Page 9

CHAPTER NINE

ANNA

I hadn’t slept a wink. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was my husband lying in a puddle of blood, staring vacantly at nothing.

After Breaker ushered me out of my house, he ensconced me in a black SUV, wrapped me in a warm blanket, and made sure I drank some water. Within minutes, Hendrix and his men joined us, and we sped off to an airfield, boarded a private plane, and flew to a different private airfield just outside Potomac.

Hendrix sat alone for the entire flight, looking out the window at the inky black sky, brooding his ass off. He didn’t explain anything or talk to me about what was about to happen. He didn’t even look at me.

I rolled my eyes and left him to it. He always was a self-centered bastard. In twenty-four hours, I’d been beaten by my husband, jeered at by his family, and locked in my room before hearing my husband’s murder and seeing him dead on the floor with blood oozing out of his neck and arm.

Jameson ‘Hendrix’ Quinn needed to get with the program and understand that sometimes, it wasn’t all about him. He may have been accustomed to dead bodies, murder, and shoot-outs, but I was still processing the shit I heard and saw. Plus, it didn’t help that my hormones were out of whack.

I’d always known what the Speed Demons were. I’d witnessed the trouble in town between them, the old mayor, and the rival biker club that caused issues for years, but I wasn’t deep enough in the club to bear witness to their war.

This was all new to me, so the longer he ignored me, the more pissed I got. Would it have been so hard for Hendrix to ask me how I was doing? Especially after everything we used to mean to each other. I knew my pregnancy came as a shock to him, but it really wasn’t his business because that was the way he’d made it.

It was the early hours of the morning by the time we got to his clubhouse. I was exhausted and half-asleep, so I didn’t even protest when he flung the SUV door open, pulled me into his arms, and carried me bridal-style into the hotel.

Within minutes, I was stripped down to my underwear and tucked up in a warm, cozy bed. It took me seconds to fall into a deep, dream-filled sleep until ten minutes ago, when I’d awoken with a start.

After blinking at the bright light of day, I slipped out of bed to try the door (locked) and hunted for my cell (gone). Then, after brushing my teeth in the adjoining bathroom with the new toothbrush that had been left out for me, I’d looked in the closet to see Hendrix’s clothes hanging there neatly. I pulled a tee out and slipped it on, and since then, I’d lain on top of the bed, wondering how my life had come to this.

Six months ago, I was (mostly) happily married. Antoni and I had our bad days, but what marriage didn’t? I loved my husband, not in the way I loved Hendrix, but Toni had a piece of my heart.

I met Antoni not long after Hendrix left for Virginia. I visited Philly to complete a specialist class on highlighting techniques and went out for a drink with a few of the other stylists.

Toni sent champagne over, and within an hour, we were chatting like I’d known him all my life. There was an instant easiness between us, something that appealed at the time because my relationship and subsequent breakup with Hendrix had been as far from comforting as a girl could get. Antoni was easygoing and made me smile, the opposite of Hendrix, who, in the last months of our relationship, only ever made me cry. He’d wrecked me in a way where I knew I’d never fully recover all my pieces because that love, for me at least, was soul-deep.

Although with Toni, it wasn’t an all-consuming, life-shattering kind of love, he still made me happy. My marriage was something more realistic based on mutual respect and comfort until about a year ago, when I overheard Antoni on the phone sounding suspiciously like he was intimidating a local businessman we knew into helping him clean up some money.

That one event opened the floodgates, and I found myself looking deeper.

Whereas before, I’d wander into Toni’s study and not take much notice of his conversations, suddenly, I’d listen more intently, trying to ascertain if there was a threat behind it.

I began to ask Antoni more about his firm and who worked for him. I inquired about his clients and what exactly he did with their money that made him so successful that he could afford a house in an exclusive part of the city along with all our nice cars and expensive clothes. He proceeded to bamboozle me with financial lingo and changed the subject, and I began to grow more uncomfortable that my opulent lifestyle was being funded by something dark.

Coming to terms with the breakdown of my marriage was tough for me. My first marriage lasted six years. My ex-husband’s family and mine were friends and business associates back in Charleston, where I grew up. He cheated on me with his secretary (cliché, I know), and rather than stay in the marriage just to keep up appearances like my husband and our families expected, I rebelled and left.

That was when I landed in Wyoming.

That was when I met Hendrix.

And that was when, for the first time in my sheltered, privileged life, I fell head over heels in love.

It was crazy because Hendrix was nothing like anybody I’d ever known before. He was long-haired, muscular, tattooed, devil-may-care, and the most exciting man I’d ever met.

We started as a one-night stand that turned into two nights, then three, and before I knew it, I was hooked.

It didn’t take much for him to reel me in. Hendrix was a beautiful man who had an air of confidence that put stars in my eyes. I think I fell in love with him on our first night when I stumbled across a honkytonk back road bar just outside our hometown. He was there alone, playing guitar and singing, and we ended up talking for hours. That night, I opened up about myself for the first time ever. He made me feel like I could tell him anything and he’d never judge.

He made me feel safe.

Maybe the initial attraction was all about the challenge he presented or the blue eyes that could see deep inside my soul. Maybe it was the way we’d be having a lighthearted conversation, and then he’d say something so wise and profound that it would stop me in my tracks. Or maybe it was the way he’d fuck me senseless, then afterward, saunter naked to the bathroom with his muscles rippling and ink on show, securing his long, naturally sun-highlighted hair on top of his head as he went.

They were the best of times, fun and carefree, and I walked on air, if only for a while.

Hendrix made me want things I’d never desired before, and he made me dream of a life that was unattainable because it turned out that my dreams and his never really aligned.

The best of times turned into the worst of times. He played me, and it sliced me to my core. Hendrix left me without even telling me he was going, like I was insignificant to his life, and it battered my confidence.

Until I met Antoni.

A loud knock on the door made me startle. My mouth went dry, and my head turned slowly toward it as I heard the key twisting in the lock. A taut heaviness flooded my muscles as my fight-or-flight instinct kicked in, and I readied myself to spring from the bed and claw at the asshole who’d enclosed me in this room like I was some kind of fucking criminal on house arrest.

The door flew open, and a familiar voice called, “Anna, it’s me.”

My eyes widened, and my head reared back as I watched a beautiful brunette strut into my room.

“Freya,” I breathed, then suddenly I was up and across the room, wrapping my arms around my old friend. For the first time in weeks, I felt my shoulders relax, and I realized just how long I’d been walking on eggshells. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”

Freya pulled back and grinned at me. “I lost my shit when I found out Drix had locked you in here. For someone so smart, he’s really clueless about what’s appropriate, especially around pregnant women. He thinks he’s giving you time to adjust and letting you rest without people bothering you at all hours. Believe me, there’s curiosity about you down in that bar, and it’s killing a lot of cats, especially ones with big, fake tits.”

My heart sank. “Club girls.”

“Yeah,” she replied, leading me to the bed and gently sitting me down on the mattress beside her. “Do you want to know what’s been going on?”

“You mean with Hendrix?” I asked.

She nodded.

A curl of something heavy gripped my stomach, and I shook my head. “Who Hendrix fucks isn’t my business, Frey. We weren’t as exclusive as I thought when we were together, so it’s not like he ever really abstained from playing the field. This bullshit with him isn’t new to me.” Placing a hand on my belly, I smiled down fondly at it. “And it’s not like I’ve been celibate exactly.”

Her eyes fell on my stomach and sparkled with moisture. “I’m so happy for you. Congratulations, babe. I know how much you wanted this, but all the mess that’s come with it can’t have been easy.” She dipped her chin, her golden eyes holding mine. “Can I check out your injuries?”

I nodded and slowly turned my back on her, slipping the tee over my head.

Cool, soft fingertips gently inspected my bruises, then traveled down my spine, checking everything was intact. “When did this happen?”

“Day before yesterday,” I replied.

“They’re healing fine, and I can’t detect any lasting damage. Did your husband touch you anywhere near the baby?”

“No,” I confirmed. “Toni wanted the baby as much as I did.”

Freya stayed silent while she continued to examine me before giving my arm a squeeze. “All done. You can put your top back on.”

I grabbed the tee from beside me on the bed and pulled it on. “Does everything look okay?”

She smiled. “Yeah. I’m gonna take you down for a scan, but I can’t detect any issues. Hendrix says the baby’s been kicking since it happened, and I assume you’ve had no blood loss?”

I shook my head. “None.”

“Then I think a scan will be a formality,” she murmured. “Though worth it if it puts our minds at rest. Any pregnancy can be precarious in the early stages, but as you get further along, the baby becomes tougher. They’re protected in their mama’s belly, and if your little angel’s anything like his mom, he’ll fight.”

“That’s a nice thing to say,” I whispered. “But I don’t feel like a fighter. I feel stupid.”

Freya’s eyebrows pulled together. “Why?”

My chest tightened. “I keep choosing the wrong men. My first husband was a cheat, then Hendrix was a commitment-phobe player fuck boy, and Antoni was a gangster drug dealer who got violent with me. I’m starting to think I can’t trust myself to make good choices even though, at the time, my intentions are good.”

“You can’t control how others behave,” Freya pointed out. “We all go into relationships hoping for the best, but often it doesn’t work out, and there’s nothing we can do. Sometimes, two people simply aren’t compatible, or perhaps one of you isn’t ready for what the other wants. Nobody gets married with the intention of getting divorced, but still, look how many people do. You shouldn’t have to endure infidelity, abuse, and toxic treatment. The only bad choice you could ever make is to put up with that crap or inadvertently subject your child to it. Leaving an abusive relationship doesn’t make you weak; it makes you strong. As for picking the wrong ones, well, we’ve all been guilty of that at some point, but I also suspect that you picked ones who acted like they could be trusted before showing you they couldn’t. That’s not on you, Anna; it’s on them.”

“I know,” I acquiesced. “But when everything I touch turns to dust, I can’t help wondering if I’m the problem.”

“Take a break from men,” Freya advised. “Relax and stop stressing. You’ve had a hard time of it and there’s a lot for you to come to terms with, especially after last night.”

My body stiffened, and I glanced down at my hands. “What do you know about last night?”

“Most of it, I think,” she admitted. “Colt got back from Philly about a half hour ago and filled me in. He and his partner told PPD he got you out a few days ago, so you weren’t there when the hit went down. As far as they’re concerned, you left and were working with the FBI to give evidence against him, and thank God you did, or you would’ve gotten caught up in the hit. He’s arranging a video call for later. He just needs you to corroborate, and you’ll be clear of it all.”

My belly swooped, and I bit out, “It was awful, Freya. The blood was...”

She inclined her head. “I’ve seen plenty of severed limbs and GSWs, honey. Believe me, I know how shocking it is, but Colt said there was no other way. If they left Antoni alive, they’re convinced he would’ve gone after you, and you would’ve been in a lot of danger. Plus, he knew who Hendrix was, and he saw the faces of two of his men. What this club does is top secret. They couldn’t risk leaving a trail.” Her thumb stroked over mine. “Do you need to speak to somebody? Maybe talking about it will help you to get over it.”

“Maybe, but I think I’d rather try to deal with it first. I’ll be okay as long as I can speak to you and Tristan about it when things get heavy. At the moment, it’s still fresh in my mind, and as much as I understand why it needed to happen, a part of me is still grieving his loss. It wasn’t all bad, Freya. Toni was wonderful at first. When I met him, I was messed up, and he lifted me from that.” Tears filled my eyes.

Freya’s fingers curled around my shoulder, and she pulled me in for a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

I gave her a squeeze and whispered, “Thanks.”

Freya pulled back to look me in the eye. “Let it out. It’s healthy and part of the healing process.” She shot me an excited smile. “I know what will turn your frown upside down. You wanna go see baby?”

I swiped at my eyes. “Yeah, but I’ve got no clothes to wear.”

She nodded toward a pile of packages she’d left by the door. “I hit the stores earlier. Toiletries, underwear, nighties, casual clothes, yoga pants and sweat tops, jeans—maternity, of course—shoes, tops, makeup, and hair products. Enough to last you until you can go to the store or at least shop online.”

I almost moaned in delight. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“No, babe,” she corrected dryly. “I’m a woman. I get it.”

I nudged her playfully. “Will you wait while I shower quickly?”

She toed off her shoes and laid back on my bed, pulling out her phone. “Gives me a chance to catch up on my socials.” She waved toward the bathroom. “Go on. Get.”

I stood and moved toward the door, pausing to crane my neck toward her. “Thanks, Freya.”

Her eyes met mine, and she smiled huge. “That’s what friends are for. Now, hurry, we’ve got a baby to see.”

My heart leaped because she was right.

We did have a baby to see, and it was my boy I had to focus on now.

———

The Lincoln was a beautiful hotel. I was too exhausted the night before to see it properly, so when Freya guided me into the hallway and I got my first glance at the place, my jaw dropped.

Immediately, I was struck by its grand opulence. The walls were a mixture of earthy green hues, rich reds, and cream. Some were even covered in the most beautiful velvet-textured paper, probably worth a fortune. The carpet was so plush my feet sank into it, and the sweeping curtains seemed to be a mixture of cream silks and heavily patterned damask.

I’d been to England a few years before and visited several castles and grand houses, and the interior reminded me so much of them that I wondered if I’d been transported to another time. Every piece of furniture, every vase, every painting took me back to the turn of the last century, and I knew I’d need a whole day to walk around and to fully take it all in.

Freya led me into an old-fashioned caged elevator, pulled the doors closed behind us, and pressed the button for the ground floor. With a soft clunk, it began to descend, and I almost clapped my hands in delight at its old-world charm. The strains of music wafted up to greet us, and the lower the elevator descended, the louder it got.

It was no wonder Hendrix left. Who’d ever want to pass this place up? The Lincoln was a one-of-a-kind gem and in a sought-after area, too. Wyoming had its own charms, and I loved it there, but this place was something else.

In no time, the elevator hit the ground floor. Freya pulled the intricate cage doors open and held her elbow out for me. “Come on. You may as well get thrown into the deep end. Brace, babe.”

I linked my arm with Freya’s, and she guided me past a glossy, mahogany reception desk. I smiled at the old-fashioned tall rotary phone on it and the porter bell that I could almost envisage being tapped to ring for service.

Reaching out, I touched the banister of the dark, wooden sweeping staircase leading to the upper floors. It must have been ten feet wide, and the center of the stairs was covered by an olive-patterned carpet, giving it an expensive feel.

We approached open double doors leading to a room where I could hear music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses.

“You ready?” Freya murmured.

“Do I look okay?” I asked, worrying my lip with my teeth.

“You look gorgeous as usual,” she assured me, her gaze sweeping down my black tank top and tight jeans.

I felt better after a hot shower. Freya had brought me a hairdryer along with the clothes, so I blew out my long hair until it was out to there and even applied some makeup. My baby bump looked neat and tidy in my maternity jeans, and my boobs had grown a cup size and looked pretty magnificent if I said so myself.

We headed through the open double doors where the opening bars of “Houdini” by Eminem thumped through the room, and my eyes scanned from left to right, taking everything in.

If Freya hadn’t been pulling me through the vast space, I probably would’ve stopped in my tracks.

The first thing I noticed was two girls in various states of undress making out with each other on a pool table in a corner. A group of guys stood around them, watching everything and talking among themselves.

“Ignore them,” Freya told me breezily. “Rory and Tia like putting on a show.”

“Jesus,” I muttered, quickly averting my eyes, suddenly feeling like a voyeur. That was when I saw Iceman standing at the bar with a blonde under his arm, talking to Hendrix, who had a redhead under his.

My sharp intake of breath was audible. I felt a sinking sensation grip my insides, and a sick feeling settled in my belly.

She was pretty in an overtly sexy way. Big hair, red lips, wide smile. Cut-off shorts, a halter top, and cowboy boots. She looked like a bartender from Coyote Ugly , and it registered that apart from the red hair, he’d gone for somebody who looked the complete opposite of me.

“Shit,” Freya murmured.

“It’s okay,” I said huskily. “It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Colt told me Drix was going to cut her off,” she said as if to herself.

I didn’t want to ask. God knew I didn’t want anybody to think I cared, but I couldn’t help myself. “Is she his girlfriend?”

Freya let out a soft laugh. “No. Daisy’s a club whore.”

“Right,” I muttered, shifting my gaze to anywhere but Hendrix. They seemed close, and going by the way his arm was slung so familiarly across her shoulders, he was used to her being in the same nook of his shoulder where I used to love being.

I’d half expected something like this to happen, so I hated that it cut me so deep. It was like I said to Freya earlier, I hadn’t been celibate. But to see him flaunt his lover in front of my face so casually and uncaring made my throat burn with unshed tears.

Fucking pregnancy hormones , I thought, knowing full damned well that pregnancy hormones had not a thing to do with the fact I wanted to slap his face raw, then curl up in a corner and sob.

“Anna,” a deep voice called from the door we’d just walked through. “Over here, Princess.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hendrix jerk at the mention of my name and push the redhead away.

It took every ounce of willpower I had not to throw him a death glare, but I sucked it up and craned my neck, smiling as I saw Colt enter the bar with a tall, dark figure following behind him.

“Look who just arrived,” he called over.

That was when I heard a familiar, beautiful voice pierce the air.

“Cooooooeeeeeeeee!”

My breath caught, and my steps faltered as Tristan came into view and clapped his hands together excitedly before spreading them wide. “Come to Daddy, Anna Banana!”

A small sob escaped my throat, and then I ran.

Tristan went on the back foot at the impact of my body and suddenly, I was enveloped, safe in my best friend’s arms.

“Oh my God,” I whispered over and over again, burrowing into his chest. “Oh my God. Oh my God. I’ve missed you so much.”

“Sweetheart,” he rasped, pulling back slightly and framing my face with his beautifully manicured hands. “It’s so good to see you.” He leaned in close, his thick lashed eyes darting between mine, and whispered, “And we’re having a baby!”

I let out a sharp sob combined with a laugh. “Surprise! It’s a boy.”

His mouth stretched into a wide grin, showing his sparkling white teeth. “A boy! How fucking weird is that? I would’ve put money on the fact we’d have a girl. Who are we going to pass our hair genius genes onto?”

“Boys can be hair geniuses, too, honey. I mean, look at you.” I noticed the dark shadows under Tristan’s eyes. He looked so tired and worn out, and I knew it was because he’d been worrying about me.

He rolled his eyes. “He’ll be surrounded by alphas, Anna Banana. Baby boy will probably grow up wanting to fell trees for fun, throw boulders and wrestle bears and shit.”

Tristan and I had been the best of friends from the day I met him. He loved everybody, and everybody loved him, which was a feat considering he was openly gay and fabulous, wore better shoes than me, and lived in a God-fearing small town close to the border of Utah.

Tristan’s sexuality made him a target initially, but he soon got most people onside with his kindness, wit, and wicked sense of humor, and I loved him to his bones.

My eyes welled up yet a-fucking-gain. “I’m so sorry for putting you through all this, Tristan. It’s all such a mess.”

“I don’t care,” he cut out. “As long as you and our boy are good, I’m good.”

“Thank you for sending them,” I whispered. “Thank you for getting me and baby safe.”

It was his turn to get misty-eyed. “Always,” he said reverently. “You’re my sister from another mister. You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

I cupped his smooth chin. “I’ll ask Colt to find you a room. You need to sleep.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “What I need, Anna Banana, is a pornstar martini and to get my flirt on.” He leaned closer and whispered, “Have you seen all the beautiful men we’re surrounded by? There’s a party happening in my Tom Ford Cheetah-Print Stretch jockey shorts, and all these commando-hunks are invited.”

“I don’t know if any are gay,” I told him.

He waved a nonchalant hand. “They all say they’re straight until they’ve downed a few beers. Then, before you know it, they’re out in the back alley trying to bend me over a dirty old dumpster.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Why do you think they call me the Mountie over at the gay club in Rock Springs? It’s ‘cause they know Trissy-baby always gets his man. I can spot at least two candidates already, and you know my gaydar never lets me down.”

I curled my fingers around his nape and brought his forehead down to meet mine. “I’ve missed you.”

He kissed my temple and smiled. “I was always here. I never left, and I never will.”

Not for the first time, I wished with all my heart that Tristan was into women because I would’ve snapped him up so fast that nobody would’ve seen me coming.

This man had stuck by my side through thick and thin, good and bad, and in sickness and in health. He’d been a protector, a champion and when the chips were down, the best friend I’d ever had.

“Love you, Tris,” I whispered.

His arms pulled me in again, and he hugged me tight. “Love you too, Anna Banana. Now, a certain long-haired ex-lover of yours has been watching us like a hawk. Men who don’t care will always show they don’t care, and I’m telling you, Miss Thang, Jameson ‘Hendrix’ Quinn cares a hell of a fucking lot. Hold on tight, girlfriend, ‘cause that biker boy wants another shot at your holy grail.”

Without thinking, I craned my neck and saw Hendrix’s stare glued to me and Tristan. His eyes met mine, and his forehead furrowed.

A flash of red hair appeared in the corner of my eye, and I shifted my gaze toward the club girl who had been cozied up to Hendrix when I walked into the bar with Freya a few minutes before. Her eyes narrowed and flicked over my face before drifting toward Hendrix, who still had his stare fixed on me.

The way she looked at him made a bad feeling settle in my belly.

I knew that look well, because it was the same way I used to look at him. If Hendrix had been fucking that girl, she’d have hooked her star to him; he was that good. He had something about him that could pull you in and make you believe you were the only girl in the world before you fell hard on your ass. I’d been there, done that, and lived to tell the tale.

I didn’t want Hendrix, but I also recognized that Tristan was right. Drix’s gaze was lingering on me as if he was seeing me for the first time. Where it wasn’t lingering was on the club girl, which meant he was done, and I knew this because I’d been there and done that, too.

My chest twisted painfully.

Well hell, talk about an awkward position, and I wasn’t talking about the butter churner, which, incidentally, was another thing Hendrix excelled at.

Hendrix’s raw charisma pulled my eyes back toward his like he had an inbuilt tractor beam, and his beautiful, soft, full lips twisted into a knowing smirk. He knew the effect he had on me as well as I did. It was why I loved him so long and hard, even after I should’ve given up.

But what Jamie hadn’t factored in was that everything had changed. My life wasn’t about me anymore, and it certainly wasn’t about him. Now, I had an obligation to do the best for my son, something I knew would spook him—yet again.

It had taken me too long, but I did give him up, and I did walk away. I married another man, and although my marriage and the way it ended was a disaster, I’d proven I could break Hendrix’s hold on me and put myself and my sanity first.

Hendrix may have been used to getting his own way when it came to women, but I wasn’t a pushover anymore, so if he thought he could take us back to the same place we were before, where Hendrix called all the shots and blew hot and cold on me, he could think again.

This time, Jameson Quinn would have a fight on his hands.