21. This Is Better Than Reality TV!

Chapter 21

This Is Better Than Reality TV!

G rizz

"What do you mean, you're pregnant?" I could barely breathe. Grabbing Meredith by her forearm, I dragged her to the farthest corner of the kitchen, away from the spectators.

"You heard me, or do you need a refresher in the birds and the bees?" she said, trying to push me away.

If she kept this up, I'd bend her over the kitchen island and remind her how we had created the baby. It wasn't an immaculate conception.

"Cut the attitude. I am not in the mood to deal with the bitchiness you've been dishing out lately."

"I am not your problem. Stop acting like I am," she replied, her hands on her hips.

I couldn't help it. I laughed in her face and caged her against the wall with my hands. "That's a lie," I mumbled. "I made you my problem when I couldn't walk away. Don't get me wrong, Tef. I should have run, like you do, and never looked back." I dropped my forehead to hers. "My kid?" I asked. I already knew it was, but I wanted her to say it.

"Cut the lights. We have company," Berry said from the living room. I flipped the switch in the kitchen, and Wreck turned them off in the dining room.

"How many times does the cartel drive by before they shoot up the place?" Berry asked.

"Shoot on six," Wreck answered. If I had been thinking straight, I would have asked him how he knew that. We'd only crossed the cartel's path recently .

"They're on their second pass. Black SUV with black tinted out windows," Berry said, standing near the front window with the curtain barely pulled to the side.

"We have to get out of here." I took charge. Walking to the dining room table where my phone was, I told Sabre I'd talk to him later and hung up. Putting the phone in my pocket, I made plans. "We can walk the bikes through the kitchen, out the back and into the woods, but we'll have Aunt E and Mer. The garage faces the street, so we can't take a car for them."

"What about my dad?" Meredith asked. "He's on the next street over. Can't you walk your bikes through the trees to him and pick up his car?"

"They just made another pass. That's three," Berry called.

"Your dad isn't home, Mer," Aunt E popped up. She'd changed out of her robe into jeans and a sweatshirt. I'd never seen her dressed down, and it looked weird on her. "He's at some function for the firm."

"Mer, I hate it, but you're going to have to ride until I can get a car." There was no other option, otherwise, I would have taken it.

"I can't ride on the back of your bike pregnant." Her voice was rising.

"You didn't have a problem with it on the way here, so stop being difficult. It's not like you're showing," I pointed out.

"Pass four," Berry called out.

"We have to go. You will have to ride on the back of my bike," I said. I wrapped my arms around her tightly. Pulling her into my chest, I whispered into her ear, "It'll be alright, Tef. I won't let anything happen." I let her go and helped the other brothers as we moved the bikes through the kitchen.

We walked them down the stairs of the back porch, past the pool house, and into the line of trees at the back of the property. We had reached the road when the cartel opened fire, shooting directly into the house. Using the sound of the shots as our cover, we started our bikes and took off in the middle of the night, never looking back.

** *

Sabre

I wasn't prepared to fight a two-front war. We weren't model citizens, but we weren't one-percenters anymore. I had contacts but not enough that most of the club wouldn't end up in jail or dead.

I looked at Cyph as he sat on the other side of my desk, plucking away at his laptop. Cyph was a skinny nerd with glasses, but he could throw down with any brother. My conscience said he was too smart to spend the rest of his life in jail.

I panned the room until my eyes settled on Grace. She had stayed up as long as she could, but her eyes had gotten heavy, and I heard a soft snore. She'd fallen asleep sitting on my lap with her head on my shoulder. I had kissed her forehead and tried to send her to bed, but she wouldn't go. She wanted to be close in case we needed her. We'd compromised, and she was sleeping on the couch in my office. I smiled as I watched her.

My eyes searched for her bump underneath the cover. She was laying on her side, and I didn't know if that was comfortable for her. Watching her chest rise and fall, I reminded myself that they were safe. I'd burn the world down to keep them that way. They were mine, and no one was going to take them from me. It was only a matter of time before Matt resurfaced.

There was a knock on my office door. It quickly opened, and Count's mohawk appeared in the crack.

"Come in," I called to him quietly.

He walked in, stopping right in the doorway to look at Grace. He smiled as I had. Continuing to my desk, he plopped his ass into the other chair on the opposite side of me.

"You didn't buy a new couch?" Count asked me.

"No, it's comfy," I answered nonchalantly.

"I am pretty sure my cum is on that couch. "

"Fuck! We're buying a new one as soon as possible." A few years back, the club girls had taken a stand for new main room furniture. They had complained that their knees were knocking on the wood beams, and it was easier to just buy new than to let the brothers go without pussy. Some of them could be real assholes when they weren't getting any.

I hadn't told Grace, but I'd bought a brand new bed for my room. It might have been my manly pride, but I couldn't bear the thought of my woman laying where others had been.

"How're Grizz and the boys?" Count asked.

"Holding up in a sleazy motel. He said it's cozy and there's no room to move, but they're okay for now. We'll ride out at daylight to meet them on the road," I answered.

"They actually got all six bikes in one motel room? It's not like we ride crotch rockets." Count's face showing his disbelief.

"No, they had to get connecting rooms. Grizz said they spread the bikes out between the two and leave the door open. How was the tit show?" I asked.

"It's actually not as bad as we thought. It's down in sales, and there's a shit ton of inventory, but with a couple of good nights, we could get it back on track. The girls are still happy. They're making decent money, so this only started recently."

"What did they have to say about Jig?"

"There are at least two other girls and Clara that are on the Jig special. Ironically enough, they never show when the ‘new clients' are in." Count shook his head and rubbed at his eyes.

I picked up my phone and texted Pint to prepare Jig. We had a few hours to kill and questions to be answered.

"If you want to go, I'll stay with Flo," Cyph joined the conversation. "I am cross-referencing some details, but I think I am onto something." He continued to type quickly without looking up from his screen.

"When this is done, we're going to talk about the energy drinks," I said. I didn't know which would have been worse, the energy drinks or drugs.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Fuck off," I said to him. It then hit me like a ton of bricks. "Fuck, I am going to be a dad." I looked over at Grace again. "I am going to be someone's dad."

***

Pint texted everything was ready.

"You in?" I asked Count.

"Sure, I am not doing anything."

"Yeah, because a certain blonde isn't here right now," Cyph said.

Count hit him in the shoulder as he stood. "I am ready for a good old-fashioned beat down."

I followed him out of the room, stopping to kiss Grace on the forehead. She lay still, and I hesitated, not wanting to wake her. The blanket was still covering her, and I figured it would be enough for now.

Count opened the door to the basement and let me go first. I walked past the cells that the original club had built and strolled through the last door at the end of the hallway.

The Playroom.

It was anything but a good time.

Pint was leaning against the back wall, waiting for me. As I surveyed his handiwork, I felt a sneer forming. Jigsaw was hanging from chains in the middle of the room. He stood on his tiptoes, only wearing his boxers.

I shook my head at him. "You sat at my mother's kitchen table drinking your morning coffee daily. You were my father's secretary, Jig. When it was time to pass the records over, you taught Pretty how to keep the club's secrets. Why turn your back now?"

"Fuck off."

I took off my club cut and hung it on a hook by the door. Rolling my sleeves up to my elbows, I turned around and surveyed Jig again .

"What happened? Tell me, and I'll let Pint take you back to your cell. No harm, no foul."

Silence.

"Have it your way." I hit him with an uppercut to his stomach. He couldn't bend over to relieve the pain, so he wheezed.

"Hey, Count," I said over my shoulder. "Call Scrub. Jig's getting old."

"On it." I heard him reply from over my shoulder. I stood a few feet away from Jig and watched him struggle. If I wailed on him now, he'd never survive it, and I'd have to answer to the club for killing him without a vote. Jig had been a member too long to be disrespected, even though it appeared he was betraying the club.

While we waited for Scrub, I started off with the question I was most interested in. "Why does the cartel want my baby?" I asked him.

I wouldn't have cared that the cartel was visiting our tit show. It was our business, and as long as they were spending money without an issue, the club wouldn't have any problems with that. We didn't have a beef with them, so there would have been no reason to defend our territory. They could share the wealth for all we cared, starting with the bar and the girls on the stage, but now we had an enormous problem. They were only soliciting our business to get closer to my son.

Silence.

I hit him again in the stomach.

As I waited for him to catch his breath, the playroom door opened, and Scrub walked in, holding his medical duffle. It was his magic bag of tricks, and he never left home without it.

"You know I love the first hit. You should have called me sooner," he whined as he went to stand on the other side of Count. Their fists bumped before they turned back to watch the show.

"Why is my baby so important, Jig? "

Silence.

Pint had set up a table full of toys. Grabbing the blowtorch, I clicked on the flame and walked back towards Jig. "You have two club tattoos. I can't remove those until the brothers vote you out. I believe in the traditions of this club, but they won't stop me from removing the rest."

"Oh, shit. Hang on." Scrub went into action. "Give me a few, and then he's all yours."

I'd known Scrub since we were in diapers, running around the clubhouse. He may have looked like a mild-mannered doctor, but he was just as ruthless as any of us. His loyalty ran deep, and I knew he was getting a kick out of this. In Scrub's mind, you were with the club, or you were against it. It was absolute, but he had a hard time reconciling that there were gray areas.

When he was done with an IV, he turned to look at me. "Low setting, Sabre. It'll still hurt like a bitch, but he shouldn't go into shock, and I can nurse the wounds." Scrub smiled at me and held his knuckles out for a bump.

"I am not playing, Jig. Why does the cartel want my baby? Last chance."

Silence.

I stood behind him and started with the large tattoo of the interlocking puzzle pieces on his shoulder. I outlined it with the blowtorch, and then filled it in, like a picture in a coloring book. Once the skin had completely burned, I set down the torch and grabbed my knife. It was the same one that my father had given me when I prospected. I'd give it to my son when the time came.

I started at the top of the tattoo and peeled the skin in strips. Jig had been trying to hold in his cries and screams with the torch, but with the first slice, he lost the battle.

"You fucking bitch," he cried. There was a string of profanities.

We should have officially retired him a long time ago, but he'd slid under the radar. He was weak, or he had become weak over the years. I wasn't sure right now, and I didn't really give a fuck.

"Tell me what I want to know. Why, Jig?" I went back to pulling at the tattoo with my knife. Once the puzzle pieces were gone, Scrub bandaged him up, and I moved on to the pinup girl on his side. Starting the process again, I burned her legs off. I wasn't even to her waist when he talked.

"I didn't know they were cartel when they first showed up. They walked in one day, ordered private dances from the girls, and paid for the top shelf liquor. That's how I ordered all the extra bottles. They were good-paying customers, and they were coming in four to five nights a week. I didn't want to run out." Jig was panting, as if the pain was too much, but he continued to talk. "They set me up."

I was silent as I outlined the top of the pinup girl with the torch.

He tried again to get my attention. "They set me up. I swear, Sabre."

Finishing the tattoo, I pulled my knife out. Starting at the bottom, I fileted the skin, waiting for Jig to hang himself some more. He was doing a good job of that, and I hadn't even had to prompt him.

"Clara isn't the first girl I've allowed to work off the books," he cried, and the tears were running from his eyes.

I poked at the redness underneath the skin until it bled. His screams bounced off the walls of the playroom. I wasn't the only man relishing the punishment.

Jig talked through the pain, but he had to stop and take a breath every other word. "One night, a girl came in to the tit show while I was managing. She had a sob story, and I gave her a job, like the other ones. She thanked me on her knees, but it all fell apart the next night. The cartel came in with pictures of us. I don't know how they got them, but they said she was sixteen. It wasn't like I could come to the club for help, and the last place I wanted to be was in jail. I swear she was eighteen, but I didn't ID her."

I went for the kill. Lowering my voice to soothe him, I asked again, "Why, Jig? Why an innocent baby?"

The tears finally streamed from his cheeks. "The men that come to the show are mid-ranked cartel. They were drunk one night and let it slip. There's an arranged marriage between their jefe and the daughter of El Sombra Roja. The only obstacle is that they can't merge the cartels until they seal the covenant with a child. The jefe plays too rough with his bride, and she can't conceive." Jig hung his head. His eyes focused on the ground in front of my feet.

"Why my baby?" I pushed.

"They said that Clara agreed, but Flo got pregnant instead. They don't care who does it as long as they get the baby."

"Patch him up, Scrub, and when he's ready, he can go back to his cell."

I looked at Count, and he looked back at me. I still didn't want a two-front war. We were going to have to eliminate Matt first and hope that Clara went with him.

I would not go down without a fight.