Tank toed the dirt. “Yeah. I don’t know if she’ll want to see me. She kinda started seeing Sparky, and then up and left one day without saying good-bye.”
“Sure, I’ll go.” Naiya brightened at the thought of hitting the road and getting out of town. Holt hadn’t had much time for her over the last few weeks. He was either working in the shop, visiting other clubs, or meeting with his soon-to-be-appointed board. Although she had been leery at first about him getting involved again in the biker world, Holt had assured her nothing he did would touch her or her work. His new club would operate in the gray—not quite criminal but not legitimate either. She couldn’t take it away from him. Like Tank said, he had biker in the blood.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Shaggy stalked over to them, his Sinner cut swinging around his narrow hips. She hadn’t seen him when she drove up but she knew he would be around. After they had settled in Auburn, Shaggy came to see her. That first meeting had been gut-wrenchingly awful. She hadn’t dealt well with finding out Shaggy was her dad, especially after what she’d gone through with Viper and her mom, and she’d turned her back on him and asked him to leave. He had left her with his ring—the Skull Ring—and a promise to try and make up for all the missed years if she ever forgave him. It had taken six long months of soul searching and Holt’s full support before she made that first call. Even then the first few visits had been awkward as hell. But Shaggy—she couldn’t bring herself to call him dad—didn’t give up. They’d discovered shared interests in music, science fiction, and comic books and he’d slowly integrated himself into her life, limiting his visits to a few days every month.
At least until she told him that she was pregnant.
Now she couldn’t get rid of him. And with Doug and Ally coming to see her and Holt every other weekend, their small ranch house was never empty.
“My little girl’s five months pregnant,” he spit out. “Are you seriously thinkin’ of taking her down to Whitefish on your bike? Are you insane?” He scrubbed his clean-shaven jaw and scowled at a horrified Tank.
“No man.” Tank held up his hands, palms forward. “I was gonna take her in my truck. Wrap her in coats and bubble wrap in case—”
“Your truck?” Shaggy rounded on Tank, cutting him off. “Your bike is safer than that piece of shit. And she shouldn’t be goin’ to a concert. There’s gonna be drunks there and drugs, people smokin’ weed and shit, and the music’s gonna be loud and upset the baby. They can hear stuff and it should be good stuff. Not frickin’ Indie Rock.”
Tank bristled. “What’s wrong with Indie Rock?”
“Calm down.” Naiya put a hand on Shaggy’s arm. “It’s bad enough I have two overprotective men to deal with every day, but now that you’re in the mix it’s almost suffocating. I’ll be fine. Pregnant women go to concerts all the time. Maybe if the baby hears enough music, we’ll have another Robert Plant or Stevie Nicks on our hands.”
“Jesus Christ,” Shaggy muttered. “Not fucking likely if you’re going to see Fractured Skyway. You stay here tonight. I’ll play good stuff for the baby: Steppenwolf, Hendrix, Meatloaf, a little ACDC, Judas Priest…”
“Seriously?” Tank snorted. “You want him to have no musical taste?”
While Shaggy and Tank argued over what music would be best for her baby, Naiya headed over to the office and knocked on the door. Holt insisted that she come to him when she got home from work every day, no matter what he was doing. He stepped outside moments later and swept her into his arms.
“How’s my baby today?”
“Which one?” She leaned up to kiss his cheek, bristly with the now-usual four days’ growth.
“Both.” His hand slipped between them, and he stroked her rounded stomach.
“We’re both better now that we’re home.” She leaned her cheek against his chest and Holt hummed his pleasure. He had filled out so much since she’d first met him in Viper’s dungeon that she sometimes didn’t recognize his broad, muscular frame from a distance. He had a calm confidence now that commanded attention, and a way of getting people to do what he wanted without resorting to violence. Tank said he was a bit of the old Holt and a bit of the new.
“I could hear Tank and Shaggy arguing from inside.” He pulled her close, brushed his lips over her hair. “No way am I letting you go to Whitefish.”
Naiya stiffened and tried to pull away, but Holt held her tight. “Don’t try to boss me around. You’re not my president, Holt. If I want to go—“
His hand dipped down into her skirt, skimming over her mound, and his fingers brushed over her clit. “I had something else in mind for tonight.” His voice was low, raw with sensual promise. “I’ve been neglecting you, darlin’ and I want to make it right.”