Page 39 of Snake (Road Rebels MC 3)
“Yep. Got the mom. The daughter just ran off to the bathroom. We’re posting someone outside of it.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’m gonna make a perimeter run; then I’ll come stand by the bathroom. The crowd’s quiet and Blade can clock it from where he is,” I said.
“On it,” Blade said. “Rifle set and scanning.”
“Escorting the mother to the car. Daughter’s still in the bathroom. She’s probably sick or something,” Ink said.
“Roger that,” I said.
I pushed myself through the crowd and made my way to the outer rim of the audience. I walked quickly through the mass of people. There were police officers lining the entryway of the backstage. Standing in front of the fence that separated the crowd of people from the car that would take the family home. That death threat must’ve really spooked Ryan Thomas because having us here and the police here was overkill otherwise.
The police officers were looking at me as if I had just grown a second head. I walked around the fence and held my hands up, telling them I was checking the car. I had to argue with a police officer for a second before I turned around and showed him my leather cut, showcasing my name and our logo. The police officers were still wary of letting me around the car, so I relented and made my way around the back.
And I found my opening there.
There was a police officer playing on his phone and eating a sandwich. He looked like the type of officer that never once passed the physical training portion of his placement exams. He was standing at the only back entrance into this entire place, and he was face-deep in his fucking cell phone. Part of me was irate with him. Jeopardizing the family’s safety just to play some bullshit game on his phone.
But his downfall was my success, and I ran by him before he could get his head out of his phone.
I ducked into the shadows and watched as he jogged by. His head was darting from left to right, trying to figure out where I’d gone. He said something into the walkie-talkie on his shoulder, and I watched as three other police officers rounded the corner. They drew their weapons and began scanning the perimeter of the area I was in, so I bobbed when they weaved.
I knew I was out of place. Everyone backstage was in suits and clean-cut outfits. Every single one of The Black Angels was sorely out of place, but I didn’t care. The only thing I could think about was finding Harper. She had rushed into the bathroom and every minute she was in there alone was another minute where she thought she was alone.
And she wasn’t.
She wasn’t alone because I was here now.
I bobbed while the police officers weaved, and eventually, they gave up. Grinning, I watched as they retreated out towards the back gate I’d run through, then I stepped from the shadows. People gave me odd looks at first, wondering why the fuck I was hiding in the darkness. Then they saw my leather cut and the intercom in my ear and paid me no attention.
I looked around for the restroom, but I couldn’t find it. I was ten seconds away from asking someone where the fuck it was, and then I heard it.
I heard a door slam open, and it caused me to whip around.
Harper came slamming out of the bathroom as her dress fluttered around her legs. Her stomach was much larger up close than it had been on stage. There was no doubt in my mind that she was carrying my child. There was no doubt in my mind that I’d gotten her pregnant that weekend.
Holy fuck, pregnancy looked good on her.
Striding over to her, I reached my hand out for her arm. The moment my hand touched her skin electricity shot through my veins. The same electricity that set a fire in my gut that night at the rally. That wonderful night in South Dakota that forever imprinted this woman into my memory.
“Harper,” I said.
She ripped her arm out of my hand before she turned around, and I watched her eyes take me in before they widened in shock. Her lips parted to speak, but as I waited for her to say something, it was only silence that loomed between us. So, I asked her one of the two questions I wanted genuine answers to.
“How are you doing?”
Chapter 7
Harper
I collected myself in the bathroom and decided to take my makeup off. It looked terrible on me anyway and was only used to disguise things my mother saw as imperfections. My freckles, for one. She hated them. She had never told me she hated them, but every time she got the chance she covered them up. The foundation was heavy and caked on, and it took a great deal of soap and scrubbing to get it off. My eyes were lined with eyeliner to try and make my eyes pop, but I thought I looked like a raccoon. I couldn’t stand the stuff, but every time my mother found an excuse for it she was sitting me in front of her vanity.
I dried my face off and looked at myself in the mirror. I didn’t even recognize myself anymore. My eyes were heavy, and my cheeks were sunken in. My stomach was protruding unnaturally, and my tits were growing at an exponential rate. I was getting stretch marks on the side of my body, and my thighs were growing steadily every day. My feet were beginning to spread and I had gone up an entire fucking size in shoes.
I was falling apart, and I didn’t want to be in the public eye any longer.
I stalked out of the restroom and took in a deep breath of air. It wasn’t fresh. In fact, it was stale with the lies my father was spewing on stage. But he had people eating out of his hand and every single time he spoke publicly, his poll numbers rose.
He would win this election, and I was hoping he would. Because if he did, that meant I could sneak away for good and try my hands at a life I built for myself.
I started for the car, but I felt something warm wrap around my arm. I whipped around and gasped, throwing my arm instinctively over my stomach. I didn’t know who the hell was grabbing me or why they felt like they could, but I was ready to scream out for help if it was necessary.
But I found myself looking up into Cade’s eyes, and I froze.
I stared at him for a long time. I took in his green eyes as they danced around my body. I yanked my arm from his grasp and tried to conceal my stomach, but I knew it was no use. He was taking me in, up close and personal. Like he had that night we spent together.
Only this time, I could’ve sworn I saw disgust rolling across his face.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
His voice startled me. It was exactly as I remembered. Rough. Gravelly. Filled with a huskiness that sent electricity surging up my legs. I felt my knees growing weak and tears of relief springing to my eyes. I had thought about this in my dreams for weeks. I had pictured him riding into town on his bike, banging down my parent’s door, and whisking me away. Taking me and a small bag of my clothes with him as we rode off into
the sunset. I thought about him appearing and saving me from the hellhole I’d found myself in. Professing some sort of undying want to raise our child together.
But reality would always set in and I would always wake up. I would remember that he was a biker, not a father. That he was an outlaw, not a career man. His life wasn’t set up to raise a child. To have a family. To take care of a wife and nurture a mounting relationship.
Yet here he was, asking me how I was doing.
“Um… I’m fine,” I said.
I took a step back, trying my best to cover my stomach. Cade met me step by step, approaching me as I backtracked from him. I could feel his eyes on me, scanning my body and taking me in. My eyes were burning a hole in his chest as I smoothed my hands down my shirt.
And then my hands rippled over my stomach, and my baby boy kicked.
Our baby boy kicked.
I gasped and stopped my movements as my hands splayed across my stomach. Just for a moment, I was ripped into another world. The life within my stomach was kicking out at me. I could feel my little boy’s feet tap dancing against my hands. I felt tears well in my eyes as I pictured what he might look like. He’d have my freckles but Cade’s strong eyes. He’d have my hair, but he would have Cade’s height.
He was going to be a beautiful boy, and I couldn’t wait to raise him.
“Is it mine?”
Cade’s voice ripped me back to reality, his hand slowly approached my stomach. I shrunk back away from him, watching as his hand gravitated towards my stomach.
He pulled it away quickly, but his eyes had me hooked.
“Are you pregnant with my child?” he asked.
I wasn’t prepared to answer this question. I wasn’t ready to do this now. My eyes darted around as police officers began to stare. Then one of them started to move. Cade’s eyes flickered over to the officer approaching him, and I saw a sort of desperation cross his stare, so I took the window I saw.
