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“We, that’s what we’re offering.”

“So your brother’s okay with this? He’s okay with me staying.” He nods. That little gesture isn’t reassuring. “I want to talk to Cut.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do. I need to talk with him. I need to hear it from him.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“You wouldn’t send me out in harm’s way either and I think your need to protect me outweighs your need to be honest.”

“Okay. Pack your shit up and you can talk to him.”

When I was eight years old, my parents told me that I was adopted. That my mother was a drug addict and I had been taken away from her by the state. My birthmother didn’t have the option to clean up her act and be the mother she should have been. Her history with drugs and a string of unplanned pregnancies had the state intervening. I’m sure if there were a law, my birthmother would have been sterilized long before I came along. Does that mess with a child’s head? Knowing that your mother didn’t love you enough to fight for you, to fight her addiction for the love of her child? It does. As a child, I strived to be the best daughter to my parents and I worked my butt off to be the best student. I felt that I needed to make my parent’s life easier since they did me the favor of adopting me. I didn’t want to let them down as I felt my birthmother had let me down.

My parents had little information about my mother. Since I was considered a drug dependent baby, the adoption agency had a legal obligation to tell my parents about my mother’s addiction. All they knew was that she was a heroin addict and I was not her first pregnancy. The fact that the drugs she used during her pregnancy never affected me physically or mentally. I was lucky. I never had the desire to look for her or find any other information. With it being a closed adoption, and having the state involved, the likelihood of me finding anything out was slim to none.

I’m not about to try to understand the love between brothers or the unconditional love you have for a sibling. As far as I’m concerned, I’m an only child. I know Cut’s protective nature is because he loves his brother and he loves his club. This is his family, and I’m an outsider. We’ve already established that fact. But I wonder why he’s changed his mind? Why has he gone from wanting me out to wanting me close?

“He’s just going to confirm what I already told you.” Sin walks with me from his mother’s house to the clubhouse. He wouldn’t allow me to carry what little I had with me. He keeps me on his side, opposite of the street. His eyes are peeled and he’s constantly looking around, making sure his surroundings are clear. Watching Sin and how he’s acting is making me nervous. He can’t act that way and then tells me there’s nothing to worry about. I know Tyson’s is making trouble, but what I don’t understand, how can an executive at his family’s company ‘pull in favors’ as Lick explained? What favors? Who can he call? I’ve not been kidnapped, haven’t been kept against my will. I left on my own, so who is there to call to get me back?

“It will make me feel better if I hear it from him.” We continue to walk through the grass lot that separates Bianca’s house from the clubhouse. Behind the fences and barbwire, the entire Devil’s Fury compound sits secure. The clubhouse is a huge cinderblock building is painted in gray and black. There's a motorcycle mural painted on the walls. Huge pictures of bikes and bikers, all artfully done in what looks like spray paint. The club’s name shines brightly overhead. Fury, the garage they run is just on the other side of the fence, open to the public. The driveway is long since the building sits back from the street. “Why didn’t we go through the side fence closer to your mom’s?”

“It’s locked. The only way in or out is from the front.” He glances at me. “It’s safer that way.” I feel the nerves start to come alive in my stomach. My mouth waters, and I think I’m about to be sick.

“I’m going to be sick.” Before I take another step I lean over, spilling everything I’ve eaten today. My legs become weak and I start to fall before Sin brings his arms around me and holds me up. He gathers my hair out of my face, keeping it securely on my back. Once there isn’t anything left in my stomach, I start to feel better.

“Sugar, are you okay?”

I gaze up, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I nod my head.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I think it’s just nerves.”

“Are you sure, you don’t think there’s anything wrong, do you?” I continue to look at him. “With the baby. Have you been sick in the morning or anything?”

“It’s just starting. The past week or so it hits me in the morning. After I eat. I try to rest to keep my food down. It doesn’t always work.”

“I think you need to get checked out. I thought morning sickness is supposed to come on earlier.”

I agree with him; I need to find a doctor. It’s time I come to terms with my life and make sure everything is going how it should. “Yeah, I know. I need to find a doctor.”

“You have a doctor. I’ll get in touch with Doc. He’ll look after you.”

“Is he even a baby doctor?”

“No, but I’m sure he knows what he’s doing. I feel more comfortable with him looking at you first. It’s safer that way.” There’s that word again, safer. “Listen, if he thinks that you need a specialist then I’ll have him research and find you one. But Doc, he’s loyal and he understands club life. There are always people out there who are willing to hurt others for the right price. I’m not willing to even entertain the idea of you being in danger.” I nod in agreement. “Let’s go through the side.” Taking my hand in his, he leads me around the side.

*****

When we step through the side door of the building, I instantly hear loud voices and female laughter. “It’s always like this on Friday nights.” Well, that’s understandable, but it’s actually Friday afternoon, still a couple of hours before its considered night. We head down a dark hallway and stop in front of a set of double doors. This is slightly familiar; I think it’s where we were the last time I was here. “Cut’s in the Jury room.”

“What, he doesn’t enjoy the festivities of Friday nights?” I ask sarcastically.

“You’ve met his wife. Lily may be tiny, but she would kick his ass if he were to participate in the festivities.” Before Sin is able to open the door, it flies open.

“It’s not fear that keeps me from participating, it’s love.” Cut says standing there, big and brooding. His steely eyes take me in and for the first time since I’ve met him, he doesn’t look like he wants me dead.