“Well, you can’t say his method didn’t work. You’re awake.”
“Don’t tell him that. I’ll never hear the end of it.” She looks around, rolling her head left and right, and she frowns when she sees all the people around her that she cares about so much. “Oh my God.”
“Yeah, this is what church is about,” I say.
“Whoever did this is going to experience a bloodbath.”
Yeah, that’s the plan.
Raise hell.
Bring fury.
Spill Blood.
It’s the Ruthless way.
“I need to go see his mom,” I say to Reaper, who’s currently sitting there signing a piece of paperwork. From the header on it, it has something to do with Kings’ Club, which reminds me that I want to ask him about a job when I’m healed.
If I’m healed.
Even if it means waiting tables when I’m nine months pregnant, it’s what I’ll do.
Reaper leans in his seat and crosses his hands over his stomach. “No.” He doesn’t think about it. He doesn’t even blink.
I readjust the crutches under my arms and keep the weight off my bad leg. “Why? I really need to see her. Eric is busy today, and…” I’m not sure if they know about his mom having breast cancer. It isn’t my place, but everything has been so hectic that no one has had a chance to talk about the other things going on in people’s lives. “She’s dying, Reaper. She has breast cancer.”
His brows lift and the chair drops to the floor when he shoots forward. “Rachel has breast cancer? Since when? No way… She would have told us.”
“Years. She thought she could beat it, but the doctors have deemed it terminal. They gave her three months.”
Reaper hides his face in his hands and runs his fingers through his thick head of hair. “Fuck, Doc has got to be devastated. He and his mom are as thick as thieves. He’s closer with her than he is to us.”
“He’s taking it as well as he can, I think, but I really want to go check on her. Please?” I ask.
“Not by yourself. I know you’re pregnant and you have fifty stitches in your leg. Letting you go by yourself would be stupid on my part.”
Eric and a few of the guys are creating a plan, surveying, studying the casino, and Reaper is here waiting on Maximo and Natalia to come. They couldn’t make it yesterday. Maximo’s flight was delayed in Italy since he went to get Natalia himself.
“Take Knives with you,” Reaper says. “I need Tongue here for when Maximo comes over. Tongue makes him uncomfortable, and that’s my goal when I see Maximo today.”
“Knives,” I mumble and swallow. I can deal with Knives. He is a little touched in the head like Tongue, but not as bad. Unlike the other guys, Knives is one of the members I don’t know as well.
“Knives!” Reaper hollers, then stands to his full height. I crane my neck to stare up at him and tilt my head down. I hear the leather of his boots stretch from his wide feet as he walks. “Don’t turn away. You have no reason to be afraid of me. You know we have your back, right? You’re part of this family too. We’re going to find Brody. We’ll bring you justice, but you and the baby have a home here, no matter what happens with you and Doc.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“I swear to fucking god, Knives. Sling that ninja star again and slice another chunk out of my hair, and I’ll fucking kill you.”
Reaper groans in annoyance and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Not this again.”
“Maybe you should be quicker,” Knives mocks and then there’s a slam against the wall, followed by a picture falling to the ground, the glass shattering.
“Maybe you need to stop flinging those fucking things before you take someone’s eye out,” Tool snips.
“Shut up! The both of you, shut up.” Reaper swings his door open to find Tool there at the doorway and Knives flipping the star between his fingers. Tool has a cut on his cheek and the front of his hair is shorter than the rest. His lips are pressed together in a tight line, and his arms are crossed. Neither of the guys are looking into the room. They’re staring at the wall. “Get your head out of your asses, now. I’m not in the mood. We have bigger fish to fry than your goddamn hair and you with your tendencies.”
“Yes, Prez,” they say at the same time.
“Tool, go shave your head. You look fucking ridiculous. Knives, you’re going with her to see Doc’s mom. We need to make room for her here. I’ll say why at church. Don’t ask me questions, and don’t fuck around; I don’t have the patience.”
Knives doesn’t say a word. He steps forward and stares down at me. His head is shaved on the sides and the top is a little longer than the rest. He has a tattoo under neck that says ‘Judge Me’ and it makes me wonder what would happen if I did…
I bet he’d gut me.
Knives bends over and slides his arms under me, and I barely have time to clutch onto the crutches before they fall. “What are you doing?”
“Picking you up. You’re pregnant and cut yourself.”
“I can walk. I’m fine,” I say, blushing as Reaper and Tool eye us down as we leave. Tool sneers at Knives, and I have to hold back a smile with how goofy he looks. He does need to shave his head.
“No way. Pregnant women can’t be walking around anyway. It’s better this way. You’re safe. I don’t want Doc to slice me with his scalpel. Man is dark. I see it in his eyes.” Knives gets a little shifty, darting his eyes around the kitchen as we walk. “Eyes tell all,” he adds.
“Ooookay,” I say, lifting my head up to watch where we’re going. “You know the baby isn’t going to fall out of me, right?”
“We don’t know that.” Knives shrugs and angles his body as we squeeze through the hallway so my legs don’t hit the wall.
That’s thoughtful.
I never should’ve cut myself. I need to have another outlet. Maybe I can talk to Eric about therapy. Reaper mentioned it, but with everything that has happened, therapy hasn’t been on anyone’s mind. I need it, though.
I don’t want to be broken anymore. I want to be better, not just for me, not just for Eric, but for the baby. God, when I heard that heartbeat for the first time, I felt something inside me shift. The need to survive overwhelmed me. Life isn’t about me anymore; it’s given me something to focus on, to make sure I get strong enough to be a mother to this child.
Even though I never wanted to be pregnant any time soon, even though I never imagined getting pregnant like I did, not ever hearing that fast whoosh of his heart would devastate me.
“Got a new bride, Knives?” Slingshot asks, making me giggle as he eats one of those forbidden tacos he isn’t supposed to gnaw on.
“Shut up. Don’t say that shit. She isn’t my bride. I’m making sure she doesn’t walk. She’s injured. If Doc comes at me, I’m stealing your tacos,” Knives threatens. We reach the door, and Tank hurries from the couch to open it. He gives me a shy smile and looks away from me.
For a man who has a badass look to him, tall, muscular, tattoos, piercings, he is a bashful thing. “Thanks, Tank.”