Page 30 of Choices

On instinct, my eyes cut to Kitty, and my heart pounds against my ribcage.

“She’s spirited like her mother,” he says, following my line of sight. He rarely spoke of Kitty and Callan’s mother, like saying her name in the club tainted her.

“I don’t want this life for her.” My stomach shifts, swilling the whiskey around. “The life we lead is unpredictable, chaotic, dangerous. If this week has taught us anything, it’s that.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I try not to show how affected I am by what he’s saying, but the whisky weakens the walls I erect when it comes to Kitty, and I’m pretty sure I’m frowning.

“Because I’m not blind. I see how she looks at you and vice versa.”

Fucking hell.

Does Callan see it too?

“But she’s not for you.” And there it is. My chest aches, the invisible blade twisting. He flexes his jaw, watching her. “Shedeserves stability—a man she knows is going to come home to her every night. Give her a family, holidays, the whole white picket fence bullshit.”

That’s not her. And it’s fucking hypocritical of him. Even if it’s true. She does deserve all of that, and I can’t give her any of it.

It’s one thing knowing you’re not good enough. Having it confirmed makes me sick to the marrow of my bones.

“Come on. It’s time to deal with Claire.”

What the fuck does that mean? Is he going to make me put her in the ground after all? I thought he would keep her sweet and in his bed.

We weave through the crowd, stopping so brothers can shake their president’s hand, shooting the shit until we finally make it into the hallway leading to his room, passing Callan’s. I haven’t seen him tonight.

“Do you think she’s a risk?” I ask.

“I think she has ideals of earning an ol’ lady title that she won’t ever get from me. Might turn her bitter. She’s drawn to power, and that can be dangerous.”

Fuck.

Darkness, where the shadows hide and survive on the blood, violence, and death of a biker’s life, has always been where I’ve felt most comfortable. It’s a part of me, and I thrive in the chaos of it all. But I don’t feel good about Claire. I’ve shared drinks and meals with the bitch, seen her love Pres with a desperate need to be claimed by him.Like Kitty with me.This feels dirty.

“I want to feel her out, see how she reacts to seeing you. You haven’t spent time together since that night.”

Unlocking his door, he pushes it open, and Claire looks up from the floor, her arms wrapped around a trash can, eyes wet and bloodshot. Her brow is soaked as she heaves, vomiting into the can.

“What the hell? Are you sick?” Pres grimaces, stepping back, not crossing the threshold.

I walk in and take a seat on the edge of the mattress. The walls feel like they’re crumbling in on me. Claire follows my path with her eyes, her face becoming paler. She knows Pres is testing her, keeping her locked away while he decides if a death sentence is coming for her.

“Diamond’s fucking chili,” she sputters. “The baby doesn’t like it.”

My ears must be mistaken.What baby? I look around the room like one’s going to spring out of the bed sheets.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Pres takes a deadly step inside, sucking all the oxygen out of the room. Cowering against the trash can, she startles when the door slams closed and leaps to her feet, swiping at her mouth and resting a hand over her stomach.

Brothers had knocked up club sluts many times in the past, acting recklessly with their cocks, but Pres got snipped, never wanting more than Callan and Kit. If he wasn’t going to end her before, he will now. She’s been fucking around on him.

I’d never have to worry about this problem. I wore rubbers with everyone but Kit and shot blanks. Found out when I was fifteen and had forged my age on a sign-up sheet to sell my sperm. Wanted the money for a two-day rock festival. I didn’t think much about it at the time or while growing up. It didn’t bother me until I sank into Kit’s warm body and realized I’d never fill her belly with my kid. There would never be a picket fence or little Kitty’s and Cutter’s running around.

Pres’s scathing glare narrows in on Claire. “You know it’s not mine. Whose dick have you been bouncing on?”

Her body quakes, lips trembling as she tries to speak. Only a squeak comes out. No brother would be foolish enough to fuck the pres’s favorite girl. It’s an unwritten rule we all respected.

Desperate blue eyes bleed into me. “Cutter.” She forms the word, and I don’t know if I imagine her saying it or if she actually said it. “It’s Cutter’s baby.”

Yeah, she said it.

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