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“He is.”

“How do you know?”

“Robin, I’m not going to go into the details, but by the time I was finished with him, they would never have been able to identify him. That’s how good I was.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

She looked down at his hands. They were a lot larger than hers but they provided her with so much love and comfort. “I can’t lose this, not again.”

“You won’t.”

“I’m scared, Preacher.”

He gripped the back of her neck, pulling her close. “You’ve got nothing to be afraid of. There’s no way I’d let anyone hurt you. You’ve got to believe that.”

“I do. I just … what if something bad happens with the baby? What if someone tries to take it from us again? I know what it’s like to go through that pain. I don’t think I can stand it again. What if we’re cursed? If we can never have kids of our own?”

“You’re worried about a lot,” he said. “We’re not cursed. I don’t believe in curses. The last time we were pregnant, I didn’t deal with O’Klaren swiftly enough. The death of our child is on my shoulders.”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t believe that. I can’t. No, I won’t let you think you’re responsible like that.”

He took her hand, locking their fingers together, and smiled. “If I’d dealt with him, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Bethany wouldn’t have been born and we’d have been together.”

She allowed herself a few minutes to merely think about what their life could have been like if nothing had gone wrong. “We’d have been happy.”

“And we’re always going to be happy.”

“I was scared with Bethany as well,” Robin said. “There were a couple of complications along the way, but I think I was the one with the problem. I was always so afraid.”

“You’ve got nothing to be afraid of anymore. You’ve got me, the club, and I’m not letting anything happen to you. I’ve got all my bases covered. Now, do you think we can go home so I can put Bethany down for a nap and make you some food?”

“I’d love that.”

“Good.” He cupped her cheek, leaning forward and kissing her. It wasn’t a possessive kiss. “Now, stop worrying. I won’t let you worry about shit like this. We’re going to get through it together. Like always.”

****

Preacher paced up and down the long floor as Dog and his men counted out the night’s quota of money. It had been a blood bath, one Preacher had been too distracted to enjoy.

“Not that I don’t enjoy our little chats and coming together as a family, but is there a reason you’re rubbing out the floor?” Dog asked.

“You ever had a kid?”

Dog’s laughter echoed around the warehouse. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m not joking. If I was joking, I wouldn’t be staring at you, wondering what the fuck was going on.” He didn’t like being laughed at.

“Let’s go and talk about this.” Dog took the lead, heading upstairs to one of the balconies overlooking the main fighting ring. Not much of a ring. Just the floor marked with some chalk. If either man ended up outside of the chalk, they were killed. The stricter the rules, the hungrier the crowd got for someone to slip up.

Dog pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and handed it to him. “You need this.”

“Robin’s pregnant.”

“So I heard.”

“How the fuck do you hear?”

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