23. Creed
CREED
I frown at my phone, something tingling in the back of my head. We went through weeks of her morning sickness and she never shied away from me taking care of her.
I stand from the table, not caring who I’m interrupting and say, “I gotta go.”
Gage blinks. “Church just started, and you’ve missed too many over the past few months.”
“I don’t fucking care,” I snap out. “Something is wrong with Morgan. I can’t explain it, but I have to go.”
My president’s jaw is tight before he nods at Viper. “Follow him just in case.”
We’re out the door in the next second, our bikes revving hard as I shoot over to her place. I lead Viper to the spot where I usually park, and then we jog over to her apartment. A part of me wanted to park right in her apartment complex but I decided against it just in case.
My stomach drops when I see her door cracked open, throat tightening when I fear the worst. I push it open and almost storm through when my attention catches on her curled form.
She’s hunched over, her face wild with fear as she looks over at me before slumping against the wall in relief. She tries to cover her face just as quickly, but I see it. The puffy red of an eye about to swell shut from being hit.
It takes everything in me to control my own fury. “Morgan?” I say carefully, stepping into her apartment.
She shakes her head, holding out a hand. “Stop, just…go, Creed. I’m—it’s…” Her words are swallowed up in a sob.
Viper is at my back, letting out a small curse. “She might still be in shock. You might make it worse if you approach her.”
As much as I hate it, I call Autumn for help. They don’t know each other well, but there’s a gentleness to her I know will help Morgan more than I can.
When she and Dodge step into the apartment, his jaw sets hard and Autumn swallows roughly, looking over the glass and blood on the floor and the woman who refuses to get up. Autumn walks over, squatting in front of Morgan.
“Morgan, can I help you get cleaned up? We don’t want you to get an infection from the cuts, do we?”
My woman looks up, her hair falling away from her face. I let out a hiss, my fists curling at my sides. Dodge’s hand grabs my shoulder, a steady reminder not to react. Her eye is swollen shut, red, and already bruising purple.
Autumn gasps. “Are you—anywhere else?” Her voice is soft, a current of worry under it, and now fear spikes my heartrate. How badly has my woman been beat? I’ll find the fucker and skin him alive. Hang him with his fucking intestines.
Morgan shakes her head and turns to look at me. Her chin wobbles while her hand slides to her stomach, and I know what she’s saying, silently communicating that she protected our baby. I have to blink away the tears that gather, swallow the emotion clawing in my throat.
“Let Autumn clean you up. Please, baby.” I’m not ashamed of the crack in my voice, the plea. If anyone understands how I’m feeling at this moment, it would be Dodge. She nods softly, holding on to Autumn’s hands to stand, and they walk back to her bathroom.
My fists are curled as I watch them, and I turn to Dodge and Viper. “I’m going to kill him.”
Viper shakes his head. “And what? Never see your kid because you’re in prison? Nice.”
I growl, moving toward him, but Dodge pushes me back.
“I get it, okay? You want to protect your woman, but she needs you more than that,” he says.
I turn away from both of them, staring out the door and away from the mess. It takes several deep breaths to calm my rage, and I only turn back around when I hear her soft footsteps coming back.
Morgan looks up at me, and her face makes me want to murder the son of bitch. Autumn cleaned up the blood, but the swelling and bruising have already started to bloom.
“Can we take you to the hospital please? The baby…” I whisper the last words into her temple.
She nods, and I blow out a shaky breath.
Her fingers clutch my shirt. “I can’t take the patrol car. He f-fired me.” I already suspected who, but hearing it drives my fury to uncontainable levels.
Dodge clears his throat. “We can take her.”
“That okay?” I ask Morgan.
She swallows and looks over at Autumn who gives her a sad smile. “Yeah.”
I walk her to the backseat, tucking some of her hair behind her ear before I yank the seatbelt and buckle her up. Her eyes—well, one eye that isn’t swollen shut—catch mine as her hand pushes at my arm, and she adjusts how she’s sitting. “I’m okay, Creed. I’m not that fragile.”
I keep my face neutral, trying to douse the flames of fury roaring in my head. I give her another nod and shut the door. I catch Dodge’s arm as he walks by.
“Dodge—”
He pats my hand. “I got her, brother. Just make sure you get to the hospital in one piece.”
My hand slips from his hold with a reluctant grin.
I trust him. I trust my club to care for her.
I hate that I have to leave her and walk back to our stashed bikes and catch up.
I’m done with the bullshit. After today everyone is going to know Morgan Simmons is mine, and they’ll regret touching her.
Viper is at my side as we hurry down the street to the parking spot. “Sending Fox and Steel to help clean up her apartment.”
I nod, still too mad to talk, and feel like I can finally breathe when I’m on my bike again, taking off toward the main road.
Her words keep repeating in my head.
I’m not that fragile.
I’m not that fragile.
As if this isn’t the first time. As if she’s used to it, and that pisses me off even more. Who beats a woman? Their own daughter?
My hand tightens on the bars and my heart thunders in my chest. I know where that motherfucker lives, and the next street coming up takes me right to him.
I’m okay. I’m not that fragile.
Fragile.
She’s not. Morgan is strong, and she doesn’t need me to defend her. But she’s mine. And nobody touches what’s mine.
I squeeze my throttle, taking off around the corner without warning anyone behind me.
As soon as the road straightens out, I push my bike faster.
I know it’s getting louder, drawing attention.
I can hear Viper following me. As soon as the line of houses start to crest over the trees, I rev my bike even more, some of my front tire lifting off the road.
I let off just as the man of the hour comes barreling out his front door with a gun drawn, his face flushed.
I don’t know if it’s from anger or alcohol with the way he stumbles a step.
I don’t give a fuck. I let up on my speed, gunning straight for him and over the sidewalk, jumping and rolling off my bike, not caring where it lands in his large lawn.
“How dare you dirty fucking bastard come—”
I lunge at him, taking him to the ground. He’s dazed enough that I can scramble to straddle his stomach, and I punch him right in the face. The same eye he got Morgan.
“You want to beat on my woman, you piece of shit? By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be pissing and eating through a tube.” I punch him again and again, over and over. He lands one weak punch to my side, but not enough to make me waver.
Adrenaline pumps through me as I put everything behind my punches.
The years of him harassing my brothers, the insecurity I’ve seen in Morgan’s eyes because of him, and my fury at his audacity to lay a hand on her.
There’s a ringing in my ears, my mind blank with anger.
It takes several moments before I blink and come back to reality.
My face is pressed into the itchy grass, aches blooming in my arms and back as the sharp cold metal of handcuffs tighten on my wrists. A knee pressed into my back adds more pressure before they roll off, and multiple hands pull me to stand.
Viper is on the side, his eyes wide and blood splattered on his face as he stares at me.
I’ve never seen my brother look so scared.
A deputy is keeping him back, a hand pressed into his chest. My attention moves to the man lying still on the ground.
I swallow a rough ache in my throat at the blood and mess of his face.
The deputy pushes me toward his car. “Pray he survives, Ortega. Just fucking pray.”