Claiming the Biker (Royal Bastards MC: Charleston, WV 9)

“Girl, you still sick?” Constance, the head nurse takes one look at me and shakes her head.

“I thought it was food poisoning. Now I’m not so sure.”

“You need to take a test.” She gives me an mhmm face. The one that mother’s give their daughters. She’s like the mother hen of the ER.

“What test?” I want to play stupid, but I know she suspects what I’m already scared to admit to myself. My body is acting as though I’m pregnant.

I can’t be. I take my birth control pills all the time.

“You know exactly what test I’m speaking about. Go on. Here. Take this.” She hands me a test and a specimen cup.

“Do I have to?” I want to pout and stomp my foot like a toddler.

“When was your last cycle?”

I count back in my head. “Last month or no September when I had the flu.” Fuck. I was on antibiotics and so freaking sick that I didn’t even think about taking my pills then. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I don’t have time to be pregnant.

“Mhmm. Go.”

“Fine.” I take the test and the cup and go into the bathroom. I don’t need this right now. Nether does Viking. Wherever he is. All I know is he’s out of state and unable to make contact. I had a text message and that’s been it. No word on when he’ll be back or if he’s found his sister.

I’m trying to keep myself busy with work. Only all I can seem to focus on is worrying about him. I’ve been blowing Justice off. Using work as an excuse not to see him. I hover over the cup in my hand over the toilet and urinate as close to the fill line as possible.

I put the cup on one of the collection trays and dip the plastic stick in. Of course, a blood test would be more thorough, but this is faster. I flush the commode and wash my hands. Time creeps by and I can’t stand the waiting. I take my cell out of the pocket of my scrub top and shoot off a message to Wylla Mae.

Andi:I’m taking a pregnancy test.

Wylla:Holy crap. Dude. How do you feel about it?

I stare at her message for what seems like forever. Isn’t that the million-dollar question.

Wylla:What’s it say?

You okay?

Do I need to come to you?

Tell me where you are?

The nut doesn’t give me time to respond.

Andi:I’m afraid to look.

Wylla:I’m video calling. We’ll do it together.

Before I can tell her it’s not necessary, I get the notification signaling she wants me to join a video call.

“Can you hear me?”

“Yeah.”

“Mila, you can’t have your brother’s bottle. This child is wild today, I tell you.”

“I can’t imagine where she gets it from,” I tease.

“You ready?”

“No,” I answer honestly, but I pick up the test. “I can’t look. You read it.” I swap the camera around.

“Sorry,” tells me.

A wave of sadness I wasn’t expecting hits me square in the chest. I flip the camera.

“You better start saving up for diapers.”

“What?”

“You’re pregnant,” she squeals.

I check the test and she’s right. I’m pregnant with Viking’s child.

“I’ve gotta get back to work.”

“Be happy. It’s a good thing.”

“I’ll talk to you later. Give the babies my love.”

I end the call and shove the phone back in my pocket. I drop the test in a plastic baggie and shove it in my pocket too. Heat flashes across the back of my neck and I brace my palms on the sink as I take calming breaths.

I’m in shock.

I want to tell Viking, but I think I should wait until I see a doctor and know for sure. This isn’t exactly news I want to tell him over the phone or through a text. It’s a conversation to be had in person.

I’m not sure how he will react to the news. Sure, he says things like you’re mine, but this is different than hooking up all the time. This is bringing another life into a fucked-up world. A piece of him. A part of me.

My thoughts flash to Mila being kidnapped. Is this a life I want to bring a child into? Viking can’t guarantee we’ll be protected. His sister was taken from Hound’s home. His dog shot.

It’s a lot to take in. A lot to be concerned about.