Page 33 of Choices

“No.” I shake my head and instantly regret it. “She was throwing up.”

“So what?” He places a hand on his hip and shakes his head. “I threw up last night—half the fucking club did. It means nothing.”

It means Diamond’s chili needs work. Could she be lying? Hit with a sudden wave of doubt, I say, “I’ll get her to pee on a stick.”

“You get her to piss on a bunch of fucking sticks then take a long, hard look and ask yourself if her port is where you want to stow your boat the next eighteen years.”

“We done?” I raise a brow. Getting lectured is the last thing I want right now.

“No, we’re not done. Believe or not, I didn’t come here to discuss diapers. I got a call from Michael.”

The air shifts. A cold snake slithers up my spine, settling around my neck. “And?” I edge forward a step.

“He wants to meet.”

Usually, I can read my best friend’s face and tell what he’s thinking, but there’s nothing. “You think he knows something?”

“I don’t know, but he sounded bleak. Said he needed a big favor and that he’d pay us back.”

“When does he want to meet?”

“In an hour. Get cleaned up.” Gesturing up and down my body, he adds, “You look like shit,” before exiting with a slam of the door.

Sleeping on a bathroom floor after lighting the fuse on the fuck-my-life bomb will do that to you.

The shower turns off, and Claire appears through a mist of steam a minute later. Wearing one towel around her torso and another one twisted over her head, she takes tentative steps to the bed and sits. “I know this is a lot,” she murmurs, her head bowed, fingers playing with a piece of thread in her lap.

“Are you even pregnant?”

Lifting her gaze to mine and placing a hand on her stomach, she says, “Yes. About eight weeks.”

“Whose is it?” This feels fucking weird, like I don’t have a right to be interrogating her, and a big part of me doesn’t give afuck about this or her. But I’m not heartless. I cling to the piece of me that’s still human, earning the love of a woman like Kitty.

“Does it matter?”

No. Yes. I don’t fucking know.

“It really was a one-time thing.” She chews her bottom lip.

“Is it a brother? Most of them are about as sharp as a marble but some can do math.”

“It was an outsider—a stranger in a bar.” She shrugs. “I’m not proud of it, but I want the baby, I’ll be a good mom.”

“I’m not judging.”

“Are you going to tell Jericho the truth?” Getting to her feet, she approaches me and takes my hand, squeezing it between her much smaller ones. “You don’t have to do anything for the kid. Just keep my secret and I’ll keep yours.”

“What does that mean?” It sounds a hell of a lot like a threat.

Dropping my hand, she pauses, then says, “I know the dead guy is a Carnell and how big of a deal that is.”

Taking a menacing step toward her, I grit out through clenched teeth, “So, you know cleaning up the loose ends includes you.”

Chest quivering, her thighs hit the lip of the bed, almost making her topple over onto it.

“I’ll do anything, Cutter. I’m not some rat or enemy. I love this club. It’s my life.”

Yeah, I know the feeling.

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