The Cut(35)

"Let go of me!" Rachel screeched, scratching at his arms.

Stake gripped her hair tighter and twisted one of her arms behind her  back as he pushed the naked slut into the main area of the club. "Where  the fuck is Magic?"

"No!" Rachel screamed, trying to get away.

"Cecil's office," one of the brother's replied.

Without knocking, Stake opened Cecil's door and pushed Rachel inside.  "I've never hit a fucking woman in my life, but I'm two seconds away  from killing this one." He pointed at Magic. "Keep your slut of a  daughter at home before she tries to break up more families."

"Daddy!" Rachel cried, running to stand behind Magic.

"What the hell's gotten into you?" Magic demanded. "How dare you put your hands on my daughter."

"I fucking dare because she answered my phone while I was in church and  told Santana that I was in the shower because we'd just fucked!" Stake  shouted, his anger out of control. "Rachel's the biggest slut the club  has. Ask her? Better yet, go out there and ask your brothers how many  have fucked her in the last month?"

Magic turned on Rachel. "Is that true?"

Rachel had pulled a throw off the ratty couch and had wrapped it around her. "He used me," she accused, pointing to Stake.

Disgusted, Stake held up his hand. "I'm outta here." He gestured to Rachel. "That mess if for you to sort out."



Only an hour outside of Fayetteville, Stake was forced to stop for gas.  He filled up the tank before going inside to get a cup of coffee. He'd  survived the night on adrenaline, but even that was staring to wane.

As he sipped his coffee, he wandered down the aisles, amazed at how much  shit a person could buy at a truck stop. The sight of a miniature  Harley Davidson T-shirt immediately caught his attention. He hadn't  allowed himself to think about the baby. Anger and the eight-hour ride  had made his mind cloudy enough without adding thoughts of a child to  it. He still didn't know what he was going to say to Santana, but as he  lifted the small shirt off the shelf and held it in his hands, the  situation took front and center. It appeared he had no choice in the  matter because he wouldn't live a day without Santana.         

     



 

He carried the coffee and the shirt to the register, knowing he had an  hour to get used to the idea of becoming a father. How the fuck could he  be a father when he hadn't had one of his own?

After tossing the dregs of his coffee into the trashcan, he carefully  hid the shirt away in his saddlebag. An hour. Within the hour, if he  pushed it, he'd be able to set things right. Gypsy had told him she was  broken, but Stake refused to believe a simple phone call could break  someone who'd survived the shit she had.

He roared out of the truck stop, intent on being there when Santana woke  up. Although he appreciated Gypsy taking care of her, it was his face  he wanted her to see when she opened her eyes, his arms that wanted to  hold her while he told her the truth about Rachel, and his heart he  wanted her to still need.

He rode into Fayetteville at seven-thirty, praying he'd made it in time.  He texted Gypsy and asked for her room number as he paced back and  forth in front of the motel.

A door opened, and Gypsy stepped out. He shut the door quietly before  motioning for Stake to come over. "She's still out of it, but it doesn't  surprise me."

"I need to see her," Stake said, trying to get around Gypsy.

"I told her the truth when she woke up crying earlier, but I don't think  she believed me." Gypsy ran his hands over his short hair. "I don't  know, man, I've never seen someone shut down like that. My guess is that  everything's finally caught up to her. I couldn't understand most of  what she mumbled about, but I clearly heard Gordon's name." He met  Stake's gaze. "And Smash's."

Fuck. Guilt settled heavily on his chest. He should have known she'd  bounced back from the attack and her mother's death too quickly. He'd  gone on and on about how strong she was, and all the while, she'd simply  buried it. If he hadn't hated himself before, he sure as hell did now.  Fighting back tears, he nodded at Gypsy.

"I'll be at your place if you need me for anything," Gypsy said as he walked toward his bike.

Stake stared after his friend. While he'd cleaned up his shit in Texas,  it had been Gypsy who'd taken his place with Santana. He wasn't sure  whether to hate him or love him for it.

When he reached for the doorknob, his gaze landed on the splintered wood  on the jamb. Between one breath and the next he was thrust back to the  night of Santana's attack, back to the best and worst night of his life.  He'd been so grateful to her for allowing him to take care of her that  he'd willingly believed her when she'd claimed to be ready for the next  step. He'd taken her to bed and had kept her there while she should have  been dealing with everything that had happened.

Remembering the shirt in his saddlebag, he strode back to his bike and  retrieved it. He didn't have the ability to go back in time to fix his  fuckups, but he could learn from his mistakes and give her the life she  deserved.

He opened the door and stepped inside, unsure of what he'd find. Santana  was on her side, curled into a protective ball similar to the one he'd  found her in the night of the attack. He was bone-tired from the hard  ride, so he sat on the edge of the bed and took off his boots and vest.  The Broken Ridge patches had already been stripped from his cut, but it  still meant as much to him as it ever had.

Without bothering to remove his clothes, he slipped under the covers and  pressed himself against Santana, molding himself around her frail body.  He had no intentions of waking her, but he knew the moment she felt  him.

Santana's body stiffened momentarily before relaxing and hugging his  arms against her chest. "Thank you for being here," she whispered.

It was Stake's turn to go rigid, knowing she believed him to be Gypsy.  The realization felt like a hot knife plunging into his heart. "Gypsy  left," he whispered. "I rode all night to get to you."

Without turning around, she tried to pry his hands away from her body.  He wasn't about to budge until he set things straight. "I was in church  for hours last night. That's where I was when you called. Rachel must've  heard my phone ringing and picked it up." He kissed her neck, praying  he was getting through to her. "I would never touch another woman. I've  had a lifetime of sluts like Rachel, and all of them together didn't  satisfy me half as much as one kiss from you."

Her shoulders began to shake and he realized she was crying.

"Look at me, bug," he pleaded.

When she didn't make a move to roll over, he got up and went around to  kneel next to her side of the bed. He rested his face on the mattress,  willing her to open her eyes. "I love you. I wish I had the words to  explain how deeply I need you, but I'm a fuckin' biker, so I'm going to  try and put my feelings in a way you'll understand. The cut stands for  my pride, my surrogate family, my self-worth, my career, my life. That  piece of leather is everything I thought I ever needed, but I'd give it  up right now if you asked me to, because I've realized that you're my  cut."         

     



 

Those gorgeous fucking eyes opened to gaze at him for the first time. "I'm pregnant."

He nodded. "I know, and I'm sorry I made it so you were afraid to tell  me, but I need you to understand that it was never a child I didn't  want." He dragged his fingers through his dirty, windblown hair. He  swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I'm afraid what'll happen to  me if you love a child more than me. I'm a selfish prick, and I know it.  I'm ashamed of the way I've acted, but I can promise that I'll love any  and all children we have."

Santana leaned across the distance and gave him a soft kiss on the lips  before pulling back. "I don't know that it would be possible to love  anyone more than you." She bit her lip. "Every time I think of having a  piece of you inside of me, it fills me with a feeling I can't explain.  Just knowing that no matter what happens, I'll always have that part of  you in my life helps me not to be so afraid of losing you."

"You're not going to lose me." He'd tried so many times to make her  understand that their relationship was the real deal for him. "I'm here  now, and I'm not going back to Texas unless there's a damn good reason  for it, and even then, I'll take you with me if that's what you want."

"What about the club and the investigation?"

"Taken care of. Cecil set me free, and Jack told me lack of evidence has  the investigation stalled. He gave me permission to move as long as I  kept him updated on my current address. Before going into church last  night, I asked Tiny if he'd help me move."

"Tiny's coming?"

"Yeah. Although I need to call him. I kinda lit out of the club in a  hurry last night." He wondered what Tiny's reaction to Rachel was after  he found out what the bitch had done. There was a very good possibility  that Rachel was history at the club, which was a damn good thing. With  all the Kings of Bedlam chapters meeting up several times a year, it  would be best if he never set eyes on Rachel again.