Page 3 of Risk
Outside of that, I have a part time job for authors. I’m a reader, it’s my escape from reality. I taught myself to format and design covers. That’s the income that I report to the courts while hiding the other part of myself. I make enough to prove myself fit, and I do, even if it’s by the skin of my teeth. Soon, designers will be obsolete, a thing of the past, and I’ll have to find another job I can do from home that’ll satisfy the judge watching over my case.
But I’ll cross that road when I don’t have any other choice. For now, there are honorable authors who want human designers and those are the ones I’ll fight hard to keep. I’m slowly making a name for myself in that industry under a pseudonym so Marshall never discovers what I do in my free time. It’s risky and ballsy, but I’ll take whatever chance I have to so I can stay in Phoenix’s life.
Marshall belongs to some organization that deals with more than human trafficking, one that he’s proven is real and not phony. I thought he was bullshitting me the first time he took me, but after he took me to a party where the big wigs were, I believed him.
What blew my mind is that they actually go hunting and looking for young girls and boys that can easily be taken and somehow, I fit into that category: A single mom, a dad who flew the coop, and a problem teenager who’d run away more than once looking for greener pastures.
My life back then fit their mold.
Yes, Mom would look for me, she’d make a report, but it wouldn’t go further than that. I’d never make national news. I’d never be listed as more than a problem child with a history of taking off.
I shake myself out of my gloomy mood and continue walking to the toy aisle. Being in town with Risk is risky for lack of a better word but it’s out of my hands. If he were to see Phoenix, he’d know with one glance who his father is. But since our boy is still in day care and my mom is crazy overprotective of him, that’s the only place he goes outside of the house.
So at least that worry can be crossed off my ever-growing list of concerns. I’m not sure what will happen to me when I become undesirable, but hopefully with the way I’ve handled things, I’ll be set free.
That’s my prayer anyway, no matter how unrealistic it is.
I’m sure they’ll find another use for me or discard me like one would their trash. Either way, as long as I keep my son and my marriage to Risk a secret, whatever happens to me will be worth it.
At the end of the day, my men, they’re worth sacrificing myself for.
CHAPTER
TWO
Risk
For the firsttime things have been calm around the clubhouse. The kids are settling into their new roles around here, the brothers and old ladies have lifted the weight they carried off their shoulders by stepping up and taking responsibility for the younger ones.
It’s been an adjustment, I’m not gonna lie about that. But now that we’ve gotten in the groove of things, it’s as if we’ve always been one big dysfunctional family. The teenage boys are the little brothers we never wanted but needed to remind us that all of our struggles and sacrifices have been worth it. I wasn’t onboard initially with settling down in one town, but now that they’ve entered the picture, I am.
Demi and Luna have taken to motherhood like they were born to take on that role. At first, I was hesitant when it came to Demi since she thought she didn’t have a motherly bone in her body, but the way Brooklynn hangs off of her like a little monkey andJordan goes to her whenever there’s something on his mind, says differently.
A heavy breathing sound coming from my left catches my attention. I twist on my seat and watch Luna pace from one end of the common room to the other, holding the weight of her belly in her hand as she breathes in and out in patterns. When Demi comes rushing over to her with a stopwatch, I drop my beer and as it shatters on the hardwood floor, all eyes turn toward me.
“Are you in labor?” I ask Luna, freaking the hell out. Kodiak and Conan went two towns over for a meeting with a potential client so it’s just me and the other guys here with the women and kids.
Luna waves me away, stating, “It’s nothing, just Braxton-Hicks.”
“I’m not sure who you’re trying to convince of that, Luna. But we both know you’re full of shit,” Demi scolds.
“I’m not full of shit, Demi,” Luna argues.
“No, you’re full of baby that’s about to make an appearance,” Rev says, “at least that’s what I’m taking from the fact that you’ve either pissed your pants or your water broke.”
“It hasn’t broken,” Luna adamantly argues. “It’s trickling. There’s a big difference.”
Not wanting to get stuck smack dab in the middle of this controversial debate, I pull my phone out of my cut pocket and go to my trusty friend—Google. “Hate to break it to you, no pun intended, but if you’re trickling it’s the same damn thing.”
“According to whom?” Luna asks, her eyebrows drawn in.
I wave my phone through the air and tell her, “The internet.”
“I’m calling Marcum,” Demi announces, walking over to the bar where her purse is stashed and starts rummaging through it until she finds her cell and yanks it out with a look of success on her face. “Ah-ha! Can’t hide from me.”
As she says that, Brooklynn giggles, squinches her nose, and aims her own finger at the device with a scowl on her face. Her baby babbling is freaking hilarious. The room burst out into laughter, including Luna, who follows that up with an, “Oh, shit.”
Those two words changed the entire atmosphere of the club. It went from jovial laughter to a bunch of men, teenagers, and little ones' backs stiffening and the air becomes stifling.
