Reaper's Legacy(4)By: Joanna Wylde
“’Kay, I’m outside,” he said, moving away from the crowd in front of the Ironhorse.
“Jesse, Sophie needs you,” his mom said.
“What do you mean?” he asked, peering at his bike, parked down the street. Was that guy getting close to it? Oh, not gonna happen …
“So, are you going?” she said. Shit. She’d been talking.
“Fuck, sorry, Ma. Missed what you said.”
“I just got a panicked phone call from Sophie,” his mom repeated. “Stupid kids. She went to a kegger with your brother and now she thinks she might be in labor. He’s too drunk to drive her and she’s having contractions, so she can’t drive herself. I’m gonna kill him. I can’t believe he’d take her somewhere like that, especially now.”
“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”
“Jesse, don’t use that language with me,” she snapped. “Can you help her or not? I’m in Spokane and it’ll take at least an hour to get there. I’ll start making more phone calls if you can’t do it.”
“Wait, isn’t it too early?”
“A little too early, yes,” she replied, her voice tense. “I wanted to call an ambulance but she insists it’s just Braxton Hicks. Ambulance rides cost a fortune, you know, and she’s scared of the bills. She wants to go home but I think she might need the hospital. Can you get her or not? I can meet you there as soon as I hit town. I’ve got a real bad feeling about this, Jess. Didn’t sound like Braxton Hicks to me.”
“Yeah, of course,” he replied, wondering what the hell “Braxton Hicks” were. He saw Mary Jo come out of the bar, smiling at him ruefully. She knew all about sudden phone calls and changes in plans. “Where are they?”
He got the information, then hung up, walking over to his date and shrugging his shoulders. This sucked. He wanted to get laid, and not at the clubhouse. Some fuckin’ privacy would be nice for once, and Mary Jo was wild as they got.
“Club business?” she asked lightly. Thank fuck she wasn’t a drama queen.
“Nope, family,” he replied. “My asshole stepbrother knocked up his girlfriend and now she’s going into labor. Needs a ride to the hospital. I’m gonna go get her.”
Mary Jo’s eyes widened.
“You should leave,” she said quickly. “I’ll take a cab home. Shit, that sucks … How old is she?”
“Just turned seventeen.”
“Damn,” she said, shivering with genuine horror. “I can’t imagine having a kid that young. Call me later, okay?”
He gave her a fast but hard kiss. She reached down and offered his cock a quick squeeze. Ruger groaned, feeling himself stiffen. He really needed to get laid …
Instead, he pulled away and walked over to his bike.
The party was halfway to Athol, off in some field that he vaguely remembered visiting when he was in high school. He found Zach’s truck easy enough. Sophie stood next to it, looking scared in the summer twilight. Then her face tightened and she hunched over her giant belly, groaning. Now she looked terrified.
Ruger parked his bike and realized he’d have to leave it in the field—no way she could ride with him. Fucking great. Asshat little shits would probably run over it or something. Sophie’s face was white with strain, though. No room to fuck around. She needed to go in the truck, and clearly she needed to go now. Ruger shook his head, glancing around for his brother.
He still couldn’t figure out why a smart, beautiful girl like her would pick Zach, of all people. Sophie had long, reddish-brown hair, beautiful green eyes, and a way about her that screamed feminine softness—a softness he’d spent more than one night imagining with his dick in his hand. Even pregnant in the middle of a field party, she was still gorgeous.