He didn’t follow me.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
PAINTER
Pregnant.
Melanie was pregnant.
I sat on the bed, head down between my legs, wondering how the fuck this had happened. Okay, I knew exactly how it happened . . . I wasn’t a moron. I’d realized how stupid it was to screw her without a condom, but I’d always pulled out before coming and she was just so damned sexy.
I needed to go after her, to tell her that it was going to be okay and I’d take care of her and we’d live happily ever after—but I didn’t even know what happily ever after looked like. All I knew was that I’d be a shit dad and she was way too fucking young for this.
She deserved an easier life.
Standing slowly, I started downstairs, trying to figure out my next move. I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. Melanie was knocked up. With a kid. My kid.
A kid I’d made clear I didn’t want.
Why the fuck had I said that? I’d wanted to take back my words about ten seconds after they left my mouth but the damage was done. The look on her face had been worse than a punch to the gut.
There was something wrong with me. Deeply wrong. I needed to man up, pull my shit together, and figure it out.
Right.
I could do this.
Leaving the room, I headed for the stairs. Not sure what I expected to find when I reached the bar, maybe London coming at me with a knife or something. They’d planned a big party for me, and London was in charge of all the food—suppose she could just poison me.
Instead I met Banks halfway up the stairs, his face grim.
“Church. Now,” he said. “We’ve got a situation.”
His tone cut through the haze in my head. Church. Okay, I could deal with that. I’d fucked up with Mel, but I could fix it. I just needed a little time to make a plan.
Some time and some space.
Yeah. That’d work.
A little time and space, and then I’d go find her.
• • •
“Gage called,” Pic said, standing at the head of the table. There was a tension in the air, a sense of violence looming that infected all of us. Felt good, because a crisis meant I had an excuse not to think about Melanie being knocked up. Nothing like a good fight to clear your head—wisdom that’d served me well over the years.
At least until I got arrested.
“He’s headed down to Ellensburg this afternoon with the Nighthawks,” he said. “Marsh is apparently on a rampage—he’s convinced that Hands betrayed him to the feds. Someone gave Marsh a tip that Hands would be at some classic car rally tonight, and he’s determined to find him and take him out.”
I frowned.
“Where the hell is that coming from? Makes no sense at all.”
“Fuck if I know,” Pic said, his face tense. “But I guess Marsh has been using more and more. Gage says he’s paranoid as fuck. Just walked into the clubhouse and ordered everyone onto their bikes, Gage included. He managed to call when they made a stop, but only had about a minute to talk—said they’re asking about you, Painter. Marsh wants reinforcements, wanted to know if you could come.”
“The fuck?” I asked, confused. “I’ve only met him once. Why the hell would he want me?”
“Why the hell would he drag along Gage?” Pic asked in return. “Not like he’s got strong ties, either. Obviously the guy’s lost it. We’ve got a big problem, though, because if he makes too much trouble at the car show, the cops will get him and then our entire network’s in trouble. We’re looking at some dangerous shit here—Gage needs backup.”
“We can head over in a pack,” Horse said. “Like we’re going to see the show, just happen to run into him. He may be fucking us over, but he doesn’t know we’re onto him. Just a friendly visit between two clubs.”
“Probably the best idea,” Pic said.
“That covers the show,” I said. “But what about protecting Gage afterward? If Marsh has gone paranoid, what’s to say he won’t decide he’s a risk and put a bullet in the back of his head?”
Nobody at the table spoke.
“Let’s pull him out,” Ruger said. “Give him cover down at the show, then have him ride for home.”
“Marsh could send someone after him,” Duck pointed out. “We extract, we need to give him an escort. Either that or blow his cover, which risks a confrontation.”
“Marsh knows me,” I said, thinking fast. “He asked about me. I can go in, stick with Gage, and it won’t set off any alarms. Then whatever happens, Gage won’t be alone.”
They all fell silent.
“The Evans bitch is determined to send your ass back to prison,” Bam Bam said slowly. “It’s a big risk, Painter. It was one thing, sending you out when we had Torres in our pockets, but this . . . The rally will be crawling with cops, events like that always are. They only cut you loose today—maybe you should sit this one out.”
Mel’s face flashed in front of my eyes. I needed to go find her, figure the situation out . . . but what the hell was I going to say? I had too much energy trapped inside, too much frustration and fear and a sick feeling, all mixed up with the sinking certainty that I was going to fuck this parenting shit up in a bad way.
You’ll be a terrible father and you know it.
“We all know I’m the best one to go,” I said, pushing her out of my mind. I couldn’t think about all that right now—she’d be fine. We’d figure it out later. “He shouldn’t have to do this alone and I’m the only one who can get in there without blowing our plan to hell. We have to protect the pipeline.”