War (Kings of Sin MC #2)

3. A New King

CHAPTER 3

A NEW KING

“People want to know, Rogue.”

“Mom, I don’t know how I can be any clearer. I have no desire to set another date for the wedding. It’s over.” I exhale down the line.

“Don’t say that, sweetheart. You’re just grieving, but you must eventually live your life and get back on track. Harley wouldn’t want you putting your life on hold.” She may have been Harley’s mom, but she didn’t know who Harley was or what she’d want.

“Why are you even pushing this? Did Tyler put you up to this?” I picture him there standing beside her, telling her what to say to get me to come home. She wants me married. She thinks Tyler will take care of me. The club takes care of her. Maybe she’s worried that will stop. It’s not until I got away from the situation that I realize how little she must care about me to have allowed him to have a relationship with me from such a young age.

“No, of course not. But a lot of money has been spent. The vendors will only be understanding for so long. We’ve already lost so many.” How the hell would she know? She didn’t contribute to the wedding.

“I don’t care about vendors and money. I’ll pay back whoever. It’s not happening—and you can take that back to Tyler.”

“He didn’t make me call. He’s just concerned. We all are. When are you coming home?” And there it is: Tyler is the reason she’s calling. It hurts that she’s my mom and won’t listen to what I want. It’s always been the same, she will push for whatever will make life easier for her. Maturity didn’t come as she got older. A lot of the time it feels like I’m her parent and not the other way around.

“Have the cops come by?” I change the subject.

She releases a heavy sigh. “No. I call asking for updates, but they keep spewing the same garbage: ‘these things take time.’” She sniffles, and guilt chews away at me.

“I love you, Mom.” I rub a hand across the comforter, brushing off breadcrumbs from a sandwich Diamond made for me.

“Princess, you didn’t say when you plan on coming home.”

“I’ll talk to Tyler. Don’t worry, okay?” I’m going to kill that asshole.

“Okay.”

I end the call and scrub my hands through my hair. Tyler is never going to let me go.

Me: Please check in on Mom.

Bear: Good to hear from you, Rogue. Where are you?

Bear: Rogue…?

Me: Please just check in on Mom.

“Are you ever going to leave this room? It’s been days.” I smile over at Kitty. She leans against the doorframe, her arms folded, a rainbow-colored wig on her head, and her eyeshadow matching.

“You look nice.”

“Obvs.” A half smile hooks her lip. “Guess who just left?”

“Claire?” I roll my eyes. She touches a finger to her nose. “I can’t believe she lasted this long.”

“I know. Me too. She acts like she’s too good for this place, forgetting we all know she practically lived here while fucking my dad for clout.”

“Gross.” I cringe.

Pushing off the door, she saunters toward me and grabs my hands, pulling me up from the bed. “Come have a drink with me. Everyone has been asking about you.”

“What do they know?” My heart skips, a cold dredge chilling my skin.

“Nothing. We said you came off a bike and are recouping.”

Swallowing down the spike of fear, I smile. “Okay. Let me change.”

“Yay!” She claps her hands and backs up the way she came. “I’ll get Diamond to make chili dogs!”

I couldn’t stomach more food. Diamond is like a mother hen, I’ve never eaten so well in my life. “Sounds good.” I smile as she exits the room.

Attentively, I push off the bed, my muscles protesting the movement. Kitty’s right, I’ve been hiding away in Callan’s room since he left three days ago. It felt safe in here. I half expect the police to barge in at any given second and cart me away to prison.

Reaching the bathroom, I stand in front of the mirror. “You’re okay,” I assure myself, dabbing cream to the bruises along my jawline, and raking a brush through my hair. Slipping into a pair of jeans—my own for once—and pulling on a sweater, I check myself once more in the mirror. Good enough.

I find Kitty in the bar, already halfway through a beer. She looks gorgeous in a tennis skirt and camisole without a bra, showing Cutter what he’s missing. “Hey,” I say, sliding onto the stool next to her. “Cutter’s back in society, I see.” My eyes flit to where his gaze is burning a hole into the side of Kitty’s head.

“Is he? I hadn’t noticed.” She shrugs, sucking on the lime from the beer she got for me.

“Why is he looking at you like you shit in his bed?”

She tosses her hair over her shoulder and peeks, a grin lighting her face. “He’s bitter because I’m not fawning over him. I’m done with his bullshit. If he wants his wife, he can have her—but he’s not getting me too.”

I pat her knee, smiling. “I’m proud of you.”

She swings her legs and winks at me. “Thanks. Me too. Now, take a look at this.” She pushes an envelope toward me.

“What’s this?” I frown, taking it apprehensively.

“Just open it. It’s a good thing. Promise.”

Reaching inside, I pull out a listing for a building. “What is it?”

“Not what is it, what can it be.” She jabs her finger against the paper, rattling it in my hand. “You can open your own veterinarian clinic.” My own clinic . That’s been the furthest thing from my mind as of late, but it’s the ultimate dream. The far in the future dream. I didn’t think it would be possible so soon. I need experience, money, a strategy.

“I couldn’t afford anything like this. And a bank wouldn’t give me a loan.” I have no assets or employment background. Getting a job in someone else’s clinic was the plan. Save, hope, and eventually open my own clinic.

“Kings own this building—and many more. You wouldn’t need a loan.” She scoffs.

“I couldn’t take a handout.” I shake my head, placing the paper on the bar top. She’s presenting me with a golden ticket. My mind races through the possibilities of doing this, taking her offering. A shortcut, sure, but the end results the same. I can’t take this, it’s too much.

“It wouldn’t be a handout. You’d pay ‘rent’ like everyone else.”

“Why are you using hand quotations?” I pick up the beer and take a swig, my stomach somersaulting. Rogue’s veterinary clinic.

“Because you’re a biker brat and know the game. It would benefit us to have a business like this, and you planned to open your own place anyway, right? So, win-win.”

“Does Callan know about this?” Maybe this is what he wanted to show me.

“Forget Callan. Forget everyone and ask yourself, is this what I want? Take your time. It’s not going anywhere.” A shaky sigh leaves my lips. Nodding, I reach over and squeeze her hand.

“Thank you. And not just for this but for everything.” I run my tongue over the healing cuts in my mouth before adding. “I know learning about who I am seemed difficult for you.” Her warm smile lightens my heart.

“I handled it wrong. I feel shitty for not hearing you out and giving myself time to absorb it.” She winces. “I went off barging into Callan’s room.” She lets out a heavy breath. “If I hadn’t lost it, you wouldn’t have stormed out of here and that bastard wouldn’t have gotten to you…”

“Stop.” I keep hold of her hand and move closer to her dragging my stool until our knees touch. “That wasn’t your fault.”

“I know that, but hell, seeing you all beat up killed me.” A scowl line creases her forehead. “It made me realize I don’t give a fuck about a crappy tattoo.” She smirks, poking her tongue out. “How you lived before we met is in the past and has nothing to do with who you are now or our friendship.” Her hand squeezes mine back.

“Apart from the tattoo comment, that means a lot to me, and I feel the same way.” I chuckle, ignoring the ache it causes in my ribcage.

I’m so relieved we managed to move past this, and now we’re closer than before. I’ve never had a friend like her. Harley was my sister and best friend, but I never really got close to other women outside of her.

“Should we kiss or something now?” she mocks and I grin.

“Imagine Cutter’s face if we did?” I raise a brow, and she graces me with a megawatt grin. “You’re a good friend. You know that, right?” I tell her.

“I’m a great friend.” She unclasps our hands and picks up her bottle, chinking it against mine then jumps to her feet. “I need to wet the lettuce.” My nose twitches, and she barks a laugh. “Don’t go anywhere,” she orders.

Smiling, I wipe a drip of condensation from my bottle and flinch when a hand pats my back, almost making me leap from the seat. “Princess.”

“Georgina,” I say through gritted teeth.

“I heard you got in an accident. Such a shame. God, you look dreadful.” She waves a finger over my face. “Is this permanent?”

“The bruises? No, but I am,” I retort.

“We’ll see about that. Callan may be enjoying fucking you now, but it’s only a matter of time before you’re all used up and sent on your way. Luckily for him, I’ll be here, waiting.”

“Do you hear yourself?” Glacier eyes narrow on me. “You’re a beautiful woman. You could have any man you want. Why keep going after one who doesn’t want you?”

“He doesn’t know what he wants,” she sneers, crossing her arms over her chest. “I hurt him years ago, but we’re inevitable, Princess. Don’t get comfy in his bed.”

She passes Kitty on her departure, who sidesteps Georgina like she’s contagious. “Tell me she wasn’t being an cunt again.”

“If I do, I’d be lying.” She groans, holding up two fingers to a prospect serving behind the bar.

“Heads up.” I flit my gaze to Cutter approaching behind her.

“Rogue.” He nods his head in greeting. “Good to see you up and about.”

“You too,” I lie.

“Kit, can we talk?”

“Sure. Talk.” When she doesn’t look at him, his jaw tics.

“Privately.” There’s color in his cheeks again. He looks good and knows it.

“No.”

“Kit…” he growls.

“Liam, I don’t have anything I need to say or want to hear from you in private. If it can’t be said here, don’t say it at all.” I have to hold back my laughter at her calling him Liam.

“You’re acting like a fucking brat.” He leans in real close to her ear. “When you’re ready to grow the fuck up, come find me.” He tuts as he walks away. There’s no respect, and part of me wants to tell him how replaceable he is, but hearts are fickle. Kitty may end up back in his arms and I’d look like the asshole.

Hopping from her stool, she stalks him to where he’s returned to a table with a couple other members, drinking and playing a card game. Turning when he senses her, his mouth pops open to say something. Before he can. she rears her fist back and punches him in the abdomen, right where he got shot, knocking the air from his lungs. Bending over, breathless, she leans down and whispers something to him before she saunters back to me. All eyes are on pinned on her. She smirks, and it reminds me of her brother and his “ I don’t give a fuck” attitude.

“That was badass.” I grin.

“To being badasses.” She holds her bottle up, and I clink mine to hers as Daddy comes rushing into the room, scanning the space, landing on me. “Oh, good. Doc, I need you.”

“I’m not a doctor,” I remind him with a groan. “If you have anything disgusting going on down there,” I point to his crotch. “You’ll need to see an actual doctor.” Kitty cracks up and drops her eyes to his junk, shuddering.

“It’s Rose” There’s no humor or retort, a line of sweat coats his hairline and his eyes are wild with panic.

“What’s wrong?” I leap up, and he grabs my arm.

“Just…please come take a look at her.” He drags me through the compound to his room while Kitty follows.

He shoves open the door, and my heart drops. Red is on her knees on the bed, gripping the headboard with perspiration coating every inch of her naked skin. There’s a huge wet stain in the center of the mattress. Rushing to her side, I tuck her hair behind her ear and yank a pillowcase from a pillow to dab her head with.

“Get me a cold washcloth,” I bark. “How far apart are your contractions?”

“It’s coming.” She bares down, her knuckles turning white, her face bright fucking red and contorted in pain. “Arghhh.” Her entire body tenses, the veins in her neck webbing her skin like a road map.

“Oh, shit. It’s there,” Kitty screeches, pointing between Red’s legs. Lowering myself, I reach beneath her, feeling the baby’s head. There’s no waiting or going to the hospital. This baby is here.

“You’ve got this, take a big breath and push.” I guide her, mirroring what she needs to do with my own breathing.

“It hurts.” She cries.

“You won’t remember the pain when you’re holding your baby, come on, you can do this.”

“Arghhh.” She yells, taking her body to the peak of exertion.

She pushes the shoulders out and then the rest of the baby slides into my hands seconds later, water and blood gushing over my fingers.

“Should we call an ambulance?” Kitty squeals.

“It’s too late for that. Get me some towels.” My heart races as I check the baby over and clear its airways.

Two eyes, a mouth. Ten fingers, ten toes.

“I’m not due for a couple more weeks,” Red pants, groaning and baring down once more.

“You’re fine. The baby is here. You did it. Now you need to push the placenta out.” I place the baby on a towel laid out by Kitty. His little wail makes my heart bloom. Giving it everything, Red’s body tenses again as she howls.

“Don’t you have to cut that thing?” Kitty smashes her teeth together, jerking her chin to the umbilical cord.

“The hospital can do that.” I rub Red’s back, encouraging her to keep pushing until the placenta comes. “Good job.” She sags in exhaustion. “You did amazing,” I tell her, water brimming my eyes. Helping her to turn around and sit, I prop up her pillows and lift the baby from the towel, placing him on her chest.

Daddy rushes in holding a bunch of towels dripping wet, his eyes pinging to the blood and mess and the baby in Red’s arms. “Come meet our son,” she pants, a small laugh wisping from her lips.

“You did it.” He tosses the towels and comes to her side, stroking a hand through her sweat soaked hair and staring down at the new addition.

“He looks like me.” Daddy beams.

“A wrinkly old man?” Kitty guffaws. “You’re right.”

“I have a son.” He grins. Lifting the baby, Red places him in Daddy’s arms. He’s awkward at first, positioning the baby in one arm and taking Red’s hand at the same time. I fight the urge to rescue the little boy from his dad’s inexperienced arms and step back to let them have their moment.

Swiping a tear, I turn to Kitty. “How incredible.”

“I’m never having kids.” Kitty cringes. “Shouldn’t we take her to the hospital?”

“Yes, but let’s give them a minute. Childbirth is beautiful, Kit.” I sigh. A rush of emotion floods my chest.

“Tell that to her coochie.” She shudders.

Handing the baby back to Red, Daddy walks toward me with a determined gaze. Grasping my cheeks, he plants a kiss right on my lips before I can react or stop him. “Thank you for helping my woman, Princess.”

Silence fills the room before Kitty barks out, “how beautiful was that?”

I need to shower and erase that kiss from my memory with acid and a hard bristle brush.

No good deed goes unpunished.

* * *

I sense him enter the room before I feel him climbing over the bed to rest behind me. “You’re back?” I smile into the pillow, my soul seeming to settle now that Callan’s home.

“Did I wake you?” His body is close, but not touching. I yearn for his warmth.

“No, I couldn’t sleep anyway.” I stretch my limbs, ignoring the twinge of pain.

“I heard you had an eventful night.” He presses his lips behind my ear. I sigh and melt into the touch.

“A new King came into the world.” I smile. Red only needed two stitches and will come home tomorrow with her perfectly healthy baby boy.

“Do you want to go for a ride?”

That sounds ominous. “Where to?”

He kisses me on the head. “Get some warm clothes on. We’re taking my bike.”

When I get outside, he’s already on his bike and waiting for me with a spare helmet in his hand. He looks like every fantasy. That man shouldn’t be allowed to be so fucking beautiful. Butterflies dance in my stomach as I lift my leg over the bike. Slipping the helmet on, I scoot forward, my thighs clutching his, and wrap my arms around his waist.

“Ready?” I tap his shoulder to signal yes.

I’ve ridden on bikes all my life, had been on the back of Tyler’s since the age of fifteen, but there’s something different about being on Callan’s. It feels like this is where I’m supposed to be all along.

The exhilaration of riding sends my blood bubbling like warm champagne through my veins. Vibrations zap through my skin, awakening my nerve endings. Streetlights blur as he pushes the machine beneath us to hit speeds most people would balk at. Not me, I love the rush. The scenery becomes familiar as he slows, pulling off the road en route to the hospital car lot. Maybe he wants to see Red.

Parking the bike, he waits for me to climb down before pulling his helmet off and dismounting. Smirking, he lifts my helmet from my head, placing them both on the back of the bike. “Why are we here? I didn’t take you for the baby type.” I bite my lip, anticipating his answer. Tyler couldn’t wait to have kids. I’d never really wanted them, but the thought of carrying Callan’s one day makes me feel different. That terrifies and thrills me.

His face studies mine. “We’re not here to see Red, Rogue.”

“Then why?” It can’t be for me. My wounds are healing. I roam his features, nervous energy making me jittery. Brushing a hand down my cheek, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“Let me show you.” He offers his hand for me to take and my heart leaps.

Taking his hand, I nod my head. “Okay.”

I hope no one got hurt on the run he just returned from. He doesn’t lead us to the emergency department, instead walking along the tall white building with rows of tiny windows to a different entrance.

The long, light blue corridors are like a maze. Cheap artwork and message boards adorn the walls and, despite how big the place is, I feel claustrophobic in here. It’s eerie how empty some parts of the hospital are. Anyone could lurk in these halls. Our shoes echo off the tiles, reminding me of the viewing room where I saw Harley. A cold shiver tingles over my skin, raising goosebumps.

“Why are we here?” His silence is pissing me off.

His footsteps slow outside a hospital room, and my heart rate spikes.

J Cox

Callan opens the door and stands back for me to enter. An older man lies in a hospital bed next to beeping monitors. Silver streaks through his dark hair, a tube is down his throat, and wires come out of him from all over. Gaunt features don’t conceal the fact that there’s an ounce of familiarity to his face.

No way.

“Rogue, meet Jericho, my dad.”