Chapter Eight-Anna
CHAPTER EIGHT-ANNA
F ear slithers down my soul as I stare at the enormous sign featuring a coiled up black snake ready to strike.
I’ve seen it once before, but last time was a walk in the park compared to how I feel now.
I walk into the Vipers’ Den and my gaze flits around from one hulking man to the next. I don’t know if he’s here.
And really, I am not so sure I should be, either. My hands go to my belly, and I feel a protective wave roll over me, forcing me to reject any uncertainty.
I’m not here for me. Besides, I have nowhere else to turn and the police already said they couldn’t do anything without witnesses .
I’m exhausted and my throat is sore from crying and talking to the police.
After I recognized the huddled form below my window as belonging to my brother, I ran down the stairs from my apartment to see if I could help him. And to wait for the cops and ambulance to arrive.
Sammy.
Images of my brother and the sweet baby he used to be filter through my brain. My heart hurts so badly, I sway on my feet.
Oh, Sammy. Why?
“What are you doing here? Oh my God, are you pregnant?” a sharp female voice snaps.
I turn my head to see the pretty bartender I remember from the first and only other time I ever went to the Vipers’ Den glaring at me. Her eyes are glued to my stomach, and her expression is sour.
“I, uh, can you tell Nico?—”
“You think you’re the first woman to trick the king with fake paternity suits? You better get your ass outta here,” she says, but her warning is flat.
“I-I need to see him,” I reply, finding my backbone somewhere beneath the numbness disguising my pain.
“Anna.”
I turn my head and see Nico striding towards me. He looks like some reigning monarch, his black on black outfit is molded to his perfect body.
His short-sleeved shirt is tight, showing off his incredible biceps and pecs, hinting at the abs beneath the fabric.
His fitted pants are just as fantastic, showing just how powerful and thick his legs are.
I’ve seen him naked. I know what he looks like, and I appreciate him for all his masculine beauty.
But it’s not Nico’s good looks that leave me speechless. It’s the hardness I see in his eyes.
He looks upset.
Angry.
Oh wow. He looks so fucking mad. But I don’t know if it’s at me or what?
Why should he be angry with me?
I am nothing to him. I’m just someone he once fucked. No biggie, right?
To guys like him, I’m a dime a dozen. Another notch on his bedpost. But why do I have the feeling he is mad at me?
Scantily clad women pose and gasp, each of them vying for his attention. I feel sick to my stomach, wondering how many he’s slept with since I skipped town .
It’s not fair of me. I have no right. But I can’t help it.
But for all their beauty and all their silicone-enhanced assets blatantly on display, I can see for myself that Nico is not looking at them.
He's looking at me.
And suddenly, I feel warm. Like really warm.
His eyes are burning like blue flames as he closes the distance between us.
I gape, mouth open. I can’t help it. Tattoos dance across his skin like shadows in the dim light and I can barely make them out, but I know what they are.
He stops right in front of me, completely invading my personal space.
I haven’t seen or spoken to Nico since New Year’s Eve.
But my body lights up, like it recognizes its master. I feel his warm breath on my forehead as he bends his head and puts his hand on my belly.
My eyes widen. My waist is thick. The child we created is stretching my already soft flesh.
The baby kicks. And I know he can feel it.
“My office. Now,” he says, his voice so damn deep.
He drops his hand, like it burns, and walks away, leaving me to trail behind him. It’s like he doesn’t even worry I won’t obey him.
That’s when I notice all the other eyes on me, and I realize he’s right.
With all his men watching me, creating a barrier between me and the rest of the bar goers, I follow him. I have no other choice.
He's talking into a cell phone, and I swear I hear him say “Get me Preacher”.
But I’m not sure.
When we get inside his office, he takes my purse and I think he's gonna hang it up, but instead, he goes through my wallet and takes out my driver's license.
“What are you doing?”
He ignores me. His phone rings as he answers it.
“Bring him down.”
“Nico?” I interrupt, not understanding what is happening.
He hasn’t even given me a chance to explain.
“I only want to hear two words from you. I and do,” he growls, and I gasp.
“What? You’re crazy.” I shake my head.
“You have no fucking idea. But I guarantee you no kid of mine is coming into this world a bastard.”
What the heck is going on? Is he serious ?
“Nico, that’s not why I’m here. You can’t just?—”
“You telling me that baby isn’t mine?” he asks, and he is so mad.
I tremble. But I’m not afraid. In fact, I think I’m turned on. Inside his office, I can hardly hear the music from the bar.
But I feel something in the air between us. An electrical charge. An energy. A vibrance I have never felt with anyone else.
I’m just as sick as him.
“No,” I say honestly, because I can’t lie to him.
I just can’t.
“I’m not saying that, but I’m here cause, well, Sammy’s dead.”
“What? How?”
“Someone dumped him outside my apartment earlier tonight. He was beaten, stabbed, and h-he didn’t make it,” I say, grief hitting me all over again.
“Fuck.”
I feel Nico’s hands on my shoulders as he guides me to a chair.
“When did you get back to town?”
“This afternoon. How did you know I was gone?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Do you know the name of the cop working the case? Or what hospital he was taken to? Never mind. I’ll find out.”
“I-I, I mean, they threw this through my window.”
I take the rock out of my pocket and hand it to him. I don’t know why I didn’t give it to the cops, but here I am now, so my reasons don’t matter.
Nico takes it from me. At first, it looks like an ordinary rock. About four inches long and half as wide. Nothing special.
But then he turns it over and sees it. Drawn right on top is the unmistakable image of a snake with a knife stabbing it through the head.
A dangerous energy sizzles in the air. It’s raw and unbridled, purely masculine in its tone and demeanor.
It takes me a moment to realize it’s him. That feeling of heaviness is simply Nico.
I wonder if Fury is his real name or if he chose it. Either way, it’s apt because he is the very definition of fury in that moment.
His anger is so damn strong, it’s palpable.
“I don’t know what that means, but it feels bad. I-I came to you for protection.”
I finally find my voice as Nico’s blue eyes flash to mine. He cocks his head to the side, like a wild animal, and my heart hammers harder against my ribs.
Someone knocks on the door, and he growls a command for them to enter. An older man with a familiar collar comes in, followed by one of the men I saw upstairs.
A priest?
“What do you need to marry us?” Nico addresses the priest.
“What?” The priest looks shocked.
“Do I need to repeat myself?”
“No, no. Um, you just need to file a license and have someone perform the ceremony with witnesses. I have a license in here,” he says and takes a paper out of the case he’s holding.
“Good. Give it,” Nico grunts and takes the paper.
I sit stunned while he fills it in. Nico uses a complicated looking multifunction machine to make copies of his and my driver’s licenses, along with the actual wedding application.
I should argue. Or something. But I’m actually just stunned.
“Okay, here. Now do it,” he says.
“W-why are you doing this? I'm here because I have to find my brother’s killer and to protect my baby against them. ”
“Your brother don’t need you looking out for him anymore, Rosebud.”
I gasp. It hurts to hear him say it so frankly, but he’s right.
Sammy made his choices, and he’s paid for them. With his life.
“Look, I’m sorry if that came out rough, but it’s the truth. And you clearly need someone looking out for you. Walking in this fucking place alone and pregnant,” Nico growls.
I feel the flash of anger rise in him even as he tries to stanch its growth. Then he’s standing in front of me.
His body is so close I can feel the power vibrating off him. He crouches, taking my trembling hands in his.
“You came to me for protection. This is how we do it. You take my name, Anna Keller, you keep growing my baby in your belly, but you do it under my roof. Where I can keep you both safe. But first, you’re gonna marry me. Okay?”
“Okay,” I say, nodding my head as tears spill down my cheeks.
“Good. You look thin. Luc, I want you to get me the best OBGYN on staff at the Medical Center,” he says to his man, naming a local hospital .
“Yes, boss.”
“I, uh, I have a doctor?—”
“Nonnegotiable. From now on your body is a goddamn temple. Only the best, Anna. I won’t tolerate less.”
“How, uh, how do you know the baby is yours?”
He just looks at me as if to say, “who else got you pregnant”. I huff. I'm being petulant, but whatever.
Truth is, I can’t help but feel relieved. It’s crazy. I know it is. That I am even considering marrying this guy is likely the result of some borderline personality disorder, I’m sure of it.
But I've been so alone lately. And it feels kind of nice to have someone to share it with. All the joys and worries of pregnancy.
With this new threat, well, I’m actually glad Nico is here and stepping up.
Who knew mafia types could be so Gung-ho to marry one night stands that end up in surprise pregnancies?
The preacher finishes looking over the papers, and he gestures the other man forward.
“Luc, are you witnessing?”
“Yes,” the man, Luc, answers.
He bends down and signs the papers. Then hands the pen to Nico. Nico signs and hands the pen and paper to me .
I sit there staring at the document.
“Sign it, Rosebud.”
He’s back to crouching in front of me as he gives the order and the dark timber of his voice sends shivers down my spine.
I grip the pen. Nico presses down on my hand gently, forcing the felt tip to the paper.
I take a breath.
And I sign.