Her Journey (Her Series Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

We should totally do it again. I don’t really do a whole lot right now. I’m trying to help Wrench get his business in order and organized, but I could pretty much meet you any time you want. I don’t want you to ever feel like you are alone during this pregnancy.”
    “Thank you. It’s good to know. And who on earth is Wrench? What kind of name is that?” I giggled.
    “My brother. It’s his road name, what everyone calls him. I guess I forget everyone isn’t used to those types of names. It’s like two different worlds. The motorcycle club life, then so-called civilian life,” Ryan explained.
    “So, what’s your street name?” I was curious. I’d never heard her called anything else. “Is it Ryan? Is that why no one calls you Shannon?”
    “Ugh, don’t use that name. It’s so girly. I’m Ryan, no one calls me Shannon. Ellis is Dirty. He’ll answer to either from us, but if one of the guys from the club calls him Ellis, he’ll knock ‘em out.” Ryan shrugged. “That’s just how it is.”
    “And that’s why those guys scare the crap out of me. One wrong move or comment and you get a fist.” I shuddered at the thought of getting punched by someone the size of Ellis. I really hadn’t known what I was getting into when we started this process. I was just glad that, although they were from an environment like that, they didn’t act that way towards me or expect me to live like them.
    “Nah. They don’t hit women. Not like you’re thinking, anyway. Women are treated on a different level for the most part. Women have two roles in the house. You’re either respected, which is mostly reserved for the Old Ladies— you know, the ones who’ve married one of the guys. Then there are the whores, who are treated, well, like whores.” Ryan laughed softly.
    “An old lady?” I asked, horrified. Who wanted to be called that? Not me that’s for damn sure.
    “You have got to relax, woman. You don’t have to go to the club house unless you want to. I won’t force you to meet them, especially not pregnant.” Ryan’s eyes softened as she lowered her eyes to my stomach. “Speaking of, why don’t we get you back to your place so you can lie down? You look tired, and they say it’s exhausting making babies.”
    I smiled and went along with her plan. As I lay in my bed later that afternoon, I looked up at my ceiling, thinking. I had thought I was so strong when I was in DC. I was independent, had a great job, did whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. Ever since I’d moved to Arizona I felt like I was getting weaker and weaker. My photography business was hurting, every single time Ryan or Ellis brought up the club I shivered in fear and now I was pregnant and hormonal to add to it all.
    Deciding it was time to stop feeling sorry for myself, I got up from the bed and fired up my computer. It was time to get my head back in the game and get my pictures uploaded to my website, or at least off my camera so I could alter them if need be. Time to work. Center and focus my world. Work would always be there. It would help support me and take care of me. It was all I really needed in life.
    So that’s what I did for the next couple of weeks. I would chat with Ryan on the phone every day about how I was feeling, but I refused her offer for lunch every day. I needed to get myself in order and back on my feet; otherwise, I’d fall apart. Work got me through my mother’s death and it would get me through this new transition in life. It had to. I had bills to pay and I made more than enough, if I kept on top of it. Plus, the morning sickness kept me looking haggard, so I didn’t want to have to brave the world unless I absolutely had to.
    When my next doctor appointment rolled around, I had to stop working and living out of my apartment. I had to go out and interact with society. Sadly, I barely fit into any of my clothes. I was only freaking eight weeks pregnant! I slipped into a loose skirt and a top that used to