[Ravage MC 03.75] - Rattle Me (6 page)

I look around, thanking the heavens that no one is here. They’d probably send out the crazy bus just for me. A crying woman talking to herself, great.

Daddy, I’m so afraid to lose this little baby. I need your help in protecting this life growing inside of me. Please.

I sit back and listen to all the sounds around me and before I know it, night begins to fall. My phone buzzes in my pocket but I ignore it, enjoying the peace. When it vibrates again, I pull it out to see that it’s Harlow.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?” Her voice is in a huff and my guard goes up.

“The cemetery, what’s wrong?”

“Stay there, I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Harlow…” She hangs up the phone. I stare at it, thinking I lost her call and dial her back.

“I’ll talk to you as soon as I get there.” She hangs up again. I fume, and stand up.

“Sorry, guys, I have to go. Love you both.” I walk to my car to wait. I hear a motorcycle engine off in the distance as Cruz and Harlow pull up in front of me. Harlow jumps hastily off the bike, throwing her lid off and handing it to Cruz. She walks up quickly.

“GT was hurt. I’m not sure how bad, but we have to get to the hospital.” She pushes me in my car, hopping in the driver’s seat as I hand her the keys. “Buckle,” she barks and the engine roars to life, Cruz following behind us. I’m so stunned that I don’t even balk at her driving my car.

“What happened?” I ask, my voice unsteady.

She blows a breath, carefully choosing her words, which is not like her. “Before you get pissed, he was trying to protect you.” I rake my eyes back and forth, trying to put the pieces together. “He wasn’t on club business. He was in jail. They brought him in for questioning, found some old warrant, and put him in jail for the night. Some asshole got into his cell and did a number on him.” My stomach plummets, a slow nausea creeping up and twirling around like acid in my stomach.

“Stop the car!” I yell, clutching the door handle. As soon as the car comes to a stop, I open the door, swinging it hard, and spew the dinner I recently ate a little bit ago all over the ground. Over and over, I let it out and it splashes to the ground and up onto the door. I spit twice and close the door, feeling marginally better. “Go.” I reach for something to wipe my mouth and find an old sweatshirt in the back of the car. The taste still lingers in my mouth. Gross.

My head is spinning from what Harlow said and not to mention her driving. While I’m grateful for the rush, whipping around other cars is making me want to throw up again.

“Better?” she asks, not taking her eyes off the road.

“No.” I should be utterly pissed he lied, but I’m not. I’m pissed at the fucker who hurt him. “You know nothing of how he is?”

“No. Ma and Pops were on their way up there and I haven’t got a call yet. We’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

The ten minutes feel like ten hours. The path to the hospital seems like a never-ending trail. I place my hand on my stomach and close my eyes.
It’ll be all right. Your daddy will be all right.
When the car comes to an abrupt stop, I waste no time rushing into the hospital, Harlow has to run to catch up with me.

Cruz and Harlow have to step in to deal with the snarky, curly-haired receptionist because she won’t tell me where GT is and I’m about to rip her head off. They calm the situation. We finally find him through the winding corridors. The guard in front of the door says nothing, just grunts and moves out of the way. Ma and Pops are standing by the bed as I walk in and stand next to them. Pops blocks my view, reaches out, and places his arm around my shoulders.

“It looks bad, but he’s going to be fine.” I gulp audibly and nod, not trusting myself to talk. Pops moves out of the way and I gasp, placing my hand over my mouth and on my stomach. GT’s face is black and blue and covered in cuts and scratches, red knots on his chin; his hands are laced with cuts and scrapes.

“Come here, Angel. I’m fine.” I walk tentatively to him and keep my hands on my body so I don’t touch him and hurt him. “Angel. Look at me.” I listen, looking into his beautiful eyes. “It was a fair fight, for the most part. You should see him.” He tries to smile, but I don’t register it, can’t see it. “Neither one of us came out unscathed.”

Anger rose. “Fair! How the hell can you say fair? You were locked in a jail cell!” I scream, clenching my hands into my fists at my sides.

“Baby. It only lasted a few minutes and the guards pulled us apart.” He is trying to placate me. I can tell by his tone and it pisses me off more. The cop manning the other side of the door peers in through the window, but I ignore him.

“You’re lying. Just like you lied saying you were on club business. I should have known better since it was Burnzie calling to tell me and not one of the guys or Harlow. Don’t treat me with kid gloves, dammit,” I snarl, allowing the bitch in me out.

“You need to calm down. It’s not good for the baby.” His eyes plead with me, and I try but my anger is there, bubbling hot.

“Are you going to be okay?” I ask after taking a breath and crossing my arms over my chest.

“Perfect. They have to run some tests. I think it’s because it happened in a jail cell and they want me to be perfect when they release me. You know me; I wouldn’t be here unless they made me.”

I scoff. “Perfect.” His eyes burn into mine and as much as he pissed me off, relief comes slowly. I allow myself to breathe and begin to calm.

“Burnzie’s on his way here. He got the judge to release me because of this. How, I don’t give a shit. So as soon as they check me out, I’m coming home.” His voice is soft and I can’t help but melt a little into it.

“Guess I’ll be taking care of you
again
,” I joke, giving a splash of attitude. I smile, remembering the last time I took care of him. It was how all of this started. I shake my head.

“Guess you will, baby. Sorry, all right?”

I move closer to the bed and reach out to him but don’t know where to touch, so I place my hands on the bed instead.

“Truth. I can’t handle anything but. You keep telling me we’re in this together. You need to remember that.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

Two weeks have passed since the jail incident. My bruises have healed but my fury toward the man who did it has not. We found out his name is G Raider and he’s part of Bruno’s crew. Bruno used to run with us until he hooked up with the T-Darts. I don’t give a shit what beef G has with me, he’s a dead man. The only thing keeping him alive right now is he’s still in jail and
I
want to be the one to do it. Sure, I could have it done, but what fun is that? Let the fucker sweat it out.

Asshole won’t be out for a while though, some sort of domestic battery charges. Then his ass is mine. I gave strict instructions to Randell, our only ally on the police force, to contact me the moment he is released.

While the marks on my body have healed, my mind doesn’t forget that fucker coming at me. He would have killed me, no question about it. That was his intent. The fury in his eyes as he landed punch after punch told me so. I was lucky the fucker didn’t have a shank and only fought with his fists. Fists I can fucking take no problem. I didn’t practice fighting all those years and teach my sister for nothing.

That fucking cop Lakin is the one who sent him in. Sure, I could kill him, but instead he will suffer. Since he was the one who instigated the raid on Ravage, Buzz had already looked up everything on him. Apparently, Lakin and Officer Macafee, also known as Rocky to the club, were friends. So, sending in one of our enemies was his payback since they can’t find shit out about Rocky’s death. Stupid motherfucker.

The time will come soon for him to get what he deserves. I’ve already talked to Pops and I have an idea. Not today though. Today is the day we are going to hear the heartbeat of our baby. Angel is now twelve weeks along and her stomach doesn’t like being pregnant. I swear, she smells something and she’s in the toilet, puking. I tried the whole rubbing her back and holding her hair thing like Ma suggested, but after the second time where she yelled so loud she could have shattered glass, I let her do her thing.

She reads books and shit online that say puking is normal. My concern though is how much she is puking. She said we’d ask the doctor today about it. Thank fucking God.

I do put a glass of water and some crackers on the side table, just in case she wants them, but for the most part, I leave her the fuck alone.

We lie in wait in the little white room and Angel is quiet. She told me that she’s afraid she won’t hear the beating of the heart and comforting her only turned her into a sobbing mess. Everything turns her into a sobbing mess. I was not meant for this shit. All this woman stuff is fucking crazy.

A knock on the door as it slowly opens alerts us to the doctor’s presence. “Ms. Alexander, Mr. Gavelson. Nice to see you again.” That same huge smile is plastered on the doctor’s lips. Wonder if her cheeks get sore.

“Hi, doctor,” Angel says, her legs draped with that same paper as before. She even added a rip in it so it would match before.

“How is everything going?” She plops down on her rolling chair and wheels up to the side of the bed. I sit in the same chair as before, legs crossed.

“I puke a lot. And I mean a lot. Sometimes it freaks me out how much. I looked it up and it said it is normal, but this much has me nervous,” Angel tells the doctor with a steady voice.

The doctor smiles. “That’s all your hormones. Right now there are so many of them at work, your body is having a hard time keeping up. I can give you some medicine that will help with that.”

“Thank God.” Angel sighs and I feel the same damn way.

“Drink lots of water, though, so you don’t get dehydrated. What else?”

“When will I start to show? I’m twelve weeks now and my stomach is still pretty flat. I read in some books I got at the store that I should start showing soon.”

“Let’s take a look.” The doctor stands and moves toward Angel. “Lie back, please.” She moves her hands over Angel’s stomach, looking up at the ceiling as she does, as if she’s thinking. “You do have a small distention, but it is very small. Each person develops differently; typically speaking, you should start to show in the next couple of weeks.” Angel nods as the doctor continues to examine her.

They already checked her piss and took her blood, so hopefully there is only one more thing to do. The part I can’t wait to hear.

The doctor reaches into her pocket, pulling out some small machine with a wand on the end of it. “Now, let’s hear the baby’s heart.” Angel sucks in a breath. “Try to relax for me.” I get up and move over to the table, standing next to it. I grip Angel’s hand, making small circles with my thumb over the top, trying to help her relax.

The doctor grabs a tube from a nearby cart and holds it over Angel’s stomach. Before I can ask what the hell she’s doing, she squirts this clear jelly, almost like lube, all over Angel’s belly.

She looks up and must see a questioning expression on my face. “It helps the microphone move around. This is called a Doppler and it is going to help us hear your baby.” She smiles and places the wand on Angel, moving it around. Loud static comes from the machine and the doctor twists the knobs on it to adjust it. She continues to move it around Angel’s stomach and my heart begins to beat fast.
Please find it.

Angel’s hand squeezes mine tight and I look down into her worried eyes. I lay a kiss on her forehead. “It’ll be okay,” I whisper, just at the moment a thumping noise sounds in the room. It is loud, strong, and one of the best fucking sounds I’ve ever heard. “Is that the baby?” I ask to whoever will answer since I’m shocked into complete and utter astonishment.

“That is your baby. He or she is very strong and I like what I am hearing.” I look down at Angel and tears are streaming from her eyes. I move my hand, wiping each one away, making room for new ones. The beautiful sound fills the room and it nearly knocks me to my knees.

I’m going to be a father.

Oh, fuck! It hits me in a rush the responsibility that I have now, and I love every second of it.

The doctor continues to listen. “The baby has about 137 beats per minute. I’m sure you’re going to ask if it’s a boy or a girl, but I can’t answer that, not until the ultrasound you will have next time you’re here.” Casey almost squeals in excitement and the smile on her face is beautiful. “There’s an old wives’ tale that if the heartbeat is between 110 to 130 it’s a boy. If it’s between 140 and 160 it’s a girl. You are in the middle, so we have no idea.” She winks.

“But, the baby sounds healthy. Right?” Angel’s voice breaks as she asks.

“Yes. The baby sounds perfect. We’ll run the test on your blood and urine we took earlier and let you know the results tonight, but from this perspective everything looks great,” the doctor says and the noise continues to echo through the room.

“This is about the time I lost Mia. Is the baby going to be okay?” I know the words were difficult for Angel. This past week she hasn’t been herself. When she finally talked about it, I held her while she cried and tried to wipe her fears away. She hasn’t slept much this past week either and it shows in her eyes.