Huck Page 21

  "For what? For you to crash?" I asked.

  "I was thinking more like him," he said, inclining his chin toward Arty who was arranging the canned goods in the pantry.

  Arty had been robbed the week before, a couple of local idiots coming in and stealing all his expensive equipment. But, more than that, invading a safe space for him, making him feel uncomfortable there for the first time in years. That was why he'd been crashing on our couch while we tracked down the assholes who messed with him.

  "He needs someone looking out for him. I mean the robbery was bad enough, but the kind of people he is getting involved with on some of his cases now, it's not good. And he doesn't have all the brawn to go with the brain. I was thinking of setting him up. Becoming an 'investor' of sorts in his company. Plus, he will be right next door for you to use when you need him."

  "So, I'm getting evicted?" Harmon asked, chewing on her lower lip. There was really no question about it, and Harmon knew it. Having grown up in that world, she understood that if someone with pockets as deep as Teddy's wanted something, they got it, even if it broke contracts already in place.

  "Oh, my bad," Teddy said, holding up a hand. "I thought you were done over there. Let me know if or when that is," he said, getting off of the chair.

  "She is," I said, seeing Harmon's gaze slide to me immediately. "She's done over there," I repeated.

  "Well, I mean, I just... that's a little presumptuous."

  "Is it?" I asked. "Do you want to be over there?"

  "Well, no..."

  "Do you prefer being here where you can fuck me anytime you want?" I asked, making her smack me hard on the stomach.

  "I like being here," she said, voice low, careful, not wanting to seem too eager.

  "You got any plans to break up with me in the near future?"

  "Ah, well, no..."

  "Then it's settled. You're staying here. Teddy is buying the place next door. And I am making Seeley build you garden beds."

  "See, love," Teddy said, giving her a smile. "Clear and concise."

  "You talk a lot of shit for someone who is never in a relationship," I called as he walked toward the living room.

  "That wasn't cool," Arty declared, making us all turn.

  "What wasn't?" Remy asked, handing his bird half a carrot that he held in his claw as he picked at it.

  "Saying something like that to him after he lost his wife."

  "Wait... what?" I asked, feeling like he'd knocked the air out of me.

  "Oh," Arty said, face falling, realizing his mistake.

  "Teddy was married?" Remy asked, voice low, so that he didn't overhear.

  "You know we aren't going to stop until you tell us," I told Arty.

  "He was married. And she died. Right before you guys met him. That was why he was drinking so much back then, needing his father to come get him from the bars. It's also why he doesn't have serious relationships anymore, but has a lot of respect for them. And, I guess, advice," Arty said, shoulders falling at giving away what he thought were secrets about a man he respected so much.

  "Shit," Remy said when Arty moved away, leaving us standing there, coming to terms with this new information about an old friend.

  "Yeah," I agreed. "What the fuck else do I not know about my people? Are you keeping anything from me?" I asked, looking down at Harmon.

  "Yes," she said, making me jolt, looking down to find her face grave.

  "What is it?" I asked, feeling my stomach twist.

  "I'm afraid that I have to inform you that you are the worst The Wheel of Life player of all time," she told me, patting my stomach to ease the blow.

  "You told me I was getting better," I said, small-eyeing her.

  I'd decided to get myself a screen name and a computer set-up to play along with her, to learn something that meant so much to her. I figured it would be a good way to unwind when shit was crazy with the club, as it so often was. And, hey, I was finding all the hand exercise with the controller was upping my finger fucking game. I figured it was a win-win all around.

  "Yes, well, I lied to save your feelings," she told me, eyes dancing.

  "Well, it's fine," I said, reaching up to tug her hair. "I was really only playing for all the thirsty fangirls," I told her, watching as her eyes went to slits.

  "I'm reporting your account and getting you shut down," she told me, lifting her chin. "No one else gets to play with you. You're all mine."

  And, fuck, I was.

  I never thought it was possible.

  Sure, I'd seen some relationships when I went to visit the mother chapter in Navesink Bank that I thought looked nice and happy, but a part of me just never thought it was going to happen for me.

  But here I was.

  With a woman on my arm.

  And her plans for a garden bed—which, in a way stood for our future—in my hand.

  "So, what I am hearing is, less The Wheel of Life playing, and more garden bed building?"

  "You really need to play to your strengths," she agreed, tone mock-grave. "But since when do you do the building of things around here?" she asked.

  "Since my ass finally got a patch," Seeley said, smile victorious. "I get to sit on my ass for a change like the rest of these free-fucking-loaders," he said, nodding at McCoy who followed him in.

  "I don't think we broke him enough during his prospecting period," McCoy teased.

  "We will have to try harder with the next one," I agreed. "He's a lost cause now," I added, getting a wink and a middle finger from Seeley as he grabbed a bottle of vodka he still wasn't old enough to drink, and headed out back where he had several cut-bunnies just thrilled to introduce him to some of the finer parts of being a biker.

  Except, of course, that thrill seemed hollow to me now.

  Sex was great.

  Even casual, no-strings sex was great.

  But what was even better?

  A woman in your bed you actually gave a shit about, one who made your life feel a little more complete, your space a little more like home.

  That was something I'd never known I'd been missing.

  And the exciting shit now was whatever the hell was coming next.

  Harmon - One Year

  "Uncle Jones," Jones said, trying out the sounds on his lips. "UJ. UJ might be easier for a kid," he decided, nodding, as he slapped the tattoo on his left arm, trying not to scratch it as it healed. "Have you told Huck yet?"

  "No," I said, grimacing. "I know, I know," I said when Jones's brows raised. "I wasn't sure at first. But I literally just took my fifth test. So I'm reasonably comfortable saying this is happening."

  "Are you, you know, okay with it?" he asked, likely picking up on my strange mood.

  It was strange, too.

  I'd been all over the map about it.

  My initial response had been crippling fear. I guess because that was the general response of an unmarried woman in this country to a positive pregnancy test. I'd sat there in the bathroom with my heart slamming against my ribcage, paralyzed by uncertainty.

  After that, I ping-ponged between disbelief and acceptance, thinking about how a baby would change my life.

  Our life.

  In quiet moments, I would stare at the wall and fantasize about a sweet little chunky baby in a bassinet with Huck's hair and my eyes.

  But, almost invariably, those happy thoughts got interrupted by uglier ones.

  Like a bassinet next to the bed while we slept at night, all of us getting woken up by bullets tearing through the walls, one of them taking our precious baby from us. Like someone coming up at a park and taking our little baby as retribution for some other feud.

  How could we bring a baby into this world? Into this lifestyle?

  Wasn't that the epitome of selfishness?

  It wasn't bad enough that there were rampant issues not relating to the club that a child would have to inherit from us, but to add on something else that could literally mean life and death? I was just having a really hard t
ime wrapping my head around that reality.

  "I'm worried," I admitted to my brother.

  "About what Huck is going to think?"

  "That, yeah," I said. We had talked about kids, but it was always a "someday" talk, never something either of us seemed serious about making happen anytime soon, if at all. "But also about raising a kid in an outlaw biker club," I told him.

  "To be fair, the whole world is unsafe these days," Jones reasoned.

  "Maybe. But this is especially so."

  "Or is it safer?" he asked. "I mean, I don't know anyone else with ballistic steel walls and electric fences and state-of-the-art security systems. Add in the dogs and the bikers with guns, and I think this place is pretty fucking safe, Harm."

  "Please. Those dogs would help you carry out the TV if you came in to rob the place," I said, smiling. "But, yeah, everyone here would do anything to protect us."

  "Exactly. And, I imagine, Huck will go into full Papa Bear mode when he finds out, making this place even safer than it already is. Besides, you also have me. And Teddy. Lots of places to go if things are feeling unsafe. Nothing is going to happen to this baby, Harm. None of us would let it."

  That was fair.

  These men would do anything to protect what belonged to them. It was ome of their most endearing traits.

  "Whose car is that in the driveway?" Huck's voice called from the kitchen, making me stiffen on the couch.

  "Jones's," I supplied.

  "Spending that trust wisely, I see," Huck said, coming toward me, handing me the ginger lozenges I'd asked him to pick up, telling them they were for nausea, but not saying why I was feeling sick.

  "Hey, that's my investment money out there in that driveway. Still plan on making good on that plan of getting rich and setting us all up for life," he said, even if everything about him and his tattoos and piercings and spiked hair said he fronted a punk band, not moved around his investment portfolio. "On that note, though, I have to get back to work. Harm, think about it," he said, giving me a nod, then moving out the front door.

  "Think about what?" Huck asked, dropping down near my feet, pulling my legs up and over his lap, his arm sliding behind me.

  "I have to talk to you about something."

  "Christ. That is a terrible way to start a conversation," he said, grimacing. "But okay. What do we need to talk about?"

  "Remember the night we got some alone time in the pool?" I asked.

  "Yeah. Hard to forget that one."

  "Yeah," I agreed, still smiling at the memory. It was a good one, even if the pool was likely the reason the condom failed. "Well, we got more than we planned on that night," I told him.

  "Meaning..."

  "I'm pregnant," I told him, the words rushing out, feeling foreign on my lips.

  "You're..." he said, then said nothing else for what felt like a lifetime. "You're sure?" he asked when he started to get his thoughts together.

  "Yes. I took five tests now. I wanted to make sure before I said anything. I know this brings with it a lot of complications," I went on, my stomach tying itself in knots. "Huck?" I asked when he slid out from under me, standing, and rushing out of the room.

  As I stood, stomach flip-flopping, I could hear him calling his men, tone borderline frantic. And for a man as laid-back as Huck, that was really saying something.

  I mean, I'd once seen him after his bike got clipped by a drunk tourist, sending him flying through the air, and ripping most of the skin off his arm, a bone sticking out through the skin, and he'd been sitting there waiting for the ambulance while cracking jokes with Remy, Che, Seeley, and McCoy.

  Huck was not a man who panicked.

  But, clearly, he was panicking now.

  My heart felt heavy.

  I guess a part of me had been hoping that once the initial surprise wore off, he would be happy, would sit with me and quell my fears, talk about our future.

  Taking a deep breath, I moved to stand, deciding a cup of hot chocolate might help take some of the sting away.

  "What the fuck are you doing?" Huck asked, rushing back in the room, eyes wide, wild, hands raised, his palms facing out.

  "I, ah, what? I'm going to get some hot chocolate," I explained.

  "Remy!" he yelled, loud enough that I shrank away from the sound, my shoulders rising up toward my ears. "Hot chocolate. Now. Not too hot, though," he added as Remy agreed and rushed off, almost seeming as frantic and weird as Huck was. "Sit down. You can't be walking around right now," he insisted, grabbing my arm, leading me back to the couch, pressing me down.

  "I can't walk around?" I asked, shaking my head. "Why not?"

  "It's not safe," he said, rolling his eyes as he reached for his phone, shooting off a rapid text.

  "Huck, I'm going to need you to—" I started, getting to my feet.

  "Jesus Christ. Sit down," he demanded, hands going to my shoulders.

  "Hey," I said, getting a little worried, not sure if maybe I should have been calling Teddy or his sister, maybe even the president of the mother chapter, Reign. "You're kind of going full-on crazy-eyed right now," I told him, taking my cue from Teddy all those months ago, choosing to be blunt with Huck who definitely responded better to it. I mean, I had some lush gardens going. Even if I had killed a lot of the plants in my learning phase. "Why do you keep making me sit down?" I asked, grabbing his hand as he pushed me to sit again, forcing him down with me.

  "Because it's not safe for you to be fucking walking around now."

  "I'm not following. Why can't I walk around now?"

  "Because you're pregnant."

  "Yeah, you know, I'm pretty sure I've seen pregnant women walking around before. In fact, I think they encourage it," I said.

  "Yeah, but not you. You can't do anything alone anymore. Someone has to be with you full-time. I am going to ask Gus to recommend someone she used to work with at the old folks home to come and help you out."

  "Huck, I'm not old. And I don't need help."

  "What about the seizures? You can't be having seizures now," he told me. "You could fall, hurt yourself and the baby. That can't happen. Someone needs to be watching you and with you all the time. So if you need anything, even just someone to hand you the remote you dropped, you just call. We are going to get some intercoms installed or something. I have to talk to Booker. McCoy, get a call out to Booker," he demanded as McCoy came in the room, holding a notepad and pen, jotting something down rapidly.

  "Okay. What the heck is going on right now?" I asked, looking at McCoy because he was always the most level-headed of the group.

  "We're going to need to block out all kinds of light too," McCoy said, talking to Huck, the two of them fluent in crazy. "Dim the TVs, cover up any flashing lights on the electronics. Maybe get some blackout curtains for all the windows."

  "Why not get me a sensory deprivation tank to sit in for the next nine months?" I suggested, watching as interest lit their eyes. "Oh, my God. I'm joking. Joking. You guys need to dial it back about ten notches. I agree that we need to be careful about my seizures, but we don't need to get too crazy about it all.

  "Crazy?" Huck repeated as McCoy wisely slid out of the room. "You think it's crazy to want to make sure you and the baby stay safe?" he asked, voice a bit raw. "That's our baby in there," he added, waving toward my still-flat tummy.

  "I know," I agreed. "And we are going to protect it."

  "That's what I'm trying to do," he insisted. "I have about a dozen people to call to get things changed around here, to make it as safe as possible. I want a fortress for you and our baby."

  I had always thought that possessive, alpha boyfriend Huck was hot.

  But possessive, alpha, protective prospective daddy Huck was just dreamy.

  "I get that," I told him, reaching out to place my hand over his hand. "And I appreciate that more than you know. But, Huck... everything doesn't need to happen today. I really kind of need you to sit with me and tell me if you're okay with this or not," I told him, f
eeling more vulnerable than I should have.

  "Okay with it?" he repeated, brows pinching together. "Babe, for fuck's sake, of course I'm okay with it. I'm fucking thrilled about it. I never knew how much I wanted a kid with you until you told me you were giving me one. I just..."

  "Panicked," I supplied, smiling a bit at the lost look on his face.

  "Yeah, something like that," he agreed. "You're going to have to let me be over-protective, babe. I don't know what the fuck else to do here."

  "Oh, there will be going to birthing classes and rubbing my feet and building a nursery and putting together baby furniture. You'll have your hands full for the next few months."

  "Think I'd rather take on another prospect for all the heavy lifting, and spend the next few months with you in bed."

  "Well, that is certainly an option," I told him, slipping onto his lap, burying my face in his neck, feeling his big, strong arms going around me, knowing right down to my bones that me and this baby could never be safer anywhere else than with this man.

  "I need to get you a ring now."

  "Yes, you do," I declared.

  "Think I should ask your family for your hand too," he added, chuckling.

  "I'd pay to see that."

  "And, the most important thing of all."

  "What's that?" I asked, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside.

  "Gotta get you an old lady cut."

  "A... what?"

  "An old lady cut. Like the ones we wear, but saying you're mine."

  "Oh, for God's sake. That's a barbaric custom."

  "Want the whole world to know you're mine, babe, and that you're carrying my baby."

  Well then.

  Maybe an old lady cut wasn't so bad after all, was it?

  "Oh, shit," he declared, suddenly shooting up, leaving me on the couch alone. "I need to talk to Arty. We need background checks on all the doctors in the area. Gotta get the best one lined up and over here as soon as possible," he said on his way out of the door.