1 Chpt. 1

"Shit!" I dig deeper into my pocket praying to find a hidden bill to pay for these chips and drink. I refuse to use my credit card for him to trace it and find me. I don't even know where I am to be honest. "Here, I got it." A strong and muscular arm covered in tattoos reaches from behind me and hands the lady with an attitude behind the counter a twenty dollar bill. I turn to give the complete stranger my everlasting gratitude for saving us from starving tonight and almost choke on my own spit. Holy shit he was hand molded by god. His hazel eyes are already scanning me from head to toe, lingering a little longer on my mid section as he takes it my round belly. Yeah, cuz that's attractive.

"Thank you." I tell him then squeeze past to the exit.

I plop myself down on the bus stop bench under the canopy to escape the heavy down pour. God, I should have planned this better. Of course I planned to scatter around the map for awhile so that there was no trail leading anywhere specific. And I guess I thought I would come across a place I liked enough and felt safe to stay. Wish I found that place. I've already went through all my savings and the money my captain gave me. I now have no where to sleep anymore, nothing to eat. And I'm not just feeding myself anymore. What am I going to do? Where do I even go from here? I pull out my burner phone, fingers itching to call my parents to come get me. Or send me money at the very least. The sickening feeling in my gut starts again. If they send me money, I'll have to move again. Fast.

A shadow appears in front of me, blocking the light of the street lamp and distracting my mental break down. "Are you alright?" It's the stranger from 2 seconds ago. I give a bitter laugh.

"No. Nope. Not at all." Is all I get out before crying. Now I'm breaking down in front of a complete stranger. I could just blame hormones, but it's really the weight of everything. I've been so busy running that I haven't had time to think about what I'm running from. I don't have to think to know he's right behind me.

"Do you have a place to stay?" He asks. I shake my head, words being hard to come by at the moment.

"Come on." He nods his blonde head in the direction of a lone motorcycle parked by the door of the store. He's really offering me a ride?

"You don't even know me." I could be a serial killer. Or have a crazy ass husband that would shred him if he found out.

"Do you want to stay out in the rain. I don't think catching pneumonia is a good idea for the little one." His grey eyes glance down at my round stomach. I nod and grab my duffle bag before following him. I mean, what's the worst that can happen? He'll take me back to his place and I'll crash on the couch for the night. And tomorrow I can think of something to do. If I feel unsafe, I'll leave.

He takes my bag and slings it around his shoulder and hands me his helmet. I mutter a weak thanks and climb on behind him. I feel his abs as I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him to death as he roars off.

I look over the patch on his back. I know this means he's in a motorcycle 'club'. I make a mental note to check his rank on the front of his cut when we get off this thing. I don't know much about clubs, just what I've learned off TV and work. Gang violence wasn't really my division. My husband though, it was his life.

I think it's kind of funny he goes after gangs and their members for "violence" in the streets when he couldn't even keep the violence from his home. Hell, he brought it home.

Tracing my finger over the letters I silently read Holy Rebels. That's an odd name. Like a fallen angel? He pulls into a warehouse looking building surrounded by layers of tall fencing that looks lively inside and multiple bikes are lined up out front. There's a few cars parked too. He pulls into a spot at the very end of the line of about 5 or 6 bikes and helps me down. Not where I imagined him taking me, but maybe I should have figured.

I glance at his patch and see he's the president. Oh shit. There's also a 1% patch and a 13 one. I know what the 1% means, but not the 13. He leads me through the house and I get multiple stares. I, of course, look like a wet dog with wind blown hair. Great. A few stares are at not only me but my stomach too and only god knows what theories they're creating in their heads right now.

He stops in front of a door and opens it to lead us inside. My heart races at the sight of the bed but I try not to let it show. No need to jump to conclusions. And there's a lot of people just incase I scream. Though, they seem occupied.  "This is my room. You can crash here and I'll sleep out there. The bathroom is over there and there's clean towels somewhere. I'll check with you in the morning." And with that he leaves, closing the door behind him. I rush to lock it after him. Ok, I'm ok for tonight.

If I expected the room to be messy I was mistaken. Everything is neat and has its own place. I can see the floors. I used to think that all men had a messy room, then I met John. His room was perfect the first time I had ever been there. And when we got a house, it was the same way. He ensured that.

I go to where he laid my bag on the chair in the corner. I grab my last pair of clean shorts and a tank top before nearly skipping to the shower. I almost moan as the hot water hits my chest. Those shitty ass motels had luke warm water on their best days.

All the stuff in here is men's stuff. My mind cant help but to notice the lack of women's toiletries. So he doesn't have a woman using his shower. At least not one allowed to leave anything behind. But does he still have women in here? I shake my head. I have more important things I have to think about. So, I hope he doesn't mind, I take the bar of Irish spring and run it over my body and face then use his shampoo. I sit in the hot water even after I'm finished. Depressing thoughts of what I'm gonna do tomorrow cross my mind and I try to suppress them to keep from crying. These hormones make you wanna kill yourself over a broken pencil tip.

I dry off and brush my hair in his foggy mirror with my brush before letting exhaustion take over and falling asleep curled in his blanket.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

I roll over and open my eyes. It takes a second to realize where I am. There's no sign of the president, only glaring sunshine. Damn, how late did I sleep? I get up and put my bra on before creeping out his door. There's beer bottles, empty red cups, wrappers ( to more than just chips and candy), and bodies everywhere. These people just collapsed wherever they were standing and slept. Some of them naked. I bump into someone and look up. It's a rather tall guy with black hair and brown eyes. A huge scar runs from his forehead to his lip.

"Hi." His patch says VP.

"Are you lost?" He asks me. His voice isn't hard, but resigned. Apparently lots of girls get lost here.

"I'm looking for..." I never caught his name. "Your president." I finish. He grins.

"Lynol is out. Make yourself at home. The kitchens through there." He points through a hallway. I nod and go in that direction. Standing at the island counter wearing nothing more than a thong is a girl with dark hair that might have been curly yesterday, but now looks slept on, and heavy dark make up that also looks like its from yesterday. She looks at my stomach and pity reaches her eyes as her gaze touches mine.

"Awe. Which ones is it?" She asks.

"Excuse me?" What the hell is she talking about.

"The baby. Which one of these bastards is the father?" She asks again. I feel a hand on my shoulder before I can answer and flinch. I turn and see him. Lynol. My rising anger towards the naked woman dissipates at his presence.

"Knock it off, Lil." He commands to the naked chick, but he's not looking at her. He's studying me. She gives a curt nod and leaves the kitchen.

Lynol removes his hand and makes his way to the fridge. I watch as he gets out eggs and a loaf of bread and begins cooking scrambled eggs and buttered toast as we sit in silence, then hands it to me.

"Thank you. I'll leave soon." I take the food, noticing he only made one plate with all the food he made.

"And go where?" He crosses his arms and leans against the counter. I see his muscles strain against his grey t shirt.

"I don't know." I shrug.

"Stay and I'll help you." He says. I scoff.

"Why? You don't even know me." I peer up at him. His hazel eyes are watching me scarf down his food.

"Look, I don't know your story and I won't push or ask questions but you're obviously running from something and struggling on the way. I just want to help you. And your little one." He nods down to my belly. I don't say anything. I didn't plan on staying here long term. Then again, did I really plan to stay anywhere? Never thought that far at all. But I'm surely due soon and living on the run isn't a life for a baby. And I need to settle some Where unless I plan on possibly giving birth in a bus bathroom.

"Where am I?" I look around out the windows for any sign of location.

"Clear City, Florida. Small ass town, USA." His head tilts to the side a little. I just nod. I really made it all the way to fucking Florida. Ok.

"So tell me what you need." He takes a stool and sits backwards on it in front of me. I try not to give a sarcastic laugh at his stupid question.

"Everything- a place to live, a job, some clean clothes. I think all I have left is a pair of jeans." Which means I'm stuck in this tank top.

"Well you can stay here until you find a place and we have a washer. I'll take you to a few places that are hiring." He offers.

"Do you own a vehicle with more than two wheels?" I ask. He laughs and I bathe in dark rich sound.

"I'm sure I can find one. Finish eating and go get ready." He points in the direction of his room.

After a quick shower and a little bit of make up, I meet Lynol by the front door.

"If you're going to be taking over my bed, I should at least know your name." He grins.

"I'm Margo. Nice to meet you, Lynol." I blush. He nods with a small smile, not surprised I know his name and leads me out to an old blue ford truck.

"She's beautiful." I run my hand over it.

"Thank you. Put a lot of work into her." Pride echoes in his voice.

He took me to 3 diners and 2 stores and as soon as they see a biker drove me here, the 'now hiring' sign out front suddenly disappears. Lynol was right about this town being small. I jump in the truck and close the door with a little more force than necessary. I'm not ever gonna get a job. No money equals no house. No stuff for the baby.

"Again?" He asks. I nod.

"I can say something." He starts to get out. I grab his arm to pull him back in. He glances down at my hand on his arm, causing me to instantly retract it. Then his brows furrow a little.

"You've done enough. Seriously, I appreciate it. But as soon as they see that you brought me here, their whole demeanor changes to hostile." I slouch back into the seat. Guess there's not a good public relation with the club.

"One more place. I know the guy." He starts the beauty up again and pulls out of the driveway.

"It's not a bar is it?" I ask.

"Hell no. I wouldn't put a pregnant woman around drunken assholes." Oh, how absurd of me to even suggest such a thing. But what I got from today's after math of last night, drinking is something they do often.

He pulls up to a little corner store and motions for me to get out with him. Inside there's the usual candy and chips but behind there are a lot of different cigars and cigarettes. More than I've ever seen. Then again, I don't smoke. Anymore.

"Randy! Hey, man, this Margo and she needs a job. I know you've been looking for a manager for this place." Great sales pitch. Randy's smile falters a little when he sees my stomach.

"We'll have to put up a no smoking sign, but this is great." His tone doesn't exactly match his words, I exhale in relief nonetheless. He didn't even think about it. I glance at Lynol. Then back at Randy. Probably owes the club a favor.

"Awesome." I smile back at the silver haired, chubby faced man.

Randy takes me behind the counter and shows me the cash register, all the cameras, and the safe where he has a gun incase anything happens. Although, according to him, there's been no incidents before. And when he's not here he's watching the cameras at his house. I'll get more than minimum wage under the table. I think Lynol had something to do with that last part. I may not have told him I was hiding but he knows. And he even thought of something even I didn't think of. If I get a job on the books, it will leave a trail to be found.

Lynol takes me to McDonald's and gets me a 20 piece nugget meal before driving down town and stopping Infront of a loan place. "Here are your options, Margo, stay at the club house until you can afford a place of your own on your own or let me give you a loan and you pay me back. I don't think whores, booze, and smoke are good for the little one." He simply states. Well, we know where he stands. I take a deep breath and think about this. Again, he knows I don't want to be found so he's getting the loan discreetly. And, again, I'm left wondering why he cares so much and why is he trying to help when he just met me. Will he want something in return?

"Go get the loan then." I point for him to leave the truck. He shakes his head but gets out and goes in. My burner phone rings and I glance at it. It's a pay phone. I answer. "Hello?"

"Hey, baby, how are you? Are you safe? How's the baby? Have you found a place?" Moms worried voice floods my ear.

"Hey, mom." I reply as Lynol gets in the car. That was fast. Maybe he had another favor called in. He glances at me.

"I'm fine. I got a job but that's all saying. And I guess the baby's fine. Kind of hard to eat healthy and take vitamins when you're broke." I mutter.

"I can send money." Mom offers.

"No, mom, you don't think he's watching your accounts, your phone, my accounts and my phone." I tell her for the millionth time.

"I know." She sighs.

"I gotta go, I love you." I hang up.

I look over at Lynol to see he's already watching me. "What's next?" He asks. He seems to have a better mapped out plan than I do.

"A roof." I answer.