Chapter Twenty-Five
Morgan
I sat in the kitchen staring at the coffee cup in my hands. I wasn’t as strong as Grace. I couldn’t give up coffee. I called and talked to Claudia; I trusted her completely. I told her about my last pregnancy and what happened, and about the ultrasound I’d already had.
She assured me coffee had nothing to do with it, and as long as I wasn’t hooking up an IV to the coffeepot, a cup or two a day was fine.
Only, I couldn’t bring myself to drink more than a few sips before the bitter taste felt like acid in my stomach. I still hadn’t told my father I was here, so Rian was wandering around the clubhouse. Jude had put him to work running the perimeter.
I hadn’t told my brother either.
I stared at my phone on the table and thought about calling him. But every time I chickened out. Zombie had told me what happened when my father showed up with Uncle Mac. I understood why he did it, but it still made me angry.
“That’s not good for the baby,” a woman’s voice said as she walked by the table. “If there is one,” she sneered.
My eyes locked on hers as I lifted the cup to my lips and took a drink.
“Lying bitch,” she muttered. “It won’t work, you know. I’m still in his bed every night.”
The entire clubhouse knew I wasn’t sharing a room with Jude, so it didn’t surprise me that this whore was trying to start shit. I knew she was lying, but I kept my mouth shut and smiled.
I’d learned enough watching the old ladies in Rosewood. Bailey had taught me to always let them swing first. So I kept my mouth shut and waited.
Another one of the whores walked in and her eyes went from Jenna to me. “Everything okay?” she asked.
“No. This bitch needs to know her place,” Jenna snarled.
The other woman, whose name I thought was Misty, shook her head. “She’s Chasm’s old lady, Jenna. You know the rules.”
“Where’s her cut then?”
My cut was in the closet in my room. I wasn’t sure why I’d packed it when I left Rosewood to go to New Orleans, but I had it with me.
“I don’t know, but you’re fucking stupid if you try anything with her.” Misty lowered her voice. “Don’t forget, she’s pregnant.”
“Maybe,” Jenna said, her eyes dropping to the coffee in my hand. I lifted the cup and took another drink, my eyes never leaving hers. My stomach protested the liquid, but I’d be damned if I let her see me vulnerable.
“You’re pushing your limit,” Misty said. “Prez has already threatened to throw your ass out. You pick a fight with his old lady and you’re gone for sure.”
“Interesting,” I said, ignoring the old lady comment. “I wouldn’t think the president would throw out the whore who’s in his bed every night.”
Misty turned my way, but my focus was on Jenna and calling her bluff.
“Prez doesn’t have anyone in his bed,” Misty said, confusion marring her brow.
“Misty, shut the fuck up. He doesn’t want anyone to know.”
“Know what?” she asked Jenna.
“About us. He said to keep it quiet.” Then she tipped her head in my direction. Misty looked at me, then back to Jenna, before she threw her head back and laughed.
“You’re such a fucking liar,” she told Jenna.
“Bitch!” she hissed at Misty before walking out of the room.
“Watch out for her; she’ll be coming for you next,” I said as I stood and dumped the rest of my coffee in the sink before I rinsed the cup and placed it in the dishwasher.
“What do you know about it?” she asked. “The rumor is, you were never a part of the club when you were married.”