Chapter 26 Bonnie
BONNIE
Iwake up wrapped in Ghost.
His arm weighs heavily across my waist, pinning me against his chest. His breath is warm and steady against the back of my neck, each exhale stirring the hair at my nape. The room is still dark, and the morning sun is just starting to creep through the gap in the curtains.
For a moment, I just lie here. I feel the solid weight of him behind me, the rise and fall of his chest against my back. The heat of his skin seeps into mine through the thin T-shirt I pulled on sometime during the night.
Safe.
That’s the word that keeps circling through my head.
I feel safe.
Of all three of them, I thought Ghost would be the one who kept his distance. The cold one. The one who watches and calculates but doesn’t feel. The sniper who takes the shot and walks away without looking back.
But last night proved me wrong.
His hands were gentle on my body. He touched my stomach—the small swell where his baby grows—with something close to wonder in his eyes.
I don’t know what to do with that information. Don’t know how to reconcile the Ghost who barely speaks, who watches the world through dark, emotionless eyes, with the Ghost who held me last night.
His hand shifts on my stomach now, fingers spreading wide like he’s trying to cover as much of me as possible. Protecting.
Ghost is the biological father. And while I was mostly just relieved it isn’t Marcus—thank God it isn’t Marcus—there’s something about knowing it’s Ghost that feels right, like this was always how it was supposed to be.
I turn carefully in his arms, trying not to wake him. But his eyes are already open when I face him, dark and alert. Watching me.
“How long have you been awake?” I whisper.
“A while.”
“Creep. You’ve just been lying there watching me sleep?”
His lips twitch. Almost a smile. “You snore.”
“I do not.”
“You do. Soft. Like a kitten with a head cold.”
I punch his shoulder lightly. The muscle barely gives under my fist. “Shut up. I don’t snore.”
He catches my hand before I can pull it back, bringing it to his mouth. Presses a kiss to my knuckles. The gesture is so unexpectedly sweet.
“We should stay in bed all day,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow. “All day?”
“Yeah. Just stay here. Pretend the world doesn’t exist for a few hours.” I press closer to him, tucking my head under his chin. “The war can pause. Marcus can pause. Savage Legion can take a vacation. Everything can just stop for one day and let us breathe.”
Ghost looks at me like I’ve suggested we sprout wings and fly to Mars.
But he doesn’t move. He pulls the blanket higher over both of us and wraps his arms tighter around me.
“One day,” he murmurs into my hair.
I smile against his chest. “One day.”
We lie there in silence. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my back, following the curve of my spine down and back up again. My hand rests over his heart, feeling it beat steady and strong beneath my palm.
This is nice. Peaceful. The first morning in weeks where I’m not immediately hit with panic about what fresh hell is waiting outside this room.
The sunlight gets brighter through the curtains. I can hear the compound starting to wake up—boots on stairs, doors opening and closing, the distant rumble of a bike starting up.
But in here, it’s just us.
Ghost’s fingers slide under the hem of my T-shirt, palm flattening against the small of my back.
I arch into the touch. “You keep doing that and you’re gonna get me all wet.”
“That’s the plan,” he murmurs, voice gravel and smoke. His hand slides up my spine, slow and deliberate, until his big palm cups my bare breast. He squeezes, gently, then drags his calloused thumb across my nipple in a lazy circle that makes my back arch off the mattress.
A helpless moan slips out of me, louder than I meant.
He smirks, eyes dark. “Are you wet already?”
I bite my lip. “Maybe you should check for yourself.”
His hand leaves my breast and dives under the sheet, two fingers gliding straight between my thighs.
He finds me soaked, clit swollen, and groans like he just won the lottery.
“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, swirling through my slick folds. “You’re dripping.” He brings those fingers to his mouth, tongue licking them clean, eyes locked on mine.
I whimper. “You’re making me super horny.”
He grins, wicked. “Maybe you should return the favor.”
I shove the sheet down to our waists and wrap my hand around his cock. I stroke him slow, twisting over the crown, spreading the bead of precum down the shaft.
He hisses, hips jerking into my fist. At the same time, his hand slips back between my legs, two fingers circling my clit in perfect rhythm with my strokes.
We move together, breath hitching, eyes locked.
I pump him faster, thumb rubbing the sensitive spot under the head.
He curls his fingers, pressing inside me just enough to make my thighs shake.
“Ghost—”
“Bonnie—”
We’re both panting, chasing the edge, when the door slams open so hard the wall shakes.
I yelp, yanking the blanket to my chin. “Jesus Christ! Knock!”
Ash storms into the room, fully dressed in jeans and his cut, face like a thunderstorm. Titan is right behind him, equally dressed and equally pissed.
Ghost sits up immediately, all traces of sexual energy gone. His whole body tenses, muscles coiling like he’s preparing for a fight. “What happened?”
“Someone broke into my office,” Ash says without preamble. His voice is tight.
“When?” Ghost is moving, throwing off the blankets and reaching for his jeans on the floor.
“Last night. Sometime between midnight and six this morning.” Ash’s jaw works like he’s grinding his teeth. “Came in to do paperwork before breakfast and found the place ransacked. Drawers pulled out. Papers everywhere. Someone tore through everything. The test result is gone.”
“Fuck.”
Ghost yanks his jeans on and grabs a shirt from his dresser. “Who had access?”
“Anyone in the clubhouse.” Ash runs both hands through his hair, making it stand up in all directions. “I locked the door like always, but it’s not exactly Fort Knox. Anyone with basic lock-picking skills could get in.”
“So we’re looking at every brother in the compound,” Titan says from his position by the door. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, biceps straining against his shirt. “Plus any of the girls who were hanging around last night.”
I swing my legs out of bed and plant my feet on the cold floor. There goes our peaceful morning. There goes pretending the world could just pause for a day.
“I need breakfast,” I announce, standing up and looking around for pants. Ghost’s sweatpants are nearby and I yank them on.
“Bonnie—” Ash starts.
“No. I’m not dealing with more club drama on an empty stomach.” I head for the door, pushing past Titan. “You three figure out who the traitor is. I’m making toast.”
“Bonnie, this is serious—”
“I know it’s serious. That’s why I need carbs.” I stop in the doorway and look back at them. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Come get me when you’ve solved the mystery of the missing paternity test.”
I head to my room first. The door creaks when I push it open.
In the bathroom, I turn on the faucet. The pipes groan before water sputters out.
I splash cold water on my face, scrubbing away the remnants of sleep.
My reflection stares back at me—pale, tired, hair a mess from sleeping on Ghost’s chest.
I grab my toothbrush and squeeze toothpaste onto the bristles. Brush my teeth thoroughly, trying to wake up properly. The mint taste cuts through the fog in my head.
When I’m done, I pull my hair back into a ponytail. A few strands escape but I don’t bother fixing them. Good enough.
Back in the bedroom, I open my dresser and pull out clean clothes. Gray sweatpants and a black tank top that actually fits me instead of drowning me in fabric.
I strip off Ghost’s clothes and pull on my own. His scent clings to my skin underneath. I’ll shower later. Right now, I need food more than I need to be clean.
I leave my room and head for the stairs.
The compound is awake now. Fully awake. Not the quiet half-asleep shuffle of early morning, but actual movement and noise. Brothers move through hallways, boots heavy on the wooden floors. Doors open and close. Someone shouts something about needing a wrench from the garage.
“—someone broke into the president’s office—”
“—middle of the fucking night—”
“—if we’re not safe here, where are we safe?”
The break-in has everyone on edge. Makes sense. If someone can get into Ash’s office that easily, what else can they get into? Who else can they hurt?
I ignore it and keep walking. My stomach growls loud enough that I press a hand to it.
The baby is unusually hungry today. I need food. Now.
The main kitchen is at the back of the clubhouse. Pedro sits alone at the small table in the corner, nursing a cup of coffee that probably has whiskey in it. He looks like he wrestled a hangover and lost.
“Morning,” I say, heading straight for the bread.
He grunts in response. Doesn’t even look up.
I pull out the loaf and start stacking slices. Pop four into the toaster. Then realize four isn’t going to cut it and grab the second toaster from the cabinet, plugging it in and loading it with four more slices.
“Hungry?” Pedro asks. He’s watching me now, one eyebrow raised.
“Pregnant.”
“Right.” He takes another long sip of his coffee. Definitely smells like whiskey. “Heard congratulations are in order.”
“Thanks.”
The first batch of toast pops up. I grab the butter from the fridge and slather it on thick, not bothering with a knife. Just use my fingers. Butter drips onto the counter but I don’t care.
I bite into the first slice while the second batch is still cooking. The butter is salty and rich and exactly what I need right now.
Pedro watches me demolish two slices before speaking. “Hell of a morning.”
“Yeah.”
“Heard someone broke into the president’s office last night.”
“That’s what Ash told me.” I grab the third slice. “Whole place was ransacked.”
“Shit.” He shakes his head. “We’re supposed to be safe here. If someone can get into his office, what’s stopping them from getting anywhere else?”
“I don’t know.”
“Brothers are spooked. Been talking about it all morning.” He drains his coffee. “Any idea who did it?”
“Not yet. Ash is working on it.”
The second batch pops up. I butter those too and stack them on a plate. Eight pieces total. That should hold me for at least an hour.
Pedro’s been with the club longer than I’ve been alive. Rode with Dad back in the early days before I was born. Never married.
He’s one of the quiet ones. Does his job, keeps his head down, and drinks too much since his wife passed. But he’s loyal. Been loyal to this club for thirty years.
Pedro eyes the tower of toast. “That’s a lot of carbs.”
“Your powers of observation are astounding. You should be a detective.”
He snorts and raises his coffee cup in a mock salute.
“Sarcasm before eight AM. You’re definitely Iron’s daughter.
” He stands and rinses his cup in the sink.
“Your mom used to eat like that when she was pregnant with you. Peanut butter and pickles straight from the jar. Your dad thought it was disgusting but he bought her a whole case anyway.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“She was stubborn like you too.” A small smile crosses his face. “Drove your dad crazy. But he loved her for it.”
“Thanks, Pedro.”
He nods and heads for the back door. “Take care of yourself, kid.”
I grab my plate. “Tell anyone who asks that I’m in Ash’s office eating bread and being very unhelpful with the investigation.”
“Will do.”
I head back through the common room. More brothers are emerging now, heading for the kitchen or the garage. Miller nods at me as I pass. Barnes does a double-take at my tower of toast but doesn’t comment.
The stairs feel longer going up. My bare feet slap against the wood. Toast crumbs drop onto the steps, but I’m too busy balancing my plate to care.
Ash’s office door is wide open when I reach it. All three of my men are inside, standing around the desk, surveying the damage.
The office is a disaster. Every drawer has been pulled out, and some of them have been dumped completely. Papers are scattered across the desk and floor. File folders lie open, their contents spilling out. Someone really tore through this place looking for something specific.
I walk in and sit on the leather couch against the wall, setting my plate on my lap. “So. What did we learn?”
Ash looks up from the paper he’s holding. His eyes land on my toast. “Is that six pieces?”
“Pregnancy cravings. Our baby wants carbs. Don’t judge me.” I take a bite and gesture at the mess with my free hand. “Well? Any brilliant deductions?”
Ghost closes a drawer that’s been pulled out, sliding it back into place. “Nothing missing except the test results.”
“So whoever did this knew exactly what they were looking for.”
“Looks like it.” Ash sets down the paper and leans against his desk. The desk that used to be my father’s. The desk where Dad made decisions that destroyed lives and built empires. Now it’s Ash’s. And someone violated that.
Titan pushes himself off the wall where he’s been leaning. “I’ve been asking around since we discovered this. Talked to everyone who was up late last night.”
I swallow my toast. “And?”
“Miller said he went to bed around midnight. Saw Mona in the common room on his way upstairs. She was sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone.”
The toast turns to cardboard in my mouth. “Mona.”
“Yeah.” Titan’s expression darkens, jaw tightening. “Barnes confirmed it too. Said she was still up when he crashed around one AM. Just sitting there. Watching TV or something. She was the last person anyone remembers seeing in the main area before they went to bed.”
I force myself to swallow. The toast scrapes down my throat. “Where is she now?”
“That’s the interesting part.” Titan crosses his arms over his chest. “Nobody’s seen her this morning. Not in her room. Not anywhere.”
Ghost moves to the window, looking out at the compound below. “What about her bike?”
“It’s gone.” Titan’s voice is flat. “Checked the lot. Her Sportster isn’t there.
And when I went to her room to ask her some questions, the door was unlocked.
Most of her shit is gone. Clothes, toiletries, the pictures she had on her dresser.
Looks like she packed up and left sometime during the night. ”
The second piece of toast sticks in my throat. I set the plate down on the couch beside me, appetite gone.
Mona.
Of course it’s fucking Mona.
I reach for another piece of toast even though my stomach is churning. Need something to do with my hands. “Well,” I say, biting into the bread. “Fuck.”