Page 66 of Avenging Devil: Part 1

Loud kissing sounds come from behind, and Dusty’s tattooed arms come around me. “Not even for me?” He purses his lips and smacks them again loudly.

“Get the fuck off,” I reply, with a laugh. Then when he hangs on, I brace my arms, then flex and break his hold. “Fuckin’ comedian.”

But his antics have brightened my mood, reminding me that I’m among brothers, who’ll have my back when I need them to, and pick me up when I fall.

It’s just a fucking pity Saffie couldn’t comprehend what we really stand for.

It’s only later, as I make myself ready for bed, I realise I’d gotten distracted and had never asked Cyn why her ex, to my mind, boyfriend in hers, was contacting her? I’ll have to find out.

But by the next morning, it doesn’t seem urgent. I get up, dress, go to work. I’ve got my head under the hood of a Mustang, concentrating on a tricky job, when a voice makes me jump so hard, I bang my head when I stand up.

“What the fuck?” Grumbler laughs, and expertly dodges my playful fist. “Whatcha want?” I snarl, a little ungraciously, rubbing my scalp.

“Hey, just wanted to give you an update.” He passes a sonogram picture across. “Mary had another ultrasound yesterday. All’s going well.”

Taking it, I examine it, comparing it to the memory of that time weeks ago when I saw the baby on the screen for myself. It’s certainly grown and is looking more like a recognisable baby now. It’s even sucking its thumb. Cute little thing.

I grin as I hand it back. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Brother. Something I noticed when I went to the hospital with Mary, and that,” I point to the picture he’s holding, “confirms it now.” I force myself to look serious. “Hate to tell you, ol’ man, but I don’t think that kid is yours.”

His eyes go wide. His brow furrows. Then he growls, “What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

Raising and lowering my shoulders, then bringing them level once more, I shake my head. “Look at the sonogram, Grumbler. That darn kid has no tattoos. No way can it be the fruit of your loins.”

Grumbler blinks, then launches forward. “Ass!” He holds up his fists. I go to block him, and we trade a few playful shots.

By the time we finish dancing around each other, he snorts, barely holding back his laughter. “Guess you need to learn some facts of life. Tattoos aren’t fuckin’ genetic.”

Again, I shrug, but try hard to keep the grin off my face. “Giving the amount you’ve got, I kinda expected some of the ink to seep through.”

“Jeez.” Beside us, Ross snorts. “Ain’t that a thought? A baby Grumbler being born, complete with tats.”

“Would save a shitload of money,” Gibbs, also having entered, agrees. “And put Blaze out of a job.”

Ross, with one hand rubbing the stump where his prosthesis attaches to his other arm, furrows his brow. “Imagine if that was a thing. What if the kid hated the tats they’re born with?”

“Be like having an ugly birthmark,” Gibbs replies. “And would they be miniature like, and grow with the kid? Or stretch out of proportion?”

Grumbler and I just glance at each other, then we both crack up. It wasn’t that funny, but both of us are able to use that moment of light relief. When at last we can look at each other without laughing, he slaps Ross on his back, and toward me, jerks his head.

I follow him into the office, noting he closes the door, indicating this is personal or he wants words about the club.

He doesn’t keep me waiting. “You still not heard from Saffie? Mary always asks about her. She’d like to know how she’s doing.” His mouth twists, probably because Saffie’s circumstances hit too close to home, and aren’t far removed from what they could be facing.

“That ship’s sailed, Brother. I doubt I’ll hear from her again.” I shrug, then admit, “It’s a shame Mary met her. Must have put thoughts in her head.”

“It fuckin’ did.” His tone makes me brace myself, but then his tight jaw relaxes. “My ol’ lady’s stubborn as a fuckin’ mule, as well as pragmatic. She and I both know what might be coming without any reminder, though all the tests look positive so far. Hope to fuck it doesn’t of course, but we’re as prepared as we can be.” He pauses a moment. “Mary’s concerned as she’s got more than her fair share of compassion. She’s gutted that girl is dealing with everything on her own.” He closes his eyes momentarily. “You don’t get over ending a pregnancy in a minute. Mary understands that only too well. If it happens to us, we’ve got each other for support. Saffie’s got no one. It’s been all I can do to stop her driving over to see her.”

“Saffie made her decision, Grumbler. She wants nothing to do with me or the club. Hate to say this but tell Mary visiting won’t help her. It might make things worse.”

Grumbler grimaces. “That’s what I thought. Saffie’s clearly had some dealings with an MC, dealings that didn’t settle with her. I told Mary she could do more harm than good. Saffie knows I’m her old man and an MC member.”

I raise and dip my head. “That’s why I’m abiding by her wishes. I can’t leave the club.”

Grumbler’s stare and shake of his head shows he’s surprised I’d even consider it.

“She was raped, Grumbler.” He already knows it. “What I don’t know is if it was by one, or a number of members.”

“Jesus,” Grumbler breathes out. “If more than one was involved, no wonder she doesn’t like bikers.” He picks up some paperwork, preparing to get back to work, but has time to add, “That poor little girl.”

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