King of Regret: An Academy Surprise Baby Romance (Boys of Almadale Book 2)

by Jacie Lennon

  His gray eyes stare into mine, and I can’t look away. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. He’s keeping me captive, and fuck me if I don’t enjoy it. Maybe that’s a little messed up, but our situation is a little messed up, and I take my comfort where I can find it.

  Now, we are really in this together.

  “What are you going to do about the baby?” he asks as he releases my hand, cool air hitting it as he takes his palm off me.

  “What?”

  “The baby? I guess you are keeping it if you told both of us about it.”

  “I thought you both had a right to know, whether I keep it or not.”

  “A little foolish considering, don’t you think?”

  “Considering what?”

  “That, now, I have a fucking hit out on me from a motorcycle club when I might or might not be the father,” he snarls, and I jump back, good moment gone.

  “I haven’t decided what I’m doing yet. But when I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Will I? Or will you tell Drake first?” His sarcasm lights a fire in me, and I scream in frustration.

  The door behind us flies open, and my uncle Mooney steps inside, eyeing Brock as he takes in the situation.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” he addresses me as he continues to stare at Brock.

  To Brock’s credit, he doesn’t flinch even though most would on the receiving end of Mooney’s wrath.

  “We’re just talking,” I murmur.

  Mooney presses his lips together as he looks at me. “A little noisy back here for just talking.”

  “It was a passionate talk,” I retort, and Mooney stays silent. A few seconds pass where no one speaks before I step to his side, grabbing his arm and squeezing. “We’re fine.”

  “Remember, I can access the cameras on the bar computer,” he says, narrowing his eyes at Brock before walking back to the door, opening it.

  “He’s leaving,” I say, and Mooney gives us a quick assessing look before heading back into the bar.

  “I said what I wanted to say to you, so you can go,” I tell Brock, crossing my arms over my chest, and he eyes me thoughtfully.

  “Come with me,” he says suddenly, throwing me off-kilter.

  I gape at him. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah, you’ll be safe at my house.”

  “I’m not in danger. You are,” I say, shaking my head.

  After another tense standoff, he licks his lips, gives me a lazy perusal, and heads to the steps that lead outside. Pausing at the door, he glances back.

  “Offer stands if you change your mind. You’ve got my number.” Then, after checking both directions in the alley, he darts out, letting the door slam behind him.

  5

  Brock

  What the hell just happened? My mind is whirling with thoughts as I sneak back to my car.

  I can hear the muffled sounds of motorcycles, but they sound far enough away that I should be safe for now. They are idiots to chase a man down on motorcycles instead of their own two legs. So many places to hide that a vehicle can’t go.

  And I invited Peyton to come to my house? I’ve damn well lost my mind. I don’t want her at my house or even in my life.

  Sure, I’ve thought about her since that night, but what guy wouldn’t? It was good material for the spank bank and nothing more. She isn’t anything to me. I don’t fuck with Loredo girls. Until now.

  Fucking hell.

  Once I come to the other side of the bushes, I crouch down, scouring the area for any bikers who might have been left behind to guard my vehicle. When I don’t see anyone, I cross back through, grimacing as the branches scrape my bare arms. I quietly open the driver’s door and get inside, only daring to breathe again when the door shuts with a soft click. I deposit my gun on the console.

  Fuck. I’ve got to get out of here.

  I turn around, looking behind me, and see a motorcycle pulling in. The guy driving is huge—a Neanderthal-looking guy that, on a normal day, I wouldn’t want to be alone with, but here I am. I crank the SUV, putting it in drive, and gun the gas, peeling tires as I shoot out from behind the abandoned convenience store. My car starts ringing, the Bluetooth from my phone connected, and I see Bodhi’s name flashing on the screen in the dashboard.

  I guess he wants to know why I took off in a hurry. If only Bodhi and Corbin knew what I was doing right now, fleeing from a member of a motorcycle club in some type of high-speed chase. I would laugh if it wasn’t such a serious thing. My life is in danger. They don’t fuck around when it comes to the targets they have on people’s backs. Or at least, that’s what I assume. I’ve never been directly involved with an MC.

  Damn it, Peyton. I growl to myself as I take the first right I come to, the roar of his engine still close behind me.

  I try to rack my mind for the layout of Loredo streets. I have been here but not often, and I doubt I know anything this guy behind me doesn’t. My car starts ringing again; this time, Corbin is calling. I hit Accept, and his voice blares through my speakers, as I had the volume up with the music earlier. I cringe and turn it down, glancing behind me and seeing the big guy still on my tail.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  “Dude, where are you?” Corbin’s voice comes through.

  I speed up, wrenching away from the motorcycle a bit as I swing around a tight curve. This SUV wasn’t made to outrun a bike.

  “Headed back,” I say, gritting my teeth and checking the rearview mirror. Beads of sweat break out on my forehead.

  “How far away?”

  Too fuckin’ far, I want to shout at him.

  But I don’t want to let my boys know what’s going on yet. Not until I’ve had some time to think about everything. And I can’t do that if I come out of this on the wrong side of life.

  Death. I mean, death.

  “I’ll be there in, like, thirty minutes.” I have no idea if that’s true, but at this point, I don’t care.

  I see a bike closing in on a side street, and I jerk to the right. I look around wildly. I can’t outrun them, and I don’t know the streets well enough. I’m going to have to hide until they give up for the night.

  “Gotta go,” I say before pressing End Call on the steering wheel.

  The bridge. I’ve got to make it to the bridge.

  I see the main road up ahead, and I look for oncoming traffic before I shoot through the Stop sign and launch into the street. I weave in and out of cars before I spot the town sign up ahead. Right after leaving Loredo, there’s a bridge that has a spot I can park underneath. If I can get there before they do, I can hide without them seeing me.

  I swerve around another van going under the speed limit in front of me. I don’t actually know if they are because I’m going thirty over, but they need to get the hell out of my way.

  As soon as I get out of town, I spot the gravel road that leads under the bridge. I veer off, my wheels spinning with speed on the loose rocks, and a cloud of dust kicks up in my rearview mirror. Finally, I gain traction again, turning slightly to follow the trail.

  “Go down, go down,” I chant to the dust cloud. A clear marker of the way I went.

  They will know exactly what I’m doing if they see it. I managed to lose them a bit back—I’m not entirely sure how, but I’m not going to question my small victory. I sling rocks as I make the turn, parking under the bridge in a place I know can’t be seen from the road, and I kill the engine.

  My phone starts ringing in my pocket, and I pull it out. Bodhi’s name flashes across the screen, and I deny the call as I lay my head back, blowing out a long breath. I don’t know if I should stay here or not.

  I crack the door open, sticking a leg out and bracing myself to listen. I can hear them, and it sounds like there are more than two now and getting closer. I remain still, my pulse thundering. The roars get louder and louder, filling my ears and keeping rhythm with my heartbeat. The tension in my body at this moment is off the charts. I am fucked if they find me. Visions
of guns and knives in my future, possibly torture.

  I lean over, grabbing my gun again.

  They sound like they are almost to the bridge. They won’t be able to see me unless they stop and look over the edge, but if I were them, it’s what I would do. It seems a remote possibility that they won’t find me.

  I can feel my phone vibrating again, but I don’t move. Frozen in place as the motorcycles crawl atop the bridge above me. The seconds seem to stretch, and I don’t think I breathe the entire time until they are off the other side.

  They didn’t stop.

  Thank fuck.

  I listen for a while until their sounds fade in the other direction, and I start up the car and head out from underneath the bridge. I take the gravel road in record speed, and as soon as I get on the main road, I turn in the opposite direction to take the long way around Loredo and back to Almadale Prep.

  “Dude, where have you been?” Bodhi asks as soon as I throw open our dorm door.

  Almadale Prep houses students on campus in luxurious dorms, and we three took over the largest one, fit for kings.

  “Nowhere,” I growl, and he scowls at me.

  “Bullshit,” he says, throwing a grape across the room and landing it in Corbin’s open mouth.

  I don’t get his obsession with grapes, but he’s always eating them.

  Corbin levels me with a stare while he chews. I can see wheels turning, and I don’t like it. I don’t want to explain any of this. I can’t even make sense of it right now.

  What the hell have I gotten myself into?

  “It’s a girl, isn’t it?” Corbin asks, a smirk on his ugly face. It’s not ugly; the girls seem to like it, but right now, with that dumbass smirk, it’s ugly.

  “No.”

  “Liar,” Bodhi says, and I want to roll my eyes and slam my fist down on the desk, but that would only egg them on.

  My phone dings from my pocket, and I jerk it out, glad to have something to distract myself with until I see the number staring back at me.

  Unknown Number: Did you make it home?

  I know it’s Peyton.

  Me: Yes.

  I know I’m short and to the point, but something inside me craves to see those three little scrolling dots pop up, so I stare, waiting. They don’t come, and I steel myself against the disappointment. I’m not disappointed. She’s … what is she now? Before, she was someone that I knew in passing, someone I didn’t care about, someone who scratched an itch. But now? I don’t know. I save her number as a contact, so I’ll have it, and I jump when Bodhi’s voice cuts through the silence.

  “What are you staring at on your phone?” Bodhi asks.

  I’ve had enough. Too much stress today, and I’m over it.

  “What’s with all the fuckin’ questions?”

  “What’s with all the fuckin’ nonanswers?” he fires back.

  I whirl suddenly, frustrated and irritated, and storm out of the room. The door slams behind me, causing the guys in the hallway to stare at me. I don’t say a word, but as soon as any eyes meet mine, they instantly find another place to look. No one wants to poke the bear, and I am out for blood.

  I’m silently urging anyone to say something, so I can have a diversion to focus on. Not the fact that I found out I might be a dad. Or the fact that an MC wants me dead. Or these emotions bouncing around inside me, forcing me to think way too hard about golden-brown eyes and sassy, plump lips.

  Fuck.

  I stalk outside, pushing my way through the south lawn of Almadale and into the forest that shields it from the outside world, going to the one place I can strip my mind from these crazy thoughts.

  The moon is bright, a full orb in the sky lighting my way, and I step into the clearing, my eyes on the other side of it.

  I strip my shirt over my head, pants next, and then I’m standing there, staring down into the darkness, my briefs still clinging to my legs.

  Throwing my arms out to the sides, I flip off the edge, free-falling into the water below, mind blissfully blank for the first time today.

  6

  Peyton

  “Where have you been?” Dad’s gruff voice stops me in my tracks as I sneak back inside.

  I guess my hope of him being on a bender, laid out somewhere, was too much for tonight.

  “Out,” I say, knowing that won’t appease him. But there’s something inside me that won’t quit, that decides to fight back during every one of our conversations.

  “I know that, girl. Don’t be disrespectful.”

  I want to snort with laughter. Disrespectful. That indicates that respect was there in the first place, that I did away with it. There’s never been respect between my dad and me. None.

  “I have a name,” I manage to grit out, and this time, he rises from the chair he was sitting in. I want to back up a few steps, run to my room, and shut the door, but I don’t. I don’t move.

  He doesn’t respect a coward, and I won’t be one. I’m a Rossman, shitty as that might be. The name might not mean anything, coming from him. But his dad—my grandpa—was the best man I’d ever met, and I won’t shame the Rossman name on his account.

  I miss him every day. Some days, I wonder why it was Grandpa and not my dad who died. As horrible as that sounds. Grandpa was the only one to give two shits about me. And now, no one does. I’m a bartering piece, a pawn in a game played by overgrown boys, and I hate it. I want out. But there’s no out for me. Not if this baby is Drake’s.

  “Peyton,” he spits out before literally spitting on the floor in front of me. “Stupid name your mom gave you. Should have been called Whore.”

  I don’t react, don’t let him see that his words affect me.

  “You think I wouldn’t hear?”

  “Hear what?” I ask even though my stomach has sunk into my toes.

  He knows.

  “You got yourself knocked up,” he says, coming closer, his eyes flickering to my stomach and then back up. Full of disgust for my situation.

  “Who told you?” I ask, trying to figure out how pissed he is.

  “Doesn’t matter, girl. But you’ve fucked everything up, and you are gonna make it right.”

  What?

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” I say, still holding my ground, my mind racing. I’m not sure how this affects him other than having another mouth to feed. But I’m almost eighteen, and I’ll take care of it by myself if I have to.

  “Don’t play dumb. I know you aren’t an idiot, no matter how stupid you are now. I want you to get rid of it—”

  “I haven’t made my mind up,” I cut in, and he grunts. I try not to flinch as I watch him swing his hands around to cross them over his chest.

  “Shut up when I’m talking to you. That’s what I want but not what he wants. Not until we find out.”

  “Who is he?” I ask, the pieces slowly coming together, the more my dad talks.

  “Bull,” he says so nonchalantly, like he isn’t discussing my future with me, only with Bull Portley—Drake’s dad—of all fucking people. “He has final say.”

  “Like hell he does.”

  “That could be his grandkid you got there,” he says, gesturing to my stomach, and I instinctively cover it with my hands.

  “So?” I say, and he narrows his eyes.

  “So, you are going to find out who the baby belongs to. If it’s his boy’s, you are keeping it. If it’s not, I don’t care what happens to you.”

  “It’s your grandkid too,” I say, seeing what his reaction will be. It’s disappointing. Barely an eye raise. He turns and starts to walk off. “What’s your interest in this anyway?” I shout after him, and he stops, glancing over his shoulder.

  “Protecting my assets at the moment,” he says, and I blanche.

  “Assets? That’s all me and my baby are to you?”

  Even though I know he won’t disagree with me, I desperately want him to.

  “That’s what you became the day I gave you to Drake.”

/>   “Gave me to Drake?” I sputter, and he turns suddenly.

  I blink, and he’s in my face, spittle flying, the beast unleashed.

  “You were my fuckin’ ticket out, girl, and now, you’ve gone and messed it all up.”

  “What ticket? What are you talking about?” I cry out, and I blink rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall.

  “Of the Lions. I have some shit with them. You were payment, and now, I don’t even have that if the kid turns out to be the Montgomery prick’s,” he sneers.

  My blood turns to ice, hearing that.

  I was payment? And how does he know about Brock?

  “Payment? I’m a human being. I’m your daughter and not something to be bartered.”

  “You aren’t my daughter,” he says.

  I stop, cocking my head to the side as my chest heaves in uneven breaths. “What?”

  “You heard me. Your mom was a two-cent whore who would spread her legs for anyone. I’m not your dad.”

  “That’s a lie,” I say, seething that he’s ruining my mother’s memory right now.

  He’s so selfish and self-absorbed; he would say anything to hurt me.

  “It’s the fucking truth.”

  “Then, why did you let me stay?”

  “I told you, you became an asset to me.”

  “You’ve had this planned for two years? Since Mom died?”

  “More or less.”

  “You are a spineless, pathetic animal to do this to your own—” I stop myself.

  Not his daughter.

  He could be lying, but something makes me think he relishes in telling me this. It makes sense, why he’s hated me all these years.

  “Like I said, you’d better hope the little bastard is Drake’s.” With that, he walks off, and I sink to my knees, my head spinning.

  There’s only so much I can take inside of one day, and I’ve hit my limit. Tears pour down my face silently. I don’t make a sound. I think my soul is leaking out of my eyes.