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It’s way past midnight, and sleep is just not happening. I mean, how can I? There’s someone parked outside my apartment. And I’m in here, pregnant, alone, and freaked the fuck out.
I’ve tried everything to distract myself. I binge-watch a sitcom on Netflix, hoping for something to lighten the mood. But every creak and noise makes me jump. I keep glancing at the clock, and I swear, it’s like time is standing still.
I try not to think about the car outside. But it’s hard. My mind races, wondering who’s out there and why. The baby’s kicking too, like he or she can sense my anxiety.
As the night drags on, I start to feel a weird mix of tired and wired. I’m exhausted but my mind won’t shut off. And just when I think I might finally doze off, another noise snaps me back to reality.
As morning light starts peeking through the blinds, I wonder what’s going to happen. Is this person outside going to make a move?
If he is, what’s he going to do? Hell, what am I going to do?
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
Tank
There’s a group of five guys near the main stairwell and another three around the west stairwell. Each of them has a tattoo with a scythe. Gotta be the Iron Reapers MC that Ace told me about. I don’t know which one is Riot or if he’s even still inside, but now that I know who they are, I can make my approach.
A gravelly voice sounds beside me. “You’re showing an awful lot of interest in my men,” he says, and I turn my head to take in the man.
He’s shorter than me, but most men are, with short dark hair. Just beneath the overgrown buzzcut is his scythe tattoo, but the handle of the scythe is an ‘I’ with the blade arching over the ‘R’. Iron Reapers. He sizes me up, trying to figure out why I’m scoping out his men.
“We gonna have a problem?” he adds.
“Don’t know. Are we?”
His lips curl into a grin that says he’s one crazy motherfucker, and somehow, I know he’s Riot. “You looking to get high or get stuck?”
I smile at his threat. “I’m looking for Riot.”
“You got ’em. Who’s asking?” His gaze goes from alert to curious in a flash.
“Tank. Reckless Souls MC. My Prez, Ace, says you’re the man to see while I’m in here.”
His eyes round in surprise. “No shit. Ace is your Prez? How is that motherfucker?”
“Good,” I smile. “Runnin’ shit. Just had a kid.”
“No shit? Ace is a father. Holy shit.” Riot laughs and pushes off the wall, extending his hand to me.
I take it, and we give each other a firm shake. “Yep. Just had the baby since I’ve been locked up.” It’s still strange as fuck that we now have babies in the MC, and my baby—boy or girl—is next.
Riot looks at me, questions burning in his eyes. “Who you piss off since you got here?”
“Nobody,” I say with a smile. “Well, Manny Olivera tried to take my food, and a big fucker like me needs to eat. He might be pissed off at me, but I can handle that pussy.”
“That was you?” He shakes his head with what looks like a proud smile. “Shit, I’d have given anything to see that motherfucker get the shit kicked out of him.” He’s laughing as if he can see that shit in his mind. Like I said, crazy motherfucker. “What you in for?”
I sigh, giving myself time to think about what I want to say or rather, how to say it without airing club business. “For doing the best thing for my MC. Got into a fight, and a dude died.”
Riot nods. “I feel ya, brother. I’m halfway through eighteen months doing what’s best for my MC. It’s a motherfucker, ain’t it?”
I nod. “Not my first time inside, but this time I got a target on my back as a man without a home in here.”
I hate to admit that shit. Makes me feel like a weak-ass bitch, but I’m not too proud to admit when I need someone to have my six.
“Say no more, man. I owe Ace my life. He’s come through for me more times than I like to think about, so this is a favor I can happily repay. You think Olivera’s crew is planning to retaliate?” He nods toward a table with a few guys sitting around, and we walk over.
“Scram,” he says in a calm voice that’s just as scary as if he’d issued a threat, and they do.
