Page 17 of Always My Fate
He paced a few additional steps down the hall, bare feet silent. “I’m of the mind that you need some extra assistance. Extra eyes, extra firepower. I’ll have Oaky connect with you in the morning. Y’all can work out the details of what else you want. I want Belle to have enough brothers on the ground there to tighten the perimeter and give you some breathing room. Oaky can coordinate logistics from fuckin’ anywhere. You keep doin’ what you’re doin’—but mind my words—we don’t need no lone hero bullshit. Also, no talking in their future if they show again. You got a target, you light ’em up and call me immediately. We don’t offer a third warning.”
“Appreciate it, Prez,” Horse replied, relief clear in his tone. “I won’t let this touch Glenna or the chapter.”
“Damn right you won’t. You’re buildin’ somethin’ strong there, brother. This is just noise. We’ll bury it. Stay ready and make sure I’m posted on anything else that smells off.”
Blackie ended the call and stood there a moment, staring at the closed bedroom door. Another warning sign. The MDMC ghosts were getting bolder, inching closer again. Part of him wanted to ride out right now and handle it personally.
But then he thought of Peaches in their bed, round with his son Daniel, and the five kids sleeping down the hall—Randi, Tater, Possum, Punkin, and Lil Bit. He couldn’t keep running off every time trouble knocked.
He’d send the support. He’d run it all from here. And if the situation escalated, then he’d ride.
For now, his place was home.
Blackie slipped back into the bedroom, sliding under the covers and pulling Peaches close. She nestled against him without a word, her hand finding his over her belly.
“Everything okay?” she whispered.
“Handled,” he murmured against her curls, voice rough with determination. “Just another reminder that I got shit to protect. And I will.”
Little Daniel gave a strong kick under their joined hands, and the feel of it settled the restless fire in his chest.
For tonight, that was enough.
Chapter Nine
Blackie sat in the too-small waiting room chair, elbows on his knees, the toe of one boot tapping restlessly against the linoleum. The place smelled like antiseptic and stale coffee, and every minute that ticked by on the ugly wall clock made his jaw clench tighter. He hated this shit—loathed feeling useless while Peaches was in the back getting poked and prodded. The other old ladies had offered to come, but he’d shut that down quick. This was his place. Right here.
“Mr. Langdon?” A nurse finally appeared in the doorway. “You can come back now.”
He was on his feet before she finished speaking, boots eating up the hallway. When he stepped into the exam room, Peaches was already on the table, hair tied back, green eyes trying to appear calm but failing. The doctor—a no-nonsense woman in her fifties—stood by the monitor with a serious expression that made Blackie’s stomach drop.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded, moving straight to Charlotte’s side and taking her hand. His grip was probably too strong, but she squeezed back just as hard.
“Blood pressure’s elevated again,” the doctor said carefully, gesturing to the screen. “And the latest labs show some concerning markers. We’re seeing early signs of preeclampsia. Not full-blown yet, but with your history and the high-risk factors, we need to be aggressive. Strict bed rest has become mandatory—no exceptions. We may be looking at delivering earlier than planned if this progresses. That would be highly risky at this point, given the pregnancy is at twenty-seven weeks. At the least, there are a few tests I’d like to run today. They’ll give us a starting place for our data.” The doctor nodded and left, closing the door behind them.
The words hit like a punch to the gut. “Preeclampsia? What the fuck does that mean for you? For our son?”
Peaches’ free hand went to her belly, rubbing slow circles as if to reassure the baby—or herself. Her voice was steady, but he could hear the tremor underneath. “Blackie...”
He dropped into the chair beside the table, still clutching her hand. The raw fear hit him hard—images of losing her, of Daniel coming too soon, of sitting at another hospital bed like he had with so many brothers who didn’t make it.
“Goddamn it,” he rasped, voice cracking. “I knew this was too much. You’ve been pushin’ yourself with the care packages and the kids and holdin’ down the whole damn world while I’m out chasin’ MDMC ghosts. This is on me.”
“Kirk, stop.” Peaches turned her head, green eyes fierce even through the worry. “This isn’t on you. We’re in this together.”
Blackie leaned in, pressing his forehead to her temple. “I can’t lose you, Lottie. You or this boy. You’re my fuckin’ everything—my love, my queen, the only thing that’s kept me sane all these years. And Daniel? He ain’t even here yet, and I’m already terrified I’ll fuck it up by not keepin’ you safe.”
Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes—rare as hell for him—but he didn’t bother hiding them from her. The nurse stepped out quietly to give them a moment, and Blackie let the fear pour out in a low, profane whisper.
“Shitfire, baby. I’ll chain you to the damn bed myself if I have to. No more runnin’ around for sweetbottoms or club shit. The other old ladies can handle it. I’ll bring in extra hands with the kids—Randi’s been pitching in enough already, so we’ll get her some help—and I’ll be home every night unless the world’s burnin’ down. You and Daniel are gettin’ through this. I swear it on every drop of blood I’ve spilled for this club.”
Peaches nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek as she pulled him closer. “We’re tough, Blackie. All of us. Langdons don’t break easy.”
Blackie swallowed hard, kissing her deeply, raw emotion thickening his voice. “Damn right we don’t. I love you more than my next breath, woman. We’re bringin’ our boy home healthy. Together.”
Outside the room, club threats and the weight of the presidency waited. But in here, with his hand on her belly feeling Daniel kick, Blackie made a silent vow.
Nothing—not MDMC, not his own fears, not even his own stubborn ass—was going to take this from them.
