Their Lasting Claim (Death Lords MC 5)

I rush to her side and kneel on the ground. “What’s wrong, baby?”

She chokes a little at the word baby and it all comes together for me. The sickness in the morning, Jilly telling me ‘congratulations’. Annie choking up when I called her baby. I press my lips together to keep in the yowl of surprise and elation that’s bursting inside. But I can’t stop the shit-eating grin from breaking out.

“Holy shit. How far along are you?” I reach between us and press my hand against her flat stomach. I can’t believe there’s a baby brewing in there.

“Eight or nine weeks. My period got screwed up when I was sick and then the antibiotics messed with my pill and I just didn’t even think about it when we, you know, started having sex again.” She whispers the last part as if someone else is standing close and could hear. Her cheeks are a bright red and I couldn’t wait to take her home and kiss every pink inch of her.

“Wait until Michigan hears about this.” I pull out my phone but she sticks out her hand to stall me.

“The nurse asked me if we want to do a paternity test. Earliest we can do it is thirteen weeks.”

“What?” I ask, phone halfway to my ear.

“I don’t know which one of you is the father,” she whispers, her voice full of clear distress.

“So what? The baby is ours. Doesn’t matter whose sperm dug inside your little egg. All that matters is we’re having a baby. Emphasis on we.”

“But…” she sputters. It’s clear to me she’s having a difficult time processing this but I couldn’t be happier. She’s going to get round and gorgeous and push out a baby of ours. Her body will be so gorgeous that we are going to be on her at all times. “What will the baby’s last name be? Who’s going on the birth certificate? Who’s going to labor classes with me? Who’s going to parent-teacher conferences?” The last question is a little shrill. She stands up, hands on her hips, and glares down at me. “This matters to me, Easy.”

I straighten and pull her against me. Stiff and uncooperative, she stands like a board in my arms. I try to soothe her, rubbing my hands over her back. “I hear you. We’ll work all of this out. I swear. We’re a team and we’ll make decisions as a team. I love you, baby,” I whisper into her hair and those words are enough to make her melt.

“I’m just worried,” she mumbles into my T-shirt.

“Worry about our kid inside you and let Michigan and me take care of the rest. Can you do that?”

She sighs, big enough that I feel the vibrations. “I can try.”

“That’s all I’m asking for.” I sit down in her now vacated chair and settle her on my lap, cuddling her close. She’s going to need a lot of loving over the upcoming months. I don’t want a second to go by without her knowing that she’s all that I’ll ever want.

As I’m holding her, I punch in Michigan’s contact on my phone.

He answers immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“Dude, are you sitting down?”

“Asshole, I’m driving.”

“You better pull over.”

“Seriously?”

“As serious as a heart attack.”

I press mute while Michigan pulls over. “Here’s what you should be worrying about.”

“What’s that?” An adorable furrow appears in the middle of her forehead. I press a kiss on the wrinkles.

“Michigan’s not going to want you to do anything, maybe not even walk. That’s what you’re going to have to worry about.”

The furrow gets deeper as she scrunches up her nose. “Do not like.”

I chuckle but Michigan interrupts with a sharp “What the fuck is going on” in my ear.

“Our baby is having a baby.”

“What?” he yells. I hold the phone away from my head so my eardrum doesn’t get blown out.

“Yeah, Annie is pregnant. That’s why she’s been puking up every day.”

“I thought it was supposed to be morning sickness.”

I raise my eyebrows in question toward Annie. She shrugs. “It can be in the morning, all day, all night or not at all.”

“You hear that?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He sounds stunned. “Thanks for telling me to pull over. Good call there.”

“Thought so.”

“Shit.”

Annie looks worried but I wink at her. This is Michigan. He can’t believe it when good things happen to him. The day he patched into the Death Lords, he walked around shaking his head and saying “goddamn” all day.

“Shit,” he says again and this time it’s all wonderment. “I can’t fucking believe it. Can you feel anything? Like is the kid moving? Do we know the sex?”

“No, she looks like she’s not even eating enough, let alone pregnant.” I have to hold up my arm to fend off an indignant slap by Annie.

“Holy shit. Fuck. I gotta get home. Why does the thought of Annie knocked up make me harder than hell?” He doesn’t wait for an answer but plows ahead. “Go home. Feed her. Put her to bed. Jesus. Should she even be walking? Make sure you carry her. Holy shit. What a fucking amazing day.”

He hangs up before either Annie or I can say another word.

“Is he upset?” Annie asks worriedly.

“Nope. Actually, yeah, probably. He wants to be home, making sure you aren’t on your feet and carrying anything heavier than a feather.”

“This is going to be bad, isn’t it?” She covers her face with her hands.

“Not for me.” I grin. The fireworks between the two of them are going to entertain me for months. “But let’s get some food in you. You’re eating for two now.”

Chapter Three

Annie

“How are you feeling?” Easy asks for the tenth time in the last ten minutes.

“Don’t you have to go to work?”

“No. Michigan and I usually do deliveries together but we’ve worked it out so one of us can be around.”

Meaning they think I need constant protecting. What I need is to start my job at Judge’s custom auto shop as soon as possible. The nurse practitioner had given me a huge box of vitamins and instructions on how to combat pregnancy nausea, including drinking Coca Cola and wearing motion sickness bands. After Easy thoroughly embarrassed me about asking how much sex I could have (no hanging from the ceilings, she’d said very seriously) and at what point we’d need to stop (apparently up until the day I gave birth), he hustled me to the drugstore where we proceeded to order a million more vitamins and then buy every pregnancy related item he could find. If he thought I was going to use the plastic spoon advertised to collect my pee, he had another think coming.

“I think I’ll walk over to Judge’s and see if I can’t get started.”

“What?” Easy explodes. “You can’t walk over there! It’s clear on the other side of town. Plus, there’s no need for you to work. You’ve got a baby cooking in there. I don’t think you should be around paint fumes and gasoline.”

I leave him ranting in the kitchen to get dressed although I wondered what an office person at an auto shop wore. Overalls? I don’t own any of those. I have my skin

ny jeans and tight T-shirts that the guys had bought me at the Harley store in Minneapolis and a small selection of ugly tan and denim skirts with church-appropriate blouses.

I opt for the jeans and tight T-shirts. Michigan and Easy rode Harleys and Judge’s business was all about motors and engines and tires. Harley wear had to be appropriate. The jeans fit fine and as I pat my flat stomach, I’m weirdly disappointed. If I do have a baby inside me, I feel like I should show—immediately. I want to run out and buy maternity jeans and tiny little clothes. I guess that’s how my excitement is manifesting itself, whereas Easy is going a little crazy trying to wrap me up in bubble wrap.

He likes to joke that Michigan is more protective but the truth is that they both can go overboard. I wish I had started working before we found out. That way the fight wouldn’t be as hard and while it’s going to be a fight, it’s one I’m going to win.

I can’t cave to them now or I’ll never have any independence. Straightening my back, I march out of the bedroom to find Easy on the phone with a pen in his hand.

When he spots me, he waves for me to stop and then says into the phone, “Thanks for all that, Mom.”

I pick up my purse from the entry table and slide it onto my shoulder. There are a pair of gray flats and a pair of black boots. Boots seem better suited to a garage. I turn around to retrieve a pair of socks. Easy follows me.

“Where’re you going?”

“To work.” In the dresser, I find a pair of thin white socks and pull them on.

“Should you be wearing jeans?” he questions. His feet are shoulder width apart and his arms are crossed in what I suppose should be a menacing and intimidating pose but I’m too annoyed to be cowed.

“Yes, and I swear, Easy, I will leave this house and go live in Pippa’s trailer out in the country if you and Michigan are constantly going to question what I eat, what I wear, and whether I can work.” I push by him and step outside.