Page 2 of Dagger's Target
Rena Ray, my mother, was a horrible person. The worst kind of mother you could ask for. She was always about herself and no one else. If Rena Ray wasn’t happy, no one else could be. She’d driven my father to up and leave before I was even born. The only thing I knew about him was that he was a biker from a club called the Devil’s Riot MC. Rena never gave me his name and didn’t even put a name down on my birth certificate. Just left the father’s name blank.
Every day of my life, she had a revolving door of men enter it. Some returned the next day for months at a time, then there were those I never saw again. She’d scream and yell at me if one of them spoke to me when their attention was supposed to be on her. She hated me. Would slap me and call me names all the time.
The first chance I got to get out of Dodge, I took it. I graduated from college and left Colorado without looking back. I don’t speak to Rena. I don’t answer her calls or messages. I knew what she wanted when she did those, and I refused to answer her.
But I can’t help shaking my head at my actions from last night. Why did I do it? I slept with the gorgeous man who snared my attention the moment I stepped into the bar last night to meet friends. Worse, he’s a member of a club that I knew of by name only.
I release a shuddered breath and shake my head. Time for me to get a grip on reality and move forward. Meaning I needed to get out of Dodge yet again. Mostly, I just needed to get my car, something I’m thankful we’d brought back, so I have a way out of here instead of on the back of his bike.
I dart across the lot, getting in behind the wheel, finding my keys still in the ignition. Good thing too, cause I didn’t think to look for them in his room. I could have looked for my spare, which I keep hidden in the bumper.
Not really smart, but it works for me as a precaution. You never know when you might need to have that on hand.
Starting my car, I pull out of the lot, the gate opening for me without me stopping at it. Turning left, I release another breath. Then another. All I have to do now is keep going and forget about the dark-haired man who goes by Dagger.
Dagger.
The name rolls around in my brain like a marble in a pinball machine, causing unwanted memories of last night to surface. How his calloused hands felt against my skin. The way he whispered things in my ear that made me shiver. The tattoos that covered his muscular bodytold stories I didn’t get the chance to ask about.
Nope.
Stop it right there.
No need to think further about him.
I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white as I navigate the early morning streets. My mind switches to all things work.
Yes. That’s what I need to focus on.
Work.
Music doesn’t right itself.
I try to focus on the road, on anything else, the song I’m working on at my studio, but images of Dagger keep creeping into my consciousness. The way his eyes had darkened when he’d been inside me. How he lavished every inch of my body with his fingers, mouth, and . . .
“Damn it,” I mutter, hitting the steering wheel.
This is so not me. It’s time to get Dagger out of my head and not think about him ever again.
CHAPTER ONE
Katrina
Two Months Later . . .
“You’ve got to be kidding me?” I mutter, staring wide-eyed at the doctor. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m afraid not,” Doctor Callum states calmly. “Test results show you are pregnant.”
The woman has been my doctor since I moved to town years ago and started seeing her for women’s health. Not having the care I really needed growing up, I made sure I saw a regular physician when needed and an OB/GYN as well. I wasn’t a dramatic type, but I was for keeping my body healthy.
“I come in to get my birth control renewed and find out I’m already pregnant, and I’d been on birth control for years,” I grimace, not coming to terms with this yet.
“When was your last period again?” Doctor Callum asks, shifting to take a seat on the stool in front of me. “We need to see exactly how far along you are.”
“The last two have been super light, more like spotting, but that’s pretty much how every month is, light, but it’s been spotting, nothing more,” I explain and think on how long it’s been since I’ve had sex. “I haven’t been with anyone in months. Before that, even longer. Like a really long time.”
“Let’s do an ultrasound to see,” she says, her tone shifting to concern. “Make sure that everything is okay. Some spotting can be normal.”
