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It wasn’t his fault; it wasn’t Doogan’s fault.
She’d loved having him inside her, loved the feel of his release heating her, extending hers, and the intimacy it had given her. A false feeling of intimacy, it seemed, but still, the belief that there was a bond building between them, that he cared for her, had filled her with warmth.
Finally, her suitcase stored in her newly rebuilt roadster, Zoey was pulling from her brother’s driveway and heading home. She had to fight her tears every step of the way when she had so wanted to sob against her mother’s shoulder. She wanted to scream and rail and let free the tears that she’d held back for so long.
She wanted Doogan.
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She wanted him to hold her, wanted him to touch her, and she so wanted to feel at least a suspicion that he wouldn’t hate her for being pregnant, for forcing him to face the risks and dangers he’d no doubt think of if he learned of her pregnancy.
She wanted to share her joy with him, because the knowledge that she carried their child gave her the kick in the ass she needed to get her life back in order and to leave her brother’s protective embrace.
She had bitched about him for so long, hid who and what she was for so many years, when Lyrica had been right. She should have gone to him and Natches, asked them to back her. Because they would have. She’d seen that gleam in their eyes when she’d met with the leaders of the motorcycle packs she’d known since she was a teenager.
The three leaders of the largest packs to sign with Homeland Security, Tigen, Black, and Forest had been surprised to see them there, but Zoey was the one who had been shocked to learn the lengths the three men had taken to get to know the Mackays once Zoey and her sisters were moved to Kentucky.
Dawg, Natches, and Rowdy had seemed years younger as they escorted her into the Louisville bar where the meeting was held. Armed and dangerous, their gazes watchful, their still muscular, powerful bodies ready to move if they had to.
According to Black, the pact would have moved much faster if her family had been involved simply because protecting her would have been an assurance they wouldn’t have had to double- and triple-check. They had never trusted Jack or his pack to protect her. And it was probably a damned good thing.
They were willing to protect the pack Jack had left, though. The suddenly orphaned men and women who had made the pack their family and support network had been at a loss, just as Billy felt. Forest had agreed to move into the area and allow Jack’s to integrate with it. The men and women who followed him could also integrate easily into the surrounding counties and their workforce, just as they did wherever Forest led them each season.
They were like modern-day Gypsies, she’d always thought. Waiting, subconsciously searching for that one place they could call home. Maybe Lake Cumberland could become home for many of them.
The packs weren’t drug dealers, thugs, or murderers. They were like sentinels without backing. Hard fighting, rough talking, less than respectable, but sentinels all the same. Though they didn’t take anyone’s shit. A few were suspected to have killed; there were quite a few who slipped and smoked, shot up, or snorted their drugs of choice. But they kept to a code that their leaders enforced with unflinching swiftness. Those members knew better than to get caught, because Tigen, Black, and Forest would beat their asses and leave them lying.
Pulling into the parking space in front of her garage, Zoey hit the remote and waited for the door to lift, then eased the car inside. The heavy steel panels rolled back into place, locked down, and left Zoey sitting alone in the dimly lit interior.
She thought it would feel lonely, that the emptiness of her home would close around her. She hadn’t looked forward to that. That wasn’t what she felt, though. The warmth she’d felt while Doogan had filled her life was still there. It wrapped around her; the memory of his touch, the sound of his voice, the excitement he filled her with, warmed her. It didn’t ease the incredibly hollow pain that throbbed inside her.
“Time to figure things out, huh?” she said softly, one hand pressing to her lower stomach.
Of course, the baby wasn’t aware of the world around him or her yet. Still, speaking to the child resting there made her feel not so lonely.
“What are we figuring out?”
Doogan.
Her head jerked to the metal staircase, eyes widening at the sight of Doogan sitting on a wide step, watching her curiously.
He looked tired. He couldn’t have gotten much sleep since he’d left. From the looks of it, not much more than she had.
Stepping from the car and closing the door, she watched warily as he rose and came toward her. That confident swagger, the powerful presence, and the far-too-wicked glint in his eyes had her breath growing heavy, her body softening, the flesh between her thighs moistening.
“What are you doing here?” She sounded like some weak-kneed ninny without the strength to tell him to go to hell.
Wait, she didn’t have the strength to tell him to go to hell. The desire to wasn’t even there.
Still, she eased away from him, watching that wicked gleam in his eyes intensify as she tried to escape to the door of the gym. She made it as far as the front of the car before he stopped her.
“I missed you, witch.” His hands settled at her hips, holding her in place as she felt his erection pressing into her stomach.
“You missed having a fuck toy,” she accused him, still no heat in her voice, no strength.
She was such a pushover where he was concerned.
“A fuck toy,” he murmured, his hands sliding from her hips, beneath the sleeveless top she wore, to the naked skin of her waist. “I think it’s gone far past the toy stage, sweetheart. I think we’re heading into much more dangerous territory.”
