Page 22 of Sinner’s Torment

It had to be Brandy.

“Torment?” Mercy’s voice was careful, measured. “You got something you want to tell us?”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

Because I didn’t know what to say.

I’d been careful. Always careful. I never fucked without protection. Never took risks. Never let my guard down.

But Brandy...

Fuck.

Brandy.

“I...” I started, then stopped, my mind spinning.

Bane leaned back in his chair, his grin fading into something more serious. “King is over-nighting a DNA sample. I’ll run it through our records, see if the DNA matches up with yours. If it does...”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t have to.

If it matched, I was the father.

And if I was the father, this wasn’t just my problem anymore.

It was club business.

Montana’s eyes were on me now, sharp and assessing. “You fuck a club whore in Diamond Creek?”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

“Without protection?”

“No. I used protection. Every time.”

“Then how the fuck is she pregnant?”

“I don’t know.” My voice was tight, strained. “Protection fails sometimes. It’s not foolproof.”

Montana’s expression darkened. “And you didn’t think to mention this before now?”

“There was nothing to mention,” I shot back. “It was casual. Physical. Nothing more. I didn’t know she was pregnant.”

“Well, you know now,” Bane said, his voice flat. “And if that kid is yours, you’ve got a problem.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Torment

Montana exploded.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice boomed through the boardroom, echoing off the walls like a gunshot. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to flicker in response to the intensity of his rage. “This is what I need right now? This? I’ve got a bullet wound that’s barely healed, a club that’s falling apart at the seams, the Death Dogs breathing down our necks like rabid animals, and Reaper trying to absorb us into the Golden Skulls—and now I’ve got to deal with one of my brothers knocking up a club whore?”

His hand slammed down on the table again, harder this time. The sound reverberated through the room, rattling the empty beer bottles and ashtrays scattered across the scarred wood surface. I could see the veins in his neck bulging, his face flushing red with fury.

“I don’t need this on my fucking plate, Torment. I don’t need this shit. Not now. Not when everything else is going to hell.”