Page 36 of Dangerously Deceptive

Before I even know what happens, Pres slaps Kandy around the face, hard. If it wasn’t for Pepper linking arms with her, she would have been on the floor. I see Pepper hesitate for a slight moment as she cowers away from Pres. She is considering whether she should stay loyal to Kandy, or let her ass fall. I know which one I am going for. Sadly, she decides to stand by Kandy, since she is the one who will be bossing her about after the Pres is done.

I notice nobody comes to my aid. Well, not until a very topless Jamieson comes running into the room, buttoning up his jeans as he goes. Running his hand through his hair —that’s grown to a length I happen to love over the last month—and giving it a little shake, it falls into place. I notice he has a t-shirt in one hand but instead of putting it on he pushes through the crowd to get to me, crouching down to put his hands on my hips to lift me up. I could have managed if he had just helped to pull me up, but I guess this works.

Once he has me securely on my feet, pressed with my side plastered against his, he finally puts his t-shirt on. I can’t help but look and admire how much his body has changed. He’s not the scrawny boy I lost my virginity to a couple of years ago. He is all muscle, his abs ripple in a way that I can’t even count how many packs he has. It’s definitely more than six! But that’s not what gets my attention, it’s the crescent moon he has over his heart along with the words ‘to the moon and back’. At first, I thought the interior of the crescent moon was made up of a weird design, until I stood back and really looked. It was the word ‘Shayla’. My name, permanently etched on his skin, alongside half of the words he said to me when we were just ten and twelve years old.

We were lying on the grass, out the back of the compound under the large oak tree, where pretty much no one goes. We both had a shit day with our parents, the compound was on lockdown again. So we snuck out of our rooms to just hang out and watch the moon. Normally you can’t see it because of all the lights, but the compound was dim. I can’t even remember why, but the moon shone bright that night. It was a perfect crescent moon. That was the first time Jamieson told me that he loved me, and I asked how much because I know a lot of people who are supposed to love me, but really they just hurt me. He said he loves me to the moon and back because when you are willing to travel that far for someone, it has to be real, proper love, not the type where they hurt you.

I had no idea he had that tattoo, or that he even remembered the event. It makes me want to smile, a reminder of one of the few happy moments in my life. Sadly, just like now, Pres was always there to ruin whenever we had a good thing going on.

“Well, since everyone is here, we are going to convene Church early. Your results are in, Shayla. You may accompany us for the initial discussion, but if at any time we need to have a private discussion, or a vote, you will be asked to leave. Do you understand?”

Everyone stands to get ready to head towards the small meeting room at the back of the bar that everyone calls Church. It’s a ridiculous name because I’ve never seen anything less holy. The more I think about walking into that room and finding out the future of my baby, the more my heart starts to race. I wish Kellan could be here for this. He deserves to be here, to find out first before everyone else. But he doesn’t have that luxury. As I walk towards the Church doors, I cross everything I possibly can, and pray to any deity that is listening.Please do the right thing, just this once.

As I feel Jamieson’s hand at the small of my back, guiding me through, I take some big, deep breaths, hoping for the right result.

“Right, well, we better not waste any time. It seems like the paternity of this child is already causing enough hassle as it is,” Pres says, starting the meeting and capturing everyone’s attention.

“How does it feel to know you're going to be a grandad?” Joker asks as he chuckles to himself. My stomach rolls, glad once again that I didn’t get to eat breakfast. There’s no way I want this man to play any role in my child’s life. In fact, I would do anything in the world to ensure this baby never even hears the word ‘Reaper’.

My heart races and as I shuffle on my feet. Everyone is sitting around a large, wooden, specially-carved table. They each have a seat that they have earnt, and the closer you are to the Pres, the higher your rank of seniority. You are not allowed inside the Church unless you are invited. They will sometimes allow Prospects to sit in, just before they’re about to patch them in, so they know what the process is all about. But, there are a lot of bikers in the Reapers, yet only eleven people sit around this table. It is an honour, not a privilege, and it’s one only the President allows. So, while I am allowed to be in this room, I am not allowed to sit, and I must stand beside the biker vouching for me, which of course is Whiskey. It basically means that if any bad shit goes down, or I do anything wrong, Whiskey is the one responsible because he vouched for me.

“I’m far too young to be a grandad,” Pres snaps at Joker, before a disturbing smile spreads across his lips. “But I wouldn’t mind if the little bastard called me Gramps. I think I suit that.” With each word, and the laughs of the surrounding people who all begin chanting the word ‘gramps’, my world starts to close in. No matter how much I really fucking wanted to get away and to give my little gummy bear a life, I would never be free. Even if Kellan is the dad, which is highly unlikely, this baby is still a Reaper, and this is Pres’ way of reminding me.

“Good, now let’s get down to business. Smithy here has your paternity results. He is the only one who knows the results, but before we open them, I want to just rehash, for the sake of everyone, why this is such an unusual situation. Is that okay?” I hate how professional he sounds. But, this is his life, and I know for a fact that he takes this job pretty fucking seriously. Only the true Lifers, the old timers, will be old enough to remember what life was like before Mack Callahan took over as President. There was a revolution, and Mack and Patch, combined with a lot of the younger Reapers, rebelled, not liking the direction the old President was taking things. So they killed him and took the power for themselves. That is why my father never promotes anyone, why he rarely allows Prospects of under a year to patch in. He is the hardest fucking President, and it’s not because he has standards like most people believe. No, it’s because he is a fucking coward who thinks if he gives people who are younger and stronger a little leverage, they will rise up and take everything he holds dear, just like he did.

Everyone around the table confirms that they are okay with him rehashing the story, although if I got a vote, I could do without hearing it again. After all, I’m the one that has to fucking live this for real.

“As you all know, my daughter, Shayla, has managed to get herself pregnant, and one of the people in the running is an outsider,” he says dramatically, as boos and hisses fill the room. What the fuck is this, a pantomime? Jesus, this is so childish. And ‘managed to get herself pregnant’ is a very incorrect statement because, let’s be fucking honest, I wasn’t really giving a lot of consent during most of the occasions. I hardly asked for any of this.

“Now, normally, we wouldn’t even discuss this. That baby is not only a Reaper baby, but an heir. No matter who knocked her up, that baby has my blood, presidential blood, running through its veins. So, that would normally be it.” He pauses for dramatic effect, and everyone looks around nervously. Had they missed a cue, were they supposed to jump in with shouts or an applause? I must admit, even I’m struggling to get what the hell is going on. But I hope he gets it over with quickly. My body aches, my back hurts from being fucking rugby-tackled to the floor by my own mother, and I feel extremely nauseous. So, standing up as still as possible while a group of sadistic, old twats hash out my life is pissing me the hell off, as well as making me uncomfortable.

“Sir, before you continue with the rest of the story, I wondered if I had permission for Shayla to sit down. I’m a bit worried about her and the baby, after your Old Lady attacked her this morning. I don’t want anything to happen to the baby. After all, as you just said, it’s a Reaper no matter what, and we have to treat Shay as we would any other pregnant woman.”

Pres looks over at his Vice President, Little Bit, clearly unsure what the rules say regarding this matter. “She may sit on your knee only. We cannot break Church, and no Reaper here would be low-ranking enough to give up their seat for her. So, the only chair available is the one you are sitting on, and you are not permitted to stand. How's that?” Little Bit announced, as though he were reading from an actual rule book.

Whiskey wasted no time, making sure to first thank both the President and the Vice President for their gracious ruling, before pulling me down onto his knee. I have to admit, while I could not be more pleased that my feet are off the floor, I worry about sitting on his lap in front of the whole Church. I also don’t want to acknowledge how big and muscular he feels, as he wraps his arms around my stomach and gently pulls me until I am fully seated and comfortable. Or, as comfortable as I’m going to be in a room full of people who all raped me, while we discuss the pregnancy.

“So, why are we bothered who the parent of this child is, if they are a true Reaper heir? The problem with this question lies in our morals and the fact that we honour our promises within the Reapers. When Shayla undertook the heist against Whitlock, getting all the information we needed, we agreed that after completing her notice period of thirty days, she would be given her freedom. But, now she's here, and has stayed longer because the freedom of her baby is in question,” Pres explains, while looking me firmly in the eyes. I know I’m not allowed to speak, or I risk Jamieson getting hurt on my behalf. But, it’s just the way he talks about my baby not getting its freedom. He can fuck off if he thinks he is ever getting his hands on my baby.

Whiskey must be aware of how I’m feeling, maybe he can even hear me chuntering along to myself, but either way he lightly pinches my thigh, dragging my attention back to how dangerous this situation is anyway, without having extra stress or drama.

“Now, Shayla, what will happen is, Smithy will hand over the envelope he has in front of him, and I will read out the result. This will then tell us what we are dealing with properly. But, the case seems to be pretty cut and dried,” Pres states, and I can’t help but interrupt, which I think is allowed because he was talking directly to me.

“What do you mean by cut and dry?” I ask. If this information was supposed to be so obvious, why didn’t I know what the hell they are waffling on about? I wish I could look Jamieson in the eye right now, to find out if he knows what Mack is talking about.

“Shayla, you only won one lot of freedom, and that is all we will be granting. Paternity will help us decide what the options are, but it will not change the facts.” As soon as the words leave his lips, I start to lose it. There’s no fucking way I would ever allow myself to be separated from my baby, and he knows this.

This time, before I get a chance to commence more yelling, Jamieson pinches my leg until it hurts. Or until it’s enough to get my attention. He then pulls me until my back is flush against his chest, his lips just below my ear. He whispers so low, only I can hear. “Do not say anything. Get the results and leave. I will look after you, but I can’t do anything if they are beating my ass for something you said.”

Giving him a small nod, I know he has a point. I look up at the table, my father is now holding the envelope, and is staring at me. He has obviously been trying to get my attention for a while. The entire time he is opening it, at such a painfully slow speed, he glares at me. Until finally the envelope is open and he pulls out the results, reading as he opens it. I try to work out what it says, to see what the result says by watching his face, but he gives nothing away. At first I thought I saw a little flash of rage, but I can’t be sure.

“Well, it looks like our worst-case scenario has happened. My little Princess has gone and got herself knocked up by an outsider. There's a ninety-nine point nine percent chance that this Kellan guy is your baby’s father, Shayla,” my father announces, and I physically sag with relief. It may be the last thing they wanted to hear, but it’s the best fucking scenario for me. I can finally get the fuck out of here and live my life with Kellan. Or at least that’s what my brain was thinking before I felt how tense Jamieson got.

“Now we know the result, we can discuss what happens next. As I mentioned before, Shayla, you have only earned one lot of freedom. Therefore, if you go, the baby will need to stay in your place. Or if the baby goes, you can stay in place. If you cannot bear to be parted, then of course we would be more than happy to keep you both. But let me be very fucking clear about this. You, and now this baby, are my only heirs. I will only allow one of you to leave. There will be no more discussion on this, and we will not be voting on the second freedom. I will not grant it, no matter what you offer. One person is remaining behind. You may leave to think about it, but when we next reconvene Church, I expect Whiskey here to have a full update for us.”

“Wait, sorry, Sir. I just have one question. If I choose to stay, and let Kellan have the baby, could I be allowed to leave the compound for the duration of the pregnancy. You know I would never go against a ruling, and you also know if I didn’t willingly return, you would drag me back. But, this place is far too dangerous. Even with your ruling in place, my safety cannot be guaranteed, and I owe that much to my baby. If I give it my freedom, then surely that should start now.”

There are mumbles from all around the table, as they all begin talking at once over what the right thing to do is. In the end the Pres has to shout at everyone to get them to shut up. He tells me I have to step out while they discuss this rationally. They will call me back when they have made a decision. I will also have the chance to change my mind. Not that I need it. If only one person gets to have their freedom, then there isn’t even the slightest bit of doubt in my mind who it belongs to. My baby is going to get the life I’ve always wanted, even if it means living without me.

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