His Secret Baby (A Bad Boy Romance)

by Waltz, Vanessa

  “Right.”

  Thane yanks a dress shirt from the closet. He buttons it quickly, missing the top hole. I rip back the sheets and stand next to him, fixing his shirt. His hands curl around my waist.

  “Be careful.”

  He bends over to kiss my cheek, squeezing my waist.

  “I’ll be back soon.”

  Thane releases me and walks into Daniel’s room to kiss him good-bye before walking to the door.

  “Oh, and Christine? Don’t go after Violet.”

  Fuck, how could he have known?

  “I don’t want anything to do with her. I’ll see you later.”

  He gives me a lingering look before he opens the door and disappears behind it.

  Finally.

  As soon as the sound of his footsteps disappears, I walk into the kitchen and pick up the phone sitting on the counter. The black screen reflects my frowning face.

  I know he won’t like it. When he finds out, he’ll probably drag me into the hallway again to rip off my clothes.

  With a swipe of my finger, the screen bursts into light. I thumb through the windows and click on the icon of a black dragon, pulling up the syndicate’s directory. I search for Cassidy’s name and click on her number.

  After a few seconds of ringing, she picks up.

  “Hey, Christine! How are you doing?”

  “I’m not bad.” Considering everything. “How goes it?”

  “Oh, I’m fine. I actually wanted to talk to you after what happened. I felt so bad about the drama at Women’s Club.”

  “I’m not too broken up about it. Vol-au-vents aren’t really my thing.”

  She laughs. “To tell you the truth, they aren’t really my thing, either.”

  “I wanted to thank you for looking after Daniel for me, and I also wanted to ask you for a favor.”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “Can you babysit? I need to run an errand. It shouldn’t take longer than an hour, but I really shouldn’t leave Daniel alone and I don’t want to bring him to where that bitc—I mean—Violet works.”

  “Right now? Sure. I don’t have anything else going on today. Just give me fifteen minutes, and I’ll be there!”

  “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

  “It’s no problem, really. See you soon.”

  “Bye.”

  I end the call, smiling at the black screen.

  I’m coming after you, bitch.

  * * *

  Lions and gazelles.

  Thane told me his cute little metaphor for this fucked-up place. If only it were an exaggeration. Weakness is death, and Violet has been set on making me a gazelle from the moment I arrived here. It’s time I told the bitch to step off.

  Daniel’s safe in my apartment with Cassidy watching over him. She has no idea where I’m off to, and that’s probably for the best. Besides, I just want to make it clear in no uncertain terms that Violet needs to stay away from my husband and kid, now and forever.

  A sick feeling grips my stomach as I head toward the empty day care, which isn’t open yet. She’s there. I see her sitting cross-legged on the colorful carpet, twisting a piece of construction paper around her hands as she cuts. The guard looks up at me as I approach, frowning.

  “We’re closed.”

  “I just want to have a chat with Violet. Just open the door!”

  He acquiesces, looking tired.

  Violet sits in a circle of purple construction paper confetti. She keeps her head bent, resolutely cutting the folded paper into a shape of a girl with a skirt. She unfolds it, and I realize it’s a garland of children, holding hands with one another. For once, she’s not wearing black. She wears a blue dress that’s too big for her. It puffs out in front of her stomach, almost like a maternity dress. Holy shit, it is a maternity dress. Why the fuck is she wearing one when she’s obviously not pregnant?

  Because she’s nuts.

  Violet looks up with the simpering smile I’ve grown to despise, but it evaporates the moment she recognizes me, the smile lines still etched into her powdered face.

  “We’re not open.”

  “No shit. I came here to talk to you.”

  She sets down the construction paper. “I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”

  “Well, how about the fact that you’re trying to fuck my husband?”

  Violet looks like I’ve slapped her. She points the scissors at me. “You’ve got some nerve, walking in here and accusing me of that—”

  “Oh really? So he imagined you grabbing him, didn’t he?”

  “You’re the one who stole him from me! He’s my husband, and you’re just a two-faced slut he’ll get bored of. I won’t pretend it doesn’t upset me. It does! He made a vow to me.”

  My jaw drops as Violet stands, red in the face and furious. She actually believes she’s married to Thane. The sick feeling in my stomach intensifies. I know I should just walk away and leave, but I hate this fucking bitch. I hate everything about her from her ridiculous maternity dress to her brightly colored lipstick. There’s not a single redeeming quality about her. I don’t care how nuts she is.

  “Your husband’s dead. You went to his funeral.”

  “Shut the fuck up!” she screams. “Haven’t you done enough damage to us? First, you steal him away from me, and then you trick him into thinking our baby is yours.”

  “Keep your hands off Thane, or I’ll come back here to make you pay.”

  “Are you serious? You need to keep your hands off him. I’ve got every man wrapped around my finger in this place, and you’re nothing. You’re just a slit in a dress!”

  “I’m not the one taking pictures of other people’s babies and pretending to nurse a fucking doll!” She whitens, and I take vicious pleasure at the fear on her face. “Yeah, I found the doll. Once everyone finds out how batshit insane you are, you’ll never touch a child again.”

  Violet unleashes a howl of fury, her pink lips stretched in a grotesque mask of hatred as she raises the pair of orange scissors, the blades aimed for my chest. I block them with my hand, screaming as the metal cuts into my skin. Violet’s crazed eyes bleed with mascara.

  “What the fuck are you doing? Violet!”

  But she’s long past reasoning.

  She tears the scissors across my palm, and I feel the slightly jagged blade slicing into my hand. I stumble back, and Violet punches forward in a stabbing motion.

  “Jesus! Stop!”

  I pick up one of the child-sized chairs and slam it into her body, hoping the blow will knock the rage out of her body, but it only seems to act as a stimulant. Violet wrestles it out of my grip and flings it aside.

  “I should have killed you the moment I met you. That would have taught him not to fuck around!”

  Violet’s head rips to the side as I seize a hardcover book and bash her. Then a sharp puncture wound opens up near my hip. Pain bursts through my body, and I look down to see the shears digging through my dress.

  I’m so shocked that I can’t yet connect the scissors with Violet’s rage. My brain scrambles to defend her—she didn’t mean it. She slipped.

  Her wrist twists, digging them in. Pain registers through my brain like a sharp, electrical shock, and I react instinctively, my hand balled in a fist. I punch Violet’s face with all the strength in my body.

  She cries out, stumbling backward. The scissors fly to the ground as blood sprays from her nose. My knuckles pound with an angry throb.

  I broke her fucking nose.

  The blood pours from her hands, and for an incredible moment I feel guilty. I’ve never hurt anyone in my life. I can’t even think of a time where I’ve ever been in a physical fight.

  She lets out a wretched sound as she staggers to the bookshelf. “Stop, please don’t hurt me!” Violet holds out a bloody, trembling hand.

  “Don’t come any closer.”

  “I’m sorry! I made a mistake. Can you please grab those? I’m bleeding e
verywhere.”

  She points, and I turn my head to look. A second later my temple explodes with pain. My vision blacks out, and I feel myself fall. My hands catch themselves on the carpeted floor. What happened? I touch my head—blood.

  Move. Now.

  I fling myself to the right as my vision bursts with Violet catapulting down, a snow globe clutched in her hands. It pounds the floor with an extremely hard thud. Then I finally make the connection with the pain throbbing my head and the red smear on the glass.

  And the fact that Violet is trying to kill me.

  The fury at being tricked rises inside me, and I grab the arm clutching the dangerous snow globe. She screams bloody murder as I yank her hair and smash her head and hand against the floor. She drops it, and I scramble to my feet, kicking it away.

  “Please!” she says, curling.

  I’m not falling for that shit again.

  One of the chairs lifts in my hands as I smash it against Violet’s face. My arms wail on her, beating her with a superhuman strength I never knew I possessed. I smash her shattered nose with the blunt end of the chair. Piteous moans shake from her mouth as she rolls on her back, looking dazed. Streaks of blood trail over her face in jagged lines. I fling the chair aside, and I kick her side as hard as I can. Her face screws up in pain.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  I twist around as the guard’s voice booms out, and then Violet struggles to a sitting position.

  “Save me!”

  Fuck.

  * * *

  A high, feminine voice wails through the closed door. It shudders for a few seconds, and then the crying continues. I hear murmured voices whispering words of consolation to her, but I can’t make them out. No doubt, she’s telling them her version of events, which I’m guessing omits the fact that she tried to kill me.

  What a mess I’ve landed myself into. All the guards know is that they found me bludgeoning Violet’s bloody face with a chair. Violet’s plea for help was enough to condemn me. Will anyone but Thane believe me?

  One of the nurses, a petite woman dressed in blue scrubs, walks in the room. She wears a plastic badge around her neck, and I read her name: Fawn.

  Quietly, she approaches my bed, snapping on a pair of gloves. Gingerly, she touches my head, and I wince.

  “You’re pretty banged up.”

  “She hit me with a snow globe. Right here.”

  Fawn frowns. “That’s pretty serious. She could’ve given you a fracture. Want to tell me what started this?”

  I don’t even know where to begin.

  “Listen, I just wanted to talk to her. Next thing I know, she’s stabbing at me with scissors.” I show her the wound. “And she’s trying to bash in my brains with a snow globe.”

  “She said it was all self-defense.”

  Of course she would.

  “Where’s my husband?”

  “We’re still trying to find him.”

  Fawn listens to my heartbeat and lungs with her stethoscope, scrawling numbers in my chart. Then she takes my hand and slides some kind of device over my finger. The tip shines with a red light.

  “That was a pretty nasty hit to the head. I think the doctor will want you to stay overnight for observation.”

  “Great.”

  “I’m going to start an IV, and then I’ll let the doctor know you’re ready to be seen.”

  The monitor beeps with my pulse as she cleans my inner forearm with a rubbing alcohol swab. She lets it dry before sliding the needle in my vein and taping it to my skin. I hiss with discomfort as the cold saline touches my blood.

  “Sorry, I know it’s cold.”

  “It’s fine—I just hate hospitals.”

  “They’re not so bad. I gave birth to my boy here. He was my first, and I was really nervous about it, but everyone was great. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands.”

  Next door, Violet lets out a sharp cry. Fawn winces. “Probably getting her nose set.”

  “I hope it really fucking hurts.”

  Fawn gives me a sharp look, which I return.

  “Don’t look at me like that. You’ve no idea what I’ve been through with this woman since the day I arrived here. She’s dangerous—I need to tell Silas.”

  “Silas is my husband. I can let him know about the situation. He’s been pretty busy with—well—everything that’s been going on. Why don’t you just rest for now? She’s not going anywhere with her injuries.”

  The muscles in my body refuse to relax.

  She grabs a plastic cup of water sitting on the table, smiling at me. “I think that we—”

  “Fawn!”

  She looks over at the tall man shouting her name outside of the room. I vaguely recognize him and feel a sliver of dislike, but I can’t remember why. Fawn clutches the glass of water as she talks to him.

  I settle back into my pillow, wishing Thane was here. I don’t fucking trust these people. Violet’s next door, telling them God knows what, and I’m one harsh word away from being handcuffed.

  Fawn sighs as she breezes back into the room with the cup of water. “Sorry about that. Some of these guys have to realize they need an appointment. Anyway, I was saying that we should do a pregnancy test while you’re here. Go ahead and drink this cup of water, and then we’ll need a urine sample.”

  She hands the cup of water to me as she bustles around, grabbing an empty plastic thing with a lid on it and placing it next to me.

  “Go ahead and drink, and then just place your sample over the toilet in the bathroom. I’ll collect it after I get the doctor.”

  A cheery smile spreads across her face as she breezes out of the room just as quickly as she came in.

  Pregnancy test. Probably a good idea.

  I take a sip of the water, and my tongue curls slightly. It’s a bit odd—mineral like. As though it came from a well. I drain the cup anyway.

  Whoa.

  The pounding in my head becomes a slow, rushing sound. The weight of my arms feels heavy, almost impossible to bear. I turn my head, and the room swims.

  Dimly, I hear the cup hit the floor.

  My chest tightens uncomfortably as my breathing slows. My lungs scream for air, but I can only draw in one breath. The room spins even faster, until I lose track of what’s what. What’s happening to me?

  A dark blur moves in my peripheral vision. I can’t move a muscle. A heart-shaped face hovers over mine. There’s gauze taped all over her nose. Violet.

  All kinds of alarms scream in my head, but the room keeps spinning and my heart refuses to keep up. She grabs my limp hand and lifts it, yanking the device from my finger.

  Poisoned. I’ve been poisoned. How?

  Her eyes shine with malevolent glee as she leans over and shuts off the beeping machine, which sounds oddly distorted. The blinking lights darken as everything shuts off.

  Bitch.

  I want to form the word with my lips, but they refuse to cooperate. Violet cocks her head, smiling at me through those devious, pink lips. Then she lifts up her hand in a wave of farewell. I take another ragged breath. My lungs feel frozen. Blackness creeps over my vision in thousands of small dots.

  Stay awake! Stay—

  The darkness swallows me whole.

  11

  Thane

  All my life, I thought I was walking in God’s path.

  Growing up a Blackthorn filled me with so much hot air I thought I was actually above everyone else. I used and abused the prestige. Women. Drugs. Booze. Parties. As long as I went to church on Sunday, what did it matter? Then my father’s throat was slit, my brothers stabbed in the back, and my privilege was ripped away from me. It happened in one night.

  I thought I was being punished. That I was such an arrogant prick that God struck down my family to teach me humility. Then I thought maybe it was all part of his plan, which is what people always say when there’s a tragedy. Maybe he spared me because I was the only worthy man in my family. Two years of misery, and then he g
ave me my wife back. Things were finally coming together. I had a wife, a baby, and happiness, which I thought I’d lost a long time ago.

  He gave me my wife back only to hurt and maim her. Why did he give me joy only to let it turn to ash in my mouth? Fuck God. The blasphemous thought blazes in my head. Fuck God. Fuck him.

  I clutch Christine’s pallid hand in mine, which has never looked so small. Tubes everywhere. A machine breathing for her. It’s been a whole twenty-four hours and still no improvement. I squeeze her hand, thinking of the first time we met. She reached up and grabbed my hand without hesitation, without fear. She didn’t know I was a Blackthorn, and I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have cared. I loved her since that day. I don’t think I ever stopped loving her, but I had no idea how much I needed her.

  My chest caves in as I watch her lifeless body. Tears burn as I touch her hand to my face, and my shoulders shake.

  I thought I was protecting her.

  “Want Mama!”

  A crushing feeling overwhelms my chest as the toddler sitting in my lap reaches for his mother with his tiny hands. His cheeks are ruddy from crying. I scoop him up in my arms and kiss his soft head.

  “Me too, little man.”

  A knock at the door seizes my attention, and I turn around, expecting to see my sister or the nurse. Instead, Violet stands at the door. My stomach curdles as I take in her appearance. Except for the nose splint, she looks miraculously okay, and I suspect that’s due to the powder covering the angry red blush on her forehead. Her lips are painted in a lavender that reminds me of the corpses downstairs, and her eyes are bright with mascara. How can she look so fucking pristine when the word was that she and my wife were in some kind of knock-down, drag-out fight? I don’t know what the fuck the circumstances were, and I don’t particularly care.

  Violet’s wide eyes take in Christine’s form on the bed and the machines keeping her alive. Then she looks at me. Pity. It’s all over her face.

  “I’m so sorry, Thane.”

  “Are you?”

  She flinches at the accusation in my tone. “Of course I am.” She approaches the bed, touching my wife’s foot. “We didn’t get along, but that doesn’t mean I wanted her dead.”