Chapter 2
Dixie
The plastic feels heavy in my hand considering it probably weighs less than a candy bar. Sitting on the closed toilet lid, I avoid looking at the display until the timer on my phone goes off. Like they say, a watched pot never boils. Same with a watched pregnancy test.
The bathroom in my condo is small, and I take in the scent of my vanilla bodywash and damp towels I need to throw in the washer before I leave for work. Which is in about fifteen minutes.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
I silence the timer and attempt to take a long, deep breath.
No matter what happens, it’s what’s meant to be.
Stephen and I have talked about starting a family and moving in together.
I love him, and he loves me. So, if this test is positive, it’s a good thing. And if it’s negative, that’s okay, too.
The hammering of my heart in my chest makes it hard to take a full breath, but I do my best. Looking down, I gasp.
Two pink lines.
Bold. Bright. Undeniable.
Tears fill my eyes as a mix of emotions wash over me. “I’m pregnant.”
The timing isn’t ideal. We haven’t officially moved in together, and we haven’t made solid plans, but we’ll have to now. The big future we promised each other will become a reality sooner than later.
But there’s a small twinge of sadness that fills me.
I’ve been here before. When I was seventeen, I had this exact same moment, only I wasn’t with someone who will support me and see this through.
At that age, I could barely afford to feed myself, and some days I didn’t.
I knew I couldn’t raise a child let alone grow a healthy one.
There was only one choice.
It was the right decision for the situation and where I was in my life, but I have always thought about the child I almost had. It almost feels wrong to be excited this time.
Setting the test on the edge of the sink, I stand, my legs shaky. I’m allowed to be happy. I’m in a different place in life, and I have a wonderful boyfriend who will be just as excited as I am.
I just wish I could call and tell my mom.
I know what she’d say, and I don’t want to hear it. Not to mention that I’d have to call a psychiatric hospital to give her the news. Not that I can blame her. Daddy drove her insane.
The sounds of sirens still bring me right back to the exact spot I stood as they passed by, ready to put out the flames.
Daddy couldn’t keep his pants zipped, and he thought his lies would override the smell of cheap perfume clinging to his clothes every night.
I think that’s honestly what drove Mom insane. The gaslighting.
No pun intended.
Because one night, Mom snapped. I remember following her into the garage after Daddy came home smelling like the new neighbor’s perfume.
She grabbed the red gas can Daddy kept for the lawn mower, and she stormed down the sidewalk.
I just stood there as she dumped the liquid all over the open convertible’s seats and interior.
Daddy came running out, shouting at her, and asking if she was crazy.
I remember the look of pure defiance in her eyes as she lit the match and tossed it into the open car.
It’s the first and only time Mom ever did anything like that to Daddy, and the car went up in flames.
Daddy had to run and pull her back as the fire grew, moving us both to the other side of the garage as sirens blared to put out the flames before the car exploded.
The cops arrested Mom that night, and she went to prison for three years. I remember her being put in the back of that cop car, and the blank expression on her face. Daddy had finally succeeded. He’d driven Mom mad. And she paid the consequences of his actions.
That’s the day I swore I’d never be with a man who so much as looked at another woman like he wanted to take her home. The one thing Daddy taught me was that once a cheater, always a cheater. And I refuse to ever be with one. Screw up once, and there is no second chance.
Thankfully, Stephen isn’t like Daddy. Or the other guys I’ve been with. He’s sweet, attentive, and he loves me. He has a good job—even if he has to travel a lot for it—and he’ll be a fantastic father.
I can’t wait to tell him the news, but I have to work first. He’ll be stopping by when I get off, and then I imagine we’ll spend the night making love and dreaming of our future. The end of my shift can’t come soon enough.
Pulling into the back parking lot of the Seven Crows, I almost laugh.
I’m twenty minutes early. I’m always twenty minutes early because I leave home thirty minutes before my shift.
It’s a habit I can’t shake, and I know it’s a coping mechanism.
My way of taking control of a life that always felt just out of my control. But this? I can control this.
I grab my purse and step out. Locking my car, I stare at the dark sky and wish on the stars that Stephen is as over the moon as I am. That we’ll have the best night imaginable when I tell him he’s going to be a dad for the first time. Something he says he’s always wanted.
As I walk toward the back entrance, something catches my attention.
I’m about to grab the mace from my purse before I realize the sounds aren’t people fighting. No one’s in trouble. In fact, I know these sounds.
Heavy breathing. Grunting. Groaning. The unmistakable wet, rhythmic sound of skin slapping against skin.
I should leave. I should run inside and pretend I didn’t hear this, but there’s something familiar about their voices. But I have to be wrong. There is no way the two people I think I’m hearing are together… carnally. It would be against every law of nature. Or, at least, law of Gravelton.
Peeking around the corner, I’m stunned to see in the dim light of the moon that I was, in fact, right. And I’m now a little concerned that hell has frozen over, the apocalypse is coming, and pigs will start flying around me. And if I think bird shit is bad, imagine flying pig shit.
Lainey Sloan presses her palms against the brick as her skirt hovers over her hips.
Her long, brown hair is wrapped around a fist as none other than Wylie Ballard thrusts into her from behind, his other hand around her hip and fingers between her legs.
His pants rest around his ankles, and he pounds into her with a brutal and unrelenting rhythm as he kisses her neck.
This is… not quite incest but against everything the two motorcycle clubs in this town stand for.
I’m still relatively new, but I know the daughter of the dead Daredevils president should not be fucking the son of the Venom president.
Add in the fact that Wylie’s half-brother is basically Lainey’s stepbrother, and it becomes a whole big family affair.
One that neither side would be happy to learn about.
The Hellfire Daredevils and the Black Venom don’t just dislike each other. They flat-out hate each other. With a violent passion.
If this gets out, there won’t just be a fight. There will be a war, and blood will run through the streets of Gravelton. There may not be a victor because everyone would be dead.
Lainey lets out a sharp, needy gasp as her ass backs up to meet Wylie with every thrust, and he releases her hair to cover her mouth as she comes. Her muffled moan rivals the strangled groan Wylie gives as he pulls out and shoots his load against the wall between her legs.
They’re not even using protection? Considering Stephen and I used condoms every time, and I’m pregnant, this is not only dangerous but reckless. How the hell would she explain to Zep that she’s carrying the child of his club’s rival? And his half-brother?
I know I should leave, but I think they need to understand that they’re not being as careful as they should be. In any sense of the word. And when Lainey turns her head and locks eyes with me, I see the pure terror on her face.
“Wylie, pull up your pants,” Lainey orders. “We have an audience.”
The fact he was naked from the waist down barely hit me until now, and I have to admit, I can almost understand why Lainey would risk her entire family for what he offers. Because what dangles between his legs is rather impressive.
“Dixie,” Lainey says, adjusting her skirt and slipping on her panties.
I’m momentarily stunned at the order of events. Why not put her panties on first? Why after she’s already lowered her skirt?
“Dixie, please. You can’t say anything. No one can know about this.”
The look Wylie gives me terrifies me. Like he might lunge at me and make sure I never tell a soul because mine will be in heaven. I know how slimy his father is, and it’s hard not to believe he’d have similar traits. Butch has no issues raping and killing women. Why would Wylie be different?
“Please, Dixie,” Wylie says, his tone surprisingly soft. “Don’t tell anyone. You saw nothing, okay?”
Maybe there’s more to Wylie than most give him credit for. Perhaps the version of him we see in the bar and beyond is an act for the sake of his father. Who would definitely not approve of this.
“They’ll kill him if you tell,” Lainey says, and her brown eyes plead with me.
Holy shit. This isn’t just sex. She actually has feelings for him.
And the look Wylie wears matches hers.
What the actual fuck?
“I don’t like secrets,” I say. “I won’t say anything, but I won’t lie for you, Lainey.”
She nods. “Trust me, no one is going to ask if you saw me fucking Wylie in the alley before my shift.”
There’s a flash of something on Wylie’s face that I can catch now that he’s moved into the light from the back door. Even though it’s clear there’s more to this than what I walked up on, it clearly hurts him to hear her state it so crudely. Like that’s only about orgasms.
“Then I guess we have nothing to worry about,” I say.
Wylie nods and heads around the front. And all I can think about is how many secrets I’m keeping.
My abortion.
My mom being in a mental hospital.
Daddy being a fuckboy, even now.
The pregnancy.
Now, I have Lainey and Wylie having a sordid affair in the alleyway of the Seven Crows.
Yep, that’s more than I want to have on my mind. Holding secrets that could destroy lives kills something inside you, and I’m not sure how many more I can keep before I’m dead inside.
At least one will be shared tonight.
And I’m excited for my shift to end again. I can’t wait.