Page 16 of Ace's Legacy
It's a compromise, and a reasonable one at that. I nod, satisfied. "Okay. Tomorrow."
"Good." He looks relieved that the argument is over. "Try to get some rest. I need to check on some things, but I'll be back later."
When he's gone, I sink onto the edge of the bed, finally allowing myself a moment to process the day's events. Twelve hours ago, my biggest concern was how to tell Ryan I was pregnant. Now I'm hiding out in an outlaw motorcycle club after witnessing what amounted to a small war.
And the father of my child is at the center of it all.
I lie back on the bed, breathing in the scent of him on the pillows. Despite everything, it comforts me. I close my eyes, just for a moment...
Next Day
I wake with a start, disoriented in the unfamiliar darkness. The digital clock on the nightstand reads 2:17 AM. I've been asleep for hours.
Someone has covered me with a blanket, and my pink dress feels uncomfortably tight after sleeping in it. My stomach growls loudly, reminding me that I haven't eaten since breakfast. Morning sickness has been making food unappealing lately, but now I'm ravenous.
I slip out of the room and make my way downstairs, the steps creaking under my feet. The main room is dimly lit now, mostly empty except for a few men talking quietly at the bar. One ofthem—the bearded man I recognize as Reaper, the president—looks up as I enter.
"Sarah, right?" he says, his deep voice carrying across the room. "Everything all right?"
"Yes. I'm just hungry," I explain, suddenly self-conscious in my wrinkled dress. "Is there a kitchen I could use?"
He nods toward a doorway at the back of the room. "Through there. Help yourself to whatever you can find."
"Thank you."
I hurry past the men, feeling their eyes on my back. The kitchen is surprisingly well-equipped—large industrial refrigerator, commercial stove, pantry stocked with enough food to feed an army. Or a motorcycle club, I suppose.
Opening the refrigerator, I find it filled with beer, energy drinks, and an assortment of takeout containers. Not exactly pregnancy-friendly fare. The pantry yields better results. Bread, peanut butter, and a box of crackers that looks relatively fresh.
I'm making a sandwich when I sense someone behind me. Turning, I find Reaper standing in the doorway, his imposing frame filling the space.
"Mind if I join you?" he asks, surprisingly polite for a man who looks like he could snap me in half without trying.
"It's your clubhouse," I say with a small shrug, turning back to my sandwich.
He chuckles, the sound warming the room. "True enough." He moves to the coffee maker, starting a fresh pot. "Ace told me about the baby."
I freeze momentarily, then continue spreading peanut butter. "Did he?"
"He had to. For your safety." Reaper leans against the counter, studying me with eyes that seem to see too much. "How are you holding up with all this?"
"Honestly? I have no idea. Yesterday I was just a teacher with morning sickness. Today I'm in the middle of what feels like a war zone."
He nods, understanding in his weathered face. "Life changes fast sometimes."
"Too fast," I murmur, taking a bite of my sandwich.
We fall into silence as the coffee brews, filling the kitchen with its rich aroma. There's something strangely comforting about sharing this quiet moment with a man who, by all rights, should terrify me.
"I have a daughter," Reaper says suddenly. "Emma."
I look up in surprise. "You're a father?"
"Single father," he confirms. "Her mother left when she was young. It was just the two of us for a long time."
"Is she... part of this?" I gesture vaguely, encompassing the clubhouse and everything it represents.
"Yes and no. She's usually at college, studying criminal justice." His mouth twists with irony. "Wants to be an FBI agent, if you can believe it, but she has been spending the last few days here because of... Well, protection."
