“Yeah, and you know what’ll happen to that damn kid you have in there if you stay.” He spits out at me, words thick as lead. Shock overtakes my entire body. I try hard to not show my emotions, yet I fail. I only told one person about my pregnancy, and that was Quinn, Roman’s wife, and my only friend in the damn club. I should’ve known she’d share with her own husband.
“Get out before you get that kid killed. I’ll cover for you, now go.”
I don’t waste another moment. I head for the truck, opening the door, and sliding onto his new leather seats. I take one last glance back at the clubhouse and know I’d be safe for the night. I know Roman would keep his word; he’d cover for me.
Roman’s job is to enforce the club – to protect us against all threats. I didn’t realize until today that meant protecting myself and my baby, but not just from Rage, from me as well.
Chapter 2
What if… everything you are going through is preparing you for what you asked for? - Anonymous
Roxy
One thing about the club is that we never miss out on any opportunity to party. We’d celebrate anything. From shooting down our number one competitor in the drug trade, to Bax breaking up with his bitch of a girlfriend, Cynthia, it was how the club rolled. It was how we roll. It has always been a time when everyone could wind down and let out all of their pent-up frustrations.
Me? Well, I didn’t come to every party. I come to the ones I am demanded to be at, the important ones. Tonight, wasn’t important by any means, but Rage wants me there, and who was I to deny him that? The entire ride out here on the back of his Harley, he acts like I am nothing to him.
I know deep down that he views me as nothing. He is probably regretting marrying me. I didn’t blame him. I regret marrying him every damn day. It was odd, to hate the man you slept beside every night – the one you swore in front of God that you’d love until death do you part. I hate him more than I’ve hated anyone in my entire life, and yet, there is that small part of me that still had a shred of love for him too.
I know that one day that sliver of love would turn into nothingness, and I expect that to come sooner rather than later.
“You don’t look too bad today,” Quinn mentions as she slides onto the bar top next to me. Our clubhouse wasn’t massive, but we make due. It used to be pretty big until Rage kept expanding the club, patching over other MC’s until the Demons have a presence in almost every state. When push came to shove, we had to complete renovations, and that meant the living area was made smaller to accommodate more space for rooms. From where we sit, we could see most of the brothers, we had our eyes over the kingdom so to speak.
I made sure that I was hiding my baby bump well, wearing a loose-fitting tank top with a heavy jacket. It was concealing, and unless you were my doctor, you would have had no idea I was even pregnant. I was barely beginning to show, even with being how far along I am.
“I don’t feel too bad. The morning sickness is finally letting up. It was supposed to get better weeks ago. I’m just finally glad it’s over with,” I tell her, my hand resting right below my stomach. Ever since I found out I was pregnant all I had wanted to do was keep my hand there. I didn’t know why. Maybe it was some motherly reaction, either way, it was comforting to me and to the little man inside my womb.
“I bet you are.” Quinn is silent for a moment. I already know she was thinking, and whenever the woman does that, there is nothing good that comes out of her mouth. “Did you tell him yet?”
My eyes almost burst out of my head. “No.”
Of course I wouldn’t tell him, not yet at least. I haven’t even made up my mind when it came to telling Rage about his son. I’m sure you’re wondering how I hid it from him for so long, but that was easy. For one, I wasn’t beginning to show very much, and secondly, he made a comment about how I was gaining a few pounds the other day. The jerk thinks I’m fat, not pregnant.
“You need to tell him, or you need to just… leave,” she whispers softly so no one around us could hear. Everyone was too busy caught up in their own business to worry about what Rage and Roman’s wives were talking about anyways. She didn’t even have to whisper. “Personally, I think you shouldn’t say a thing and should just get outta here. I’m worried about you, Rox. I’m really fucking scared for you.”
Quinn was right to be worried about me. Fuck, I was worried about me. I knew what my options were, and both were terrifying. I could try to leave and potentially get caught and die, or I could stay and potentially die. I didn’t know what to do. She has no idea what it was like to be in my shoes. No one in the club really did, and for the ones that pitied me, or felt guilty for me being in this situation – they didn’t get a right to judge any decision I make. In the end, I was doing whatever I felt was the best thing. Even if it sometimes wasn’t.
“Baby, get your ass over here.” Rage’s voice echoes through the room. I ignore him at first, thinking he was speaking to one of his club whores, but when I look up to see the anger flashing behind his eyes, I know exactly who he was speaking to – me.
I slide off the bar, careful when I walk to not show an ounce of fear. It was what he wants, and I’d be damned if I showed him that I was scared of his unpredictable behavior, even if we both already knew that I was.
He watches me closely as I make each step towards him. He was seated in a chair in the living area, surrounded by chapter Prez’s from other charters – all here to suck up to him.
“Sit your ass down.” I obey the command he growls out to me, sitting on his lap, looking out to the men surrounding us. Each of them are so different than the others. There was Leon who is built like a tank, next to him sits Richard, and Sam was on their right, and so on, and so on. They may have looked different, but they had one thing in common; their lethality. It was the only reason Rage allowed them to be charter Prez’s.
Demons of Hell MC had forty-two charters, all spread across the United States. With each day that passes, the MC was growing, and so was our territory. Rage needs to have men that he could count on to do the job right. To make the decisions that he would make. In most cases, they were men that killed first and asked questions later.
Just like my husband.
I know not to speak to any of the men sitting before me, but to listen, to pay attention to whatever was going on around me. Rage knows my strengths. He know how I listen and pick up on the slightest details surrounding us. A few weeks back our Jacksonville charter Prez mentioned he’d been out of town for two weeks on a vacation of sorts. I knew for a fact that was a lie. By the end of the day, I ended up saving the Demons of Hell over two million dollars. One greedy Prez wanting a little too much. We all know where he is now, rotting six feet under, if Rage even bothered to bury his body.
My husband doesn’t love me, or even like me for that matter, but somehow, he has some small inclination of respect for my opinion.
I think, maybe I was somehow useful to him. Maybe that is why I am still around.
I sit with Rage for over two hours listening to the charter updates. We’d acquire two new charters, one just outside of Seattle – expanding our reach to the west coast, and one outside of Raleigh, giving us a greater presence in the south.