Page 10 of Notorious

“Got a couple of new brothers into the clubhouse today. They’ve brought with them some tagalongs. One has a pregnant Old Lady, though she is important to another chapter, and I guess what you professionals would call a geriatric pregnancy—”

“We don’t use that term anymore. Now, we say advanced maternal age, Stone.”

“Whatever!” I shrug. “So there’s Ingrid with her advancedmaternal agepregnancy, which I want you to keep an eye on, but the real reason I’m calling for is Clover. She’s seventeen, just transferred here with her brother, a newly patched member, and she has diabetes. We need someone to keep her medications in check and to keep an eye on her. Now, I’m asking… can you help?”

Livvy hums down the line like she’s thinking it through. “I don’t know, Stone, you’re asking a lot of me—”

“Livvy, c’mon!” I groan.

She giggles. “You know I’m messing with you. The club was my home too. I miss those guys, and if there’s some new blood, I’d love to meet them and help out however I can. But just so you know, I’m only a charge nurse. I only have access to certain things, but I can get Clover in touch with the best doctors in my hospital. We’ll get it figured out.”

Scrubbing at my beard, I let out a relieved exhale. “Thank you. I knew I could count on you.”

Livvy softly sighs. “Stone… you can always count on me. We may have been through some shit, but you’re family. Always.”

My eyes shift to the picture of Poppy on my bedside table, and that same ache forms in the pit of my stomach. “Thanks for the gift basket, Liv.”

“You’re welcome, you grumpy bastard. I’ll pop by after work.” There’s a small pause, and then, “Stone… she would want you to live your life. She wouldn’t want you laying in your bedroom, drinking tequila and sinking further into your shell.”

Fuck.

She knows me so well.

“It’s my fault, Liv. It will always be my fault.” My heart races harder as the memories creep back in.

I couldn’t breathe.

My feet felt like lead and took far too long to get to her. I was running but not fast enough. The smell of smoke lingered in the air as I took off, not waiting for my brothers. I didn’t care if the cartel was sitting in there in wait.

I knew I needed to get to my baby girl.

They had her.

They told me I had forty-eight hours to give them back the product they thought I had stolen from them.

I had no fucking clue what they were talking about.

The club had never had any kind of contact with the Rojas Cartel until I received their fucking phone call turning my life upside down. I didn’t take their product, but they took my daughter as a down payment until I returned it.

My forty-eight hours were up, and Loki had only just been able to triangulate their location.

The smell in the air churned my stomach as I burst into the warehouse, coughing and fighting my way through the smoke. The atmosphere was still hot from the fire that had scorched through there moments before, and the soles of my boots were hot beneath my feet. But I kept racing through the warehouse.

“Alpha! Let us search for you, brother!” Swift called out as he ran in behind me.

“No! She’s my daughter. I have to find her,” I yelled while starting to pull still-smoldering wooden crates apart to try to find her in the debris.

The other guys raced around the simmering warehouse looking for Poppy when Dutch stopped and gasped. “Fuck! Pres, I think I found her,” he said but in a soft voice.

I turned, bolting toward Dutch, but he stepped in front of me, gripping my shoulders. “I don’t think you want to see this, Pres.”

“Dutch, get the fuck out of my way, or so help me God,” I grit the words out through my teeth.

The other guys filed around us as Dutch dropped his chin to his chest and slowly stepped to the side, showing me a small body.

Big enough to be a five-year-old girl.

Singed beyond recognition.

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