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What if she doesn't conceive？— That's what my biker Drifter says. Then he screws the club bimbo who might have a baby for him. Drifter is lost . . . his jeans around his ankles, pounding into Siren, who's face down on the pool table. He's so deep in the moment, he doesn't realise he has an audience. But Siren . . . her head turns in my direction, and her eyes land on me. A slow, smug grin spreads across her face. "Pres. Hard, please." The shriek of her scratchy voice bounces out the room. I grip the doorframe, my heart shattering. This bimbo is screwing my husband, and she grins like it's amusing her. "Are you serious?" I grind out, stepping further into the room. He stops thrusting, and scrambles back away from Siren, pulling up his jeans in a hurry. His eyes find mine, and I see the guilt there, hiding amongst the shame. I slap him hard. The sound cracks through the silence, and the sting in my palm is nothing to the pain in my chest right now. All this time, I believed him when he insisted there was nothing between him and Siren. But he lets me down. On the day when'd be the happiest day of my life. Instead, I'm about to become a single mum. —— ROCHELLE I stare at my sleek frame in the floor-length mirror and run my hands gently over my stomach. What I would give right now to have that swell and be able to carry Drifter's child. We've been trying to conceive for some time now, but nothing seems to be working in our favour. We recently decided to visit a specialist and underwent a number of tests to determine why things aren't happening naturally for us. Dr. Elise West informed us that I'm not ovulating regularly, so she wants us to try a medication that will help me. The only issue is, I've got to inject myself daily, and I hate injections. But right now, I'm willing to do anything. I catch Drifter watching me in the mirror. He smiles from the bed, undressed and unapologetic, fully aware I'm staring. "It'll all be okay. You know that, don't you?" he reassures me, as if reading my mind. He pulls himself up to sit, resting back against the headboard. I nod and offer him a weak smile, but I can't hide the intrusive thoughts about this not working. If I can't give him a child, he'll leave, and I'll be heartbroken. We've been together for years. We both grew up in the MC, with our parents being members of the Broken Iron Demons. It's the only life I've ever known, and I'd be lost without it. "But," my voice cracks with emotion, "what if it doesn't work?" "You can't think like that, Rochelle. Remember what the doc said? There are more options if this doesn't work, including IVF. Just relax, we've got this," he says, getting up from the bed and making his way over to me. His arms come around me, hands covering mine on my stomach, and he nuzzles into the curve of my neck. I lean back into him, feeling his stiffness poking against my arse. "Okay," I whisper, breathing in the scent of his musky aftershave as it wraps around me like a coat of armour. He pulls away slightly, just enough to slap my bare backside. "Now, get your arse in the shower before I take you back to bed." He winks at my reflection before sitting on the edge of the bed. I pout, turning to face him. "Maybe that's what I want?" "Well, you promised Red a girls' day out. I think it'll do you good too," he replies, shimmying into his jeans. "And although I want nothing more than to throw you on that bed and ravage that glistening vulva of yours, it's gotta wait, I've got church." He throws on his creased T-shirt, which was in the same place he threw it last night. I roll my eyes. "Really?" He places his kutte over the top and eyeballs me. "What?" "You're not going to get a clean shirt?" "Why would I want to wash the scent of you off my clothes? I'm taking that sweet-smelling vulva with me wherever I go." I roll my eyes again. "How romantic," I add sarcastically. He brings his T-shirt up to his nose, inhaling deeply, then humming his approval before leaving the room. I contemplate getting back into bed and sleeping the day away. The doctor did advise me that I might experience some side effects from this medication, but my low mood wasn't what I expected. Maybe Drifter is right—spending some time with Red will do me a world of good. I go into the bathroom, grabbing the box containing my injections for the next twelve days. Dr. Elise believes these are going to help stimulate my ovaries to release eggs, but I have this niggle in the pit of my stomach that I can't shift. I clean the area, the coldness from the alcohol pad sending a shiver down my spine. I pull a syringe out of the box and pinch the skin between my fingers. I take a breath, then inject the needle, wincing as I plunge the liquid into my stomach. As I pull it out, I exhale then discard it into the sharps box. Another done. I look at my reflection in the mirror. "You've got this," I mutter, reminding myself that I'm stronger than I know. I want this more than anything. I arranged to meet Red in the local cafe instead of staying in the clubhouse, which has worked out perfectly because a change of scenery is what I need right now. The sun is shining, so I've opted for a bright summer dress that flows elegantly to just above my knee, and I'm thankful because it fits the weather perfectly. As I approach, I see Red sitting outside with Meli. She's bouncing her on her knee whilst she clutches a little giraffe that Rock recently bought her. Ever since Red came into our world with little Meli, it's been like a beaming light, making me realise even more how much I want a family. Rock isn't Meli's biological father, but he certainly would give his life for her. He makes it clear that just because she isn't blood, it doesn't make her any less his or any less part of the club. Red gives me a little wave when she sees me, and I take a seat opposite her. "Caramel latte, right?" she asks, gesturing to the hot cup of coffee on the table. I nod, lifting it to my nose and inhaling the scent. Nothing beats it, and it instantly calms my racing thoughts. I take a sip and close my eyes, humming with approval as the hot liquid slips easily down my throat. "I'll take that as a yes," she says with a laugh. I place my cup back on the table and tip my head back, closing my eyes and letting the sun's rays soak into my skin. I sigh heavily. "That bad?" Red asks, a note of concern in the tone. "Sorry, it's been a long week," I mutter, keeping my eyes firmly shut so they don't deceive me. Her hand finds my knee, and she squeezes gently until I open my eyes again and bring my attention back to her. "Spill," she demands, offering me a smile. "Ugh, where do I even start?" I ask, picking up my cup again and blowing gently over the top. "I've missed you." "Sorry. I know I've been MIA lately, but Rock and I decided to get away for a few days. Besides, you've got Bella now," she offers. "I didn't mean to make you feel guilty. You need a break, too. And Bella is great, but she's been busy trying to settle the boys in. I didn't want to offload on her." Bella joined the club recently. Her ex-husband was a shitshow, and she was fighting for her life until Clay pulled her back from the edge, literally. She recently got full custody of her kids after not seeing them for months, so her hands have been full. Red pats my leg before dragging her hand back to her cup and lifting it to her lips to take a sip. "Get out," she says, laughing. "You guys have been amazing to me, and right now my life is pretty incredible, so I'm here for you to lean on." "Well," I mutter, taking a deep breath, "we visited the fertility specialist. Apparently, my ovaries aren't releasing eggs often enough. She's put me on gonadotrophin injections to help my body do its job, so I now have to check when I'm ovulating and inject myself daily to maximise my chances," I rush it out then take another breath. Red gives a sympathetic smile. "That's a good thing though, right?" she asks, looking slightly confused, "Why do you look so deflated?" "Yeah, of course, it's great. But, Red, what if it doesn't work? Now I know I'm the problem, I just feel so . . . pressured." "Cross that bridge when you come to it. There's no point worrying about all the what-ifs right now until they happen. You'll drive yourself crazy." "What if he leaves me?" I almost whisper, looking down at my hands. "Drifter will never leave you, Rochelle. He idolises you. You once told me that once you're their ol' lady, these men will do anything for you." I blink, and the tears that were balancing on my lower lash escape and roll down my cheek. Red quickly puts Meli back in her pushchair, rounding the table to wrap her arms around me tightly. "I am here for you, always. When you're driving yourself crazy in that tiny mind of yours with events that are never going to happen, you come find me and we'll work through them together." She pulls back enough to look me in the eye. "This is going to be an amazing journey. You just need to relax into it. The stress won't do you any favours." She presses a quick buss to my head then goes back to her seat. She reaches into the bottom of the pushchair and retrieves a tissue, handing it to me so I can wipe my eyes. When you're a mum, you're prepared for every eventuality, including your best friend having a breakdown on you. "Thank you," I sniffle. "You don't realise how much that means to me right now. I feel like I'm losing the plot." "Listen, Rochelle, it's a lot to take in, but you will be incredible. Look at how you are with Meli. You need to believe this is going to work and just do everything the doctor advises so you increase those chances." I nod and stare at Meli longingly. She's such a beautiful little girl, and helping care for her over these recent months has given me a huge insight into what it will be like to become a mother. And I can't wait. DRIFTER I bang the gavel against the table, calling the meeting to order. With everything regarding Bella's ex-husband finally settled, it's time to get back to business. The room falls silent. "Good to see you back, Rock," I say. He took Red and Meli away for a few days, though I wasn't thrilled about it. Numbers have been tight lately, but if I'd stopped him, Rochelle would've torn me apart. She's hormonal enough without me giving her a reason to go feral. For the longest time, she was the only ol' lady. Now, there's Bella and Red too. Real friendships. She used to hate the club girls but tolerated them because they came with the life, but things are different now. "It was nice to get away, Pres, but I'm relieved to get back to it." "We'll get you back up to speed with it all." I take a moment to do a quick count, making sure everyone is here. We need all hands on deck with the Steel Delinquents MC trying to take over our patch. They started by raiding the garage and taking money that had been left there, and in the process, they had smashed up the place. "Whilst you've been away, they hit the strip club, so we've had to increase numbers for security there." "Everyone okay?" Rock asks. "A dancer got shook up pretty bad as she was leaving. They threatened her, leaving her with a message that they're taking over. Her face was cut up pretty bad," answers Clay, my right-hand man and Vice President. "You should've been here. We could've done with the extra manpower," he points out, making it clear he wasn't happy with the situation either. "Enough," I bark. "It was my decision." "Sorry, brothers," Rock answers, a flash of guilt on his face. "We need the extra manpower at the club, but we also need to be mindful that they're targeting the women to get to us." "Do we need to go on lockdown, Pres?" Joker asks. "Nah, I don't think we're at that point yet, but I don't want the ol' ladies leaving without some form of escort." I look across at Rock and Clay, as they are the only other brothers with ol' ladies. "Rock, you can take Brute and help out at the club this evening. Talk to some of the girls and see what the grumblings are amongst them." They both nod in acknowledgment. "Me and Clay are going to hit the streets, target some of our dealers. Try to get some information out of them. Slider, you're on ol' lady duty." He sighs. "Do I have to, Pres?" he whines, infuriating me further. Clay hits him around the back of the head. "Have some respect," he snaps. He's getting grumpier in his middle age. You'd think now that he has Bella, he would chill out a little, but he's gotten more uptight recently, especially now the club's being targeted. Slider rubs the back of his head. "Ouch, was there any need?" "Yes. You're a prospect, so just do as you're told." "Slider, look at it this way, it's only three women—" I begin. Clay cuts me off. "Who are off limits." Slider blows him a buss, earning him another slap around the back of the head. "For the sake, Clay," he shouts. "Stop being a cherry and I wouldn't have to," he taunts, and the entire room erupts into laughter apart from Slider, who's left licking his wounds like a scolded puppy. "You've all got your orders," I say as I bang the gavel on the table, bringing church to a close. I kick the stand on my bike as we pull up at one of the local spots our dealers run. I hate being out here, but these screwers are messing with the wrong club, and they need to understand the repercussions. Dexter approaches us as we get off our bikes. I notice the way he's constantly sniffling, which means he's not just selling our merchandise, he's likely snorting the screwer too. "How's it going, boss?" he mumbles, rubbing his nose. I get closer and see his pupils are dilated. He's definitely off his face, and I make a mental note to check the takings. "We need information, Dexter," I say, and he nods as he eyes Clay warily. "Sure thing, boss." He sniffles, wiping his nose on his sleeve again. "Has Reaper been sniffing around here?" His eyes dart between us, a telltale sign that he's about to lie through his teeth. "Who's that, boss?" The high-pitched tone of his voice gives him away. He's panicking. Clay grabs him by the scruff of his neck, pushing him up against the building. "Don't play stupid, kid," he spits. Dexter stutters, not able to form a sentence, and I'm sure he's about to piss his pants. "Er . . . erm . . . I . . ." Clay mimics, taking the piss out of the kid's display. "Reaper from the Steel Delinquents MC?" His brow furrows. "Erm . . . oh . . . him, yes . . . no . . . I mean⁠—" "Which one is it, Dexter, yes or no? Pick your answer very carefully before I let Clay put a bullet in you for snorting our goods and lying," I snap. "Oh," he mumbles. "Yes, he's been around here. And I'm not snorting your goods, boss, I promise. I wouldn't do that to you." I raise a brow, hardly believing the balls on this stupid to actually lie to my face. "Whose are you snorting then?" Clay growls. "Reaper's," he stutters. "He supplies us with some for ourselves as long as we sell on your turf." He has the audacity to look defeated. "I'm sorry, boss. I really⁠—" Before he can finish, Clay's fist lands a clean punch to his jaw. "Are you stupid?" Clay snaps, shoving him away. Dexter slides down the wall, covering his head with his arms as he cowers away. I grab hold of Clay's arm, holding him back from inflicting more damage. He glances back questioningly, and I give my head a slight shake. "I want you off our turf. Do I make myself clear?" I bark, my voice rattling off the walls. "Boss, it won't happen again, I promise," he whimpers. "Too late. You lied us over once, and if anyone else is doing the same, you take the bastards with you, else I'll put a bullet in every single one of you." I turn to leave. "You're just going to leave him?" Clay hisses, falling into step beside me. "Yes, Clay. He's just a kid. We aren't in the business of killing stupid kids." "But what if he goes back to them? I can't risk Bella and the boys." "Then I'll end him, but right now, he's got the opportunity to pack his goods up and leave. We've gotta be better than them, Clay, else what's the point? We may as well let them take over. You aren't the only one with a family, remember." My phone buzzes as I straddle my bike, and I inwardly groan until I see Rochelle's name flash on the screen. "What's up, Rochelle?" I answer. Rochelle is my little pet name for her because ever since I met her, she's been a fire that burns so brightly within me, I'm sure she was sent from inferno itself to corrupt me. "It's time," she chimes, the excitement evident in her voice. "What, right now?" "Yes, Drifter, right now." She laughs. "We're on a clock. Remember, the window isn't big." "On my way." Don't get me wrong, being inside Rochelle is my favourite place to be, but this thing with her body clock and timing our intercourse is becoming a little . . . tiresome. I've got things to do, with club business at the forefront of my mind, and now, I gotta drop that and perform whilst looking in her hopeful eyes, knowing she's wondering if this will be the one time it works. All this whilst mentally preparing myself for the crushing disappointment in my woman's eyes when she realises it isn't.