Page 11 of Digg

“The guards on the list are ones living above their means. Money gotta come from somewhere. They brag about who flags the best fresh meat for market day.” Just thinking about the smug bastards has my fists clenching. I wish I could hit something. Someone.

I know any of my brothers would jump at the chance to knuckle up. This isn’t the time, so I push words past the rock lodged in my throat.

“The inmate names are guys who were in for stupid shit most anyone else could have raised enough bond to get out on. Trespasses. Pissing in public. Sleeping in bus shelters. Stuff a person does when they’re unhoused. And they’re all young.”

“How young?” Konrad demands, and I know how hard this is for him. The man’s in love with a pair he rescued from what we suspect is this same group of trafficking assholes. They’re both in their early twenties, but Grey was just a kid when he was stolen and turned into a sadistic fuck’s pet. Blu was older, in her late teens, but still too young to wind up caged and used the way she had been.

“I don’t know, man. Shit. Young. Old enough to be at the jail instead of the youth detention center, but still young. Maybe, the guards at the youth lockup are in on it, too. I don’t know.” For the most part, guards had dedicated shifts and stations within the jail. If the COs at the youth detention place were involved, I wouldn’t have known.

“This gets deeper and deeper. First, we find out cops are dirty. Now, we add in department of corrections workers? What next? The damn politicians?” Shaw grumbles.

“Actually…” I only know what my gut’s telling me, but the vibes I got from Frankie’s doctor today definitely have me thinking there’s a connection there, too.

“Spit it out, dickhead. No more secrets,” Cameron says.

“There’s something weird about that doctor. The baby one. Francesca told me he talks to that prick Benson about her being breedable. I’m positive Benson’s involved. He’s a cop from a family full of them.”

No matter what, I’d have brought Frankie here to keep her safe because of my promise to her brother. Still, everything points to her being tangled up in this shit, and it makes me even more convinced she needs me. My brothers may be pissed at me for going rogue, but I know they’ll protect her just as surely as I will. It’s what we do in this club.

I listen to the plans and conversations happening around the table. There’s no surprise that everyone’s divided about looping in Anatoly Balakin. He’s proved himself an ally several times over, and with his daughter under our protection, I don’t think he’s going to fuck us over. It’s hard trusting anyone outside this room though, especially a vicious Russian pakhan. The power that guy wields is scary, and I’m not too arrogant to admit it.

I’ve missed enough of what’s gone on day to day over the last half year though, so I keep my mouth shut and let my brothers decide. So long as Frankie’s safe, I don’t much care what plans are made. It still feels strange to care so much about a female, but the responses she brings out of me are impossible to ignore.

When I figure out what to do with the feelings she’s got me having, things might make more sense. For now, I’m just keeping her safe, cared for, and happy. And if I steal a little pleasure from making her do what I tell her to and listening while she does it? Well, the law says I’m a criminal now, so nobody should be surprised.

Chapter

Thirteen

FRANKIE

“What do you think you’re doing?” Arlo’s steady voice breaks the silence of the room, and the surprise makes me jump.

In the three weeks I’ve been staying here, my belly has grown so much the sudden movement knocks me off center and I topple back onto the bed I’d been climbing out of. When I woke, just a moment ago, I thought I was alone. Arlo’s been sleeping on a cot he brought in, so I could have the bed to myself, and no matter how many times I’ve invited him to share the bed with me, he refuses. It was empty when I opened my eyes. I didn’t expect him to be sitting in the chair by the door, just watching me sleep.

“Shit you scared me!” Yes, I know I didn’t answer his question. We both know what he expects me to do before I get out of bed. Waking alone, or so I thought, I assumed he wouldn’t know if I skipped a day. Shoulda known better. Arlo has some sort of sixth sense for when I’m feeling the effect of all these out-of-control pregnancy hormones. A sixth sense and an unwavering requirement that I bring myself off. Mostly, while he listens. It’s weird. Also sweet and awkward. At this point, I’ve gotten used to it, and I’m unsure I can masturbate without him nearby.

“That’s not an answer, Cuteness. What are you supposed to be doing before you get out of that bed?” The way he talks to me, all deep rumbly purr, feels as if there’s a direct line from my ears to my clit. Just hearing him speak dampens my panties and makes me fantasize he’s whispering filthy sex talk to me.

“What if I need to pee first? I am seven months pregnant, you know.” Normally, I would be rushing to the bathroom, but the baby decided to stage a breakdancing competition on my bladder all night. I was up to use the bathroom so many times it’s a wonder I’m not totally dehydrated.

“You don’t. You were in the bathroom less than an hour ago.” His attentiveness would feel stalkery from any other man. Shit, it did feel like stalking when Mark was paying attention to me.

So maybe, I should be a little apprehensive about the way Arlo has eyes and ears on me 24/7, but instead, I feel cherished. Without laying a single finger on me or forcing me to do anything for him, Arlo treats me like an adored princess. His princess. I don’t hate it. In fact, I think it’s the opposite. Which is confusing.

With everything Mark put me through, and everything still swirling around the Ghost Born suspect my ex is involved in, I should be terrified. Right? Mostly, the guys keep the rest of us away from the details, calling it club business. Arlo says he’s protecting me and the baby from the stress of having to worry about dark shit. As if he can just command me not to be concerned about something and have it just be the way he demands.

From any other man, I’d think it was arrogance. There’s something about Arlo though, an almost wariness whenever he’s around me or any of the other women who live here. I can tell he’s not used to being around females. But instead of being hopelessly steeped in toxic masculine bullshit, he’s chivalrous and kind. Minus, of course, the pushy expectation that I’ll fingerbang myself for his listening pleasure every day.

“Well, what are you waiting for? You know the routine. You need to take care of business so I can feed you and the baby before I leave for the jobsite.”

That’s new. For the past few weeks, Arlo’s either worked from home and sent his crews out to the builds his company is working on or dragged me along with him. Since he wouldn’t let me go back to my job at the insurance agency where I'd worked for nearly five years, it’s not as if I have anything else to do with my days. At least, he lets me help with the paperwork, though Cameron got cranky when he found out I organized the invoices the other day.

“Aren’t I going with you?” I ask.

“Not today, Cuteness. Club business after work. I’ll be home late, and you need to rest. We’re seeing the new OB tomorrow, remember?” Glad as I am that Arlo found me a new obstetrician, the thought of starting all over again with a stranger seeing all my most private places and everything surrounding prenatal visits has had me anxious. That’s probably why today’s the first day I’ve woken up not-horny in weeks.

“I don’t need to come today, Arlo. It’s fine.” Let him decide what I mean.

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