Chapter 9

Chapter

Nine

FRANKIE

"Passing out is becoming a new part of your routine, Cuteness. But it freaks me out, so I'm gonna need you to quit it." Freaking out Arlo James isn't my goal, but waking up to his presence is so good I just might make it into my new modus operandi.

"‘M sleeping. Shh." I'm pretty sure it's still afternoon. This sudden inability to stay awake is new, and I'm blaming the pregnancy. I never used to be this easily exhausted. And my whole life has been stress ever since I met Mark, so it doesn't make sense to blame stress for my sudden inability to keep my eyes open.

"I know you and the baby need rest, but this is important. I need to know if you need a doctor. Is this normal? You never passed out those days I watched you."

"You watched her? How long ago did you get out of lockup, you fucking asshole?" A snarky kid with unnaturally red hair shoves at Arlo's shoulder from behind. He's so much smaller there's hardly any movement, but Arlo casts a dark look over his shoulder at the younger guy.

"Careful, Ace. She's not the one you're pissed at."

The boy throws his hands into the air and stomps out of the room, throwing a final jab as he passes through the door of the bedroom Arlo must have carried me into.

"Whatever. Don't tell me who I can be mad at. I can multitask." Then he's gone, and it's just me and Arlo.

"What happened?" I ask.

"I think you passed out. Blakely said you were talking with Blu and Grey, and then just sort of slumped over and wouldn't wake up." His thumbs stroke over the backs of my hands where he's holding them over my baby bump. I roll to my side, the weight of lying on my back uncomfortable enough I wouldn't have stayed asleep like that much longer anyway.

"I'm sorry. That was rude of me. That must have scared everyone." I feel terrible that I came into their home and immediately zonked out.

"No apologies for things out of your control, Cuteness. But I do need to ask, when's the last time you saw your doctor for the baby?" He's sincerely more protective of my baby than their own father is, and I'm helpless to hold back my stinging tears.

"Why are you doing this? Protecting me this way?" No one but Hy has ever done so much for me. And Hyram's my brother, so it makes sense he gives a shit. This guy? Until the scent of bacon in my kitchen woke me this morning, he was a stranger. It's a lot to wrap my head around.

"Because you're mine."

"You make it sound so simple. My life is a mess. You can't just walk in and say I belong to you like I'm a jacket you picked up from the coat-check at a restaurant. I'm a person. You can't own me." Shouldn't want to. Who'd want to take on this wreck?

"The only simple thing is you understanding I can and do own you, now. You are mine, and that baby girl in your belly is mine. I will protect both of you with my life. So will this club." There's no doubt or hesitation in his promise.

"She's not a girl. Or, I mean, the baby. I haven't found out what I'm having. He could be a boy." Leave it to me to latch on to the least relevant part of his statement.

"That's a girl in there. My daughter." His stare bores into me, daring me to argue that he's wrong.

"You can't just decide this is a girl and make it so." Seriously, what is wrong with me that I'm rising to the bait?

"Can. Have. The universe saw how hard I've worked to keep away from females, so it gave me two. You and this little one." His hand nudges mine away from the round swell of my stomach, prominent even when I'm lying on my side now. His big palm cradles the curve, lifting just enough to slide a pillow under the heavy weight of my tummy.

"I'm pretty sure that's not how it works." My mouth just can't quit. I don't know why I'm so unable to let him have the last word. Maybe, it's instinct to push until he snaps, so I can figure out where the lines are. How far I can go before he's not safe anymore. As the thought dawns on me, shame weighs down my heart.

Arlo James has done nothing but promise to take care of me. Even pissing off his chosen family to do so. And here I am arguing with him about silly crap.

"You'll see," he says. "Fate hasn't ever been kind to me. But in this? She's on my side. Now, don't think I haven't realized you've yet to answer me about seeing a doctor."

I allow his surety to settle me. He's got a fifty percent chance in being right, and if he wants to believe this is a girl, so be it. I wonder why he's so convinced he had to stay away from my gender. Maybe, once all this trouble with Mark dies down, he'll tell me.

"I saw my doctor about three weeks ago. I'm meant to see him for my six month prenatal checkup this week." Not that I really want to.

As far as doctors go, he's got a reputation for being a good one. But the hospital is a scary place for me, even for scheduled appointments. There are almost always police officers hanging around hospitals. Even the security guards are mostly off-duty cops moonlighting for extra cash. Every time I go in for a checkup, it seems to get back to Mark that I've been in. He always manages to show up when I'm trying to leave, insisting that, as the father, he should be allowed into the exam room.

In the beginning, I thought it was because he intended to be a father to our child. Work out a co-parenting plan or something. But when he started asking questions of the doctor about whether a pregnancy made it more likely that a woman could be bred again in the future, my red flag alarms starting ringing.

I may not know exactly what Arlo and his motorcycle club have to do with taking down the human trafficking ring in town the news has alluded to, but I know they're involved based on some comments I've overheard them making that let me connect the dots. Strange as it may be that an outlaw biker gang are the good guys here and the cops are the corrupt ones, my situation is living proof it's true.