Page 69 of Jett

“No. That’s not what I want.”

“I don’t know how to see you any other way than mine.”

My breath sticks in my throat. I feel like he just punched me in the stomach and knocked the wind clean out of me. I wrap my fingers around his hands and remove them from my face, bringing them to my lips. I kiss his scars, his ruined hand and the other perfectly calloused one, and I let them go. “You have to. You have to because you don’t have another choice. I belong to him now, and I don’t want you to die. Brother or not, patched member or not, Jett will kill you. I love him, Grim.”

“You his old lady now—the mother of this club?”

I shake my head. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“You gonna ride on the back of his bike, be a mother to all our lost sons?”

“Maybe, or maybe I’m just mother to his son. But you’re still going to be there, right? You’re not going to run away, go nomad, and up and leave me?” He doesn’t meet my gaze and I probe. “Grim, you’re not leaving, right?”

“I don’t know.”

“You can’t. I need you.”

“What if I can’t be here? What if I don’t want to stay to watch your belly grow fat with another man’s child?”

“Please? I know I’ve asked a lot of you since we met, but please, please do this one thing for me.” I sob into his chest. I know I have no right to ask this of him. I have no right, but I’m asking anyway. “I can’t stand the thought of driving you away from your family. I can’t stand not having you in my life.”

He squeezes me so tightly my spine cracks. “This changes everything, you know? Being his old lady means that target on your back just became a whole lot bigger.”

I swallow hard and meet his gaze. I hadn’t thought about that. What happened the night Grim saved me could be a regular occurrence. It suddenly makes a lot more sense—Jett offering to move in with me, the apartment he purchased for me, my car getting fixed free of charge—everything he’s done since that night was to protect me, to keep me safe. I hadn’t asked what kind of threats were being made against me, if any but it seems Jett and I need to have a very long chat.

RAINE

Four months later

IPAD SOFTLY OUT TOthe lounge, careful not to wake Jett. He had a late night, and my tossing and turning once he was home didn’t help. Neither did my pregnancy snoring, I’m sure. I pull the afghan from the couch and wrap myself in it, staring out the plate-glass windows on the already bustling apartment complex. The couple across the way are having sex again on their balcony, and I grab myself a coffee—decaf, of course—and sit on the couch, watching with interest as they remain oblivious. Or perhaps they know they’re being observed? Why else would you have sex in what amounts to a very public place with so many apartments facing one another? A kick comes from inside my womb. My hand covers my protruding belly and I give my sole occupant a little nudge. “Good morning, pretty girl.”

“Who you callin’ pretty?” Jett slides his arms around me under the afghan and rubs my belly. Of course, the perv can’t resist skimming his hands up to cup my breasts which are always aching these days.

“Good morning.”

“How are my two favourite girls?”

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