Page 3 of Devil's Own: Roughneck

“Can I help?” I ask, and the pretty server tilts her head to look at me through shimmering eyes. The old guy looks at me, too. “Are you having any pain, pressure, or tightness in your chest?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

“Anything that feels like nausea, indigestion, or heartburn?”

Again no.

“Lightheadedness, dizziness, or—”

He holds his hand up to cut me off. “I’m fine. Choked on saliva. I’m seventy years old and just found out I’m going to be a dad for the first time.”

Oh. Wow. How had I missedthatconversation? The bar’s not that busy. Still, I know that feeling of ‘Holy shit.’ Only mine came when I’d just turned fifteen. My best friend had been dating a guy much older than us. I think he’d been twenty-one or twenty-two at the time. She threw me a small birthday party at her trailer. I was staying the night. Her boyfriend, Troy, showed up to celebrate with us and brought the alcohol. I didn’t typically drink because I’d seen too many bad things happen when people weren’t in control of their faculties, but we were at her place, and it was just the three of us, so I figured, what could it hurt? Me, as it turned out.

Troy waited until my friend had fallen asleep and moved out to the sofa, where I was sleeping. I woke up to him on top of me.

“What are you doing?”

“Saw the way you looked at me. Know you want this.”

“No. You’re with Kelly.” I was scared, too drunk to push him off me.

“You a fucking tease?”

I shook my head vigorously because I wasn’t a tease. He must’ve taken thatnothe wrong way. Rather than get off of me, seeing as I hadn’t flirted with or teased him, he pulled my panties down my legs, not even bothering to pull them off all the way. They dangled from one leg while he shoved my thighs apart and forced himself inside. I’d been a virgin. It hurt so badly. I closed my eyes, unable to stare at his face while he moved and grunted. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I felt like I had to vomit.

When he finished, he pulled out, tucked himself back inside his boxer briefs, and pushed up off me. “I’ve had better,” he said. “You were tight but just lay there like a dead fish.” No words came to me. I cried harder, and he rushed me, slapping me across the face. “Shut the fuck up. This shit is on you. You flirted with me, and you know it. You wanted me to fuck you, so don’t go saying anything else. Don’t say shit about tonight to anyone, or you’ll regret it.”

He casually walked back to Kelly’s room. Her mom was out God-only-knew-where, so we’d had the trailer to ourselves. As soon as the door shut, I pulled my pants on under my nightshirt, slipped on my shoes and hoodie, and left, walking home late at night by myself.

My younger brother was up watching some horror show. Younger by only a year, he often tried to act like my older brother, like he was the man of the house. Daniel saw my tear-streaked face and rushed over to me. I couldn’t bring myself to explain, but he knew something was wrong. He wanted to call the cops, but in our world, you didn’t involve the cops. The cops tended to try to find a way to blame trashy kids like us. And with that loser saying this was on me? I knew. I just knew how they’d treat me. What did I do to put myself in that situation?

Two months later, by the time I’d been brave enough to take a pregnancy test and confirm what I was afraid of, Daniel had already been arrested for killing the man who had killed our mother at that time. She died only a week after my birthday. It was a turbulent time for our little family. I spent most of it alone after the incident with Troy because once my brother had sussed out what had happened, I couldn’t stand to be around him. I was so humiliated. I wasn’t home when my mom’s boyfriend attacked her during an argument. And I wasn’t home when Daniel walked in on them, and the dick turned his rage on my little brother. I wasn’t home to stop Daniel from killing that asshole, who deserved to die, and I wasn’t home to make sure that when he took that man’s life, the coward wasn’t running away. No longer self-defense. It meant the cops taking Daniel from me, too.

On one of our visitations, I pulled up the courage to tell Daniel I was pregnant. He raged, demanding I confront Troy. This time, at fifteen and with no family to speak of, I decided to do that because I needed help financially. Troy predictably called me a liar, a whore—basically, every demeaning thing he could come up with. Kelly tookhisside, which broke my heart. She started all kinds of nasty rumors about me, and Troy skipped town after I reminded him paternity tests existed.

So yeah, I understand his reaction. Though, I hope it’s a happier time for them. “Will you please get in to see your doctor just to be safe? I’m sure you’re the picture of health, but if you’ve got a baby on the way, it’s better to be safe.”

“She’s right, babe,” the server says as her fear continues to coat her words. I don’t get it, but I don’t have to.

“That was cool of you.” This deep, rumbly voice, the kind of voice a woman justknowscould get her into a world of trouble, speaks to me, and I look up, wishing that I hadn’t. Those eyes—damn. I could lose myself in those eyes. He’s broad-shouldered and solid. Tall. Gorgeous. Like, I don’t know how the universe decided to give us a man this… this…damn. But I feel privileged to be in his presence just this once.

My mouth hangs open as I stare at him like an idiot.

“You okay?” he asks, and I immediately shut my mouth.

“I, uh… didn’t want him to die.”

He snickers. “Me, either.” The big guy dances his eyes back over to my table. “What are you drinking? Nutty’s a good friend of mine. Let me buy you a drink to saythank you.”

“Whiskey,” I answer, sounding like a frog, and clear my throat. “Whiskey,” I answer again.

While—apparently, the bartender’s name is Nutty—Nuttygets doted on by his girlfriend, the large man beside me rises from his seat and walks around the back of the bar to pour me my drink. When his back is to me, I see a large patch on his leather cut that reads, “Bedlam Horde MC.”

The Bedlam Horde? I couldn’t have been this lucky, could I? I came to Kentucky to find the Bedlam Horde. He slides me the glass after pouring himself one, too. Then he rounds the bar again to take his seat next to me and I suddenly forget my purpose in being there.

The kindness and warmth he radiates, wrapped up in a stunning form that exudes badassery, completely draws me in.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

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