Their Private Need (Death Lords MC 3)

Easy picked me up, took one look at my pinched face, and suggested that we skip dinner with my mother. I wished I could just turn away and tell her that she had her chance to mother me, but the little girl she walked away from is thrilled she’s back. Which is why I’m sitting across the table from her and the more I look at her, the more I see the resemblance. It’s in the shape of our face, the small slope of our noses. Her chin is softer than mine and her eyes are bigger, wider, and far more blue. She’s a shinier, more refined version of anything that I could be. She didn't look anything like a woman who had lived in a commune.

“So what have you been up to these past years?” Easy asks. He and Mom are the only two talking. I’m tongue tied and Michigan doesn’t want to speak. I’m glad Easy spoke up with the question because it’s one I wanted to ask but I wasn't sure I could get it out without sounding accusatory. Which I'm sure is not the correct way to go about reconnecting.

“Oh, all over. I've been in a commune south of St. Paul but I had a falling out with one of the commune leaders, Keith. He wanted more than I could give to him. But I met this wonderful organic farmer who had come to a seminar at the University of Minnesota about healthy planting and crop rotation and he suggested that I visit him. I helped Paul for a few years on his organic farm but after a few years of that I realized that my love for healthy living really didn't extend to mucking out stalls and spreading manure. I moved down to Portland and joined a small group of artists. Very fascinating people, Annie. I’m sure you would find them interesting.”

How would she know? She doesn’t know anything about me. Plus, I eat meat.

“I’ll have the prime rib,” I say mulishly.

“Same.” Michigan hands his menu and mine to the waitress.

“Me too,” Easy replies.

We all look at my mother. “Do you cook your vegetables in butter, because I’m a vegan and I don’t eat butter.”

“Is olive oil okay?”

I wonder if the Hilltop cook has heard of vegans before.

“Olive oil is fine. I’ll take the steamed vegetable platter and a side of pasta cooked in olive oil but only if the pasta doesn’t have eggs in it. If it has eggs in the pasta then I’ll just have the vegetables.”

The waiter looks dazed as he leaves to enter our order. Mom pats her non-existent stomach. “I started on the vegan diet about a year ago and it’s done wonders for my figure as well as my skin. You should think about it, Annie.”

I look down at my stomach which will soon be round and full.

Easy claps his hands together. “Annie’s figure is just fine.”

Michigan grunts his agreement and places two rolls on my plate.

Mom purses her lips but doesn’t say anything. Maybe I didn’t miss out on much if my whole life would have been her telling me I’m eating too much food. Still, the girl inside me yearns for her approval so I don’t eat either roll even when the yeasty smell wafts up after Michigan breaks one of his open and slathers butter all over it.

“Where are you working these days?” Mom asks after tearing her eyes away from Michigan devouring his bread.

“I’m the new office manager over at Wheels Up, an auto repair shop.”

“I was over at the church today and that old Mrs. Hardesty was there serving as the church secretary. She said you’d done a wonderful job there. It’s a shame you had to leave it. Mrs. Hardesty mentioned that the church is really shook up and the interim pastors they’ve had in haven’t really caught on with the congregation. Some of them are even saying that your father should be allowed to come back. What do you think about that?”

The mention of Father makes me want to crawl into myself and it’s only when Michigan places a hand around my knee can I take a breath. “I think he should not be in Fortune anymore,” I say.

“Time to move on to another topic,” Michigan orders. I give him a limp smile of relief which he acknowledges with a short nod. Under the table, his hand moves up my thigh until his thumb is nestled in the crease. My breath catches. I suppose that’s one way to distract me.

Across the table, Easy winks.

“Of course,” Mom says smoothly. She makes no indication she’s seen Michigan and I playing under the table. “I was at your house this afternoon with Michigan. I didn’t see much construction.”

Easy just shrugs. He doesn’t care that he was caught in a lie.

“We were doing a lot of renovations before. Additions and stuff,” I quickly interject.

“Oh I'm sure there was.” She places a hand under her face and tilts her head coquettishly toward Easy. “Your guest room appears perfectly safe for occupancy.”

I know what she's saying. I suppose everybody else at the table knows that she's saying. She needs a place to stay and she wants to stay our place.

The two men exchange glances but before they can say no, she charges ahead, laying out the perfect excuse. “I’m afraid of Annie’s father and the motel doesn’t provide much protection.”

I hadn’t thought that she would be in danger but then I hadn’t believed I would be in danger. She can’t be left alone. I lean over the table. “She's right. Who knows what he could do?”

Michigan grimaces and then reluctantly agrees. “How long is it you plan to stay with us?”

“Oh, not long. I thought I'd reconnect with Annie.” She smiles at me and I muster up one in response. “I’ve got some things to take care of in Minneapolis, but I wanted to be here to support you when you have to testify.”

“The trial’s not for another six months,” Easy objects.

“Well, if I have to stay that long, then so be it.”

Easy tries to hide his dismay and Michigan ducks his head so I can’t see his expression but I know neither of them want her around for six months. But I’m warming to it. After all, I’m pregnant and having my mother around to help me might be easier.

When we get home Easy helps my mother carry in two large suitcases from the trunk of her car. He places them in the guest room, shows her where the bathroom is, and then tugs me into the bedroom where Michigan is getting ready for bed.

I don't think I've ever been so grateful that the addition gave us a little sanctuary. I don’t want her sharing a bathroom with Easy and Michigan. They are so delicious coming out of the shower, with their hair slicked down and droplets of water clinging to their hard muscles. That’s something only I should see.

“I’m sorry. I know you didn't want her here, but I couldn’t leave her out there as a target for my father.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Easy says rubbing his hand along my back.

Michigan stands at the French doors that lead out onto the patio with his hands shoved into his pockets. His wide shoulders face me as I sit on the edge of the bed.

“We’re just worried about you. You and the baby.”

“How do you feel about the baby? You haven’t said anything all night.”

He pushes away from the doors and comes to drop between my knees. He places a large hand on each of my legs and pushes them apart to make room for himself.

“I can’t believe it,” he admits. He lowers his head and kisses the interior of my jeans clad leg. “I never thought this could be my life. You, Easy, and now our kid? It’s too much for me.”

My heart breaks a little at the wonder and reverence in his voice. Easy joins me on the bed and tugs on the bottom of my shirt. I hold it down. “I don't think I can tonight.”

“What are you talking about?” He frowns and tugs again. I bat at his hands but he’s unmovable.

“Mom’s next door.”

It's one thing to have loud, headbanging sex with two men when it's in the privacy of your own home. With my mother next door, though, I’m afraid even a bathroom is not enough distance.

“Then you’re going to have to be real quiet,” Easy says and whips my shirt off. He lifts me up and Michigan attacks my jeans and it seems like barely a second has passed and I’m left wearing only my panties

and bra.

I struggle in his grasp and it surprises him into releasing me. “I just can’t.”

I run to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. The click of the lock sounds loud. I know that they hear it. I cringe thinking that they are going to be offended. Especially Michigan. But I just need a moment.

I sit on the toilet, grateful that the seat is down. I place my elbows on my knees and drop my head into my hands and just concentrate on breathing. I know crying isn’t going to solve a single thing but I'm just so frustrated, so torn up inside.

The emotions of the day are overwhelming me. I don't know what to do without my father. The thought of testifying against him is so terrible I just never want that to come. I want him to plead out. I actually just want him to go away forever. And part of me wants my mom to disappear too. She abandoned me for years. She kept in contact with my father but not with me even knowing how much how desperate I was for contact. And now she shows up.

It's all too much.

I place a hand over my belly. Inside there is a little person that I made with Michigan and Easy. I don't even know how to be a mother. I don't think I can look at my father as a good example because he never truly loved me. No one who could hurt me like that truly loved me.

The only people who love me are the two men outside in the bedroom and I don't want to lose them. I don't want to feel sorry for myself anymore. I straighten and then splash a little cold water on my face. Drying my face off, I go back into the bedroom.

Michigan has returned to his station by the doors and Easy’s lying on the bed, flipping through the channels. He turns off the TV the minute the door opens.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“There's nothing to apologize for.” He pats the bed and I crawl over to burrow into his embrace. On my other side I feel the bed dip as Michigan joins us. “This was a really big day.”

“Why don’t you get some rest,” Michigan says, drawing his hand down my back.