“I’m good to head on in, wish her a good day and all that shit?”
“Yeah, sure.” He needed to stay outside, clear his head.
He didn’t like how close of a call that had been, and with Reaper lurking and O’Klaren feeding him information, he had to be on his guard at all times.
There had also been a sighting of Milner. Dog had called it in, and Billy confirmed Milner’s whereabouts. In a matter of days, he’d have dealt with that little problem, but of course it would never come back to the club. It was a shame that Milner decided to end things this way. Running away and not telling him the truth, giving him little lies to follow. Preacher would have taken care of him. He’d considered them friends, but now he was making him have to clean up loose ends. Milner had nothing to hide in that area, especially as O’Klaren had only taken over from him as a younger officer, with an amazing track record. He’d used his family to also make the transition easier. Small town, away from the big city, the chance of a new life. It all sounded wonderful.
Looking through the window, Preacher stared at father and daughter.
Robin got to her feet, and Bear embraced her.
“Do you want me to collect some intel on what is going on with O’Klaren?” Grave asked. “I know a couple of women he likes to visit regularly.”
“Yes. I want to find everything we can on the real O’Klaren. The file we have on him is pointless.”
There was no way he was going to trust that O’Klaren was clean.
“What do you want us to do about Robin?” Rider asked.
“Nothing. I want you to do absolutely nothing when it comes to her.” He’d be the one taking care of her, no one else.
Chapter Twelve
Robin stepped back from her masterpiece and smiled. She couldn’t paint to save her life, but the blends of pink looked really pretty and she liked the way they popped. She’d spent the best part of the weekend preparing the new nursery. Preacher had already told her he’d ordered the necessary furniture.
Wiping some perspiration from her brow, she put the paintbrush down and went about mixing some more strong pink with a little more white.
“I thought I’d find you in here.”
“Hey, sweetie,” she said, walking over to Bishop. She went on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
She had decided after her birthday night at the Italian restaurant, when it came to Bishop, she wouldn’t be angry with him, or make him feel bad. Whenever she saw him, she intended to play nice, like they used to. Nothing had changed between them, and she’d been the one to have this happen to her.
“What do you think?”
“Are you moving in here or something?”
She detected the hint of perfume, not hers either.
Rather than ask him about it, she pulled away. “No, silly. Preacher picked this room for the nursery.”
Her bump was a lot more pronounced now, and there was no mistaking she was very much pregnant. She’d also noticed as her bump grew, so too did Bishop’s distance between them. He’d stopped trying to make out with her, and also, he liked to keep as far from her as possible. The most she got was a one-armed hug.
She didn’t question his repulsion for being near her. Clearly, he was having a hard time dealing with her pregnant state.
In the beginning, being alone with her secret, she had felt like it was almost unbearable to handle. The morning sickness had arrived, no period, and she’d been terrified. Now though, she felt her baby moving and it was the most amazing feeling in the world, and no matter what Bishop, her mother, or even Bear said, she was going to handle this head-on. She looked forward to being a mother.
“Right, the nursery.”
“Don’t you like it?”
“I don’t really give a fuck about it, to be honest.”
“Right, to care, you’d have to be involved.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. It really is.”
“This is not how I saw this. I mean, if that kid was mine, maybe things would be different. Maybe I’d be feeling differently.”
“But it’s not, and you don’t.” She put a hand on her stomach. “I know this is hard for you, but I was really hoping you’d see things a bit differently.”
“I’ve tried, okay? I know you’re happy about this, but I’m not. You’ve been able to work through your problems, but you’re eighteen. You shouldn’t have to be dealing with a baby.”
“A lot of women deal with a baby at my age, Bishop. This isn’t some … big deal. Not really.”
“You were drugged, knocked out. My dad, he came in and he…”
“I know. I was there, remember? This is not all news for me.”
“Why aren’t you upset about this? Why aren’t you freaking out or going to see some fucking shrink who can help you deal with the problems?”