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If I ever dated again.

“I didn’t sign up for babysitting,” Jag said. “I’m here because I heard a pretty girl needed some company.”

“Geez, do they teach you all how to charm girls out of their panties during your biker gang orientation or something?”

Both men turned to me, an affronted look on their face. “Biker gang? Orientation?” Lasso’s big meaty hands were on his hips as he attempted a glare.

“Or something, I said. Didn’t you hear that part?”

Jag laughed, did some fancy goodbye handshake with Lasso and pushed him out the door. “How are you feeling, Teddy?”

I shrugged and leaned my head against the arm of the sofa, and when I woke up again the sun was shining and yet another biker was looking at me with concern in his eyes.

“Another one,” I groaned. “Which one are you?” He looked familiar, mostly it was the beard, but the pain pills had me so groggy I couldn’t remember.

“I’m the best one. They call me Savior.”

“Right. Blue-eyed Jesus.” He barked out a laugh and put an ice-cold bottle of water in my hands. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Do you need to get up or anything? Hit the head, maybe?”

These guys, despite how tough and badass they all looked, they were all sweethearts. “I can manage it on my own, but thanks. You are strictly here to babysit me, I suppose.” I didn’t know why Tate, or maybe Jana had convinced Max to recruit his club members to watch out for me, but it was annoying.

And nice.

“Not babysit. A brother asked us to keep you and the baby safe so that’s what we’re doing.”

“Big bad biker boys don’t babysit?” I arched a brow at the stoic man and his lips quivered beneath his beard.

“Exactly.”

Savior was a quiet guy so aside from some nervous hovering when I made a couple trips to the bathroom, we mostly sat in silence. He flipped between sports and news on the TV while I did as much work as I could on my laptop with just one hand. It was an exercise in frustration.

And that was pretty much how the rest of the week went. Various Reckless Bastards showing up on my doorstep, most of them bearing food and some bearing booze I couldn’t drink because of the pills. Because of the baby. I tried to work but it never lasted for more than fifteen or twenty minutes. Having a sprained wrist and a broken arm didn’t just hurt like a son of a bitch, it was damned inconvenient.

After the third day, I’d moved to my bedroom. To my fluffy, pillow-topped mattress and my blessed pillows, the feather ones and the memory foam. Soft, cool cotton sheets. Candles. It was my favorite room in the house and it was now my refuge. I stayed in bed all day and night, mostly listening to music because there was nothing else to do. I couldn’t work or cook or clean, and I couldn’t walk.

The phone rang nonstop and even though I had no desire to talk to anyone, I answered Jana once a day just to keep her from going crazy. The detectives never called so I assumed it meant that Sheena was still out there, waiting to make her next move. Tate didn’t call and honestly, it sucked but it didn’t bother me as much as it should have. Nothing bothered me, really. I ate because I knew the little guy or girl in my belly needed it, not because I was hungry.

And on the day of my doctor’s appointment, morning sickness kicked in like a professional soccer player. I slowly got dressed, lying down and breathing deeply in between bouts of nausea until I could stand again. I slipped on my shoes, still breathing deep, as I made my way to the front of the house to wait for Jana.

Instead, I got Tate.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but Jana’s morning sickness is out of control. She asked me to take you.” I hated that he looked so pained by my mask of indifference, but I did not want to care about his pain.

“I’m not disappointed, just surprised that no one thought to call me about last minute changes. No big deal.”

“That’s what your mouth says, but your face says different.”

“My face says that I’ve been puking my guts up all morning, Tate. Nothing more.” And now that we were on our way to the one place there was guaranteed to be no food, I was hungry. This pregnancy was determined to kick my ass.

He turned to me at a red light, grey eyes all dark with worry. “Is everything all right? You’ll talk to the doctor about it?”

I sighed. “It’s morning sickness, Tate. Same as Jana. Allegedly.” I knew she thought she was being helpful, but she really wasn’t. “I’m fine, just cranky.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He turned his attention back to the road and I closed my eyes, trying to let the wave of nausea pass before I hurled all over Tate and his car.