Incendiary (43 page)

“When your bitch keep her pussy to herself because you pissed her the fuck off,” Val explains.

“I like that you a upstandin’ motherfucker. Stuck by your girl no fuckin’ matter the shit storm fallin’,” Outlaw says, eyeing me as if he respects me. “I’m fifteen fuckin’ years older than my Megan. The day we met, she was turnin’ eighteen. Ain’t never been into no young bitches. But age ain’t nothin’ but a thing, Sloane. Fame, too. At the end of the day, bein’ there for your girl is what count. When shit get bad and you loyal to her, she gonna be loyal right back to you.”

“I’m a—”

“Don’t make a motherfuck of a difference what the fuck you be,” Outlaw interrupts. “I was a fuckin’ piece of shit to my fuckin’ grandfather. Worse than shit. We all some-fuckin-thing to every motherfucker we come across.
They
don’t mean fuck all. Only what my wife think of me do.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” I say sarcastically.

He smirks at me. “No secret she pussify me.”

“Fuck. Helen uses—” I nod to Mortician and borrow his word—“sadity language. Around here, you say things I don’t think is in the fucking dictionary.”

“Probably ain’t,” Outlaw agrees, giving a fuck about what others think about him even less than I do. Only his feelings are real. Mine never have been. That’s why I’ve been so miserable.

I wanted to belong and, like Georgie, I wanted to matter to my family.

Toddlers and babies are all around me. At two and a half, Ryan is the eldest and is the son of the RC and his wife, whose second son, Devon, is almost seven months. Meggie and Outlaw’s son is CJ, who is two and completely fascinated with the man who enforces shit, eight-month-old daughter, Harley. The little girl seems to enjoy tormenting him as she crawls around. He keeps Ryan at an arm’s length away from her, although he ignores his five-month-old twin siblings, Rebel and Rule, before Meggie decides it’s too noisy and leaves with them. A few minutes later, she returns, holding a baby monitor. When CJ loses interest in Harley and joins Ryan, they are holy terrors together. Rory, John Boy’s son with his wife, is a week younger than Devon. It’s a baby factory in this room. Noisy and happy and carefree.

We’re sitting in the room Abby slept in with Bryn. To me, it seems like a small dorm turned into a playroom. There are nine cots stacked against a wall. A rollaway bed was added on Abby’s behalf, but judging by the padding on the floor, the baby swings, and four baby beds, a place for Bryn was already set up.

I’m most curious about Meggie, who seems my age. That’s impossible. Her son is already two. That would’ve made her fifteen when she had him. My main question is how did she overcome her fear of motherhood and get pregnant again so quickly to have had twins months ago. This group of women seem so close, laughing and joking about their husbands. I have one of those too, but I still feel sad and lost. Even reunited with Bryn and rocking her in one of several rocking chairs. It’s a new experience holding her and feeding her with a bottle. Her eyes are still blue, a little brighter, and I think they will remain that color. They haven’t left my face since I picked her up from the baby bed and hugged her to me, sobbing softly against her tummy.

She cried at first. I remembered to change her diaper although that didn’t soothe her. Just when I was ready to hand her to Abby because I was afraid she’d forgotten me and needed her comfort, she’d settled. Between then and now, a woman named Bunny came in and left, only to return a little while later with Bryn’s bottle.

“Georgie, are you hungry?” Meggie calls.

“I’m making pizza,” Bunny offers, twisting her hair up into a ponytail. She’s wearing a cut that has
Property of Death Dwellers MC
written on the back.

Everyone falls silent and looks at me expectantly. “Yeah. Pizza is fine.”

“Check on the twins,” Meggie calls.

I grin at her shyly, satisfied that I’m not the only mom who needs more than a monitor to keep tabs on my child.

“Babe, are you sure you’re okay?” Abby asks after Bunny leaves, concern etching her brow. “I mean other than the wounds you’re recovering from.”

“Gunshots are hell to recover from,” the RC’s wife, Zoann, says with a nod. “I was shot while I was carrying Devon.”

My eyes widen at her news. She lifts the scrubs she’s wearing and shows me a scar on her side and one on her chest.

“My brother has a lot of enemies,” she says quietly.

“I thought you were in it because of your husband,” I blurt, a little confused.

“The rude barbarian, Outlaw, is my husband,” Meggie offers, then points to Zoann. “And her brother.”

I giggle in surprise. “I call Sloane a barbarian, too.”

“No, there’s no one as barbaric as Christopher Caldwell,” the woman named Kendall says with a tight frown.

Meggie rolls her eyes. “Around here Christopher is known as Psycho Stalker Wildman, so Sloane can have the title of Barbarian.”

“That’s because Christopher’s fucking crazy,” Zoann grumbles.

The other girl, Bailey, moves where she’s laying on the rollaway bed and lifts her head. “I’m castrating Lucas,” she complains.

“Um, yeah. No,” Kendall says with a smirk. “None of us could live long without our husbands making love to us.”

“I know, right?” Meggie agrees, laughing and turning to Bailey. “Mortician will be happy to hear about the new baby.”

Bailey purses her mouth. “I guess. He has so much on his mind.”

“I know,” Meggie says with a sigh. “Christopher has been grouchy with me, too.”

“He wasn’t today, Meggie,” I tell her, remembering the moment she came through the door and Outlaw lost the hostility that had been wafting from him.

“Only because he’s pissed that Cash ignored the lockdown to bring your problems to us.” I frown and she winces. “I don’t mean it like that. Tensions are running high and he isn’t thinking normally.”

“As opposed to when?” Kendall asks sweetly.

Narrowing her eyes, Meggie yanks a pillow from behind her and lobs it in Kendall’s direction. The redhead pokes her tongue out. Although they’re joking with each other, there’s something else there, too. Megan Caldwell and Kendall Donovan have a history and I don’t think it’s a very pretty one.

“Anyway,” Meggie grits, looks up and around, then toward the door and leans closer. “He has cameras all around,” she whispers. “Digger got out bad and is now with his father, who’s plotting not only the club’s downfall but Christopher’s, as well.”

“Yes, and Lucas is Digger’s real brother,” Bailey adds with a sigh. “Digger betrayed the club. My husband has to hunt his own brother and kill him.”

“
And
one of Christopher’s officers is just fully recovered because of a brutal attack on him,” Zoann continues.

“This is ten times worse than when the Torps were dealt with,” Kendall offers, heading to the bed where Rory is starting to move. She lifts him into her arms and smiles at him. “Hello, my darling. I missed you.”

Acceptance and camaraderie abound between everyone, extending to me, for which I’m grateful. As Cash’s little sister, I’m deemed trustworthy. We’re all family, otherwise spilling club business as they are would overstep all kinds of boundaries. Even I know that much about MCs.

Rory yawns and makes a little baby noise.

“It’s been nice meeting you, Georgie,” Kendall says, heading for the door. “See you all at dinner.”

Bailey gets up from her space on the bed and goes to where Harley is in the swing, with CJ keeping watch over her. When Bailey lifts her up, the little boy rises up and glares at her, his green eyes and black hair turning him into a mini version of his father.

“Harwey mine.” He points to the swing. “Bye, Ant Bail.”

“Enough, Christopher Joseph,” Meggie reprimands sharply. “Harley leaves with Aunt Bailey, so she can see Uncle Mort.”

He screws his face up. “I love Harwey,” he cries.

“Harley,” Meggie corrects, enunciating the name slowly.

CJ grins at her. “Har-WAY,” he yells, giggling when Harley peeks over her shoulder at him and laughs.

Meggie holds out her arms, stopping his advancement on the little girl. “Come here, buddy.”

“Fuck in, hell, Mommie.”

“Time out!” Meggie yells, jumping to her feet. She clutches his hand and guides him to a chair. “Two minutes. I’ve told you not to use bad language.”

“Law does.”

“He’s right, Meggie,” Zoann says, clearing her throat to hide her laughter. She nods. “Christopher needs the time-out. Not CJ.”

“Sowwy, Mommie,” the child says after a minute passes and Bailey has left with her daughter. “Sowwy,” he says again because Meggie hasn’t answered.

“I can see it now,” Zoann begins with flare. “CJ charming the pants off every girl he comes across, including Harley.”

“Shut. Up,” Meggie snaps.

“Come on, Ryan,” Zoann calls to her son, who is playing with blocks, content to be alone. She scoops Devon into her arms and pauses. “Can I take CJ with us?”

“Go ahead,” Meggie sighs, and signals to CJ to go with his aunt and cousins.

Moments later, only Meggie, Abby, and I remain, and the chaos I’d walked into morphs into blissful peace.

“Bryn’s beautiful,” Meggie says softly, her smile tender and genuine while she stares at my daughter’s dark head.

“Thank you.”

Abby gets to her feet. “I’m going to help Bunny out in the kitchen,” she announces, and pauses long enough to hug me before leaving me alone with Meggie.

Mom taught me to never pry into other people’s business, especially another woman’s. But Abby and I became friends because she started off with openness and allowed me to ask any questions I needed to.

Bryn’s eyes have closed in sleep. Staring at her sweet face overwhelms me with emotions, and I want a couple of years to enjoy her alone, as Sloane and I learn to be parents.

“What made you finally decide to get pregnant again?” I ask, unsure where to start this conversation. I squirm. “I-I…Sloane wants another baby…I mean he wants me pregnant again as soon as possible. I’d like to wait. Like you have.”

I don’t know her or her story, but she’s the only person who might be able to identify with me, simply because of the similarities of our situations.

Instead of replying, she stares at me, and heat sweeps through my cheeks. “Oh my goodness, that’s none of my business. I’m so sorry.”

She clears her throat. “It isn’t that. I’m just trying to think of the best way to answer your question.”

“Honestly is a good start.”

Flushing, she gives me a small smile. “I didn’t wait by choice. My son was only a few months old when I got pregnant with another boy.” She glances away and swallows. “I lost him and was told not to try for any more kids for a while. My twins…” She cocks her head to the side. “It’s funny how it went from Christopher not caring if I kept getting pregnant to not wanting any children at all. He didn’t want the twins. Not until I gave birth to them and survived.”

I gasp at her words, but she continues talking, unfazed.

“What’s the rush for more kids?”

The reason Sloane is so determined I get pregnant again sends embarrassment through me. I hesitate to tell Meggie. She may start to judge me, just like Mom did. I’m not sure why I remember everything that my mother taught or said to me. It isn’t as if I’m purposely trying to torture myself or grieve. But I
am
grieving for her.

Meggie sighs and she starts to talk.

“I was an addict,” I blurt and bite my lip at the shock on her face. “Sloane’s worried that I’ll return to coke if I’m not pregnant.”

“I was a cutter, Georgie,” she admits. “I stopped because the trigger was removed. My stepfather was abusive. I only found power when I cut myself. It was my choice. The bite of a blade took it away.” She rubs her head. “I…after I met Christopher I felt safe and protected. That doesn’t mean I stopped completely. I went back to cutting when something happened here. Even now, he hides his blades, although I’ve figured where most of them are. It’s the only way to put his mind at ease though.”

“Are you saying I should get pregnant again?” I ask in a small voice, not mentioning that Sloane’s made love to me several times already and I’m not on any birth control. “To make him rest easier?”