Blood and Honor (7 page)

Pregnant.

Chapter Twelve

Mickey was soaked with her own sweat, and at first, she had no idea where she was. There was a humming sound coming from somewhere nearby. Closing her eyes was downright terrifying, but sometimes, Mickey was also afraid to open her eyes when she woke up.

Like now. When she wasn’t sure what she was going to open them to.

Would it be pitch black? So bright that the light burned her eyes? Would she be opening her eyes to someone who pitied her? Who was angered by her presence?

Who wanted to hurt her?

Finally, she couldn’t take the suspense any longer and blinked. Mickey let out a relieved sigh when she found herself alone in a small, twin-sized bed, a dim glow emanating from a small lamp nearby. She sat up and squinted at the nightlight, to confirm that it was indeed shaped like a horse. Mickey looked down at the bed and found that the bedspread was also decorated with horses. Or…ponies. Purple ones. Thoughts and urgency swirled in her head.

I’m in some crazy horse lady’s house?
Well, I suppose it’s better than a crazy cat lady.

After a few more moments of wakefulness, the memories rushed back. Fuck, she had passed out in a public diner. Mickey shook her head as if to clear it. That’s right. She was in Shelley—no, Ruby’s—house.

And I need to get out of here
.

Gingerly, she removed herself from the bed, taking care that the springs didn’t squeak. Another glance around the room told her that it belonged to a child—a young girl. There were horses everywhere. On peeling posters that looked like they could use some new tape. On shelves. There was even a large, stuffed pony at the foot of the bed—so big she could practically mount it.

Weird.

Ruby looked like she was old enough to be a grandmother. So…who did this room belong to? Maybe her granddaughter?

Mickey took stock of herself. Her clothes were literally sticking to her skin, telling her that she had suffered another one of her night terrors, but oddly, she didn’t recall waking up the usual way—by screaming her damn head off.

Maybe I’m getting better.
That’s good.

Ugh.
I feel so gross.

The humming stopped just long enough for her to notice. Then, the door opened. Ruby stepped into the room slowly, as if she knew that sudden moves would cause Mickey’s anxiety to return.

“Ah, you slept well, didn’t you, my friend?”

Friend?
It was an odd term. Mickey regarded the other woman warily. She had been kind and caring the night before, but Mickey knew better than anyone that most people just couldn’t be trusted.

“You barely made it up the stairs, hon’. I was sure glad you made it to Sadie’s room. I’m pretty strong but there’d be no way I could carry you.”

Mickey continued to stare as Ruby rambled on. “You needed the rest and I’m glad you got some. I’m working on my famous home-cooked chili. Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll see about getting you some fresh clothes. Yours look…well, damp.”

“Shower?” Mickey echoed, her voice sounding faraway and lost to her own ears. Oh, the thought of scalding hot water cascading down her shoulders sounded so good right now. And the chance to use a toilet that was not attached to a gas station or rest stop…heaven.

“Bathroom’s right down the hall. Towels are in there. Take your time. I’ll leave some spare clothes on the bed here.” Ruby cast Mickey a somewhat critical glance. “I can see that you’re nothing but skin and bones though, girlie. What I have will be big on you—you’re such a tiny, little thing. But we’ll fatten you up in no time.”

Ruby bustled off, leaving Mickey standing there in confusion.
In no time?
Is she suggesting I…stay here?
I can’t!
Can I?
But…where else can I go?
I’m out of money.

She wrestled with her thoughts, shivering in her damp tee shirt, until the lure of a warm shower became too great to resist.

***

An hour later, Mickey found herself with a belly full of the best steak chili she had ever had in her life. Who would have thought that chili with no beans could be so hearty and delicious? She perched on a garish old couch, clad in a ridiculously oversized pink sweat suit, and fuzzy pink slippers to match.

Mickey cradled the cup of hot tea in her hand, letting the warmth heat her in the few places the chili hadn’t reached. Ruby was one of those people who never seemed to stop moving around. She moved from the kitchen to the living room, back and forth. She cleared a few dishes. Then, she appeared with a slice of lemon pie that matched the couch almost exactly. Ruby adjusted the television volume and handed Mickey the remote.

“Time for
Jeopardy
.”

Mickey grinned. “Okay.”

Her unexpected caretaker stopped dead in her tracks.

“Ruby?” Mickey asked hoarsely.
Shit, did I do something wrong already?

“Oh, honey, it’s just that I’ve been waiting to see you smile since I first saw you walk through the door of my diner.”

Mickey wasn’t sure how to react to that statement. To make matters more awkward, tears came to the older woman’s eyes. Ruby brushed them away with a shaky laugh.

“Never you mind.”

Mickey was unused to genuine kindness.
Nothing comes without a price,
she reminded herself.

“I—why are you doing all of this, Ruby? Letting me into your home…taking care of me like this? I could be a bad person…a thief…”

Mickey didn’t want to admit it but she
was
a horrible person, a person who didn’t deserve this kind of care. She was worse than a thief.
I’m a murderer.
Her hand began to shake, the fork rattling against the plate, threatening to dump her pie into her lap.

“I-I don’t deserve all of this.” Reluctantly, Mickey set the mouth-watering pie down on the coffee table. An instant later, she found the plate placed back in her hands, and a determined set on Ruby’s face.

“Well, I guess you have a right to know.” Ruby sat down heavily. “It’s the least I could do…helping a young girl like you. It’s like…like I’m getting another chance.”

“Another chance to do what?”

“To atone for what I did. You see, Michaela, you’re not the bad person here.
I
am.”

***

“Sadie liked horses. I guess you could see that,” Ruby sniffed. “I keep everything just the same as it was. Just in case…”

When Ruby’s daughter, Jessie, got hooked on crank, Ruby put her foot down. Unfortunately, Ruby’s brand of tough love didn’t work the way it was supposed to. One night, Jessie left with her new boyfriend. She took Ruby’s five-year old granddaughter with her, and Ruby had neither seen nor heard from her since.

“Are-are you sure it’s okay that I’m in her room?” Mickey whispered. It seemed wrong somehow.

“It makes me feel better to know that I’m helping you, Michaela. Really, it does. To know that there’s a warm body sleeping in that bed. I’m sure you think I’m just a crazy old lady, but the moment I saw you walk into my diner, I knew you needed help. Just as I knew that
I
was going to be the one who helped you.”

“Call me Mickey. It’s what my family calls me.”

Ruby opened her arms and after only a moment’s hesitation, Mickey went into them. It felt strange and wonderful, comforting and foreign, to be embraced like this. It had been such a long time—an eternity really—-since she had been held.

Chapter Thirteen

“Who the hell did you meet in that dress?”
And why do you look so nervous, little girl?

“What’s wrong with my dress, Dax?”

“You just look too fuckin’ good, darlin,’” he growled. “Where the fuck were you today?”

“Really, Dax? I must have told you three times that I had a meeting with that politician who attended our studio open house last month. Marvin Thatcher—he’s running for congress.”

It was her crowning achievement—making the paper. Yeah, Dax remembered the politician. He remembered quite distinctly the flicker of warning he had experienced when he saw the man approach. Most congressmen were fucking crooked, so he chalked it up to that. Still, Dax made a mental note to ask Turtle about the guy.

He never could trust a guy in a suit.

We make a very strange couple,
Dax mused, his possessiveness cooling a degree or two.
The ex-con biker and the do-gooder humanitarian.

Actually, Rhiannon’s fundraising activities provided more cover for their pot operation. The local and mainland government turned out for her events. It helped that Turtle’s extended family ran most of the shit out here too. All in all, his new gig and his new life seemed to be going well.

Almost…too well.

“Come here.” Dax reached for Rhee and was mildly surprised when she danced away.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What’s going on, little girl? You itching for another spanking?”

Dax hid a grin as Rhiannon blushed—either with outrage or with desire, he had no idea. But oh, how he dearly loved to see the color fill her cheeks like that. And he loved to pinken her other cheeks with the flat of his hand. She loved it too…and he made her admit it—even beg for it.

“No!”

Her outburst surprised him. Then, her physical response confused him. But only for a second.

Rhiannon’s right hand flew out to rest low on her stomach. Protectively. And there was only one reason Dax had ever known a woman to execute that particular little gesture. It was an instinctual thing—a female, protecting her young.

“Are you sure?” He asked in a low voice.

She turned bright red, following his gaze to where her hand lay against her tummy. Rhee shuffled her feet at bit. He took a step closer, trying unsuccessfully to gauge her feelings.

“No—I just…I feel sort of…off lately.”

“I thought you were on the pill?”

“I am. I’m sorry, Dax. I wasn’t planning this. Trust me, I have no desire to go through all of this again…”

Her voice went up several octaves until it cracked, but by then she was in his arms anyway.

“Hey, darlin’. What are you sorry for?”

She lifted her face to his, and God, those eyes, illuminated by her tears, were like emerald pools, like the green room. Rhiannon, she was his green room.

“I’m not sure, Dax. So…there’s no need to worry. I even took a home pregnancy test and it was negative, so I’m probably just…over-reacting. I’m not even late…really. I just—this feeling, it’s familiar.”

He cut her off. “Who says I’m worried?”

“Well, but…I mean, I might be pregnant, Dax! Do you understand what that means?”

Dax traced the curve of her jaw. Rhiannon’s skin was so satiny smooth. His cock jerked to attention and he shifted slightly. Something about this conversation was painfully arousing. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I know what that means.”

“You—you’re not…upset?”

Was he? Nope. Not even close. Dax smoothed his hand down her deceptively flat belly as he considered his own emotions. It was something he was starting to do more and more lately. He felt a warmth spreading inside his chest and something else, something possessive and primal, began to churn there as well.

“Stoked would be a better word for how I feel right now.”

When her eyes lit up, making them sparkle like emeralds, Dax was sure. He was totally fuckin’ stoked. Maybe it was because he felt so cheated for most of his life when it came to family, but he actually regretted that he missed out on Sirena’s birth, and her early years. Sure, some guys bitched and moaned about the crying and the diapers, and the lack of sleep, but when you never had anyone, those things seemed like pretty insignificant issues.

Christ, you got a kid in return!

Maybe it’s a boy…

With a whoop, he had her in the air, swinging her around in a circle. Then, he was kissing her silly.

“Dax! Be careful. Put me down.”

But she was giggling too. “You’re really happy about this, aren’t you?”

“Darlin’, how could you have any doubt? You gonna get another one of those stick things? I want to be there.”

“Of course. I’m not sure, okay? I just feel...off.”

“I think I can remedy that, darlin.’ Now, let’s get you out of that dress.”

Dax pulled the ribbon that secured the green material around her body and watched as the garment floated to the floor. He looked her up and down, from her taut belly to her full breasts, searching for a sign of her condition.

Mine,
he thought possessively.

Rhee shivered as though she could read his thoughts, her eyes widening at his perusal. He pulled her closer, and then he did what Dax Jamison did best—he made Rhiannon Blake forget her own name.

Chapter Fourteen

There were worse things than being a grunt. When it came down to it, Slade was enjoying the shit out of the lifestyle. There was always something to do so he wasn’t able to dwell on his rage for too long. Made it a damn sight easier to keep his shit under wraps. Plus, no one batted an eye when he slunk into a booth at
Lenny’s
and ordered a fifth of whiskey—at one o’ clock in the afternoon.

Slade needed to think—just get a few minutes to himself and figure out what the hell to do now. He had his motives and he needed his connection to the club. The thing was, something was up—it was definitely up.

He wasn’t an eavesdropper and he sure as fuck wasn’t a rat. But after overhearing Gray and one of the other old-timers, Tank, talking out back, he was almost positive that Hawk was talking to the feds.

“Yeah, he’s not himself.”

“Not sure where he’s taking the club these days.
The kid, Dax, maybe he had the right idea.”

“Well, the kid has a kid now, brother.
Can’t say I blame him.”

“Neither do I.
But…where does that leave us?”

“Where we always been, man.
At Hawk’s table.”

“Used to be Crow’s table.”

“Yeah, man.
Those were the days.”