I couldn’t do anything else.
“Don’t hurt him,” I said. “I know you’ll want to kill him. But he’s going to be a good dad. Don’t you find it odd that he hasn’t done anything with anyone else at the club? It’s not because he’s suddenly some weirdo. It’s because he wants to be a good father. We’re still working on it, but—”
“So you’ve been seeing each other past that one night?” Mason said.
Oh, fuck…
“You’ve been talking to each other and trying to see if there’s romance there?”
I couldn’t tell if what I was saying was making it better or worse. So I decided to just go mute. I bit my lip and tried to fight the tears that were forming in my eyes. I couldn’t take much more of this.
“All right,” Mason said with a sigh, putting his hands firmly back on the bike. “Thanks.”
“Mason!”
But before I could finish saying his name, he had revved the bike back to life. I was willing to step in front of him, but I wasn’t stupid enough to try and cut off a bike.
“Mason! Please! Stay here!”
It didn’t matter how loud I screamed, how much I begged for him to do the right thing. It didn’t matter how much I cried, how much I looked like a mess. Mason was pulling out of the lot, and before I knew it, he was out of reach.
I watched as he exited left out of the complex, heading down toward the repair shop where he and the rest of the boys worked. And while I was less sure of how far he’d go with Garrett than he would with Jason, I was sure that the bike ride would not do him any favors for calming him down. It would have the opposite effect, in fact.
So this was how it ended, I supposed. Garrett had been right. Mason would be the only thing standing between him being a wonderful father, but “the only thing” in this case was a pretty big fucking thing. I had used everything I could think of to cajole Mason into staying and cooling off, but that Jett stubbornness had won out. He was headed to the shop, and I knew serious violence was about to take place.
And Garrett had no idea it was coming.
I sprinted back upstairs—or ran as much as one could four months pregnant—and busted through the front door, leaving it open. I scrambled to find my phone, dialed Garrett, and tried to call him. I figured I had maybe five, six minutes depending on how willing Mason was to obey traffic laws or not. The dial tone kept going on and on and on…
And then to voicemail.
“Fuck!” I screamed.
What the fuck was I going to do? I couldn’t…I didn’t…I shouldn’t…
This wasn’t my business, getting between two club brothers, but it kind of was my business. Mason wasn’t just going to beat up Garrett; he was going to beat up the father of my child. I had a fucking say in it too.
I called Garrett one more time as I grabbed my keys and hurried to my car. It again went to voicemail. This time, I left something.
“Mason knows, Garrett. He’s on his way now. Just do your best to keep him calm. I’m headed there too.”
I hit end, turned the car on, and peeled out of the lot.
Just do your best to keep him calm.
Just do your best not to die, Garrett.
I seriously can’t take this shit all over again.
Garrett
“So no one has gotten in touch with Mason,” Brock said.
He didn’t ask it as a question. He said it more as a resigned statement, accepting that the sergeant-at-arms had apparently chosen to go off the lam, chosen to disappear. I hadn’t bothered to call, exactly, but I had given the appearance of doing so. This was one of those times where it paid to be a good bullshitter.
“Nope,” Steele said.
“Sorry,” the prospect said.
