2. Gator #4
I carefully make my way to the corner of the bustling bar, trying to stay out of most people's line of sight. The dim lighting and the low hum of chatter provide cover, giving me a moment of privacy. I intend to quickly grab a shot of liquor, preferably something strong and smooth, to unwind. After that, I plan to leave and head home for some much-needed rest. At this point, I’m not interested in socializing; I just need to get in, have my drink, and get out without drawing attention or getting pulled into unnecessary interactions.
I have rules that keep me from the bottom of the bottle, and one of them is that I don’t drink alone, so it’s not like I can just chase down a bottle back at my place.
I don’t keep liquor in the house. I’m trying not to think about it, but the fact that my dad may not make it after being shot is really taking its toll on me.
My only remaining parent, gone. Can adults even be orphaned?
What do they call an adult with no living parents?
Rock would know. He’s like a walking encyclopedia, I’ll ask him in the morning.
Most of the time, I love shooting the shit with the brothers, especially when the ones from out of state come in.
But watching my father and newborn sister fight for their lives has left me raw.
These past few days, Emma has been on my mind more than usual.
I don’t have it in me to put on the mask.
I’m ready to get some shut eye before it all starts over again tomorrow.
I slide over to the corner of the bar, out of everyone’s direct view, and I’m about to grab a shot when the front door of the clubhouse opens.
I look up to see who has stepped inside, and I swear my heart stops in my chest.
Just when I think Life’s done kicking my ass, it puts me in a chokehold.
The love of my life walked into my clubhouse this week, of all weeks.
I see Emma carrying her kid. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself as I watch her with another man’s boy.
He was supposed to be mine. She doesn’t see me in the corner.
Hell, she’s probably not even looking for me.
I’m only six feet away from her. If I had known she was coming, I would have hightailed it out the back door.
While I’m rooted to the spot, Beaver rushes over to her.
Beaver gives them both a big hug, blocking my view.
I’m close enough to still hear their conversation.
“Prospect called and told me you were at the gate. What are you guys doing here, baby? Is everything okay?” Beaver rushes out.
I guess he wasn’t expecting her. Maybe she’s here for moral support for her dad.
I mean, it’s not far-fetched for her to know, considering pop being shot is all over the news.
“No, it’s a long story, Dad. I had to pack up and run.
” I suck air into my lungs. Hearing her speak for the first time in years transports me right back to a time when she was mine.
My breath is trying to catch in my throat as my brain registers that she is in danger.
A deep fire roars in my chest at the thought of something scaring her.
“It’s late. I’ve been on the road for hours, and I just want to get little man to bed.
Long story short, I started seeing a guy.
” The thought makes me want to toss this whole room over on its ass and burn it to the ground.
The very idea of someone else touching what is mine makes me see red.
I knew she was considering the kid on her hip, but hearing it and seeing it are two different things.
It makes it damn near impossible to stay in check.
She’s not yours anymore, dipshit. You made sure of that.
Where’s that lucky fuck who got her knocked up?
I look behind her, waiting for that dead man walking to grace me with his presence.
I swear on my patch, here and now, that if that motherfucker walks through my club doors, I will consider it a consolation prize for all the shit life has dealt me.
I will take it for what it is, a gift, and shoot him where he stands.
Right after I mount my bitch, fuck her on the nearest surface, and show him exactly who the fuck she truly belongs to.
Please make my fucking night. Someone should probably get Beaver and the kid out of here before I do that.
I dart my eyes around to see if Rock is still here.
“He moved next door to us three months ago.” Oh, this just got worse. Two motherfuckers got to touch what was mine, and worst of all, by the looks of it, I don’t think I’ll be getting to shoot any of them tonight. Of course, life wouldn’t throw me a little de-stressor.
“I stopped by his apartment to see if he wanted to join us for dinner tonight.” I seethe harder.
She’s doing domestic shit for another bastard.
She was supposed to be MY wife. Knowing she fucked another man is bad enough, but hearing about her taking CARE of another man is beyond any capacity I can handle.
I take a deep breath as my body vibrates with jealousy and anger.
“I found a Riders Kutte on his dining room table.” Wait, what?
I stand ramrod straight, waiting for the next words to come out of her mouth.
My brain is trying to wrap itself around what she’s saying and, like hell, to focus less on the other man part.
“When I confronted him, he slammed me into the table and told me he would kill my son if I didn’t marry him in the morning.
I packed what I could and drove straight here.
” She blurts out the events to her dad in a scared, emotional mess.
This dead motherfucking motherfucker. My blood boils at the thought of someone hurting my bitch and threatening her kid.
I hear ringing in my ears as I process the information.
A Devil's Rider was trying to use her against us. I knew rival clubs would try to use Stud’s shooting against us, seeing us as running around like chickens with our heads cut off after the shooting of our national president.
Unfortunately for them, that couldn’t be further from the truth.
But using a woman and a kid to do so is lower than low.
I stand and make my way over to them. I get close enough to smell the perfume she wears, and I'm transported back in time. I start to open my mouth to make my presence known, but the only word that comes from my lips is her nickname, “Pet.”
Beaver steps to the side. Her eyes go wide as she takes me in.
I see the shock written all over her face.
She wasn’t prepared to run into me tonight.
Judging from her shock, she didn’t know I’d gotten out.
I see her do a quick scan of me, and her mouth parts.
Keep looking at me like that, sweetheart, and I’m going to fuck you right here, right now, in front of everyone, consequences be damned.
I’m about sixty pounds heavier in muscle than the last time she saw me, and not to be a jackass, but I know I look good.
“Gator, I was just about to call you. The Riders tried to use my kid and grandchild against us," Beaver says, his voice rough with fury as he grips his fists at his waist, knuckles paling under the strain. His whole body vibrates with anger. The snarl on his face is almost animalistic. Beaver’s eyes dart anxiously toward where Emma stands with her kid, softening only slightly as he sees the fear and exhaustion etched into his daughter's features. He glances back at me, his tone dropping to a near-guttural whisper. “I can’t believe those bastards would stoop this low. This is a new kind of war, Gator.” The pain and rage in Beaver’s words echo the turmoil burning inside me.
“I heard her tell you. We will have church over it tomorrow.” I try to keep my harsh tone in check, knowing I am barely holding it together, hanging on by a thread.
She’s in a tight pink matching jumpsuit, with her blonde hair piled on top of her head.
She’s gotten thicker in all the right places, most likely from having a kid.
She looks as breathtaking as ever. My dick kicks in my black jeans from being this close to his home in years.
My eyes travel back up to meet hers, and I see a guarded look come over her face.
I hear a yawn from the little guy perched on her hip, and I steel my resolve before looking down at the little black-haired boy in her arms. He’s peeking out from his mama's shoulder. The kid looks almost the same size as she is, thrown up on her hip. She’s 5’3, so she’s not too tall as is.
He’s wearing monster truck pajamas, and my world stops when I lock eyes with him.
I see the boy’s eyes, and I instantly recognize them; I look at them every damn morning in the mirror.
It feels like I’ve been kicked in the gut and the wind has been knocked out of me in the best way.
I feel like pounding my chest and roaring for joy, while also being furious for not knowing sooner.
A warm lump swells in my throat, and my mouth goes dry.
My heart starts racing, and the world feels like it’s moving in slow motion.
I look at Emma. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, and her eyes are closed.
She knows I recognize the boy as mine. Holy shit, that’s my son.
She didn’t have a child with someone else; she just kept it to herself.
He’s mine. Anger and pain surge through me in a roller coaster of emotions.
My heart swells with pride and fear. I have a son.