Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
After Emma had gone back onto the floor earlier, he’d cleaned up and headed out to the nearest drug store to buy emergency contraceptive. “Don’t want to be one of your mistakes.”
“Is that...” Her words drifted off as she read the box.
“Gotta take it soon.”
She frowned and tossed it back toward him. It bounced off the mattress and fell to the floor. “I don’t want it.”
Dawg leaned over, picked it up and chucked it back on the bed. “Emma, we fucked up.”
“No. We didn’t.”
What the fuck? If he needed to take the brunt of the responsibility so she didn’t feel guilty, then he’d do that. “Then I fucked up.”
She shook her head. “No. You didn’t.”
“Emma, we didn’t use a wrap.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
Did she just roll her eyes at him? “Can’t risk it. Can’t have—”
She pushed herself up and tucked her legs underneath her to the side. He lost his breath as he studied her sitting there, completely naked, in the middle of his bed. He wondered if he’d ever get used to seeing her like that.
He hoped not. Because it got his blood boiling every time.
“Dawson, be rest assured I would never keep you from your child. But you don’t have to worry about that. I’m on the Depo shot.”
His head jerked back. “The what?”
“A birth control shot. I get it every three months.”
“It works?”
She gave him a small smile. “I sure hope so.”
A weird mix of emotions clashed in his head. On one hand, he was glad they were covered and there’d be no chance of any accidents. On the other...
Dawg stared at the woman who looked so right in his bed. He imagined her belly round with his child. One he’d get to know from the second he or she was born. One he’d get to help raise, have a say in everything the kid did. One he’d even get to help name.
He remembered how everyone had been there when Z’s kid was born. Everyone had celebrated. The whole club wanted a hand in raising the fourth generation of the DAMC.
Dawg didn’t come from either founding member’s bloodline. But he’d been a part of this club since the minute he could be a prospect at eighteen. He’d become a fully patched member little over a year later. He’d been a member longer than most of the brothers who currently sat on the Executive Committee. Everyone except for Ace.
So he still was a big part of the DAMC family. Blood or not.
He might not have been born into the club like Diesel or Hawk, or Dex, Jag or even Zak. But the DAMC still ran deep through his veins.
It was important to him that this club survived, continued long after the generation before them was gone. He, as well as the rest of the brothers, were determined to not let rival MC’s like the Shadow Warriors snuff out their fire.
The DAMC had deep roots in Shadow Valley and once he landed here as a wayward teen, he never left. Never planned on leaving. There was nowhere else he’d rather be.
He’d be Down & Dirty ‘til Dead.
The club would continue with Zak’s kids, Hawk’s, Jag’s and soon Diesel’s. It helped that women like Ivy and Jewel, even Diamond, were women who were born into the club and were willing to bear the next generation. None of them had reason or a desire to leave.
Zak and Hawk were lucky to find women who eventually, after a little convincing, blended easily into the club lifestyle.
But the club life might hinder Emma’s career, might put a kink in her fight for custody of her daughter. And he didn’t want to be the reason for her failure in either of those things.
“Dawson.”
He focused on the welcoming hand she had outstretched in his direction.
“Are you going to just stand there or come to bed?”
He glanced at the clock. It was almost three AM. “It’s late.”
“I know; I was waiting up for you.”
“Didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.”
What had he done right in his life to deserve this woman?
He finished undressing, throwing his clothes in a pile on the floor then settled on the bed next to her, laying on his belly the same as her. Both of their heads turned toward each other.
She began to lightly trace his club colors that were tattooed onto his back. “Do all of you have these tattoos?”
“Yeah, baby girl.”
“Why?”
“Easy for someone to steal your colors. Your cut. Harder to take ‘em from you when they’re inked into your skin.”
“Do you have to do it?”
“No.”
“So why do you?”
“Shows loyalty. To the club, to the brotherhood. To the lifestyle. Prospects ain’t permitted to do it. Not until they’re fully patched. But once you’re fully patched an’ wanna buy out your membership or are forced to leave, you can’t wear your colors.”