Page 17 of Ace's Legacy
"That must be complicated."
"Life usually is." He pours himself a cup of coffee. "I know you're scared. You have every right to be. This life isn't for everyone."
"I never asked for this life," I say. "I just... fell for the wrong man, I guess."
Reaper shakes his head. "Ace isn't the wrong man. He's a good one, actually. Loyal, brave, smarter than he gives himself credit for." He takes a sip of his coffee. "Bit of an idiot sometimes, especially with women, but his heart's in the right place."
I try to reconcile this thoughtful father figure with the man who earlier was orchestrating what amounted to a small battle. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you're carrying his child." Reaper meets my gaze directly. "And in our world, that means something. If you decide to have this baby, you won't be alone. The entire club will stand behind you and that child."
I've been so focused on the violence, the danger, that I hadn't considered the other side of their brotherhood—the protection, the loyalty, the sense of family.
"Even though I'm not part of your world?" I ask.
"You're carrying our brother's child," he says simply. "That makes you family, whether you want to be or not."
Family. The word sits heavy between us. I think about my own parents, how disappointed they'll be when they learn I'm pregnant by a man I barely know. How worried they'll be when they discover he's part of a motorcycle club.
"I don't know what to do," I admit, the confession easier to make to this stranger than it would be to Ace. "How am I supposed to raise a child in this environment? With guns and violence and danger?"
"The club life isn't all violence, Sarah. My daughter grew up surrounded by men who would die for her without hesitation." He sets down his coffee cup. "Did Ace tell you how he got his road name?"
"Yes, actually," I say, a small smile forming despite myself. "About the cut on his hand while fixing Blade's bike. How he finished the job before getting stitches and Blade called him his ace"
Reaper looks surprised, then pleased. "He doesn't share that story with many people. Usually lets them think it's because he's some hotshot rider or fighter. If he's telling you stories like that, you might mean more to him than you realize. And, look... Your world and ours don't have to be completely separate," Reaper continues. "There's a middle ground. Evelyn was a civilian, too, before she became part of our family."
"I need to think," I say finally. "About everything."
Reaper nods. "Take all the time you need. But know this—" he leans forward, his voice dropping to ensure only I can hear, "—that boy has never had anything worth fighting for except this club. Now he has you and that baby. And there's nothing more dangerous than a man who's finally found something to live for."
With that, he picks up his coffee and moves toward the door. "Get some rest, Sarah. Tomorrow will be here before you know it."
Left alone in the kitchen, I finish my sandwich slowly, turning Reaper's words over in my mind. Is that true? Has Ace—Ryan—never had anything to call his own before?
I think about his sparse room upstairs, the way he seems ready to leave at a moment's notice, and how he has never shared anything about his past. I think about how he looked at me earlier today, when I told him about the baby—shock, yes, but also something like wonder.
Back in his room, I curl up on his bed, surrounded by his scent. I place both hands on my stomach, whispering to the tiny life inside me.
"We're going to figure this out. Somehow."
But as I drift toward sleep, doubt creeps in at the edges of my mind. How can I possibly build a life that includes both my quiet classroom of first-graders and a man who lives with violence every day? How can I protect my child in a world where Vultures MC with guns can appear at any moment?
And most troubling of all... Why, despite everything I've seen today, do I still feel drawn to Ryan "Ace" Carter like he's the answer rather than the question?
Chapter 7 - Ace
The cot in the storage room is about six inches too short for my body, leaving my feet dangling off the end all night. My back protests as I sit up, rolling my neck to work out the kinks. Light filters through the small window, telling me it's already morning.
Checking my phone, I see it's just past seven. I slept longer than intended, though "sleep" might be a generous term for the restless dozing I managed between thoughts of Sarah upstairs in my bed and Vultures MC potentially regrouping for another attack.
I pull on a clean t-shirt, wincing as the movement tugs at my bandaged shoulder. The bullet graze is healing, but it still throbs when I push too hard. Not that I have time to baby it today.
Today, I'm taking Sarah to her apartment. The thought sits uneasily in my gut. Any movement outside the clubhouse is a risk right now, but I understand her need to reclaim some control over her life. God knows I've taken enough of it from her already.
The clubhouse is quiet as I make my way to the kitchen. Most of the brothers are still sleeping after yesterday's excitement. Only Ghost is up, sitting at the kitchen table cleaning his gun.
"Morning," he says without looking up.
