I’m now on bedrest until they can be sure the shit put in my food won’t cause me to lose the babies. That has Killer even more on edge than normal. Every little pain, twitch, or movement, he’s on me in case something happens so we can get right to the hospital.
Needless to say, I’m going out of my mind. A person can only take so much TV, magazines, books, and visits from the men and women of the club. I’ve been staring at the same four walls of our room at the clubhouse since coming back here. I need to get out of here and Killer is either going to let me go down and sit on the couch, which I’m allowed to do, or I won’t talk to him. Maybe I’ll have my sister come get me and take me to her house for a while. I definitely won’t do anything to put our children in jeopardy, but he has to understand where I’m coming from.
“Killer, I need to go to the common room or something,” I plead with him. “I can’t keep sitting in here staring at the same four walls.”
“Sparrow, you know that’s not the best idea. You’re supposed to be restin’,” he states, never once taking his eyes off me.
“I’ll be resting, just in the common room. You hear Doctor Spears; I’m allowed to go to the common room and sit. I just can’t do a lot of standing, walking around, or anything to add stress to me,” I state, knowing he heard the same thing I did. “Killer, I love you, but this insanity has to stop. I just want to sit on the couch for a while and hang out with everyone.”
Killer regards me for a few minutes before stalking to the bed. After pulling the blankets back, I’m lifted into my man’s arms. Wrapping my own arms around his neck, I lay my head on his shoulder and breath in his scent. Killer smells like the cologne he wears, sweat, smoke, oil, and leather. Everything I now relate to safety and love. He carries me down the stairs and directly to one of the new couches. Once I’m safely lying down on it, Killer has Rich grab a blanket from our room before sitting down at the end of my feet. He pulls them up on his lap and begins to massage them.
Letting out a moan, I let my head drop back as I close my eyes. I hear Killer growl out in response. Yes, I know it gets to him when I moan out. However, this feels so good right now. Rich is back before Killer can say anything in response to me. He covers me up with the blanket and asks if I need anything else. Right now, I’m good. I don’t need any more water or juice and Killer just made me eat a little while ago.
As Killer begins flipping through the channels on the TV, the main door opens, and I watch Stryker come walking up to us. After placing a kiss on the top of my head, he sits down in the chair closest to me. He’s been sticking close when he’s not at Phantom Ink or with Sally.
“How are you feelin’ today, Gwen?” he questions me, accepting the beer from Torres, our newest Prospect.
I don’t like Torres. He gives me the creeps. Whenever he’s around, he stares at everyone as if he’s trying to find our weakest link in the club. This means he spends a lot of time staring at the women. The few times I’ve been in the common room without anyone else, the hair on the back of my neck and arms has stood on end. I’d look around the common room, or whatever room I’m in, and Torres would be the only one there.
He’s got black hair that’s slicked back and wears jeans and shirts that are way too baggy for him. It’s as if they’re three times the size he should be wearing. The rest of the men in the club always wear tighter clothing so he definitely sticks out. If one of us dared to get close enough to him, I’m sure we’d see his underwear hanging out like you used to see years ago by every member of the male species.
I also won’t take any food or drinks from him. The first time he handed me bottled water, he opened it before letting me see anything. I don’t trust