Chapter Seven

R uger found a lone blanket at the end of the bed and covered Rachel, only leaving her head uncovered. He tucked the material underneath her, the same way he had with Katrina when she was little and afraid of the dark.

Rachel continued sleeping. The rise and fall of her upper body underneath the blanket assured him that she'd finally relaxed and stopped fighting sleep.

She'd gone too far, stripping down for him.

He'd seen her naked enough times he had her body memorized. Every curve and dip. She had a scar on her left eyebrow. Her pinky toes were crooked. There were freckles on the top of both shoulders and across the bridge of her nose.

But he didn't deserve her body or her faith in him. He'd accumulated nothing in his life. The only thing he had was his membership in Havlin Motorcycle Club.

At one time, he'd had parents. Parents that wouldn't accept his ways or his daughter. Determined to make a better life for Katrina after her mother dumped her at the hospital, he toed the line until the fateful day Jagger killed his father's murderer, and Ruger got blamed for the crime.

Eighteen years wasted.

He lost his daughter. He lost Jagger.

Once he got out of prison, the club became a means to keep food in his belly and a roof over his head. He wasn't going to depend on anyone again. He sure in the hell wasn't someone anyone could depend on or approve of. Rachel would figure that out about him when she came out the other side of her kidnapping, and life straightened out for her.

Right now, she worried and fought the demons plaguing her. She clung to him because he'd saved her.

Silently, he walked through the apartment, reaching for his wallet. He emptied its contents, a sum close to a thousand dollars in cash, onto the kitchen counter. With a final glance around, he exited, securing the door behind him.

He walked to his Harley, hoping that someone from the neighborhood hadn't decided to part her out while he was caring for Rachel.

The sun rose in the east, casting an orange glow to the morning. It was a good time to ride. As he approached his bike, he gave it a once over. It hadn't been touched. The Havlin colors painted on the side of the gas tank kept it safe.

Gangs in the area knew better than to touch something that belonged to the club.

He started the bike and rode away from the apartment. Another day was here. He had to work.

Halfway to Seaglass Cove a rider coming in the opposite direction signaled for him to stop. Recognizing Jagger, his heart raced. His thoughts went straight to his pregnant daughter and her safety.

He pulled over onto the side of the road. Turning in the seat, he watched Jagger make a U-turn and head toward him. Why wasn't Jagger with her if something was wrong with Katrina or the baby?

Jagger pulled to a stop behind him.

Ruger shouted, "What's wrong?"

"Katrina found out you were gone last night and got worried. She wanted me to find you," yelled Jagger, motioning for him to turn off his engine.

He shut off his bike and threw his leg over the seat. "Why the hell would she worry about me?"

"She woke up in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, and was overthinking everything." Jagger took off his helmet and ran his hand through his hair. "She texted, and when you didn't reply, she was positive something had happened to you, so I told her I'd ride around looking for you."

He pulled his phone out of his pocket. It'd gone dead. He showed the blank screen to Jagger.

Even if fully charged, he probably wouldn't have known he had a message from her. The phone was always making noises, so he shut off the sound.

Katrina had shown him where messages go on the cel. But he had no idea how to send one.

"Tell her I'm fine, and I'll see her when she comes to the clubhouse," he said.

"Why don't you ride to the house and see her yourself? She's not going to relax until she hears from you, and it's not good for her or the baby for her to be up pacing half the night." Jagger lit a cigarette and passed the smoke to Ruger.

"Where are you going?" He inhaled deeply, blowing a stream of smoke up into the air.

He'd stayed out of their life since he gave Jagger permission to be with Katrina. Katrina had picked the person she wanted to be with, and he wouldn't disrupt her relationship. It took a lot out of him, but he had to admit that at one time, he would've approved of Jagger loving his daughter. He couldn't pick a better man for her. Jagger would protect her.

But Jagger had broken his loyalty by crossing the boundaries. While he'd paid the price and the past was the past, it continued to hurt.

He missed his friend.

Yet, he felt robbed of his daughter.

"Going to the clubhouse." Jagger stepped off the road. "There's a delivery from Moroad coming in a couple of hours. I'm going to get a head start on separating the bundles."

"When there's an opening, I'd like to get on the crew and out of the shop."

Jagger chuckled. "I figured you would, but you're a new transfer, regardless of being a long-time member. You'll wait your turn."

He grunted. He'd expected nothing less.

Leaving Jagger, he rode to the new house Jagger and Katrina had bought. It was a fine place to raise a family. He was proud of her.

He wound down the driveway through the grove of trees and parked in front of the single-story ranch-style house. Once he cut the engine, he could hear the hum of the ocean in the distance, but the water was out of sight. Jagger had made him a nice, secluded home in the coastal range. No one could approach the house without coming up the driveway.

The front door opened, and Katrina hurried out. He raised his hand, letting her know to slow and calm herself.

Behind the strength she displayed for everyone, she was wild. Her emotions controlled her attitude. For how strong she came across, she had a tender heart.

"Where have you been?" Katrina stopped in front of him, breathing heavily.

He wrapped her in his arms. "On a ride."

"Not for the club." She bent backward, looking up at his face. "Where did you go?"

She wasn't going to let it rest. Now that she was the president's ol' lady, she had all information at her fingertips.

He smoothed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. "Rachel needed a little help, so I stayed with her last night."

Katrina wrinkled her nose. "I thought she left."

"She did." He stepped away. "Why don't you climb back into bed and sleep? It's early. I'm going to grab breakfast—"

"Come in, and I'll cook your breakfast." She grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the house. "Afterward, I'll show you the baby's room. Jagger put the crib up last weekend."

Katrina's smile made him walk into the house to spend time with his daughter. They never got time alone anymore. He'd enjoy every minute before the real world returned to beat him up.