Page 37 of Never Trust the Living (Battle Crows MC 7)

It took me four and a half months to find her.

Four and a half months of looking everywhere for her.

Eventually, I’d had to enlist the help of not only Easton and his crew of private investigators, but also Hunt, a computer genius from a fellow motorcycle club—Souls Chapel MC—to find her.

But, according to Hunt and Easton, she’d done really well hiding her trail.

She’d only used cash for the longest time.

Until last week when she’d shown up on a local ATM as she pulled out some money.

I’d already been on my way there—Accident, Florida—when I’d gotten a call that’d sent me flying.

“Hello?” I answered, pulling over to the side of the road to answer.

The helmet that I usually wore that connected to my Bluetooth headphones was broken, meaning any calls that I had to take were done the old-fashioned way—via placing the phone to my ear.

“Mr. Crow?” a rough male voice said carefully.

“Yes.” I stiffened, unsure that I liked hearing that caution in someone’s voice.

Usually that caution preceded bad news.

“This is Gary Stegan from Accident Memorial ER. Your wife, Dorcas Crow, is here. She sustained a fall. You’re listed as her emergency contact,” Gary Stegan said.

I felt my stomach sink to my toes.

“I’m already on my way,” I answered. “I’m still at least three hours from Accident. But I’ll be there as soon as I can.” The next words stuck in my throat slightly as I said, “Is she okay?”

She had to be.

The last four and a half months had been the worst of my life.

I’d had no fucking clue—none—about how much she meant to me until she was gone.

All my noble intentions of not bringing her further into my web of lies, deceit, and mayhem died a slow death the longer I had to live without her.

No longer did I care that I was going to force her—and eventually our children—to live in a world that might not always be completely on the up and up.

Now, I knew that she was going to be mine, forever, and I’d just have to find a way to make her want me.

But now, with her hurt…

“She’s okay,” the man replied.

Gary. Was he a nurse? Or her doctor?

“She’s suffered a few bumps and contusions. At first, we were worried about a head injury, but now that we’ve ruled out a concussion, we’re only worried about the baby now.”

Baby.

My heart stopped and my stomach completely dropped to my feet.

I stared at nothing for a few long seconds before I said, “Baby?”

“Shit. You didn’t know that?” he asked. “She was so far along that I figured she’d shared. But some women get scared to share that kind of stuff with their partners at the beginning. Miscarriages are scary, I’ve heard. But yeah, baby. Act surprised when she tells you.”

I had a feeling she hadn’t been planning on telling me until it’d happened. Or at all.

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