Page 31 of Wild Night (Vicious Reapers MC #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY

POSEY

The moment I hang up with Dakota, I feel a sense of relief. Granted, we haven’t talked about anything yet, but just the fact that she picked up and is coming right over makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I haven’t completely fucked all this shit up.

Maybe.

With a renewed sense of worth, I make my way into the kitchen and go in search of something to eat. Nothing too spicy or heavy. I need something to fill me up that’s bland and won’t make me want to throw up again. I don’t like that at all.

Moving around the kitchen, I pour myself a glass of water from the filtered pitcher in the fridge, then I refill it with water and watch it pass through the filter before I go in search of food. Real sustenance.

Nothing jumps out at me in the fridge. Just the thought of eggs makes me want to gag immediately. So instead, I move toward the pantry, and that’s when my eyes land on the oatmeal. I don’t know why, but oatmeal sounds amazing right now.

A few moments later, I have my pot of boiling water, my oats, and I even found some ground flaxseed to add in for extra fiber. I don’t know why, but the whole thing sounds like heaven. Continuing to search for things, I find cinnamon, local honey, and raspberries.

When the oatmeal and flaxseed are cooked, I pour them into a bowl before I add the cinnamon, honey, and raspberries, then grab a spoon along with my water and head over to the table.

I dip my spoon into the warm, gooey oatmeal, lift it to my lips, and wrap them around the spoon, swallowing and moaning at the same time. It’s freaking amazing. I don’t know why it’s so damn good. I don’t even like oatmeal, but this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.

A few moments later, there is a knock on the front door. Standing, I pick up my bowl to carry it with me to the door. Instead of just whipping it open, I look through the peephole, and that’s where I see Dakota standing.

I wrench the door open, then nervously stand in front of her. She tilts her head to the side, her eyes and her lips curved up in a smile. She’s got her baby in her arms and a huge smile on her face.

How did I get so lucky in this life? I feel like I’ve been given a second chance, that maybe, just maybe, this is what was supposed to happen all along. I hope it is. “Dakota,” I exhale.

She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip and moves into the house. Closing the door behind her, she flicks her gaze down at my bowl of oatmeal, then shifts it up to meet mine, wrinkling her nose.

“Oatmeal?”

Shrugging, I tilt my head to the side. “Don’t knock it. Ivy had fresh honey.”

She shakes her head. “Jesus,” she mutters. “Did he knock you up or something?”

I freeze, my spoon midair, standing in the foyer, my eyes wide and my lips parted in awe that she guessed. Dakota starts to move past me and into the living room, but then she stops and slowly turns toward me. Her eyes find mine, and she sucks in a deep breath.

“You’re pregnant,” she states.

“I’m pregnant,” I confirm her statement.

She presses her lips together, then leans forward, whispering her next words, “Is it Ivy’s?” she asks.

I don’t know why she’s whispering. It’s not like Nathan can repeat any of this conversation. “It’s Ivy’s,” I confirm.

“We’re going to be a family,” Dakota murmurs.

“We’re already a family,” I state.

She shakes her head once, then walks past me to the living room. I watch as she sinks down on the sofa, holding Nathan against her chest as she does. “Of course we are,” she says. “But now we’re a found family, commingled in a way that nobody else could ever get between.”

Thinking about her words, I wonder if she’s indeed right. A found family. We are, aren’t we? I mean, she is my family, but I didn’t know she existed. We’ve found one another. We are found.

“I can’t believe it’s real,” I say.

She nods her head once. Then I feel her fingers wrap around my hand, squeezing me gently. “I’m glad it’s real,” she says softly.

Sucking in a breath, I hold it for a moment, then let it out slowly. “I’m sorry,” I confess. “I fucked up, and I’m sorry.”

Her hand falls from mine. She shifts in her seat, then leans back against the cushion. “What do you mean, sorry for what?”

To her credit, Dakota seems genuinely surprised. Her brows snap together in confusion as she stares at me. She no doubt has zero fucking clue about what I’m apologizing for. She hasn’t been here, but she needs to know everything. She deserves to know it all.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I came here not just for your wedding, but because I needed protecting, and I knew that the Vicious Reapers would do that, because you would make sure they did that for me.”

“Of course I would do that for you,” she says. “Any minute of any day.”

“I was going to take advantage.”

Dakota smiles before she speaks. “But you didn’t, and you tried to take it all on yourself.”

“I did,” I say.

She shrugs a shoulder. “We are related, then. I totally believe it. So, what’s the plan now that you’re having Justin Whitaker’s baby?”

“Live happily ever after?” I guess with a laugh.

“You are a princess,” she says.

The rest of the afternoon, we chat. She doesn’t ask me details about my weeks away, and I’m glad for it. Instead, I tell her about my life in California. The good parts, at least, like working for the winery.

I leave out the stuff that is depressing, the stuff about Lucian. The stuff about my parents. Dakota doesn’t need to know any of that, not unless she specifically asks, and I hope she never does.

“What now?” I ask.

“Are you going to stay?”

“I want to,” I whisper.

“Then that’s what you’ll do, no matter what.”

Her determination and confidence are truly outstanding, especially considering all the things she’s gone through. I hope I can be like her one day. It’s what I aspire to be—a good wife, a great mother, and the most compassionate friend that ever existed.

IVY

Court goes the way I anticipate. My client is nervous but trusting my process, which is what he needs to do because I know how this is going to play out.

There is truly only one way it can, unless the jury loses their goddamn minds.

I’m confident in jury selection, so I don’t think that’s going to happen.

With the court being adjourned for the day, I don’t go straight home the way I want to. Instead, I have to go to the office and do a little paperwork in preparation for tomorrow’s court session—much to my dismay.

When I walk into the office, I’m not surprised to see that my partner is gone for the day, as is Cidney. It’s empty, dark, and quiet, which I prefer when I need to focus. Moving through the dark building, I unlock my office door and slip inside, closing it behind me before I flip on the light.

I know instantly that something is off the moment the lights illuminate the space. I shift my gaze around the room, but can’t put my finger on it, yet something is definitely wrong, or off. Either way, I know it is not right.

I can’t put my finger on it, though. Everything appears to be exactly where I left it.

Walking over to my computer, I sit down and power it on.

I could look it up on my phone, and I should have received an alert if something were breached, but looking at it on the bigger screen will be better anyway.

Once I’m logged into the system, I check the footage. I don’t see anything. John leaves for the day, and then Cidney leaves for the day. I watch as she locks the door before walking away. My office and John’s have no motion that causes the cameras to go off until I show up.

Leaning back in my chair, I close my eyes for a moment as I try to figure out what the fuck is going on here.

There is definitely something. I don’t know what, but something is clearly off.

Pressing my lips together, I roll them a few times, pinching my eyes closed as I try to think.

Everything is in its place, but something or someone has been in here and done something.

Opening my eyes, I look around again. I should be doing my paperwork so I can go home to my woman, but this is going to bother me until I figure it out. My eyes scan everything in the room, from books to the desktop, and it all seems as if it’s exactly where I left it.

But then something causes me to pause. It’s the magazine on the table next to the chair across from my desk. I don’t even know why I have the little table there. I mean, I’ve put a coaster on there so clients can set their drinks down, but really, it’s not used often.

Standing, I walk around my desk and make my way toward the magazine. I didn’t put this here. This table has only ever had a coaster, nothing else. Why would I want a client to flip through a magazine during a meeting?

Reaching for the magazine, I pick it up, then flip it over to check the address on the back. It’s been cut out. It’s not ours. The few we have in the waiting room come straight to this office, and we don’t cut the address labels out.

Flipping through it, I look for any kind of evidence of where it may have come from.

Nothing. There is absolutely nothing to distinguish where this came from or how the fuck it got here.

Flicking my gaze to the floor, I look at the base of the small table.

Nothing. Then I tilt my head to the side as I take in the coaster.

It’s been moved to the point where I can tell from the dust print.

I don’t know when it happened, but my office doesn’t get cleaned as often as it should. I don’t allow the cleaning staff in here without me. I know it sounds as if I’m paranoid, but I don’t fuck around with sensitive information, and my whole fucking office is sensitive.

Reaching for the coaster, I pick it up. There is a folded slip of paper beneath it. What the actual fuck is happening here? I have more than just that question. I have a dozen of them swirling around inside my head.

But since there’s a note and nobody around to ask said questions, I don’t talk to myself, and I reach for the note.

I pick it up and unfold it slowly. I’m not sure what I expect to happen when I open it.

It’s not going to magically do anything, like fly around the room, so I’m unsure as to why I hesitate, but here I am… hesitating.

Written in messy print is a single sentence. One that sends a chill down my spine, because not only what the fuck, but how the fuck?

YOU FUCKED WITH THE WRONG PERSON. BE READY TO BE FUCKED BACK.

I’m not someone who is scared, generally speaking.

I’m part of an MC. I’m an attorney, I’m typically the one doing the scaring, but this is eerie, to say the least. Not just the note itself.

That’s one thing. It’s the fact that it’s here, placed in a secure room, in a secure building, without being noticed, seen, or detected in any way. That is what’s causing me to pause.

As much as I want to brush it under the rug, I’ve been part of the Vicious Reapers for far too long to just ignore things like this that make the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. So I call Bullet. He’s my president, but he’s been my friend my entire life.

“Ivy?” he calls out.

“Can you come down to my office?”

Without asking a single question, he says four words before he ends the call.

“Be there in five.”