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She moved her hands from my shoulders to my waist, pulling me against her side and helping me to the chair in front of her vanity. When I shakily sat down, she crouched in front of me, holding onto my now ice-cold fingers with her warm ones.
“Shit, babe. Shit, shit, shit.” She was glancing frantically around, as if looking for something to make the sudden reality of what kind of trouble I had gotten myself into go away.
But there was nothing that could make this go away.
I had fucked up.
What if I caught something from that manwhore biker?
What if I was pregnant?
I couldn’t be connected to him for the rest of my life. I just couldn’t. Not when it had been so forcefully shoved down my throat that Raider Fucking Hannigan wasn’t the guy I had built up in my head for so long.
This was a disaster, and I had no way of cleaning it up.
What the hell was I going to do if I was pregnant?
I wasn’t worried about what Raider would do. He was too happy fucking his way through life to possibly even care that he had gotten one random hookup pregnant. It probably happened to him all the time. Who knew how many of the club mommas had produced little Raiders? I was just one of many, as I was sure the possible baby that was growing inside of me right then would be.
No, it was me I was worried about. For once, it was myself I was thinking of, while the rest of the world could rot for all I cared right then.
Chapter 14
Raider
“Heads-up,” Clutch yelled out seconds before two bullets went flying by my head.
Cursing, I dropped down lower behind the crates I had jumped behind when the bullets had started flying.
“Fucking hellfire,” Onyx bit out from a few feet away. “What did we get ourselves into this time, boys?”
I was wondering that myself.
This run was turning into anything but ordinary. With Dante back in New York for who knew how long, we were helping his guys watch over his assets. Fontana had a major grudge against anything even remotely related to the Vituccis, and right then, the Chicago turf was the weakest with the underboss gone.
We had been here for four weeks now, and things had been quiet. Too quiet, actually. I should have known better than to let my guard down, but stupidly, I had, and this attack had caught us all while we weren’t looking.
I wanted to blame Quinn for letting my guard down, but I only had myself to blame for it. She had been on my mind almost nonstop from the first minute we had gotten to town. Fuck, from the second I had left her in my room back at the clubhouse. I couldn’t get her out of my head, and because of that, my mind had been on her rather than the job at hand.
Colt had taken Trigger and the others to help watch over the compound where Dante De Stefano called home, while I had been with Tanner and the others in the warehouse with over a dozen of De Stefano’s men. It was the major asset that Vitucci entrusted to the underboss. It was where the “artwork” was stored.
Despite the flying bullets, I couldn’t help snorting at the term “artwork.” It was code for anything that might happen to be currently stored there.
To keep anyone on their toes if they might have phone lines tapped or some other techie shit, Vitucci actually owned an art gallery in both Chicago and New York.
“Did you see Fontana?” Tanner called out from where he had dived behind a stack of crates that looked like they could have actually contained large paintings, but probably stored drugs or guns.
I was hoping it was guns, because I would be out of ammo soon.
“No,” Clutch called back. He had been out front when the bullets had first started. “I didn’t see anyone. Those motherfuckers are like ninjas.”
“Well, someone kill the goddamn ninjas!” Onyx roared when it started raining bullets on us again.
One clipped him in the shoulder, making him grunt in pain. We all had vests on. Only an idiot would be without one while waiting for the enemy to hit them.
“Call for backup,” Tanner yelled.
“We are the damn backup,” I reminded him. “Where the hell are Dante’s men?”
