The 5'2" 110 lb. strawberry blonde stood up in front of the roomful of men. Even before she opened her mouth, anyone present could see how nervous she was. She was twisting her hands together in front of her and the tremor that came out when she opened her mouth was heart-wrenching to listen to. “I found out yesterday that I’m pregnant.” There were a few whispers, but one glance from Blackheart shut them down and she went on. “The baby is not Chance’s baby. We always use protection. The only person I’ve...” Her eyes swelled with tears, but she pushed on, “The only person who has been inside of me without a condom was Gregor, one of the Mad Men. The night they assaulted me they did all kinds of horrible things.” The tears began to spill and most of the muscles in the men in the room tightened. The Jokers could be assholes, and they were wild, but Blackheart had strict rules against abusing women, and most of the men he let into his club agreed with those rules even before they patched in. “But the only one who...” It was almost painful to watch her stumble over her words. “The only one who left his seed inside of me was the one they call Gregor.” She broke down then and sat down in the chair behind her, putting her hands over her face and sobbing. The whispers began to turn into growls and Blackheart could tell that the men were growing restless, already imagining getting their hands on the pig who had done this to this pretty young woman.
Sharon pulled her head back up, and tears dripped off her pretty face and down into her hands as she went on, “This is my fault. I told Chance, and he found out where Gregor was...” she said, almost in a whisper, before collapsing again in a torrent of tears. Blackheart knew there wasn’t a man in the room that would blame her; any one of them would have gone after that motherfucker. He just wished Chance had called him first. He wished he could get the young ones to understand that part of being in a club like theirs was safety in numbers. Now he had two of his best men down, and no choice but to go after the man responsible. Blackheart picked up the phone and called out to the front:
“Villa, sweetheart, come and help Sharon out.” Villa was one of the older club “girls.” She’d been with the club since right after Blackheart started it. He used to hook up with her on occasion, but these days she was more about taking care of the younger girls, and less about being an easy lay for the guys. Besides, he’d recently made a promise to Sally that they’d be exclusive and he was sticking to it. The forty-something big-breasted woman was in the room in seconds. She put her arm around Sharon but before Sharon could be led out of the room she looked back at the men and said:
“I’m sorry, about all of this.”
Villa frowned but before she could say whatever was obviously on her mind Blackheart said, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. We’re going to take care of this, and you, young lady...okay? You take care of you and them babies of yours, everything’s going to be okay.” She nodded at him, gave him a little smile, and wiped at her tears before letting Villa lead her out of the room. Blackheart waited until she was gone before focusing his blue eyes back on his men. He was so angry that he wasn’t sure his own voice wasn’t shaking as he said:
“I blame myself for how much of this has played out. Back when this all happened, I was distracted by the man who was trying to take down this club and hurt Sally. I was willing to let Chance handle it how he saw fit. We should have gone in as a club and taken those three fuckers out, but hindsight is 20/20 and all we can do is move forward from here. I’ve sent Lowlife and two of the prospects out to Mississippi already. They’ll text me as soon as they’re there and let me know where Lear and Newton are and where most of the club is at. We’re going in strong, and we’re not leaving without Gregor, understand?” The men nodded, murmured and yelled their assent. They were ready.
Lear was the president of the Mad Men, and Newton the VP. Blackheart had never liked either man and he had no respect for the club, even before the incident with Sharon. But he had a small club himself and he didn’t go in guns blazing for no good reason. Chance’s face, and the trauma Gabe went through to save him...and the horror in Sharon’s eyes having to admit she was pregnant because of their assault...it was all too much. He wanted this done, quickly. “Gear up,” he told his men, and then he sat and watched as they filed out of the room. He was about to pick up the phone to call Sally, just to tell her he loved her before they took off...just in case...but Patrice walked into the room, right in the midst of the sea of big, muscular Joker bodies going out. It was the first time he realized how small she was, and just fresh from dealing with Sharon, he wondered how he’d feel if it happened to Patrice, the woman he hadn’t yet even admitted was his daughter. A shudder ripped through him and his “daughter” arched a black eyebrow at him when it did. Covering quickly he squared his shoulders and said, “Sorry, hon, we’re kind of busy...”
“Where’s Gabe?”
Shit. He thought Le Singe had told her already. “He’s at the hospital.”
He saw the look in her eyes change and he knew that whatever she felt for the kid was real. “Why? Is he okay? Where did you find him? What happened?”
“He had a rough night out in the swamp, but last I heard, he was stable. I’d be willing to bet since you work there you can get more information than they’re giving me. I’d appreciate you keeping us posted, if you can.”
“What happened to him?” Her voice was shaking now and Blackheart’s own heart went out to her.
“He went to help a brother and tangled with a gator.”
“Oh, Jesus! Fuck!” Her hands were shaking and she turned to leave.
“Patrice, wait. Let me get someone to drive you back to town.”
“No,” she said. “No...I’m okay. I need to see him now.” She was gone then and he got the feeling that if she was his kid, she’d gotten his stubborn streak. Still, he was worried about her so instead of calling Sally first, he called Limp Biskit, one of his young prospects.
“Hey, I need you at the hospital. I want you to keep me updated on Chance and Gabe, and also look out for a girl who’s on her way there to visit Gabe and make sure...and I mean make absolute sure...that nothing happens to her, you understand?”
“Sure, boss...how will I know who this girl is?”
“Her name’s Patrice, and she looks just like me.”
“Boss?”
“Did I stutter?”
“No, sir.”
“Text me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Blackheart ended that call and dialed Sally. He was almost glad when she didn’t answer. He didn’t want her worrying, but he also didn’t want to get his ass shot without her knowing how he felt about her. All he said to the voicemail was, “Thinking about you, mon cheri. I love you.” After that call, he was ready. He opened his locked desk drawer and took out his “cannon,” the gun he only used for special occasions like this. It was the first gun his paw ever gave him, a Smith and Wesson Model 29 .44 caliber. A “Dirty Harry” gun...and he was ready for a bunch of punks to make his fucking day.
9
Patrice normally worked on the medical-surgical floor of the hospital, but she’d picked up enough extra shifts in the Emergency Department that everyone knew her there. She barely waved at the guy at the front desk and he buzzed her back. Once she was in the back she looked at the white board and found Gabe’s last name; again, barely waving at the staff who looked surprised to see her. She found his room and ducked in behind the curtain. As soon as he heard the sound, he opened his eyes. She realized at that moment that her feelings for him were a lot stronger than even she had thought they were. He was sweet, and kind, and really, really hot...but she hadn’t realized until just that moment how broken her heart would be if she never saw him again. If she never got to kiss him again. If she never got to make love to him...