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The prick pressed his lips together and glanced around, seeing that he was clearly outnumbered. “You won’t kill me if I tell you?”
“Depends on whether the information is accurate. And cover that shit up, motherfucker. I don’t need to be staring at your junk.”
“He’s in the basement panic room,” he answered as he pulled the sheet over his lap. “The boys were guarding me and making it look like the prez was in his office.”
“The panic room need a combination to open it?” Grey asked.
The VP nodded. “I don’t know it. I swear.”
Grey didn’t respond, he whipped out his phone and disappeared.
Several sets of feet stomped down the stairs while Cash and I waited, our guns trained on the VP.
After a few minutes, Patriot murmured in our ears. “Done. Their prez won’t be a problem anymore.”
“Guess you weren’t lyin’,” I muttered. “Too bad.”
The VP’s gaze turned wary. “Why?”
I shrugged and smirked. “I was.”
There were two muffled sounds of a shot from a silencer, then the VP fell backward onto the bed, the holes in his forehead dribbling with blood.
“Let’s get the fuck out of this hellhole,” I grunted. “I need to get back to my woman.”
“Was it really that small?” Scout piped up.
I rolled my eyes as I made my way to the stairs, more than ready to go home.
Patch waited for me when I rolled into a parking spot in front of the garage. I dismounted quickly and tore my helmet off my head.
“What’s wrong? Did you find something? Fuck. I can’t lose her—”
“Rom!” Patch growled, interrupting my runaway thoughts. “She’s fine. More than fine. Honestly, I already suspected what I found in her blood work.”
“Spit it out, bro,” I snarled.
He grinned, then clapped me on the shoulder, confusing me. “Congratulations, man. You knocked up your woman.”
14
LAYLA
Getting shot was awful, but waiting for Roman to come back to the compound afterward was even worse. I wasn’t completely sure how he and the other guys planned to handle the situation, but I knew enough to admit it wasn’t going to be one hundred percent on the up-and-up in the legal sense, as Oakley had put it the first time I’d been here. Luckily, a bunch of the other women kept me calm while we bided our time until our men returned, along with several Silver Saints to watch over us.
I’d been waited on hand and foot—with food and drinks brought to me before I even knew I wanted anything. I was comfortable, but all I wanted was to have Roman’s arms around me. No matter how awesome everyone else was, nothing could distract me from the fact he was in danger.
Time moved slowly, but the guys finally returned. Roman pushed through the door first, and I jumped out of my seat to race across the room and throw myself into his arms. A lot of relieved wives were doing the same, but everyone else faded into the background because my entire focus was on my man.
“Careful, gorgeous.” He flattened his palm against my lower back to pull me close, pressing a kiss against my forehead. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“I’m fine, really.” Leaning my head back, I smiled up at him. “It was just a flesh wound and a few stitches.”
“None of that makes me feel better.” His hand slid up to wrap in the back of my hair. “Especially since Patch let me know that you’ve been throwing up the past couple of days. Something that you should’ve told me yourself so I could take care of you.”
I wrinkled my nose with a sigh, wishing his club brother had waited for me to tell him that myself. Preferably after he’d had the chance to calm down over me being shot. “Yeah, my stomach has just been a little off lately. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”
His palm slid down my back and around to cover my lower belly. “No, but it is something to celebrate.”
“Celebrate?” I echoed softly, my breath catching in my throat as realization dawned. “Oh my gosh, I’m pregnant?”
Roman nodded. “Yup. Patch suspected so he confirmed it when he ran your blood work.”
It was wild to think that the only reason we’d discovered the news so soon was because I’d been freaking shot in the arm. With all the unprotected sex we’d been having, I definitely should’ve realized what was going on. But I’d been so wrapped up in Roman giving me a property vest and going to my apartment to grab some of my things that I’d totally missed the possibility that my nausea was due to more than just nerves.
“I’m carrying your baby,” I cried, tears welling as I thought about how different this conversation would have gone if I’d been standing a few inches to the left. “Is everything okay? Did the numbers look right?”
