MC Bear My Baby (Beartooth Brotherhood MC) by Bella Love-Wins Page A

could harden himself to the idea that she loathed him. A pang of regret made him clutch his stomach while he listened to her put herself back together—without his help. Because he was useless right now, and couldn’t get his own shit together to be there for her too.
    “Yes…we do…” she said, stepping out of the stall. Her hoarse voice had still agreed with him.
    “You okay to go home?” He smoothed his hands down his pants and looked everywhere but at Molly, too afraid of what he’d see in her expressive light blue eyes when she looked at him.
    “Home?”
    “I, uh, meant the MC.”
    There was a beat of silence and he blindly reaching a hand out to take her hand—now that she was in a delicate condition. The term almost made him puke in his mouth.
    “That’s fine.” She sniffled and took his offered hand, but she was shaking like a leaf now.
    “Okay.”
    It was all the things they didn’t say that really meant anything anymore.

    * * *
    L et ’s just add horrible at my fucking job to the list of things wrong with me too.
    Tate sped past the road sign about five minutes out from the Beartooth Brotherhood clubhouse. On their way out of the bathroom he found a note taped to the gas tank of his bike. He’d only seen it under the light of the gas station, which was fucked up because he was sure it wasn’t there outside the fight club. The note was from Molly’s ex. Jett let them know he’d been watching them both and wasn’t fond of what was going on between them. Tate had gone apeshit, searching the parking lot and looking around everywhere, but he’d turned up nothing. At that point Molly just wanted to go home and he couldn’t blame her at all. The idea of the guy watching them, probably following them all this time, made Tate want to stab something. Part of him knew he should have been doing more back at the underground club. He could have caught the bastard back there, but instead, let him slip through the cracks.
    When they drove into the clubhouse parking area, Molly’s hands tightened around his waist for the first time since they left the gas station. With slightly shaky hands, he switched off the bike and helped her off before strolling inside, acting like this was an ordinary night and nothing in his world had shattered into eight million pieces. If anyone looked at Molly, they’d know something was up. She looked like hell after that girl-fight, and now this.
    Tate cleared his throat, still hedging his bets that she would back out on telling everyone in the clubhouse. “So…how do you want to do this?”
    “Like pulling off a Band-Aid.”
    Ouch. He guessed he deserved that…sort of. He shrugged and they headed inside. He eyed the bar, intent on getting epically shitfaced after they told the guys. Once they knew, especially the old ladies, he could hang up his hero hat for the night and take a load off his mind. The less he could remember about today, the better.
    “Hey, look who it is,” Axe called out from his usual space behind the bar. He was mixing a shaker of cocktails, about to pour three glasses for the twisted claws waiting impatiently. “We were wondered if trouble found you. Any updates on the sick son of a bitch stalker yet?”
    “We, uh, have all sorts of news…actually,” Molly said, taking a seat at the bar.
    Tate immediately noticed her staring longingly at the twisted claws’ drinks. He winced when he recalled the whiskies she’d downed earlier and hoped those didn’t already fuck up the kid.
    Fuck, that was a sobering thought.
    If this was really happening he needed to do a lot more research.
    Axe was all curiosity, rubbing his hands together as he raised his eyebrows. “Hit me!”
    “Not before you hit me first, bro.” Tate motioned for a glass.
    Axe shrugged one shoulder and slid over a half-full whiskey glass in his direction. This was no time for those tiny shots, and Axe must have seen something in his eyes to know this. Tate shot the liquid back and