The Vice President

by Addy Archer

  What was the information? I have no freaking clue. I mentioned the things I know come from my brother and eavesdropping, right? Well, that isn’t always the best way to get all the information. But it was important for Trigger Pull MC to keep Romero alive; that’s all I know for sure.

  I take a deep breath, and while I get my vitamins, I let my mind go over all the options of telling everyone. Maybe it’s better to wait until I’m twelve weeks along. Somehow this doesn’t feel right to keep this from Hunt. My family? Hell, yes, I’m going to wait for as long as possible. Or maybe they won’t notice and I’ll just show up with a kid a few months from now.

  Dammit, what a mess. I wish my sister was here. She would most definitely be the one I would share the news with first. My mom. I would tell her right now if I could. Shit. Emotions swirl up inside me, making me nauseous. I need to focus on something positive. This baby. New life. It’s something to be thankful for.

  A boy. Or a girl. What will he or she look like? Raven is such an angel. Shit. She should know she’s getting a little brother or sister too, right? Maybe not. I guess that’s up to Hunt. And how are we going to handle having a baby? We’re not together. Ugh. Yes, I have to let him know I’m pregnant. But, how? Call him? A text would be better. Yikes, talk about impersonal. I’m such a chickenshit.

  About an hour later, I’m standing in my kitchen eating ice cream while staring at my phone. Waiting. Why am I waiting? I might have accidentally hit send on a text that stated I was pregnant. That’s right, all the text said was “I’m pregnant.” I was thinking about what to add to it or if I should send a text, and then my phone almost slipped out of my hand with the whole ice-cream eating at the same time and my fat thumb hit the send button.

  Do you know what’s more annoying than being angry at myself? The fact it’s been minutes of seeing he read it and watching how it says he’s typing a message. I shove another scoop of ice cream in my mouth and hear the doorbell ring. Must be my brother who told me he’d swing by when he got back from his run our father made him go on.

  I take my ice cream along and shove another spoonful into my mouth before opening the door. I almost choke on the cold stuff sliding down my throat when I see Hunt standing in front of me.

  Swallow furiously, I point the spoon at him and croak, “What in the hell are you doing here?”

  “Picking you up. Pack a bag,” he grumbles and slips inside the house.

  Absolutely stunned, I close the door, put down the ice cream and spoon, and start to sputter. “I’m not packing a bag. You can’t be here. What are you doing here? No, this is not happening. Out, Hunt. Get out of my house. My brother can swing by any damn minute. You can’t be here.”

  “I don’t fucking care, Peyton. Let him come.” He points at my stomach. “That’s my kid in your belly, yeah?”

  I can only nod, but then realize he’s an asshole and remember how he treated me the last time. Right after we unknowingly made this kid together. “It’s my kid too, you know.”

  The corner of his mouth twitches. “With it being inside your belly and all, it’s hard to deny that one, huh?”

  I roll my eyes and am about to throw some more angry words at him, but the rumbling of a bike rips my attention away from Hunt. “Shit, Stone is here. Quick, go hide!”

  “Hide?” Hunt snorts. “No fucking way I’m gonna hide. Not to mention, my bike’s parked out front, so why fucking hide?”

  “Shit,” I mutter to myself and give Hunt a glare. “I’m going to really hate you if my kid never gets to meet his dad because his daddy was killed by his uncle before he was even freaking born.”

  The corner of his mouth twitches. “Don’t worry, babe, no one’s gonna kill me today. And I swear I won’t kill our kid’s uncle either, okay?”

  The sound of a key in a lock rings out before the door swings open. “Who the fuck does that bike belong to, Peyton? The one parked out front.” Stone’s eyes hit Hunt’s. “Motherfucker. What the hell are you doing here?”

  My brother has his gun pointed at Hunt’s head before I can so much as blink. I rush forward and step in front of Hunt.

  I have my palms up. “Put the gun down, Stone. Please. Need I remind you that you’re in my damn house?”

  Hunt’s fingers bite into my hips as he maneuvers me behind him. “Get your fucking gun out of my old lady’s face.”

  “What?” Both me and my brother snap in shock.

  “You damn well heard me, asshole. This is my old lady. My kid is growing inside her. Any club issues between us don’t have shit to do with any of this. You leave my woman out of it, understood?”

  My brother looks at me with shock. His eyes go down to my stomach, and they fill with disgust. Great. Way to make me feel good about myself, and dammit, this confrontation validates my whole point of not telling my freaking family.

  “You betrayed your own blood? Your fucking family?” my brother roars. “Tell me he’s lying. Fucking tell me right now you’re not carrying this bastard’s spawn. Fuck, Peyton, Dad made me come here to bring you back to the club. There’s shit going down, and we most definitely don’t need this brand of insanity, sis.”

  “Like I said,” Hunt snaps. “She’s my old lady and she’s coming back with me. Problem solved.”

  “No, asshole, you’re wrong. This doesn’t solve anything, and you can’t protect her. You don’t understand what the fuck is going on. Hell, I don’t even have all the details. All I know is that I need to pick her up and bring her back to the clubhouse.”

  “I don’t?” Hunt taunts, totally ignoring the fact my brother has a gun aimed at his head. “So, you’re not talking about the cartel breathing down your neck because of the coke Romero stole from you guys? Well, technically, the coke belonged to the cartel and Romero didn’t steal it, but Xandra, a whore who sometimes worked for him, did. Now, tell me, asswipe, still think I don’t understand what’s going on?”

  I keep quiet and try not to glance at Hunt. My brother is a big guy, but Hunt is the raw muscle type where my brother is leaner. Though I’ve seen my brother fight, I don’t know if he could take Hunt or not.

  “Don’t remind me of that fucking pimp. You took our chance away to get information out of him only he knew. My president needed him alive for that reason only. Hell, we took everything he had except for his fucking life. But we needed him to tell us something. What? I don’t fucking know, but my pres knew, and it fucking mattered to him,” Stone seethes and steps closer. His gun is shaking slightly in his hand.

  My brother has always been someone who lets his emotion and anger boil at the surface.

  “Stone, please,” I try to pull his attention toward me, but all he sees is Hunt and the pile of shit in between the two MCs.

  “You took everything from Romero and couldn’t get the one thing you needed from him, right? Well, maybe I know. Because you guys didn’t take everything the fucker had. Peyton,” Hunt says, his voice as cool as an ice cube on a summer’s day as he points at a picture hanging on the wall next to him. “Tell me, who’s the girl in this picture and who is she to you?”

  My mind is still processing his words when I hear Stone growl, “Why the fuck are you asking about a fucking picture of our sister?”

  Turning, I rush to the wall and rip off the photograph I framed four months ago when we took a selfie together during a barbecue at the clubhouse when our father demanded our presence. I hold it up for Hunt, and his eyes glance at it before they connect with Stone.

  “I know where your sister is. That was the information only Romero knew, right? She’s okay, but she’s not.” Hunt’s words make me gasp in shock while my brother growls low in his throat.

  “Like I said, I didn’t fucking know what Romero had that we needed, only my pres knew. But you tell me right fucking now where the hell my baby sister is,” Stone thunders, making me jump from the ferocity in his voice.

  “No. Put the damn gun away because you’re causing my old lady to jump in her skin, and she doesn’t
need the added stress.”

  “She’s not your damn old lady,” Stone snaps.

  “She is, and you will back the fuck off and agree to my claim. In return, I’ll tell you where her sister is since she too is now linked with me through my old lady.” Hunt points at my brother’s chest. “You’re the VP; I’m a VP. We can make a club decision together. Right here, right now. You and me. The safety of your sisters above all.”

  Stone glances at me. “You agree to be his old lady, Peyton? You know who he is. He’s Rebel Rage MC. Hell, the way he bargains should tell you enough, throwing you and information about our sister in the fucking balance.”

  My heart is thundering in my chest. My brother has a valid point. But I’ve known this man’s kid for months now, and my mother explained how she’d seen Hunt work hard to give his daughter everything. Such a stark contrast with my own father. Though, I’ve experienced Hunt’s asshole side more than once myself, but nobody’s perfect, right? Not to mention, all asshole situations had to do with him protecting others he respects or loves.

  Shit. Both of them are staring at me. My hand slides over my belly. A baby is growing inside. My baby. His baby. Our baby. As if I have a choice. I don’t because I owe it to my unborn child to put him or her first, and that means keeping their daddy close. With my brother still aiming a gun at Hunt’s head, I kinda need him alive for that.

  “Yes. The baby is his, Stone. If he speaks a claim, who am I to object a child his father?”

  “That’s not a fucking answer to my question, and you know it,” Stone growls.

  “Yes, he’s my old man.” I sigh, tired of this whole situation. “Give him what he wants, agree to his claim, and put the gun away so we can hear what he has to say about Harper.”

  Anger still bounces off my brother in waves, but he slowly tucks his gun away. The both of us are now looking at Hunt, waiting for him to spill the information he promised us.

  “I’m going to grab my phone to show you a picture, and then I’m going to explain, okay?” He waits for Stone to nod before he reaches inside his pocket, thumbs his phone as if he fires off a text, and then he waits a moment. His phone vibrates and he turns it to us. “This is her, right?”

  I gasp at the image. It’s my sister all right, but I almost don’t recognize her. “She’s so thin. Is she okay?”

  “You guys have had her all along?” My brother thunders, his gun yet again aimed at Hunt’s head.

  Hunt doesn’t even give my brother a glance but talks to me with a gentle voice. “She is going to be okay, whatever okay will be for her.” Now his eyes connect with Stone. “Remember when we went to Romero and shot up his house? Before we did, we heard a noise. There was a floor hatch, and we found a girl stuffed inside, barely alive. We think she was kept all drugged up because she needed a few weeks going through detox. We assigned one of our prospects to take care of her. He had dealt with similar situations in the past, seeing his mother was a drug addict. We were confident enough he had the right experience to pull her through. He’s still looking after her since she can’t remember anything, not even her name. If we knew who she was, we would have brought her to you, but she doesn’t talk at all.”

  Stone is no longer holding his gun but looks devastated. The same devastation is running through my veins, and I’m starting to feel sick.

  “Babe, you need to get off your feet.” Hunt wraps me in his arms. “She’s alive, Peyton. Remember that. Fuck. All this stress is not good for you. Sit down and I’ll get you a glass of water.”

  Hunt heads for the kitchen, and I’m still trying to process the fact my sister has been found. It feels as if my heart is about to be ripped out at the mere thought of how she was found.

  Stone’s phone rings, and when he picks up, I can hear the rough grunt of my father’s voice as Stone snaps, “Pres.” My brother tries to give him some more words, but it’s clear my father cuts him off and starts to rattle orders Stone needs to follow.

  “I’m at her house right now. Fuck. You’ve got to be kidding me. No, we’re not agreeing to it,” Stone thunders and heads for the window, peeking through the blinds as he continues. “Something happened. I can’t talk right now. Not to mention, I will never, ever fucking agree to what you just said. I’d rather die in an effort to take ’em all on myself, do you understand? And I can’t believe you’re even telling me this. Mom would fucking rise from the grave to punch you in the damn face. Fuck. They’re here, gotta go.” Stone hangs up and rushes to Hunt, who is strolling toward me with a glass of water in his hands.

  “The cartel sent a few guys over to pick up Peyton. I don’t have time to explain. We either need to leave through the back or take ’em out. Dammit, too late,” my brother says.

  The glass of water Hunt was holding is now complimenting the floor as he reaches for his phone, and it looks like he sends a text before putting it away. I reach out next to me and take Hunter into my arms; he’d been sleeping on the couch. The poor little kitten is ripped from his peaceful sleep.

  “Get down and stay behind the couch,” Hunt grumbles and aims his gun at the door. “My brothers are coming. We just have to stay alive until they get here.”

  Stone squats down next to us. “And how long will that be?”

  “It took me less than five minutes to get here when your sister texted me she was pregnant, but I was in the parking lot right next to my bike.”

  “You told him you were pregnant through a fucking text? Damn, sis. That’s harsh. I would have expected more from you.”

  What the hell? “The freaking text wasn’t supposed to go out like that. My phone slipped, and I accidentally hit send. Now, can we just focus on staying alive?” I snap, not liking the turn of discussion because I damn well know how stupid it was.

  There’s loud knocking on the front door. “Open up, Peyton. We know you’re in there. Doesn’t matter if you come willingly or not. You belong to us now. Your father agreed,” a voice with a thick accent bellows.

  I belong to them? My father agreed? Hunt and I both shoot an angry glare Stone’s way.

  Stone however has two guns aimed at the door when he thunders back, “I’m the damn VP of Trigger Pull MC, and I can tell you assholes that no club decision was made. Leave now or face death because I won’t ever let you take my sister.”

  I will never, ever fucking agree to what you just said. The whole previous discussion when Stone was on the phone with my father suddenly makes sense when he said my mother would rise from the grave. My father agreed for me to be handed over to the cartel? What the hell is going on?

  C H A P T E R F I V E

  ~ H U N T ~

  “You and I are going to have one hell of a discussion with our fists as soon as we’re out of this mess,” I hiss in anger at Peyton’s brother. “I can’t believe your president would freely hand over his own damn daughter to a cartel. His own flesh and blood. My old lady. Pregnant with my kid. Motherfucker, I’m so angry it’s good we’re about to kill a few guys, because otherwise your blood would stain the damn floor first, asshole.”

  This day has gone from nice to hell in the blink of an eye. I dropped Raven off at my parents’ house this morning. It’s a solid three-hour drive, but she’s going to spend a few days there because she still has some vacation time left. I was getting out of my truck in front of the clubhouse, right next to my bike, when Peyton’s text came in. She’s been on my damn mind every day for the last few weeks, but I never saw or heard from her after Raven dropped off the donuts.

  Yeah, my daughter still saw her at school and talked about her friend, but nothing more. I found out she’s some kind of tutor for kids who have a hard time learning stuff or can’t focus. Hell, I have no clue. I drag all the info out of my kid’s brain, and I don’t think she knows all that much about Peyton.

  I started replying to Peyton’s text but dropped the phone into my pocket, and simply got on my bike and head to her house instead. Good thing I did too. Dammit, I can’t believe I claimed an ol
d lady. Raven is gonna be fucking thrilled she’s going to be a big sister. Not to mention the mother being her friend and now my damn old lady. Talk about things finally falling into place for all of us.

  No way is my president able to deny me seeing Peyton now that she’s pregnant with my baby and I claimed her as my old lady. Trigger Pull MC princess or not, she’s part of our MC now.

  And I hate to say it, but so are the problems she’s wrapped in, and this means handling a fucking cartel. Yeah, Alaric is going to be very damn unhappy with me, for sure. Fuck. First I need to get her out of this mess.

  A gunshot rings out, and the fuckers kick the door open. Glancing around the couch the three of us are hiding behind, I can see there are four Mexicans standing in Peyton’s house. All of them are palming their guns—all except one, he has a knife in each hand. I’ll be sure to take that fucker out first. Very faintly I hear the rumbling of bikes flowing through the air. Good to know backup is coming.

  “I think you scared them off, Juan, they probably headed out through the back. We should go to the bar that fat man asked us to meet,” the tiny one with the knives tells the guy in the front.

  He gives the room one more glance and lifts his chin in the direction of the door. “Move. The puto better be there. Alejandro expects us to bring her to him. You know how he gets if we don’t follow through.”

  It’s in this moment the fucking kitten jumps out of Peyton’s arms and rushes around the couch. The one holding the two knives throws one, and I’m fucking sure the kitten is missing some hairs because that was fucking close.

  I watch the fucker prepare to throw his other knife, and it’s then I aim and pull the trigger. I squeeze off a few more rounds, and I’m damn lucky those other three are rushing out of the house instead of opening fire.

  Maybe it’s because my brothers are coming down the street or the fact Stone has my back and is firing too, but fuck. This could have ended badly, because a couch doesn’t offer much protection against bullets.