nodded.

  “No. This isn’t the place to find out. And besides, I want to be there when you do it.” It seemed like the right thing to do…the least he could do, beyond paying for the damn test. “Come on. Let’s go pick one out.”

  They headed for the front doors, the glass sliding back with a whoosh. Bright lights flooded them, bringing their mission into a stark clarity. He’d never went on a pregnancy test run before. Only one girl he used to sleep with had ever had a scare, but her period eventually started. Bastard had no experience with this type of shit. Just knew what he wished his dad would have done. The type of man he would have been.

  So that’s all he had to go on.

  Bastard’s boots clunked out a slow rhythm as he followed Kit into the store. She walked hesitantly, her lower lip tight between her teeth, peering down each aisle like something might jump out at her. When they found the right area, they stared at the wall of tests available to them.

  “Which one do I pick?” she asked.

  Bastard grimaced. “Uh, that one?” He pointed to something with a big blue plus sign on it.

  “That’s the expensive one.” She pointed at the price tag.

  “I’m buying.”

  She scoffed. “Still, don’t need to waste your money if they’re all the same damn thing.”

  “Fine.” Bastard pointed at another one at random. “This one looks good.”

  Kit peered at it. Why were there even this many choices to begin with? She picked it up and Bastard stepped back. But Kit replaced the box and continued hunting.

  “What was wrong with that one?”

  “It uses the parallel lines and I feel like that could get confusing,” she murmured, squinting as she ran her hands over the remaining options. “Why doesn’t one just say ‘hey guess what, you got knocked up’ if it’s positive?”

  Bastard snorted. “I’m sure you could find that online.”

  They shared a small smile, and Bastard forgot for a moment about the enormous task before them.

  “Okay,” she said, returning her focus to the wall of tests. “I want one that says it’s 100% accurate, too.”

  “I don’t think you’re gonna find that,” he said, seeing a whole lot of 99% staring back at them. He crossed his arms, the packages starting to blur together. “Just pick one.”

  “I’m looking.”

  “They all will tell you the same thing.”

  “Right, but some might be better than others.” She pointed toward a pink and white box with strange arrows across it. “Look, this one can tell you up to a week before your missed period.”

  “Wow.” Bastard set his jaw. “I’ve never missed a period so I wouldn’t know.”

  She sent him a flat look, but there was a smile buried underneath. He grinned, squeezing her shoulder. “But seriously, pick one.”

  “Okay.” She drew a deep breath, reaching for a package. At the last second she recoiled her hand. Bastard groaned.

  “Swear to God, Kit.” He snatched up a package, one that had a big plus sign on it, and swept his arm toward the end of the aisle. “Come on, now. Let’s go.”

  “Also this one,” she said, snatching up another, and then scurried out of the aisle. He followed her with a smirk. He paid for both tests at the counter, avoiding the clerk’s eyes while Kit fidgeted at his side. This night had taken about five different unexpected turns. But what else was in store? He was nervous to even imagine.

  “Thanks,” she said when they were back outside in the night air. She grabbed the bag from his hand, looking up at him with earnest eyes. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Let’s go back to the clubhouse,” he said, swinging his leg over the bike. She tucked the plastic bag in the bike’s saddlebag before mounting, sealing herself against him. The familiar jolt of relief crashed through him. Having her pressed against him felt too good. Part of him didn’t want to let her go again. And this test might have everything to do with whether or not he did.

  The ride was stop and go back to the clubhouse as they weaved through traffic to cross the city. Bringing Kit back to the LA clubhouse wasn’t ideal, but it was the best option between the two of them. His brothers would give him shit for bringing her in, and he wasn’t interested in playing her off as a fling. He wasn’t interested in airing this business to anyone, really.

  At least he had a room at this clubhouse when he was on assignment for long stays like this one. He always used one of the so-called guest rooms at the back of the clubhouse when he was in town; it was comfortable enough and had a bathroom attached, so Kit could read the test in peace.

  His heart throbbed in his chest the whole ride back. When they finally rumbled up to the iron gates of the Damned Devils LA clubhouse, Kit sucked in a breath, tightening her hold around him.

  “We’re here?”

  He nodded, punching in the code to make the gates swing open. They creaked as they swung back, and he revved once to spur the bike inside over the cracked cement parking lot. He parked his bike in a long line of shiny motorcycles. Almost everyone was here and accounted for, which meant he’d have a hard time getting her in unnoticed.

  “Listen,” he said once he killed the motor. “I don’t want to make a big scene bringing you in here.”

  “Yeah. I don’t really wanna talk to anyone right now, either.”

  “If I take you in the front, they’re gonna wanna party.” He squeezed his handlebars, staring at the clubhouse as he thought. “If we go in the back, there’s less chance we’ll run into the brothers. That cool with you?”

  “Whatever gets me to the bathroom so I can do this,” she said, hopping off the bike. She popped her helmet off, setting it on the seat. He swung off after her, grabbing her hand and giving it a little squeeze.

  He led her around the side of the clubhouse. Music pounded from inside, shadows moving against the drawn shades of the windows they passed. They were definitely partying in there, which wasn’t uncommon. The Damned Devils liked to celebrate anything and everything, as often as possible. But he knew Kit would get way too much attention if he showed up with her. As a Nomad, he caught extra flack for showing up at clubhouses with women. Some brothers viewed it as a breach of trust, like bringing over strangers when spending the night at a family member’s house.

  The brothers probably wouldn’t have any problem with Kit staying there if they got a look at her, but then he’d be fending them off himself.

  “The back door is over here,” he said, helping her step over the uneven stones leading to the clubhouse. The music pulsed quieter back here. The rush of traffic from the nearby freeway hummed in the distance.

  He pushed on the metal back door, inviting a rush of music and commotion to bleed into the night air. Bastard led her into the back hallway, which was thankfully empty. The carpet was ratty and brown, torn in some spots to reveal the cement flooring underneath. He never noticed it before, but with Kit behind him, he wondered how the clubhouse truly looked to outside eyes.

  “Over here,” he said, turning down the hall toward one of the last rooms. They stepped into his bedroom; weak yellow light illuminated the simple queen bed and wardrobe. There wasn’t much else, since Bastard didn’t live here permanently. A small door off to the side led to the bathroom, which Kit sized up.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  She drew a deep breath, worry dancing on her face. “I don’t know.”

  He shut and locked the door behind them, then sat gently on the
bed. She joined him a moment later, staring at the tests in the bag.

  “You wanna wait until morning?” he asked.

  “No.” Her voice was firm. The bag rustled as she lifted one of the tests to inspect it more closely. “I want to do it tonight.”

  “All right. Hey, you want anything to drink?” He stood, suddenly determined to give her space. Maybe she needed to be alone or something. The whole thing felt serious, like a funeral. “I can grab you some water or whatever you want.”