Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
JOSEPHINE “JO” BOOKER
“Jo, baby, I need to get going.” Not ready to wake and face the day, I groan at the sound of Johnny’s voice. “Come on, babe. You gotta open the salon, and I gotta get back to the clubhouse.” He gently traces his fingers down my back and presses a kiss to the top of my head.
After I told him I was pregnant, and we both freaked out, we decided to sit with it for a few days. Give us each a chance to digest the news and figure out what we were going to do. Terminating the pregnancy wasn’t something I was willing to consider, but I didn’t share that with Johnny. For me, I needed to make some changes in my life. I couldn’t continue the way I was going, not when I was going to be bringing a baby into the world.
My baby deserved a stable life.
He or she wasn’t going to have to wonder if the heat would be turned off because I paid my stylist instead of the gas bill.
If that meant shutting down the salon and finding a new job, well, then that’s what I’d do. That’s not saying my heart didn’t break at the idea. I feel like I sacrificed so much to open the salon, and on my quest for success, I lost my brother. Now I was just going to give it up?
How would he feel about that?
Johnny’s hand travels down my spine, finding my ass. He squeezes one cheek and tilts my chin with his free hand.
“I know you’re up,” he whispers, the tip of his nose brushing over the tip of mine.
My eyes flutter open and I stare into his baby blues, wondering if our kid will be lucky enough to inherit them.
“Good morning,” he rasps.
“Morning.”
He gives my ass another squeeze, and pulls me even closer against his side.
“How you feeling?”
His feelings on becoming a father might be questionable, but it’s not stopping him from being the overprotective partner. It started last night when we crawled into bed. One minute we were quiet, staring at the ceiling, the next he was asking me if had vitamins in the house. If I wasn’t so worried about everything, I would’ve laughed.
“I’m fine.” I stretch my legs. “You’re right. We need to get up.”
I toss the blanket off my body and roll away from him. My feet hit the carpet, and I reach for my robe. Standing and tying it around my waist, I turn to face him. My brows pinch together when I spot him still laying on the bed, his eyes slowly tracking every inch of my body.
“Why aren’t you getting up? And why are you staring at me like that?”
He lifts his gaze to mine. “Do you have a long day today?”
Without my book it’s hard to answer, so I shrug. “No longer than usual.”
“You shouldn’t be on your feet all day.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m like a minute pregnant. I’ll manage.” I saunter over to my closet to grab some clothes. “What’s going on with the club that had you so busy yesterday?”
He doesn’t answer right away, so I turn around and find him sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.
“Johnny?”
He peels his hands away from his face. “You should probably sit for this.”
That’s not something anyone wants to hear after they ask their boyfriend how their day was. I abandon my closet, and move to sit next to him on the bed.
“The guys from New York are back in town,” he starts.
“Okay, and that’s a bad thing?”
It didn’t seem that way the last time they were in town, but I was too wrapped up in losing Andrew and fighting my feelings toward Johnny to really notice if anything was amiss between the bikers.
“It is when the only reason they’re here is because Bishop’s son is missing.”
About a year ago, I made a pact with myself to stop watching the news. It was right after a young girl went missing. Her face was plastered all over the news, and her parents, along with her stepparents would go on a different news show every night, begging for information about her whereabouts. I became an internet sleuth, searching for leads. Almost six weeks after she went missing, her body was found. I found myself in such a state of depression, that I couldn’t function. It took me two days to snap out of it, and once I did, I cancelled my cable and deleted all my social media apps.
My days as an internet detective were over.
“He was with another kid from the camp. A girl. Her father is tied to a rival club of ours. Not sure if that has anything to do with it. The cops aren’t being very helpful, and we don’t know much.”
All I heard was the word rival.
“You think an enemy of this club took the kids?”
He looks away. “Or an enemy of ours.” He slowly brings his gaze back to me. “We’re not a charity, Jo. We don’t serve our community. Most of the shit I do is illegal. Booker & Mann is a front. We launder ninety percent of our money through there.”
In the six weeks that we’ve been sleeping together, I’ve come to realize things aren’t on the up and up where the Satan’s Knights are concerned. It first dawned on me when I caught Ghost and Capone cleaning their guns in the common room. Then I found the gun in Johnny’s drawer. I didn’t question it, and when he first slept over, he took it out of his holster, and placed it on my nightstand like he was removing his watch for the night.
I accepted it without really accepting it if that makes any sense.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“You’re having my baby, and I can’t stop my mind from going there.”
I narrow my eyes, trying to decipher what he’s trying to say. My facial expression must give away my thoughts.
“Anything can happen, Jo. Today it’s Bishop’s kid, but what if five years from now it’s ours?” He tears his gaze away from me and scrubs a hand over his face. “I can’t change who I am, but now there is a kid coming, and I’m not sure my lifestyle is suited to raise it.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I’m nervous too, but I’m willing to change my life so that my kid can have a better one. It’s a personal choice, one I don’t think is easy for Johnny to make.
When I don’t respond, he glances back at me, a soft expression filling his face as he drops a hand to my flat stomach.
“I don’t mean to upset you. We said we were gonna give each other time to get used to it, right? Maybe I’m just too involved in this thing with Connor. Once he’s found, I’ll be better. I won’t be so worried.”
I’m sure his words are meant to comfort me, but they miss the mark. He leans in and kisses me softly before standing and making his way to the bathroom. We don’t speak of the baby, or Bishop’s son. He doesn’t order me to call him, and he doesn’t promise to call me. He kisses me goodbye, and then he’s gone.