Reaper's Legacy(5)By: Joanna Wylde
Way the fuck too young, though.
She saw him and winced, reaching around to put one hand against her back, stretching as the contraction ended. Ruger knew she didn’t like him, and he didn’t blame her. They hadn’t met under the best of circumstances, and things between him and Zach went further to shit every day. Ruger hated the way he treated their mom and hated the way he lived his life. More than anything else, he hated the way the little fuck was already running around on Sophie behind her back.
Cocksucker didn’t deserve a girl like her, and their kid sure as hell hadn’t won the lottery when it came to his future daddy.
“How you doing?” he asked, coming up to Sophie and hunkering down so he could see her face. Her eyes were full of panic.
“My water broke,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. “The contractions are coming really fast. Way too fast. It’s supposed to be slow with your first baby, it never happens this fast. I need to get to the hospital, Ruger. I shouldn’t have come here.”
“Oh, fuck me,” he muttered. “You got the keys?”
She shook her head.
“Zach does. He’s over by the bonfire. Maybe we should call an ambulance? Oh …” she groaned, leaning over.
“Hang in there,” he said. “I’ll get Zach. I can drive you to the hospital faster than an ambulance at this point.”
She groaned again and leaned back against the truck. Ruger took off toward the bonfire, finding Zach half passed out on the ground.
“On your feet, asshole,” Ruger demanded, grabbing him by the shirt and dragging him upright. “Keys. Now.”
Zach looked at him blankly. Was that barf on his shirt? High school kids stood around watching them, eyes wide as they clutched their big red Solo cups of cheap beer.
“Fuck me,” Ruger muttered again, digging down into his brother’s pants pocket, hoping like hell he hadn’t lost them. This was closer to Zach’s dick than he ever needed his hand to be. He pulled out the keys, dropping Zach back onto the dirt.
“You wanna see your kid gettin’ born, get your ass in the truck now,” Ruger told him. “I’m not waiting for you.”
With that he took off toward the Ford, wrenching open the door and lifting Sophie into the backseat. He heard a thudding noise and saw Zach climb into the truck bed out of the corner of his eye.
Ruger turned on the engine and popped the truck into gear, ready to go. Then he slammed it back into park, jumped out, and ran over to his bike. He had a little first aid kit in there. Nothing fancy, but at this rate they might need it. He climbed back in the truck, pulled out of the field, and started toward the highway, watching Sophie anxiously in the rearview mirror. She was panting hard and then she screamed.
Every hair on the back of his neck stood up.
“Holy shit, I feel like I need to push,” she cried. “Oh, God, it hurts. It hurts so bad. I’ve never felt anything like this. Drive faster—we need to get there fast …”
Her voice trailed off as she groaned again. Ruger drove faster, wondering if Zach had something to hold on to. He couldn’t see him back there. Maybe he’d passed out in the bed.
Hell, maybe he’d bounced out. Ruger didn’t care either way.
They’d almost made it to the highway when Sophie started shouting.
“Stop! Stop the truck.”
Ruger stopped, hoping to hell that didn’t mean what he thought it did. He threw on the parking brake and turned to see her, eyes closed, face almost purple and full of agony. She was crouching forward, moaning.
“Ambulance,” he said, his voice grim. She nodded tightly. He made the call, giving the operator the details of their situation. Afterward, he put the phone on speaker, dropping it to the seat. Then he got out and opened the back door, leaning in.