Page 116 of Road to Absolution

“Hey.” Elbow resting on the center counsel, he held out a sturdy hand. I think he was trying to ground me. Give me something to hold—to help prevent more of my spiraling—and get needed answers so he could truly help me.

Thankful, I grabbed that hand and squeezed. Swallowing, I told him, “I’m not going to make it there.”

Whatever he saw on my face had him pausing, then taking a deep breath. “Okay.” He let go of my hand and sat up, focusing over the steering wheel while he blinked headlights.

Even though it was bright out, Bikers understood.

We were in trouble.

Bearing down was not a controllable action. My body had taken charge. My eyes were slammed shut, but I could feel the car veering off the road and onto rougher terrain.

A major contraction was passing by the time I felt outside air blow in as the passenger door opened. Diesel’s palm wiped sweat from my forehead. He asked, “Is this baby-o taking after her Aunt Viola?”

Scared, I was so relieved for him being here, confident and in control, that I started crying. “This baby wants out. Now—Oh God.” Right before bearing down, I lifted my right leg up, too. My sandals dug into the dashboard. My toes spread with all the angst my body was experiencing.

Diesel wiped more sweat from my cheek as his voice deepened. “Rogue. Nine-one-one, brother. Get us an ambulance.”

“On it.” Rogue jumped out of the car.

Diesel said, “Chains.”

“Here.”

“Not likin’ this sitting duck shit. Feel me?”

“A hundred percent. Scorch is liking the covering of the tall grass.”

Taking a breather from a breath-stealing contraction, I heard Scorch’s voice. “Let some boys and bikes be seen down a bit. Pull our bikes off road and hide in tall grass. If by chance we have trouble, that trouble may think she’s with them.”

Diesel sounded pleased. “Meanwhile, she’s delivering elsewhere. Make it happen.”

Voices carried on planning, trying to buy time before an ambulance arrived, but I could truly only focus on pushing. It was so impressive how strong the urge was. I barely noticed anything else around me until a set of warm hands cupped my face. His voice so deep and rich, I instantly felt some ease. “Talk to me.”

Breathless, I started crying harder. “Maverick.” Then I saw those hazel eyes. “You made it.”

“Right here, for you, but you sure you can’t make it?”

“I think she’s here.” I started lifting my dress.

Maverick reached under my hiked right thigh and between my legs. Even through my panties, he felt something that made him jolt, then sound scared, “Diesel. Happening now.”

“Almost ready. Grab her.”

By the time Maverick scooped me up, cradling me, I was already bearing down again. This position was so hard to handle. My legs up by my belly made me push even harder. It almost felt like squatting, my butt hanging. I warned, “C-Coming. S-She’s coming.”

As Maverick was running through some tall grass, I heard Diesel saying, “You, stay by the road and wave down the ambulance. You, get clean shirts from saddlebags. You, any water bottles you can find…”

Gently as possible, Maverick rushed to his knees and laid me down on a blanket, propping me against someone. I knew who when I heard, “I got you.”

I burst into a sob. “Tucker.”

By my ear, he repeated, “We got you.”

When I peered up, there was nothing but tall grass all the way around us. But then I saw Art. I begged, “Her blanket, in her bag.”

Appearing so worried for me, he nodded, then disappeared through the grass.

“Again,” I tried to warn before bearing down.