Filthy Daddy

This feels so surreal, I can’t help but question it. “You mean to tell me that your only daughter gets knocked up by accident, by a biker gang member, and you’re proud of me? That’s got to be a first.” I glance down at the marble kitchen island counter. A handful of days ago I was playing naughty shoplifter here with Tate. “God, I was such an idiot.”

“This is what I mean. You judge yourself enough. I don’t need to weigh in at all.” She squeezes my arm. “You also forgot to mention that your biker gang boyfriend happens to love you dearly, is part of a legitimate security firm that shut down that psychotic ex-boyfriend of yours, and he’s awfully cute too.” She lifts my chin, and as our eyes meet, she gives me a wink. “Please promise me if you don’t end up moving in with Tate, you and the baby will stay here with me.”

I have no words for anything my mother said during the last minute.

“Take your time. Don’t rush into any decisions. Weigh all your options. I’m off to brunch with the girls. You’ll be okay here without me, right?”

“Yes, I can handle a couple hours by myself without you watching me like a hawk.”

“I know. Call me if you need anything.” She presses a light kiss on my forehead and snatches her purse off the counter.

“I will.” I hold up my smartphone. “You’re on speed dial.”

Seeming satisfied, she flashes me a sympathetic smile and her usual regal wave and leaves. Unfortunately, she isn’t the only woman I have to deal with today. Not if I want answers. If I’m going to have Tate’s baby, I need to start preparing for the fact that the Satan’s Saints MC will be in my life. That means I have to give Cindy a callback.

I imagine it going over really badly. Still, this is something I need to do for the baby. Sabrina and Jenny are the only two women I have a fair enough relationship with at the clubhouse. They’re both younger though, and neither of them has faced motherhood yet.

Mustering up the courage, I find Cindy’s number on my phone and hit the call button. I’m about to hang up on the third ring when there’s a cough on the other end of the line.

“Yeah? Who’s this?”

“Hi. Cindy?”

“Yeah. Who the hell wants to know? Hurry up, I don’t have all day, sweetheart.”

“It’s Molly.”

“Oh. The booty call, womb-still-fucking-fertile, man-trapping bitch. Why the hell are you calling my phone, hussy?”

Hmmm. I start to think maybe I’d have been better off asking Silas or Cole. Hell, I’m ready to ask Tate.

“You sent me a text, Cindy. But it’s okay. Never mind. Take care.”

“You can’t get off this easily, missy. I sent you a text but don’t expect me to be all sweet on you. When can you meet me?”

Maternal much?

Nurturing much?

Not Cindy. Maybe when Silas was two, but definitely not now.

“I’m free whenever.” I take a breath and spit it out. “I also want to ask a few questions about what the club will expect of me if and when I have this baby. So, after you let me in on why you want me to meet with you, can we put aside our differences for an hour and help each other out, woman to woman?”

“I’m obligated to help you out whether I like it or not. Which I don’t like by the way, but you already know that. If you’re carrying Tate’s child, that makes you family. I prefer to come to you, though. Give me the directions. I’ll head out in ten minutes. Does that work?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” I choke out. I give her directions to a diner near me and end the call. Knowing Cindy, this meeting isn’t for idle chit-chat.

An hour later, I discover that I’m right on the money about Cindy’s intentions. I walk into the diner we agreed on, and approach the table where she waits for me. The angry looking woman has a cup of coffee, a piece of pie, and a crumpled paper bag that makes my stomach do a nervous flip-flop. Is that a gun? Did she really bring a concealed weapon to a diner?

“Any day now,” Cindy whines.

“Sorry, what?”

“Are you going to sit down or do you expect me to bow and acknowledge your presence first?” She rolls her eyes and shoves the bag in my direction. “Actually, before you get comfortable, take this into the bathroom and make me a liar, would you? I need to know this is the real deal. Here.”