Chapter Five
Riley
“Riley, I need you to wake up.”
Nope. Not happening. So sleepy.
“I know, baby, but I need you to open your eyes for just a minute.”
Fear hits me hard, slamming into my chest and jerking me awake. My heart races as I look around, disoriented.
“Where am I?” I ask, my voice trembling.
“You’re at the Iron Shadows’ compound, remember?” Spike’s calm, deep voice pulls me back to reality.
It only takes a couple of seconds for the events of my life to come crashing back. Asher’s soft cries pierce the quiet, and I instantly spring into action. My hands fumble with the straps of the carrier, and I rush to pull him out, tossing the carrier to the side.
“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” I say, my voice breaking as tears blur my vision. I cradle him close, running a soothing hand over his back. “I’m such a horrible mom. How long has he been crying? He’s probably starving.”
“My God, he’s tiny,” someone says, their tone skeptical. “Are you sure he was finished growing?”
“Shut the fuck up, Skip,” Spike snaps, his voice sharp and commanding. “You’ve only been asleep for thirty minutes, Riley.” His gaze softens as he crouches in front of me. “If you can hand me your bag, I can make a bottle and feed him while you sleep some more.”
I shake my head, my face heating with embarrassment. “I breastfeed,” I admit quietly, the words catching in my throat. “I need to change him.”
“Alright,” Spike says, his voice steady. “Then tell me what you need. Do you have diapers?”
“Yeah,” I answer, pulling the diaper bag from my back. “I need to feed him first.”
“We’ll step out and give you some privacy,” he says, standing.
I glance around nervously, my cheeks flaming. “I...uhm.”
“You’re safe here,” Spike says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Nobody’s gonna bother you, Riley. They wouldn’t dare.”
Tank mutters something under his breath, but I can’t focus on it. Asher’s cries are growing louder, insistent, and I know I need to act quickly. Swallowing hard, I nod and lay Asher on the couch next to me so I can adjust to a more comfortable position.
Spike steps back, his imposing presence hovering nearby. He doesn’t move far, though, and something about his watchful gaze gives me the tiniest flicker of reassurance. For a moment, I dare to hope we’ll be okay. Even if only for the next few minutes.
I settle into position, grabbing the pillow and blanket someone left earlier, and place them across my lap. Asher’s cries quiet slightly as I lift him into my arms, but even as I prepare to feed him, exhaustion begins to tug at me again. My eyelids grow heavy, and I can already feel myself starting to drift off.
“Wait,” I call out, my voice faint, as I notice Spike starting to close the door. “I’m afraid I’m going to fall asleep and drop him,” I admit, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Is there someone here who can maybe… sit with me?”
Spike freezes mid-step, his expression unreadable as he lets out a sharp exhale. “Fuck,” he whispers under his breath, rubbing a hand down his face.
I immediately regret asking, panic blooming in my chest. “Never mind,” I say quickly. “I’ll figure it out. I’ll stand and feed him. I won’t fall asleep that way. I’ve had to do it several times already, so I know it works.”
“I’ll stay with her,” Tank offers casually, his voice low.
Spike whirls on him, glaring with such intensity that even I flinch. “Over my dead fucking body will you watch her breastfeed,” he growls. His tone is low, menacing, and full of an unfamiliar protectiveness that seems to surprise even him. “Is your sister here?”
“She and her husband left for a few weeks,” Tank replies, his brows furrowing.
Spike curses under his breath again, his frustration palpable.
“It’s okay,” I say softly, trying to diffuse the tension. I quickly stand, ignoring the sudden onset of dizziness. “Really. I’ll stand and feed him. I can manage.”
For a moment, Spike stares at me, his jaw tight as though waging some internal war. Finally, he mutters, “No. You’re not doing that. Sit down.”
I hesitate, unsure of what he’s planning.
“I’ll sit across the room behind you so you can still have privacy,” he says, his voice softer now but still firm. “You feed your kid, Riley. I’ll stay here and make sure you don’t fall asleep.”
The softness in his tone takes me off guard, but I nod slowly, sinking back onto the couch. Asher fusses in my arms, but this time, the weight in my chest feels a little lighter.
“This will probably take thirty minutes,” I admit as the door closes, and I’m alone with a man I don’t even know. But, even still, I feel more safe than I have in years.
“That’s fine, babe,” he mutters from somewhere behind me. “Just feed your boy. I’ll keep you both safe.”
Using the blanket to shield myself, I do just that.
***Spike***
Longest twenty minutes of my fucking life.
Why the fuck did I get hard at a woman I don’t even know breastfeeding a baby that’s not mine? It’d make sense if it were my woman and my kid. But this?
This is caveman shit.
Just knowing she’s feeding a baby is enough to make me want to grab her and claim her for myself.
Fucking idiot.
It’s not like I saw anything. She’s all the way across the room and covered up. My brain knows that, but apparently, my dick didn’t get the memo.
My dick is a fucking idiot, too.
“Riley,” I call out when her head starts to tilt to the side, her neck at an awkward angle. “Babe, you awake?”
No answer.
Damn it.
I move fast, kneeling in front of her and cupping her face. “Babe, need you to wake up.”
She makes a soft noise, a little hum that tells me she’s alive, but her arms begin to loosen. Shit. I quickly place my hands where hers were, holding the baby in place.
I pull back the blanket, and there he is, still nursing. And I freeze.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
What am I going to do?
She told me about ten minutes ago she was switching sides, so I’m hoping this little guy is almost finished. I sigh and kneel there, my hands steady beneath his head and bottom, waiting. Five minutes later, he drifts off, his tiny mouth letting go.
“Finally,” I mutter under my breath.
Carefully, I pull him to my chest with one hand and use the other to fix her bra and shirt. My fingers brush her skin, and I flinch like I’ve touched something forbidden. Hell, I have.
If she wants to punch me in the face for this later, I’ll stand there and take it.
Once she’s covered, I shift her gently, grabbing her shoulders and laying her down on the couch. I tuck the pillow under her head and spread the blanket over her body.
“Alright, little man,” I whisper to the baby, his tiny weight warm against my chest. “You need to be burped and changed. We can do this.”
I glance at her one last time, her face relaxed in sleep, and something in my chest tightens. It’s not just the baby that’s fragile. She is, too.
Tank walks into the room just as I grab the diaper bag.
“Alright, little man,” I mutter, glancing down at the baby in my arms. “Let’s get this over with.”
I lay him down on the desk because, well, I don’t have a damn clue where else to do this. Tank is standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.
“You know how to change a diaper, Prez?” he asks softly, clearly enjoying my predicament.
“It’s a fucking diaper, not rocket science,” I snap, though I have zero idea what I’m doing.
The kid lets out a tiny squawk, and I freeze. “Hey, hey, none of that. We’re figuring this out together, alright?”
I fumble with the straps on the onesie, which seems like it’s been designed by an evil genius. After finally getting it off, I peel back the diaper and…
“Holy shit,” I groan, turning my head as the smell hits me like a damn freight train. “What the hell has she been feeding you?”
Tank is outright laughing now. The fact that Riley is sleeping through it is a testament to how exhausted she really is. “Having fun, Prez?”
“Shut the fuck up,” I growl, grabbing the wipes from the bag. It’s only when I start cleaning him that I realize I should’ve been prepared for an ambush.
Warm liquid sprays up, and I barely dodge it. “What the?!” I shout, holding up my hands like I’m under attack. “Is this normal?”
“Yeah,” Tank says, wheezing. “Boys will do that.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I grumble, wiping my arm and cut down with one of the baby wipes. I manage to wrestle a new diaper on him, though it’s definitely crooked. Whatever. It’ll hold.
Next is burping him. How hard can it be?
Removing my cut so the boy’s tiny body isn’t harmed against the rough fabric, I cradle him against my chest, patting his back a little harder than I probably should. He’s tiny, sure, but he can take it.
“Come on, kid. Just let it out.”
Nothing happens. I keep patting my hand like a steady drumbeat. Tank’s still leaning in the doorway, looking way too amused.
“Maybe you’re doing it wrong?” he says.
“I don’t see you volunteering.”
Finally, the kid lets out a burp that sounds like it came from a full-grown man. “There we go.”
And then it happens.
Warm, sticky spit-up slides down my shoulder, soaking into the sleeves of my shirt. I freeze, staring at Tank in disbelief.
“You’re fucking kidding me,” I say.
Tank’s laughter echoes through the room. “Oh, man, that’s gold. You’re a natural, Prez.”
“Natural, my ass.” I grab another wipe, trying to clean the mess while the kid gurgles, apparently pleased with himself. “Next time, you’re on diaper and burp duty, Tank.”
He shakes his head, smirking. “Nah, looks like you’ve got it handled.”
By the time I’ve got the baby cleaned up and my dignity in tatters, Riley blinks groggily, looking at me with a mix of confusion and surprise. The loud fucking laughter must have woken her.
“You... changed him?”
“Yeah,” I grunt, holding the baby like he’s a ticking time bomb. “Don’t get used to it.”
But as I hand him back to her, a tiny part of me wonders why it wasn’t all that bad.
“Here,” Bones, our Enforcer, says, entering the room. “It’s not much, but your baby can rest on this while you sleep.”
“Oh. Uhm, thank you, scary-looking dude.”
Bones hands me the cot, nods, and leaves the room.
She has no idea how scary that man actually can be.
Laying down the sleeping cot, I reach out for the baby. She has a slight hesitation but hands him over. She already has him wrapped up like a burrito, so I lay him down and slide the cot close to the couch.
“Lay down and sleep, babe,” I order. “You’ve slept less than an hour so far, and you need far more.”
“He’ll wake back up in three to four hours to feed again,” she yawns.
“So soon?” I ask.
“Every three to four hours,” she answers. “It’s exhausting, but I love him, so it’s worth it.
Every three to four hours? I glance back at Tank, shocked. But his eyes are dancing with joy.
Fucker.
“Sleep, Riley,” I grunt. “I’ll check back in soon.”
With that, I turn and walk away. But not before making sure she did as I said.