Seductive (Diamondback MC Second Generation 2)

“Yeah, I can’t say I’m too thrilled about waiting until you get off work either.” The voice is deep, completely not that of a native Texan. No, this voice is refined in a way that you know he’s seen the highest education possible, and in a Northern way.

“Who are you?” I spin around, my keys in my hand, finagling them until they’re in between my fingers.

“Tsk, tsk, you won’t be asking any questions. Drop the purse and your keys.” It’s a promise and a threat wrapped up in one. I do what he says without question, but before I do, there’s a silent alarm on my keychain, a panic button, and I press it, practically smashing it down in fear. I was reluctant at first, not wanting the club to feel like they needed to have my back so much, almost burdening them, but Shovel put his foot down. All the women have them, and he didn’t care I wasn’t blood or claimed. I was Lavender’s best friend, and he’d do anything to protect me. Secretly, I thought it was him trying to make up with his daughter after toying with her and Ryder years ago. That isn’t it, though, not by the fatherly way he greets me, making sure I had a job when I was floundering. It’s just who Shovel is. So, I do what this man says, though if it were just me here, I’d probably go for his nuts, gouge out his eyes, slam his head against something, a total badass move. I can’t, though, not with the life growing inside of me. Even if Jackson doesn’t want the life we created, that doesn’t mean I don’t, because I do. I really, truly do.

“Alright.” I catalogue everything I can about this guy—the slicked back hair, dark in color, the scar running the length of his face, through his eyebrow all the way down to his neck. That’s also when I notice he’s missing an eye.

“Good, into the car you go.” He waves the gun I didn’t notice before in front of my face. I’m not an idiot. He’s trying to get my attention off him. Too bad I’ve memorized everything, and I know if I get away, I’ll be able to tell anyone I can just who this jackass is.

“I’m coming. You act like I’m going to run away or something.” A fact that I wish I could.

“You’re mouthy. No wonder the boss wants you.” I stop in my tracks having no idea what the fuck he’s talking about.

“This is strange, really strange.” The gun touches the back of my head. As much as I try to hold it together, keeping my emotions under wraps is so damn hard. Lashing out won’t help, being mouthy surely won’t, and he has a gun. It’s like that saying goes ‘Never bring a knife to a gunfight.’ Well, once this is all said and done, I’m definitely making Jackson take me to shoot at the club’s range they have set up on the property.

“Enough. Get in the car, or you won’t talk at all,” Scarface says, pressing the gun harder to the back of my head. That gets me moving. He somehow manages to keep the gun there while opening the back passenger door, and shoves me in.

“Say good night, Henley.” That befuddles me because he’s talking about Jackson’s sister, not me. For someone who said his boss wants me, I’m thinking he’s got the wrong person. That’s my last thought because the butt of the gun hits the back of my head. The lights dim, and my body feels sluggish, and the last thing I do is wrapping my arms around my stomach, praying that my baby is going to be okay.

CHAPTER 11

ROCKET

Bullet and I pull into the clubhouse and back our bikes into the forecourt. All the brothers’ bikes are there, which is normal when anyone comes back from a run, the first order of business being church. It was hard to tell which one of us was more excited to get home, each of us barely saying a word on the two stops we made for gas and to take a piss. Neither of us even used our phones or grabbed food.

“Church,” my dad greets us. I’ve barely turning the engine off. This is completely unlike him.

“Alright,” Bullet responds. I nod and finish shutting my bike down, sliding a leg off and around. Dad shakes his head.

“Bullet, give me a minute, yeah?” Dad asks.

“What’s wrong? Is it Henley?” Lately, my sister has had some shit go down, saying it’s health reasons but she’ll be alright.

“Nope, get your head on straight, though. Shit is goin’ down, and I need you to breathe through it. Don’t be losin’ it, okay?” Dad claps me on the shoulder. He’s got circles beneath his eyes makin’ him look older than his years.