“Listen to Amy,” I told him through clenched teeth. “You didn’t spend anything on him. You spent time and love, and there ain’t no money that can replace that.”
Davide stopped struggling against the wall. “I took him to baseball practice, you know!” he shouted. “He was my kid for eight years. Eight years I was his daddy, and now you’re gonna take him away from me. I deserve some fucking money for missing him.”
Holy shit, Davide cared a hell of a lot more than I thought he did. I released him and stepped back. Still slumped against the wall, Davide glared at me.
“I want that fucking money,” Davide demanded. He pounded his fist on the drywall. “I need to make sure Amy is taken care of before I go.”
“Oh, Davide,” Amy moaned from the door. “I can take of myself, and you don’t know that you’re going away.”
“It’s a murder charge, Amy.” Davide rolled his eyes. “I’m going away forever. I just wanted to do this one last thing for you. I wanted you to be taken care of and for Christophe to be with someone who loves him.”
Holy shit. So that was why Davide chose now to come and find me. He was going into the joint for a long, long time.
Amy crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Davide’s neck. Rip, Colt, and I stepped back and put away our weapons. “That’s a goddamn Hallmark moment,” I said to the guys.
Once he and Amy were done hugging, Davide turned back to us. “I at least wanna say goodbye to the kid.” He narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t let me do that before.”
“Saying goodbye is fine.” I nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance.”
Davide gave Amy one last hug. “You let me say goodbye to Christophe, then I’ll leave town and you’ll never see me again,” he said.
* * *
When we pulled up back at the clubhouse, it was well past midnight, and all the lights were off. I walked in with the other guys and looked for Christophe and Miri. Christophe was probably in bed, I reminded myself. Miri was nowhere to be seen. My chest hurt a little at that. I wanted to tell her what went down at the motel. The threat was past, and she and Christophe were safe. I’d feel better when Davide left town, but I didn’t think he was an immediate problem.
Rip yawned and rolled his neck. “I’m going home.” He had a sometimes girlfriend probably waiting for him.
Everyone else started heading off home as well. Back to wives, girlfriends, or at least some sort of companionship. Usually I would call Asia. In the morning, she would just let herself out. No fuss. Tonight I couldn’t even remember her face. I just wanted Miri, and she didn’t want me.
Instead, I grabbed a bottle of whiskey and sat down at the bar. Guys came and went behind me. Conversations flowed around me. Until, eventually, it was totally silent. The only thing that was left was me and the bottle. And when the whiskey was gone, I trudged up the stairs.
She was in Christophe’s bed. I leaned against the doorjamb and watched them.
Christophe’s arms were thrown over his head, his legs splayed out like he owned the joint. Miri was curled into a ball on top of the blankets.
There was a little whiskey left in my glass, and I savored the burn as it went down.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Skeeter
Rip and Clint and I were hanging around the parking lot at the club, waiting for Miri to come out. I didn’t want to take her back to her dad’s place, but it was what she wanted. I got it—hanging around at an MC was probably not her idea of fun. The threat was mostly over; I felt fine with having her father provide security. Krista had volunteered to tell Miri that I was ready to go. I didn’t want to talk to Miri and say something stupid. Something like telling her I didn’t want her to go.
Rip caught my eye and pointed. Miri stood at the door to the clubhouse. She was dressed in some exercise pants and a sweatshirt. A backpack was slung over her shoulder. She was ready to go home.
It seemed like an eternity as she crossed the parking lot. “Hey.”
I took off my helmet and looked around. All the guys who’d been hanging around had disappeared. Gossipy bastards were probably watching from the windows.
“Hi. So, um, where are we going?” I asked. She gave me an address in Queen Anne, the rich area of Seattle.
“Looks like you added a little seat back here,” she said as she ran her fingers over the pillion.
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “I figured it would be good to have additional seating with Christophe.” I got on and turned to her. “There’s a little peg here. You put your foot on it and step up, then swing your other leg around.”
She nodded and stepped on the bit of metal sticking out of the side of my bike. The bike tipped as she shifted her weight and swung her leg around. Fuck. Finally, she was gonna be at my back, riding on the bike. There was an unwritten rule the only women who rode the back of your bike were old ladies. Miri would never be my old lady, but at least I’d have this one ride. One ride to feel her against me while the wind whipped around us.
“Make sure the strap under your chin is tight.” I handed a helmet back to her.
The buckle clicked. “Ready,” she said.
I kick-started the bike, and it roared to life. Miri’s arms came around my middle and squeezed. This was what I’d been waiting for my whole fucking life. A woman I loved, wrapped around me and my bike. Yeah, I fucking loved her. We went over the speed bumps and out the gate. She clung to me, and I felt every bit of her body pressed against my back. It was gonna be the ride of my life.
* * *
My nerves were stretched tight when I pulled into the neighborhood. I didn’t want to give her up. That was all I could think of as we wound our way through the mansions on the hill.
I was tempted to take a wrong turn just so I could have her behind me just a little longer.
“Here,” I heard her say from behind me.
We pulled up in front of a white craftsman. All white. Totally fucking pure, just like she was before she met me. I’d fucked her up. All of this shit, it was my fault. Davide threatening to say she was an accessory to my crime, the possibility that she would be disbarred, it was all my shit projected onto her.
“I’m sorry.” I took off my helmet and helped her dismount. “I’m going to make it right, ya know. You won’t have to worry about any of this. It’s almost over.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” She handed me her helmet and turned to look at the house. “I should go.”
Gerry, her father, was leaning against the doorframe, and two security guards stood on the porch. She didn’t look back as she climbed the steps.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Skeeter
Leaning against the brick wall, I watched Davide and his woman pull into the club’s parking lot in their old beater truck. My stomach twisted. Davide was gonna say goodbye to the kid who had been his son for eight years. I’d barely just met Christophe, but I knew it would tear me up if I had to say goodbye to him now. I couldn’t imagine what Davide was feeling.
Logistically, this could either go easy or really bad. Christophe was inside and out of any firing range, but we still needed to be careful. I touched my belt; it was attached to my holster for my .38. Davide was looking at a murder charge and saying goodbye to a kid he raised as his son. If he changed his mind, the situation could explode at any minute.
Davide climbed out of the truck and walked over to me. “Where’s the kid?” he asked.
I made a call, and Bettes and Tate walked out with Christophe between them.
Amy stepped up. “You do good in school,” she told him after giving him a squeeze. “I’ll come after ya if you don’t.”
Christophe gave her a fierce hug. “You been the closest thing I had to a mama,” he said. “Thank you.”
Amy pulled back. “Miri’
s your mama now, ain’t she? You listen to her, y’hear me? She’s a good woman.” Christophe nodded.
Davide scooped him up and gave Christophe a hug. “Dad says that I’m going to live with him now,” Christophe said once Davide had put him back on the pavement. “Is that true? I’m not going back with you?”
“No, kid, you’re staying here.” Davide patted Christophe’s shoulder. “You belong with your pa. Time for you to move on.”
“But why? Did I do something wrong?” Christophe asked, his lip quivering.
“Naw, kiddo,” Davide said, his voice finally breaking. “I did. I did something bad, and they’re gonna put me away. I ain’t got nowhere to run no more, so I gotta take responsibility for what I did.”
“What did you do?” Christophe asked through his sniffles.
Shit.
“All right, that’s enough,” I said, putting my hand on Davide’s shoulder. The last thing I needed was him filling Christophe’s head about how the law was bad because they wouldn’t let him cook meth.
“I wanna know.” Christophe swallowed hard. “I need to know.”
I sighed. Christophe wasn’t a baby, but he wasn’t a man either. I guess one of my jobs as dad was to know when to let him grow up. I nodded permission to Davide.
“I killed a man,” Davide explained to Christophe. “I didn’t mean to do it, but it happened, and he’s dead ’cause of me. He was the sheriff’s boy too, so that makes it even worse. You live inside the law if you can. You understand me, boy? You don’t wanna live looking over your shoulder every day. It’s damn hard on your soul.”
“It’s time to get going,” I said in a low voice. That explanation was enough. I didn’t want Christophe learning any more life lessons from Davide.
Davide gave Christophe one last hug. Then he and Amy climbed into their blue truck and drove away.
* * *
I had to see Miri—tell her she was safe. She’d still be pissed at me, but I had to make it right. I had to try. Maybe there was still hope for us.
I rehearsed what I was gonna say the whole drive up. Somehow, “Sorry I fucked up, but at least he’s gone now” was pretty much all I could come up. So much for eloquence.
I knocked on the door and waited. There was a security camera placed discreetly below the porch light. I smiled. Waved. A bald guy wearing tactical pants opened the door. “Name?” he demanded.
Skeeter. “Jean Luc Devaneaux to see Miss Englestein.”
The guard left me cooling my heels on the front stoop before he reappeared at the door. “Mr. Englestein and his daughter aren’t home.” He frowned. “But Mrs. Englestein is here. She’d like to see you.”
Shit. Miri’s mom wanted to see me? I couldn’t say no. I followed the guard through their fancy house to a backyard full of flowers. A woman was seated at the table reading the newspaper.
“You must be Jean Luc!” She kissed my cheek and waved to the empty chair. “I’m Joan, Miri’s mom.”
Joan was beautiful, same facial features as Miri, but her hair had already gone white, despite her unlined face. “So you’re the boy that Miri was seeing.” She stirred her tea.
Holy fucking shit. “Uh, no, ma’am.” I smoothed down my hair and tried to make sure it wasn’t sticking out in all directions from my helmet. “I, um, was her client. She was handling my custody case.”
She smiled and nodded. “Right. Kidnapping, wasn’t it?” She took a sip of her iced tea. “I worked at my husband’s law firm for twenty years. You don’t have to mince your words here.”
I stared at her, trying to read her face. She wasn’t angry or frightened at all.
“Just spit it out. Are the bad guys gone?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “Can we return to business as usual?”
Fuck. I had prepared for a socialite, not a white-haired battle-axe.
“Yes, ma’am.” I cleared my throat. “Nothing to fear.”
“Lovely.” She folded her hands in her lap and considered me. “So what are your intentions with my daughter?”
I grabbed the side of the chair to keep from falling over. I’d never met a girl’s parents before. “I don’t intend anything with your daughter, ma’am.” Shit. The sun wasn’t even out, and the day was like a damn inferno. I shifted in my seat. “Um, I just came to tell you that there’s no one threatening her anymore and be on my way.”
“You didn’t come to tell me that you’re in love with her and miss her?” she asked innocently.
“No, ma’am.” I shook my head. I couldn’t admit to Miri that I was desperately in love with her, much less her mother. I stood up. It would be easier to run. Fucking shit. This was scarier than Davide’s extortion attempts any day. “I’m sorry if someone gave you the impression that Miri and I were anything but friends. I’m not in love with her, and she isn’t in love with me. Anyway, I appreciate your time.”
“Are you sure?” Joan walked over to me and put her hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t love her?”
“It wouldn’t matter if I did.” I stepped away from the old lady’s touch. “We’re from two different worlds. Love wouldn’t be enough.”
Joan looked over my shoulder and cringed.
“I didn’t realize we had a visitor,” Miri said from behind me.
Fuck.
I spun around. Her face was a stoic façade, and I had no idea what she was thinking. I hoped she was disappointed that I didn’t love her. I hoped that this whole shitbag of emotions was just as awful for her as it was for me.
I tried to step around her. “I was just leaving.”
“I’ll walk you out,” she said.
We walked back through the pristine hallway and rooms until we were standing outside on the sidewalk. I leaned against my bike, and Miri crossed her arms over her chest. Out here on the curb was where I belonged. I gave her a quick rundown of what happened with Davide.
“So he’s looking at a murder charge?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yeah, he’s gonna go back home and face the music. He’s already left town, so you don’t have to worry about a thing,” I promised.
“Did you pay him off?” She took a deep breath. “Or scare him off with more guns?”
“Neither.” I shrugged. “I talked to him. Turns out he had some warrants out and wanted to see Christophe settled before he went away.” I reached for my helmet. It was time to go, before I did something stupid like ask her to come with me. “I should get outta here.”
“Wait.” She grabbed my arm. “Am I going to see you again?”
I pulled my helmet on. It was the one with a full face, and I was glad. The chin guard was so big she wouldn’t be able to hear me if I did something stupid like tell her I loved her.
I shook my head and muttered into the protective foam. I needed to get the hell out of there.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Miri
I stayed up late polishing Grandma’s silver. It was one of my favorite things to do when I needed to think. Mom had gone to bed a while ago, and Dad was downstairs in his study. There were two security guards left, and they were in the kitchen having a cup of coffee. It was just me in the dining room with a big tub of silver cream to keep me company.
I thought a lot about what Jean Luc had said about wanting him to fit into my world. Except I realized—after polishing my fourth table setting—I had no idea what my world looked like. I went to law school because it was expected of me. I went to work for Dad after graduation because it was expected of me. I even dated Pete because it was expected of me. I had lived up to everyone’s expectations and realized I had none of my own. I had no idea what I wanted my life to be.
I knew I wanted love, and because of Christophe I was sure I wanted a child or children. There was no going back to Pete. Jean Luc had shown me what it w
as like to be loved and cherished and even protected. Even though we were fighting, he cared enough to make sure I was safe.
After I polished the tenth table setting—there were only twelve—I realized I knew what I didn’t want. I didn’t want my job anymore. I wanted to be my own person, and working for my father wasn’t the way to do that.
I finished up my polishing and put everything away. I needed to talk to my dad.
My knees trembled as I walked to his study. If my grades weren’t high enough or I came home past curfew, he would call me in and tell me how disappointed he was. I’d lived my entire life trying to meet his expectations for me—now it was time for me to have my own dreams.
“Hey, Dad,” I said as I slipped into his home office. “We need to talk.”
Dad peered up at me over his spectacles. “We do?” he asked, setting down his pencil. “What’s this about?”
I sat down opposite him at his desk. I’d sat at this desk many times in the past. In high school when I’d gotten a B in trig, and in college when I’d told him I wanted to leave law school and join the Peace Corps. Whenever there was a big discussion to be had, it was done at Dad’s desk.
“I quit.” I sighed, feeling like all the air had rushed out of my lungs.
Dad took off his little reading glasses and set them in their place on the corner of his blotter. “You quit? Do you have another offer?” he asked.
“No.” I sighed. “I was thinking of hanging out my own shingle, at least for a while. I’m not really sure I know what I want yet. I know what I don’t want, and I don’t want to work for you anymore, Daddy. I love you and appreciate the opportunity you’ve given me, but I want to be on my own for a while, be my own person.”
Dad pursed his lips. “Is this about that boy?” he asked. “The one who was here this afternoon?”
“No,” I started to say, and then I shrugged. “Yes, maybe. I don’t know. All I know is that I need to find out who I am and what I want. That boy, as you put it, he knows what he wants, and I don’t. I’ve never known. I’ve just always listened to you and Mom. I want to start listening to myself now.”
Rebel Custody Page 17