by S. Nelson
Plus, I was the man who’d knocked up his little girl.
Yeah, this is what I’m up against.
Clasping her hand in mine, she walked beside me as we approached the front door. I wouldn’t give in to the erratic thumping of my heart, or the heavy quick breaths which bombarded me with each step forward. I refused to let Addy or her father see me sweat. If I deserved her, and I did, I had to man up and get through the dinner unscathed.
“I hope you’re hungry,” she said, raising her fist to knock on the door. Her nervousness was apparent in the back-and-forth shuffle of her feet while she waited for her father to answer.
“Well, considering the only thing I had to eat today was pussy, I could certainly go for some food.”
The door flung open before Addy could respond, her eyes wide and staring right at me with a mixture of surprise and humor.
“Addy, honey. You know you don’t have to knock,” her father told her, stepping forward and bringing her in for a hug. We were still holding hands, but were separated in order to allow her to return her father’s embrace. I continued to stand on the threshold of his home while he greeted his daughter, his gaze never once resting on me. Not until Addy made the official introductions.
“Dad, this is Stone . . . I mean Lincoln Crosswell.” Turning her head toward me, she said, “This is my father. Brian Reins.”
We assessed each other in mere seconds. He sized me up and while I returned the favor, I patiently waited for him to welcome me. Extending my hand in greeting first, a few palpable seconds passed before he took it. The next breath to leave my lips was one of relief.
While it was ungodly warm outside, I chose to wear a long-sleeved white shirt, mainly to hide the fact my arms were completely covered with ink. I also thought it would be smart if I left my KC cut at home, not wanting to shove the fact I was involved in a club he would surely have an issue with.
First impressions and all.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asked, his hand instinctually finding her swollen belly. “While your mother constantly complained she felt like a beached whale, she never looked more beautiful than when she was carrying you.” A quick look of love and sadness erupted behind his eyes. “You have that same look,” he confessed.
“Of a beached whale?” she teased.
“Oh, stop it. You know damn well you look beautiful.” He leaned down and kissed her temple before ushering her toward a seat in the kitchen.
His focus was mainly kept on his daughter, but after a little while, he knew he had to pay me some kind of attention. My first impression of Brian Reins wasn’t of rudeness or aloofness, but one of a man portraying the alpha male. He was letting me know I meant nothing to him, that he was in control and I was now on his territory.
Trust me, I understood. More than I wanted to. But it didn’t erase the fact that, although he thought he had the upper hand, he didn’t. Not anymore. I’d already claimed my woman, my child growing inside her as proof. For as much as I wanted to pound my chest and declare being top dog, I knew it was Neanderthal-like. And downright immature. I was more secure in myself than that, although I had questioned my worth a few times before we’d arrived.
He turned his attention to me after holding the chair out for his very pregnant daughter. And it was then he chose to engage me in conversation. Finally.
“Why in God’s name are you wearing a long-sleeved shirt?” he asked, pinning his eyes to mine and crossing his arms over his chest. His question may have sounded innocent enough, but every word spoken was calculated. From the moment he opened his mouth, he was judging me. And honestly . . . I didn’t blame him. If Addy and I have a daughter someday, I’ll probably be worse, never allowing any male to come near her.
Addy spoke up before I could say anything. “Dad, he’s trying to be respectful.”
“What does that mean?” her father asked, frowning at his daughter’s answer. I was sure all sorts of things went through his head, and before he lost himself to the catacombs of possibilities, I parted my lips and answered.
“I’m covered in tats, and since Addy told me you don’t have any of your own, I didn’t want to offend you by making you stare at mine the entire time.”
Leaning back against the kitchen counter, his eyes roamed over me. Head to toe. I was sure I was quite the sight. My hair was shaved on the sides, my blond strands longer on top and fashioned back in a Mohawk kind of style. My beard, although shorter than I normally wore it, was long. And mix in that I was covered in ink . . . well, I wasn’t the ideal choice for the likes of his daughter. So I wore long sleeves to hide at least one of those things.
“Nonsense. I don’t have any because I could never find something I wanted permanently marked on my body. But that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate a piece of art when I see it.” His body relaxed, his arms drifting down and coming to rest at his sides. Nodding, he gave me a lazy grin before turning around to check on whatever food he’d put in the oven.
His noncommittal acceptance was gonna be short-lived, however.
Adelaide
At first, I thought my father was going to deny Stone entry into his house. He’d told me on previous visits that he wasn’t looking forward to meeting the man who got me pregnant. The man who didn’t have the decency to come to him, like he ought to, and ask for my hand in marriage. To do the right thing.
My father, although only fifty, was extremely old-fashioned. He believed that men and women shouldn’t live together before marriage, and should definitely not have children unless they were legally committed to each other. And if such a thing happened, as in my case, the man should make an honest woman out of his future child’s mother.
We’d argued on a few occasions when I told him I didn’t want to rush things, and that I wasn’t going to get married just because he thought it was the right thing to do. In the beginning, Stone had agreed with me, but as my belly grew, he’d mentioned getting married more and more. I was also convinced that because I was sick, it fueled his urge to make me his wife.
What if I didn’t make it?
What if my life was cut short before he was ready to let me go?
Before I was ready to leave?
Pushing those depressing thoughts aside, I tried my hardest to focus on the two strong men in the kitchen with me. My father busied himself preparing the dinner he insisted on making—chicken Marsala, one of my mother’s favorite dishes. And as such, it was one of mine as well. Over the years since she passed, my father had taken up cooking. He didn’t have much of a choice; if he didn’t want to survive on fast food alone, he had to learn to cook for himself—more than his infamous chili, that was.
“Lincoln, can you set the table? I don’t want Addy lifting a finger,” my father insisted, staring at Stone until he rose from the table and walked toward the cupboards. Instructing him on where he kept the plates and silverware, my father turned toward me and smiled. He loved that Stone did what he was asked without reservation, and although I knew he wanted to impress my father, Stone’s own insecurities about the meeting eating away at him, he wasn’t a man who took orders very easily. Other than from Marek, and only when it was about club business.
Once all three place settings were arranged, my father took the chicken from the oven and placed it in the center of the table. A bowl of mixed veggies along with some fresh rye bread and butter completed the dinner. It’d been some time since I ate this particular meal, and the nostalgia of it all had suddenly become overwhelming. Pushing back the building tears, I reached across the table and grasped my father’s hand.
“Dinner looks wonderful, Dad. Thanks for having us.”
“Anything for you,” he said, patting my hand before cutting into his chicken. Moments of silence passed as all of us consumed the delicious dinner, eyes glancing from one person to the next without uttering a single word. The only sounds to fall from my lips were those of satisfaction at how tasty the food was.
“The chicken is wonderful,�
� I exclaimed, shoveling in piece after piece until I’d eaten the entire thing. Finishing off my spoonful of vegetables, I buttered some rye then leaned back in the chair to get more comfortable. I took a small sip of water before placing the warm bread between my lips.
“Damn, girl!” Stone exclaimed, “You sure ate your meal quick.” He chuckled, reaching under the table to pat my leg before continuing to finish off his chicken.
“What can I say? Our son’s hungry.” With laughter falling from my lips, my gaze locked onto my father. His face was void of expression, which was odd since he was such an animated guy. I couldn’t tell right then if he was angry or sad. Was the mention of our son pushing him to his limits? It wasn’t like he wasn’t reminded that I was pregnant as soon as he saw me.
Breaking his connection with me, my father focused on Stone. “So, Lincoln. Tell me about your parents . . . your family. Do they live around here?”
I instantly tensed, realizing the topic of his parents was surely a touchy one. Since I hadn’t told my father much about him, always putting off the topic because of the way I knew he would react once he found out he was part of the Knights Corruption, I definitely never mentioned his parents. I probably should have just so we could have avoided the uncomfortableness.
Turning my head toward Stone, I implored him to silently pass me a message with his eyes. Let me know if he was going to be all right with discussing a topic he barely talked about with me. I would interfere on his behalf. All he had to do was blink a few seconds too long, or hold his breath a few more heartbeats . . . or grimace. Something. Anything.
But the man was as cool as a cucumber, even though I knew he was probably agitated on the inside.
Giving my father his full attention, he spoke quickly, hopefully making it clear he didn’t wish to expand on the topic.
“Both of my parents are dead.” I knew talking about his family was very difficult for him. The one time I’d asked him about them, he gave me short answers, telling me his father was killed a few years back along with Marek’s, and that his mother had died from a drug overdose when he was only twelve years old. Other than the one-time bout of information, he refused to discuss them further. I tried on one other occasion, only to be shut down with a grunt and a shake of his head. I knew enough not to push him, and I feared my father was going to try just that.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” my father sincerely offered, and thankfully he read his body language well enough to not ask him anymore questions. Although I think I would have preferred the tension of talking about his deceased parents over what he asked him next.
“How did you two meet? Addy never told me.” His eyes pinned his dinner guest, refusing to look at me as if I would dismiss the question altogether. And I guessed he was right to think so. Our visit had been going well up until that point. I hated to ruin it, so the only thing I could think of to do was be deceptive.
Beat him to it and lie about where we’d met.
“We met at work. He came in after he’d been in an accident and I was the nurse who stitched him up.” Stone visibly flinched from my response, but I’d deal with his mood later, after we were far away from my father’s interrogative stare.
“Is that right?” my father asked, taking a pull from his bottled beer. Stone had refused the drink, thinking it best not to partake in alcohol since this was their first meeting and he needed all his wits about him. I wouldn’t go as far as to say that he was nervous, per se, just cautious not to make the wrong move, or say the wrong thing.
Well, all that came to an end when he decided to speak up and answer the next question.
“What do you do for a living?” My father finished off his drink and set it on top of the table, reclining in his chair while folding his arms over his chest again. I knew that move. That was the ‘I suspect something isn’t right, and you better tell me the truth’ move.
“Actually, I work with Addy’s uncle Trigger.” My breath caught in my throat and my body locked up tight. Panic engulfed me before I could convince myself to calm down. My father knew damn well his brother-in-law was knee-deep in the club. Had been before he even met him, which was quite a long time ago. My father had often told me he was extremely happy I was never integrated into that life. Both he and my mother made sure of it. The good thing was that my uncle agreed wholeheartedly with them, protecting me every chance he had.
When I started going by the club at my uncle’s request to help out, we decided it best to keep that piece of information from my father. It would only upset him, and he had enough to deal with since my mother passed; he didn’t need to worry about my well-being. It was why my uncle was so damn adamant about everyone leaving me alone when I visited. It was why he threatened every member to stay away from me, and it was the reason he felt it was his just duty to shoot the father of my unborn child when he’d learned Stone hadn’t adhered to his threats.
Clanking silverware drew my attention back to my father. He leaned in close and gritted his teeth when he spoke again. “What do you mean you work with Trigger?”
I had to interfere and do it quickly. “He means he’s worked with Uncle Trigger in the past.” I opened my mouth to say something else, not quite sure what, when Stone interjected, placing his hand over mine and giving me a light squeeze. He was assuring me it was best to get this out in the open. To deal with it and move on. Just like he did when my uncle shot him. Thankfully, my father didn’t own a gun; otherwise, our visit might have turned out completely different.
“I’m a member of the Knights Corruption, right along with Trigger. We’ve been involved with starting up a few different types of businesses to ensure the livelihood of the club going forward.” I wasn’t sure whether he was going to continue speaking, but it didn’t matter because as soon as he took another breath, my father rose from his seat and started shouting, deflating any hope I had at a peaceful evening.
“What the hell are you saying? What are you telling me right now? That you’re part of that cesspool of a club? They’re nothing but criminals, preying on the weak and dealing in drugs and God only knows what else. No!” he hollered. “I won’t have my daughter involved with anyone from that place.” Suddenly turning his eyes to me, he asked, “Does Trigger know you’re with him? Because he assured me he would protect you at all costs. To make sure you never fell prey to the likes of anyone involved there.”
“He knows,” Stone interrupted, rising from the table himself, pulling me right along with him until I stood next to him. His arm wrapped around my waist, and the gesture wasn’t lost on my father. He was claiming me, and it was the worst possible time for his possessive side to come out to play. My father slammed his hands on the table and kicked his chair behind him, the shrill sound of metal legs against tiled floor unnerving. “The bastard even shot me because of it.” There was no amusement or fear in his voice when he confessed this to my father. There was just matter-of-fact resignation.
“Good. At least he kept his word to me. Sort of. Although you snuck past him, I won’t allow you to take this relationship any further. I forbid you to see my daughter any longer!” my father shouted. “I won’t keep you from your child, but as far as you and Addy are concerned, you’re done. So help me God, if you don’t listen to me, you’ll regret it.” Heavy footsteps sounded as my father rounded the table and came to stand directly in front of Stone, his fists clenched at his sides, prepared to do battle if that’s what it came to.
While I knew he wouldn’t be okay with me being involved with someone in the club, I seriously didn’t think he would take it this far. Threatening Stone if he didn’t leave me alone. Ready to pound on the father of his unborn grandchild. He’d gone too far, pushed so far past the line it was nothing but a flimsy blur.
“Dad!” I shouted, reaching out to grab his hand. But he pulled away, denying my touch before it registered. His reaction hurt, but I had more important things to worry about right then.
Like making sure both of them didn’t som
ehow come to blows. They were both fiercely protective of me, and the last thing I wanted or needed was for them to be at war with one another, simply because they were each trying to assert their role in my life.
I pressed on and tried to diffuse the escalating tension between the two men who meant the world to me.
“Dad!” I tried again. “While I know you’re concerned for my well-being, I’m grown. You can’t dictate who I involve myself with.” Looking toward an increasingly agitated Stone, I confessed, “Stone would never let anything bad happen to me. Fate has done that already,” I mumbled, more to myself, thankful neither one of them heard my grumbling.
“Addy, you don’t know what they’re capable of. They’re nothing but a bunch of murdering, drug-dealing, lowlife scumbags.”
Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, Stone erupted, gripping the edge of the table for leverage. Otherwise, I feared he would have attacked my father.
“I tried to be respectful. I tried to bite my tongue, praying the night wouldn’t end like this, but I can’t do it any longer. You weren’t gonna give me the time of day regardless; I saw the way you judged me as soon as you laid eyes on me. But know this. I’m in love with your daughter, she’s having my baby, and very soon we’ll be married. And there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it. As far as my club goes, my brothers are nothing short of extraordinary men. Sure, we’ve done some things in the past which resided on the other side of the law. I’m not gonna lie about that. But things are different now. We’re done with anything that will endanger our lives as well as the lives of those we love. I would give my own life to make sure Addy and my son are safe, and if you don’t believe or trust me then that’s your problem. Not mine.” Stone’s face had become red, his chest expanding quickly while his jaw ticked uncontrollably. Turning my head toward my father, I saw he mirrored Stone’s reactions.