by M. Robinson
Fresh tears started to flow down my cheeks, but I didn’t bother wiping them away. A whirlwind of emotions hit me all at once while I held onto his broad frame tighter. Always feeling so tiny against him. His arms snaked around my lower back, holding me closer, but not close enough.
I pulled back. My wide, tear-filled eyes instantly went to his right thigh where his jeans were soaked in blood. “What the hell is going on?”
“The fuck it look like, Pippin? You stabbed me in the leg.”
I pushed him. I shoved him as hard as I could and he barely wavered. I knew the slight movement was only a reaction from his injured leg. I vigorously shook my head, unable to control the surging hormones taking over my body.
“Now is not the time for your smart-ass mouth! Do you have any idea what I’ve been through? Any idea what I’m going through, right now? Do you even care? I thought you were going to rape me! I didn’t know who was getting into my bed! What did you expect me to do, lay there and take it?”
He limped into the adjacent room, and sat on the couch, facing me. Placing his wounded leg up on the coffee table. The loud clunk from his heavy boot, making me jump. My adrenaline overly heightened.
“Was comin’ to wake you up. Guess you had other plans. Don’t know whether to be pissed at ya or proud as fuck you defended yourself.” He arched his eyebrow, nodding, “Ask me again in the mornin’.”
Noah had the nerve to chuckle as he took a seat in the armchair.
“One of you needs to explain what the hell is going on? Right now!”
Creed peered up at me through the slits of his eyes, ripping open his jeans to inspect where I stabbed him. He hissed as he tore away the fabric, exposing the nasty wound. Leaning forward, he pulled his shirt off over his head, wrapping it around his thigh. Using it as a tourniquet.
“Fuck!” he gritted, tying it tight around his wound, trying to stop the bleeding.
I stood there, impatiently waiting with my arms crossed over my chest, fuming.
He finally peered back up at me. “Just got this stitched up.” He nodded to it. “You sliced it open again.”
I jerked back, dumbfounded. “Again?”
“You gone through a lot. It’s why we kept you sedated. It was easier that way,” he replied, peering straight into my eyes. Ignoring my question.
“By kidnapping me?”
“We didn’t kidnap you, Mia,” Noah interrupted, bringing my attention over to him. “Our old man took you from the basement, he—”
“That was your father?”
“Yeah.” Noah nodded. “You were bleedin’ out. He brought you back to the clubhouse during the shootout.”
I placed a protective hand over my stomach. “Our baby—”
“She’s fine. Doc was already in Creed’s room lookin’ you over when it was all said and done.”
I glanced back at Creed, who was still sitting on the couch, only staring at me. Trying to gauge my reactions. It felt as though they were leaving a lot out, which added fuel to my already burning fire.
“What happened? Why was I bleeding?” I asked only looking at Creed.
“Some shit about your placenta havin’ a minor detachment from your uterus.” I could hear the shudder in Noah’s voice, even though he was trying to keep his tone neutral. As if he was reliving it all over again. “We had you moved to Doc’s house with Ma, you stayed there for a few days, he was checkin’ your vital signs, monitorin’ our baby. He kept you sedated, sayin’ it was for the best. He didn’t give ya anythin’ that would harm our baby. So don't worry. What you witnessed was traumatic enough. You needed to rest as much as possible, and regain your strength so we could bring you here, to our safe house. You just gotta take it easy for the rest of your pregnancy. And no sex for at least four weeks,” he glanced over at Creed warning him, not me. “He’ll come and check on you while you’re—”
I peered over at Noah, taken aback. “How long exactly am I staying here?”
“As long as it takes,” Creed chimed in, eyeing me with a look I’d never seen before.
“For what?”
“The less you know, the better, Pippin.”
“For you?”
“No.” He stood, speaking with conviction, “For you.”
“So that’s it? This is all the information I get? Am I supposed to say thank you now? Sit and stay like your damn dog?”
“You’re safe, aren’t you?”
“Where am I?”
“Where I need you to be.”
“That’s pretty vague even for you, Creed. This is bullshit. I have a right to know what’s going on! You can’t just take someone and hide them away from everyone.”
“I already did.”
I stepped toward him, getting close to his face. The smell of cigarettes and mint assaulted my senses. “Why? What’s going on?” I repeated in a demanding tone.
Our eyes stayed connected for what felt like forever. Dark pools barred into mine, warning me to back off. This was the Creed that broke my heart on the balcony at Giselle’s apartment. Saying it was for my own good, he wouldn’t tell me the truth even if I begged him for it. It was useless to try to reason with him in this state. His guard was up, and nothing could bring it down, not even his weakness. Me. The tension was so thick between us, there was no way Noah didn’t feel it clear across the room.
Creed took one last look at me, narrowing his eyes, deeply thinking about what to say next. His gaze never wavered. Our intense stares were locked together, but he was the first to break our connection when he turned his back on me. I watched him leave, limping to the back of the house. Hearing a door slam moments later.
I took a deep breath before facing Noah, contemplating what I could say to make him tell me the truth. He was gazing off in the direction his brother had just left.
I opened my mouth to say something, but shut it just as quickly, when I heard the word, “Don’t,” harshly leave his lips.
“You can’t possibly think this is okay? I’m carrying your child. It’s not safe for me to be here,” I honestly spoke, hoping he would be on my side.
“This is the safest place for you to be, Mia. Open your goddamn eyes, and take a look around.” He spread his arms wide, pointing around the open space. Walking over to the nearest wall, he knocked on it, showing me it was made of concrete.
I looked around the room for the first time, seeing the bars that lined every dark, tinted window. Making it impossible to see in. My intuition told me the glass was bulletproof, too. Nothing could enter this place.
My eyes proceeded to wander over to the far corner of the room, where a large wrought iron front door stood, complete with several sets of steel locks you’d need a key for it to open. It was then I realized this house was like a prison. Locked down like Fort Bragg. If there was no way of getting in, then again there was also no way of getting out. And for some reason this epiphany didn’t scare me, it did the opposite.
It gave me comfort.
I glanced back at Noah. “Then tell me what’s going on. Help me understand.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“It don’t matter.”
“It does to me.”
He glanced over my shoulder, looking down the narrow hallway again. I stepped out in front of him, blocking his view. Reaching up, placing my hands on his vast shoulders. “Please,” I added with a sincere expression written all over my face.
I could see it in his eyes he wanted to tell me, maybe not everything, but some of the truth at least. I patiently waited, hoping I would be able to get through to one brother. Silently pleading for him to break.
Never expecting what he would say next.
“The first time I saw the reality of my world, I was eleven years old. It came out of the hands of Creed, and it was nothin’ compared to what I’ve seen and done, since. From an outsider’s perspective, he ain’t a man to be fucked with, much like our father. I can take them, but a little girl like you should think twice before
pushin’ buttons and steppin’ on fuckin toes. Jesus Christ, just last week, Creed pulled the trigger on our pops for shits and giggles. Shooting him in the leg, then near his head, missin’. Just to prove a fuckin’ point.” He shrugged off my hands like what he told me was perfectly normal. “It’s a fucked up way of life, but we don’t know any different.” He brushed his calloused thumb across my cheek. “Be a good girl and stay put, Mia. It’s for your own good. I promise.”
With that he turned and left, leaving me with more questions than I had before.
SIX
*Creed*
I reluctantly left her in the living room with Noah. I hated seeing her so fucking upset, but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. My hands were tied. This was how it had to be, end of fucking story. I was beyond exhausted, barely having slept since shit hit the fucking fan. Between worrying about Mia, and getting her here safely without anyone knowing our involvement, proved to be a pain in the fucking ass. Plus, dealing with the fallout of the shootings and her supposed kidnapping, it seemed to be one thing after a fucking another.
Not to mention Martinez was fucking gunned down, murdered at his place in New York around the same day as the shootout. It was just another reason why we had to put Mia into hiding. Nothing made fucking sense.
It took less than twenty-four hours for Noah and me to be taken into custody by Detective McGraw. Mia’s mom and dad were there, along with her aunt and uncle. Her mom sat in a chair, hysterically crying, sorting through pictures to give to the police. While her aunt tried to comfort her the best she could. Her dad spotted us as we walked past them, lunging at the glass window, screaming obscenities. Calling us every name in the book as her uncle held him back. It took everything in me not to fucking flip him off. Knowing they were hurting, too.
We were questioned for hours on end about our connection with her disappearance. McGraw even got a warrant to search our house and the clubhouse, coming up empty. The fucking pigs ripped our compound apart trying to find her. At the time, I already had her moved. She was hiding out with Ma and Doc at his place, further south. Accompanied by a few brothers, watching their every move.
Each member of the MC was taken into custody for questioning, including our old man. It wasn’t any different from any other time they called us into the station, needing answers.
Mia was mine.
Which meant she was family.
And we protected our own.
McGraw probably knew we were full of shit, but couldn’t prove we were guilty without any fucking evidence. If there was one thing our MC knew how to do well, it was cover our tracks. Our only saving grace was the fact that Mia didn’t tell her parents she was coming over to our house that evening. Before anyone realized Mia was missing, a few brothers waited till dusk and drove her Jeep to the nearest train station. Leaving it in the overnight, unguarded parking lot. The same tracks I spent most of my adolescence at, daydreaming of running away.
The irony was not fucking lost on me.
I hoped that staging her car at the station would provide her family with some peace of mind. That maybe Mia didn’t get kidnapped, but she ran away on her own. The brothers were extra cautious, making sure they didn’t leave behind any fingerprints or DNA behind that could jeopardize our club. Destroying her cell phone so it couldn’t be tracked, discarding anything that pointed fingers to Devil’s Rejects. Our involvement with her disappearance needed to stay non-existent.
It didn’t matter, though, none of it did. Her old man and his boys were tearing apart Oak Island trying to find her. Not that I could blame them, I would have been doing the same fucking shit if I hadn’t found her first.
I heard Mia’s soft, subtle footsteps descending down the hall. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t shocked as shit when she knocked on my bedroom door. Opening it shortly after. I didn’t pay her any mind, staring at the muted television while she watched me from the doorframe. Staying as far away from me as possible.
I wanted to touch her, pull her into my lap, and never fucking let her go. But I allowed her the distance for the time being, knowing she was pissed at me. Her guard securely in place for the first time since I met her, where it should have been all along. Instead, she was now tainted by my life, exactly the way I never wanted her to be.
It was too late for that now and there was no going back for either of us. This was our life.
I took a few more swigs from the bottle of Jack and placed it back on the nightstand, gearing to stitch up my leg. Grabbing the first aid kit the doc left behind for us, I threaded the nylon through the needle hole. Taking a lighter to the end to sterilize it.
Mia gasped when I punctured my injured skin, causing me to look back up at her with a questioning regard. She bit her lip for a few seconds, clearly struggling with an internal battle, evident on her face. She suddenly moved one foot in front of the other, making her way over to me in three strides. Wanting to get to me as quickly as possible, just in case she changed her mind.
“You’re doing it all wrong,” she muttered, sitting beside me on the bed, taking the needle out of my hand.
“You know a lot about stitchin’ up stab wounds, Pippin?” I teased, reaching up to lazily twirl a strand of hair around my finger.
She rolled her eyes, pulling her head away. “My papa is a doctor. I’ve seen him stitch up Mason and Bo in our house, more times than I care to remember.”
I nodded, leaning back against the headboard. Thankful as fuck I didn’t have to do this on my own.
Her face frowned, thinking about her family. She was too wound up before, needing answers from me on what was going on, to remember them. It was funny what the mind was capable of doing when put under a strenuous situation. Mia was no different.
I swept the hair away from her face, grabbing hold of her chin to look at me.
Her breathing hitched. “They don’t know where I am, do they?” she whispered loud enough for me to hear. A pained expression crossed her face.
I shook my head no.
She grimaced, even though my response was expected.
“It’s for your own good. And theirs,” I coaxed, knowing it wouldn’t do any damn good.
“They must be freaking out. I can’t even imagine what they’re going through. My momma has to be worried sick. Mason is deployed with no word on his safety, and now this. Her poor heart is breaking, Creed.”
I just sat there, looking at her not knowing what else to say.
“Can I call—”
“No,” I interrupted, already knowing what she was going to ask. I’d been expecting it all fucking night.
“I won’t tell them where I—”
“No.”
“Please, Creed. Just so they know I’m oka—”
“Mia!” I snapped in a harsh tone. “No!”
She scowled, grabbing the bottle of peroxide from the first aid kit, preparing the cotton swab to clean and disinfect my wound. “This is going to hurt,” she stated in an irritated tone.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Can’t hurt any more than you stabbin’ me.” Before I knew what was happening, the little minx poured the peroxide on my gash, instead. “Motherfucker!” I roared, throwing my head back, clenching my fists in the sheets.
“Thought you said it wouldn’t hurt more than me stabbing you in the leg. What did we learn, Creed? Hmmm… That you’re not always right? So maybe I can call my par—”
“When ya gonna get it through your thick fuckin’ head, huh? You’re a smart girl, Pippin. Shouldn’t haveta spell it out for ya. Callin’ your parents will only get you killed. I’m tryin’ to save your life. Not fuckin’ end it. All this questionin’ ends here!”
Patience was never one of my goddamn virtues and it wasn’t about to start now. This was one of the reasons we kept her sedated and blindfolded, while we brought her up here in the middle of nowhere. No one could get to this place unless they knew the woods just outside the door. You needed a side-by-side vehicle just to get here. As m
uch as I hated having her unconscious, I didn’t trust her enough to not call her family and tell them where she was. I couldn’t blame her for that. Anyone would call home the first chance they got.
“This is far from over,” she mumbled under her breath, sticking the needle into my leg a little harder than necessary.
I groaned, grabbing the bottle of Jack from the nightstand, chugging it down till I no longer felt the searing burn from my nerve endings. Letting out a grumbling sound from deep within my throat, I threw the empty bottle on the floor next to me, watching it shatter on impact. Gesturing to my leg for her to finish stitching me up.
It all happened so damn fast. One minute she was tying off my stitch and the next my phone pinged with a new text message. Both our eyes simultaneously darted to my phone that was lying in the middle of the bed, like it was wired with explosives, ready to fucking detonate.
Without giving it a second thought, she lunged over my leg, scraping my wound to grab the phone. Snatching it before I could, clutching it tightly in her greedy little hands. She propelled off the edge of the bed so fucking fast as if her body was set on fire. Taking off toward the adjacent bathroom in the corner of my room.
She never had a chance.
I caught her by the back of her sweater as she rounded the bed, thrusting her backward with my staggering hold. There was no way I could grab a hold of her securely without hurting her or the baby, and she knew it. My arm wrapped around her upper ribcage, tugging her into my lap, trying like hell to reach the phone. She twisted and turned, huffing and puffing until she weaseled her way out of her sweater. Hauling ass into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. I heard the lock snap into place seconds after.
“Fuckin’ A,” I clenched out. Throwing my injured leg off the bed, I stood, making my way over to the door. “Mia! Open the fuckin’ door!” I pounded my fists on the wood.
There was a jarring commotion, followed by a loud scraping noise, coming from the bathroom. I knew she was barricading herself in, moving furniture up against the door to keep me out.
“Mia! Open it or I will!”