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“This your repackaging?” I ask.
“Yeah. We got behind.”
“Too busy smoking your own stash?” Chaser asks.
She giggles and covers her mouth with her hand. “Sometimes.”
Chaser shrugs. “Ain’t my fuckin’ problem.”
“You roll these?” Wrath asks, holding up a few baggies with pre-rolled blunts.
“Yeah, they’re easier to sell on campus and parties.”
Wrath pulls one out and hands it to Chaser. “Light it up.”
Chaser eyes it, then Wrath. “I ain’t smokin’ it.”
“No, she is.”
Helen shakes her head. “He’s gonna get pissed if I dip into that. It’s already marked for sale.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” Chaser snaps.
The girl shrugs. “Hand it over, big guy.” She bats her eyes at Wrath.
“You roll these yourself?”
“Hell, yeah.”
Wrath turns the baggie my way so I can see the pretty gold stickers on the front.
“Precious.” I roll my eyes.
The familiar musky-herbal-skunk smell fills the room in a few minutes. Much more sharp and pungent than our usual supply. “Shit, now I know why Sparky wanted to unload this one,” Wrath whispers to me.
If it’s laced, the effects should hit her pretty fast. A moderate dose might not be that much more distinguishable from a regular marijuana high. But given the news reports, we’re dealing with something more unpredictable.
“You want?” she asks with half-open eyes. It’s not really clear who she’s asking. When none of us answer, she shrugs. “More for me.”
“Too bad Sparky didn’t join us,” Wrath says under his breath.
“Yeah, they’d be a real love match.”
Chaser glances at me as if this is pointless.
“She wasn’t worried about it and she seems fine, so let’s move on. We can stop back later and see if she’s gone psycho-zombie,” Chaser says.
Wrath shakes his head. “Seems reasonable.”
My mouth twitches.
Outside, Grudge still has Danny’s shotgun.
“Satisfied?” Danny asks.
“You know this Dizzy Daley Jeff’s selling to?” Chaser asks.
“Nah man, he’s on campus. From what I hear, he’s a frat boy who started selling on the side.”
“Frat boy named Dizzy? Shouldn’t be hard to find,” Wrath says.
Chapter Eighteen
Hope
“Rock, it’s fine. Really.” Even over the phone, I can sense how upset he is about not making it back in time to take me to the doctor. I don’t want to add to his stress.
“I don’t want you to go alone,” he insists.
“Z’s taking me as promised.”
Z grins and flashes a thumbs-up.
Rock groans. “Can you put him on the phone for a sec?”
“No. You’re going to terrorize him when he’s doing something nice for me.”
Z stands and jostles the phone out of my hand. “What, Prez?”
He nods while keeping his piercing midnight-blue eyes locked on my face. “I’ll take good care of her. I promise not to look.”
He hands the phone back.
“Satisfied?” I ask Rock.
“Not really. But I trust him. Call me as soon as you’re done, baby doll.”
“I will.”
Saying goodbye makes me teary, and a little hiccup-sob bursts out of me. Z doesn’t tease, though. He covers my shoulder with his hand. “He’ll be back soon.”
“Yes.”
“He’s beside himself that he can’t be here.”
“I know.” I squint at him and use my stern voice. “That’s why you won’t tell him I was upset.”
One corner of his mouth lifts. “Deal.”
I wave my hands in the air. “I can’t help it. Everything makes me teary.”
I suppose I should feel weird having Z walk me over to the clubhouse and help me into his truck. Somehow I don’t. This is what the guys do for each other. It’s less about keeping me company than making sure Rock’s responsibilities are covered while he’s away.
“Are you excited?” he asks as we bump down the uneven driveway.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Ugh. The driveway’s never bothered me this much.”
He glances over but doesn’t tease me. He does ease off the gas, though. “Sorry.”
“I’m nervous. Every little twinge and cramp terrifies me, even though now I know they’re normal.”
To Z’s credit, he doesn’t flinch at the girly details. “I understand. You’ve been through a lot. But they said everything was fine, right?”
“Yes.”
“You’re taking care of yourself.” He’s not asking. He knows, either from what Rock’s told him or from the fact that I rarely leave the property anymore.
“Inga the Impossible was my last case.”
He snorts and shakes his head. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that bullshit, Hope.”
“It’s not your fault. As soon as I get it officially dismissed, I’ll feel better.”
“You’re not alone there.”
We chat about club stuff, the property, things Rock and I want to get ready before the baby arrives. Surprisingly, Z and I have lots to talk about, and the drive goes by quickly.
“Stay,” he says when he pulls into a spot in front of my doctor’s office. I roll my eyes but don’t move until he comes around and opens my door.
“I’m not a dog,” I grumble, taking his offered hand.
His eyes widen, and he helps me down. “Sorry, Hope. I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“I know. Thank you.”
We’re not waiting long before I’m shown to a room. Once I’ve peed in a cup and changed into my gown, I poke my head outside the door. “Z?”
He lifts his head, and I motion him over.
“What are you doing?” He glances around. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Worried I’m gonna ditch you?”
“No, smartass. I thought you’d want to see the baby.”
“Can I?”
I shrug. “Don’t see why not.”
He takes a seat in the chair by the door. I hop up on the table, swinging my feet over the side.
“Nervous?” he asks.
“A little.”
The doctor joins us and raises an eyebrow at Z. I introduce him as my friend and get a little weepy explaining my husband’s absence. “Well, I guess I know how you’re doing emotionally,” the doctor says without a trace of humor. She jots down a few notes.
Z stays silent.
“Still nauseated?”
“Here and there. Nothing like the first trimester.”
She makes a hmmm sound that I can’t figure out if it’s good or bad.
“Feeling the baby?”
“Yes. She’s very busy.”
“Physically?”
“Tired.”
Another hmmm sound. This one not as promising. “Let’s get your blood pressure.” My gaze flicks to Z, and he’s watching everything with a passive expression. He catches me watching him and flashes a grin.
“A little high.” She takes a few more notes. “Nothing alarming. Even so, I want you to be careful with your diet.” She goes over a long list of things I’m supposed to do before moving to the ultrasound. “Ready?”
Z sits up, and I motion him closer. “Are we going to see her?”
“I hope so.”
He doesn’t realize that I’m kidding and grabs my hand, squeezing tight.
“There she is.” The doctor points out our little bean, and I gasp. Every time I’m amazed.
“Oh wow, Hope.” Z’s voice is low and distracted as he watches every move the doctor makes. He fumbles with his pocket, pulling out his phone. “Can I film it? For Rock?”
“No need,” the doctor says. “I’ll email a video fil
e when we’re done, Ms. Kendall.”
“Oh good.”
We finish up and leave. Z’s quiet the whole way out to the car. “I’m sorry. Was that too much? Too weird? I shouldn’t have made you come in with—”
