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Giving in, I walked over to the passenger door, opened it, then climbed inside.
9
Liam
We drove in silence as I made the decision to take her to the club and keep her in my bedroom upstairs beside my office instead of taking her to my house. Tex used the other room up there, and I was going to need him to let me stay there instead. I’d send him to my house. Ozzy would need someone there with him at night anyway.
I had to make sure she wasn’t lying. That baby could be her ex’s or some other random dude she’d fucked. Until I knew if it was mine or not, I wasn’t letting her stay in a motel or walking to bus stops and passing out. But I sure as hell wasn’t taking her to my house. I didn’t take women there. It was my one place that was an escape. My solace. Having her invade it would tarnish that.
My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. I didn’t want that woman to be the mother of my child. The idea of having another kid, raising it the way I’d missed out with Madeline, appealed to me from time to time. However, giving a kid a mother like Liberty felt like I’d failed it before it was even born. There was a good chance it wasn’t mine though. I had to stop thinking the worst.
I had fucked her three times that night. The last time, the condom broke, and when I felt it, I immediately pulled out. I was almost positive I’d gotten out in time. It was very unlikely this kid was mine. She had probably fucked the ex raw regularly. I flinched at the thought and hated myself for it.
I didn’t want her to be pregnant with my kid, but my dick sure as hell wanted to sink inside her cunt again. She’d been one of those fucks that was hard to forget. Damn her and her bouncy, round ass.
I flicked my eyes over to her tits and swallowed. They were bigger. That was why the top seemed too small.
“What year is this Charger—’70?” she asked, interrupting my inner turmoil.
“Seventy-four,” I replied.
“Must have cost a fortune,” she said, running her hand over the seat beside her thigh.
“It was my dad’s. He bought it new in ’74,” I told her.
She didn’t need to start seeing dollar signs with me. If the kid was mine, I wasn’t putting her up in some luxury life.
“Wow,” she whispered. “It looks new.”
I wasn’t going to talk about my father or anything else personal with her.
The man who had given me life had beaten me my entire childhood. He put a bullet in my mother’s head and then my nanny’s head years later for doctoring wounds he’d left behind with his whip. I grew up as the son of a drug lord. I was raised to one day take over the gang he had started. Luckily for me, the majority of them were killed, along with my father, when anarchy inside the ring went down.
I was free to build a different life from the one that still managed to infiltrate my nightmares at times. I’d lost Etta because of him, and not one day since his death had I mourned him. He had tried to create a monster, but I had never truly bent to his will. I’d only allowed him to think I had.
The club didn’t open its doors to the public for two more hours. Only VIP members were allowed in right now. The parking lot held only a few Harleys and a handful of expensive cars. I pulled around back and parked beside my Harley, which I had driven here after seeing Liberty this morning and traded it out, knowing I’d more than likely be getting her and her luggage after her shift.
“You brought me to a strip club?” she asked.
“I brought you to my strip club,” I corrected her, opening the door and getting out.
The scent of coconut and honey that she put off was starting to make me edgy. She’d smelled like that between her legs too. Whatever lotion the woman wore was an aphrodisiac. I didn’t need a reminder.
Not waiting to see if she was getting out, I went to the trunk and pulled out her two suitcases. This couldn’t be all she owned, but I wasn’t in the mood to ask. Until I knew whose baby she was carrying, I didn’t care about anything that had to do with her.
Slamming the trunk, I saw her standing beside the car, staring up at the building. I wasn’t taking her in the front entrance. She was going directly upstairs, where I intended to keep her. I didn’t need the rest of them knowing what was going on just yet. The thought of Madeline finding out that I might have gotten a thirty-one-year-old homeless bartender pregnant made my stomach clench. I didn’t even want to think about how embarrassed she would be. She had been so damn happy about me dating a doctor who was at least closer to forty than thirty.
“This way,” I said, carrying her suitcases toward the back entrance.
I set one down to punch in the code. When the light turned green and it buzzed, I pushed the door open. I grabbed the suitcase and went inside with both of them. I heard her step inside before the door closed and headed for the stairs. She’d have a private bathroom, bedroom, and a television. I could leave her there, and besides when I took food up to her, I could pretend like she wasn’t here.
Opening the door of the room I barely used, I held it for her with one of the suitcases, then went the rest of the way in to set her other one down.
“Bathroom is in there. Remote for the television is there,” I said, pointing to both. “Don’t leave this room. I’ll have food sent up to you.”
She was just inside the door frame, looking around at it. “How long are you going to keep me in here?” she asked, swinging her eyes to me.
“I’ll take you to have a paternity test done first thing in the morning,” I told her, wishing I could use the private doctor that Blaise Hughes kept for the family’s needs.
