Before I Wake: A Kimber S. Dawn MC Novel

by Kimber S. Dawn

  “And Beau?” I growl, but my words are cut off. I’m glaring over “King’s” shoulder when I feel something stumble into my lower half and grab my knees.

  At first, I wonder if it’s a little person who’s crashed into my knees and I’m almost afraid to look, but then, as “King” glances down and his eyes light up, I chance it and look down too.

  “Ma chère, Apple. How are you, sweet bebe?” He dips down before scooping her up, and when he settles her on his hip, her eyes—her very dark, very familiar navy-blue eyes—land on mine.

  “Pops, me want some cake, m’kay?” She looks between me and “King,” and for the life of me, I can’t find my lungs to tell them to breathe as her words register.

  Pops.

  She said Pops. Meaning me? I look at Renee.

  Then my tongue tries to form the word, a word I’ve said a thousand times before. A word I called my own father at least another hundred thousand times before that. Pops. I mouth the word, looking back and forth between my baby girl’s blue eyes.

  “Non, ma chère. What has your maman told you?” Renee says.

  I notice the newest lines around “King’s” eyes for the first time and realize how much time I’ve let pass.

  “I’m grand-père. Or pépère. Not Pops. I’m your maman’s pops, angel. Remember?” He coos at her then pretends to snatch her nose between his thumb and his forefinger. “Now...you go find her. Tell her you’re ready for your cake, my cher bebe. Let Grand-père speak business with the grown-ups. Yeah?”

  Once she’s nodded and swiped some candy she must have already known was in his suit jacket pocket, she hops down and scurries towards her mother. Who just so happens to still be gawking at me from across the room as Ty and Beau continue to seemingly fuss around her.

  Then, just like I’ve seen her do before, I witness her armor rise before she settles it on top of her fake smile. Suddenly, she’s as confident—or she appears just as confident—as she was when she first walked into the room, draped on Beau Landry’s damn arm ten minutes earlier.

  Our daughter leaps into her arms, and Eve takes a second to adjust her before stalking in my direction. When Dreads steps closer, I laugh and wave him off. However, as I step forward and slightly nod, she interrupts me from speaking first.

  “What do you think you’re doing here? If you think we’re doing this!” She points between us. “Right here, right now. Today. You are so wrong, buddy. So f-u-c-k-i-n-g wrong. Do you hear me?”

  I will admit that, when she switched midsentence from saying the words to spelling them, it f-u-c-k-i-n-g threw me off. “Wait—what?” I sound the word out for a split second in my head. Then I realize what she’s spelling, before grunting and cutting her explanation off. “Never fu—”

  Her soft hand suddenly comes out of nowhere and she presses it against my lips as her eyebrow slowly arches high. Then she quietly speaks. “Watch your mouth. Not in front of her.”

  Pride unlike anything I’ve ever felt before swells so tight in my chest that I truly wonder if my ribs are gonna break from the pressure. Pride is what I feel for this woman. And, now, I remember that it isn’t the first time I’ve felt it concerning my Vagabond, either.

  Her calm face, her quiet tone. Even her body language. It all keeps the small child completely oblivious from the shitstorm I’m ready to kick up.

  Much like the windstorm of dust I saw when I lost my cousin, Ben, a damn year ago.

  But I can’t let him get in the way of me and my daughter. Not anymore. I’ve already lost too much time with her.

  Dreads taps my shoulder before I hear him whisper that he and “King” are headed out back.

  I wave them on and count my lucky fucking stars. I keep the smooth smile across my face as “King” offers to take Apple outside with them. Which will give me and Eve the first small moment of time I’ve needed alone with her.

  I don’t think she’d appreciate it if I did what I am about to do in front of her father or our daughter. After stepping as close to her as I can while her father is being ushered from the main lobby by Dreads with little Apple in tow, I realize she’s already literally put herself in the corner lurking behind her. And I can’t help myself—I advance on her, crowding her personal space even more than I already was.

  “Good. I was hoping we’d get a moment to talk.” I can’t fucking help it. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. I sweep my tongue out after nipping her earlobe between muttering my words in her ear. “I want you.” I pause and watch as she slowly pulls in a breath. Then she exhales, and I continue. “To find a moment. I know you can, and I know you will. I know you need this as much as I do.” I purposefully brush my lips against the side of her face and then smile against her ear. “If not for closure, then for something fucking else. Besides, you and I both know this conversation is nowhere near over. Do you understand me, Vagabond? Nowhere near it.”

  “Okay.” Her breath shudders out again as her eyes softly close. And, after nervously licking her lips, she presses them together for a moment. “Maybe you’re right. Is that what you want me to say? There is unfinished business here. A vast, deep well of it.” She pulls slightly back and locks her eyes on mine. “But it’s not with me. You made that decision. Over a year ago. Any business here you need to finish is with your daughter. It’s between you and your child, and since I’m here, since I’m her only referee, I’ll tolerate interacting with you. Now...you tell me, Jacques. Is that understood?”

  Well...well...well. I guess my little Pipsqueak finally did grow up. A smile as big as you please splits my face, and I’m sure the dimples are on full display. Hell, I think I even chuckle as a different kind of pride swells against my aching heart. I think of her when she was little and in the tree again for the thousandth time. I think of her when she was older, a few years back at her little beach house. Then I just fucking think...of nothing but her.

  And, for the life of me, I can’t explain why I’ve never seen it. I can’t explain why I’ve been so goddamn adamant against her being my Jacqueline. If there ever were a woman who could fill my ma’s shoes, it’s this one. I scan her from her eyes to the tips of her toes then slowly, meticulously creep back up. And, as my eyes find hers again, the words fall out unbidden.

  “I’m fucking proud of you, you know it?”

  She slightly chokes and her eyes get big as saucers before she swallows. “W-what?” As she begins nervously running her hands up and down the front of her dress, she backs away and glances over my shoulder, looking for someone to help her escape. “Why do you say that? I don’t need to hear that from you. I don’t need anyone to be proud of me. I’m proud of myself.” She presses herself almost completely into the corner for a second. Then she crosses her arms over her chest before puffing it out.

  And again—like always with this one—I can’t help it. I step even closer, placing my hands on her bare shoulders. I then brush my lips against her forehead before pulling her body flush with mine. But I make no other advances other than my lips barely on her head and my hands on her shoulders, both of us front to front.

  Then I softly speak. “And you should be, Pipsqueak. There’s so much to be proud of. You’ve done an exceptional job with Apple, Eve. She’s so beautiful. So smart.” I squeeze her shoulders one last time before dropping them and grabbing her hands. “Just like her momma. I’m sorry for interrupting here today. I’ll see you around, okay, Vagabond? I want you to enjoy yourself. Don’t think about me. Don’t think about what’s gonna happen later today—”

  “W-what’s gonna happen later today?” she whispers.

  I tsk her before shaking my head. “Nuh uh uh. Don’t think about anything. Nothing. But today being our daughter’s birthday. Cancel whatever plans you had with Beau, too. He’s not gonna be around much longer if not. Capisce?” I raise my eyebrows and wait for what I’m saying to click, and when it does, I brush my lips against her forehead again. “Good girl.” Then I stalk towards the bar and motion for the bartender.

/>   Leaving her standing right where I left her, momentarily at a loss.

  “I’m gonna need a double scotch. Neat. And keep ’em coming, brother.” I glance over my shoulder at my prey. I don’t remember seeing Eve in red before, and now that I have, I wink at her as the thought strikes me

  Goddamn, my colors look good on her.

  How am I supposed to breathe with Jacques Cain freaking staring at me? How am I supposed to listen when people talk? How am I supposed to fucking function when he’s constantly burning holes in me from across the room!?

  I can hardly think straight after his spiel.

  “I’m fucking proud of you, you know it?”

  No. I didn’t know it. Nor did I need to for the rest of my damn life. I don’t need him to be proud of me! What does he think? That I’ve been raising our child for him? He’s lost his ever-loving mind.

  “...find a moment. I know you can, and I know you will. I know you need this as much as I do...if not for closure, then something fucking else. Besides, you and I both know this conversation is nowhere near over.”

  Find a moment. I damn near roll my eyes while singing “Happy Birthday” to my daughter.

  “Happy birthday, dear Apple. Happy birthday to you…”

  After we finish singing, cheers and clapping ensue, startling my little bit in my arms. After chuckling at her, I brush my lips across her forehead, smiling at my mother beside me. Cooing my daughter and trying to set her back at ease.

  “Shh. It’s okay, baby girl. They just love singing to you. That’s all.” I laugh around my words.

  And I am embarrassed to say that I immediately glance near the terrace door, by the corner Jacques just had me hemmed up in. I don’t know why, but when I don’t see him, my heart, for reasons I refuse to look too hard at, squeezes tightly in my chest.

  “Presents now, sweetie?” my mom asks, holding her hands out for Apple.

  When my daughter yawns as she lays her head on my shoulder, I shake my head.

  “Nah,” I say. “I figured we would have to get a nap in. Now is as good a time as any.” I shrug. before shifting my daughter’s weight.

  Out of nowhere, Beau steps around Phil and my mother, his hands out for Apple too.

  “Here. Let me. I’ll take her.”

  After I shake my head and excuse myself and my daughter, I smile at Beau. “I really would feel better if I laid her down. She may need to be changed. But thank you though.”

  Then I go upstairs and lay my daughter down for a mid-birthday party nap.

  After laying Apple down, I sit on the edge of her bed and begin brushing her hair away from her face. I hum one of her favorite songs, and she’s almost asleep when she jerks back awake and asks for prayers. The same prayers I prayed over and over as a child.

  “Your bedtime prayers, Apple?” I furrow my eyebrows when she nods her head. “Now, I lay me down to sleep? Okay,” I tell her.

  And it doesn’t take long. We get through it pretty quickly. Well, she mostly mutters her way through it. And, once I’ve kissed her sweet cheek, I turn her bedside table lamp off.

  “Sweet dreams, baby girl.”

  “Tweet dreams, Maman.” She yawns before rolling over, and I quietly close the door.

  I’m a nervous wreck by the time I head back down stairs. It actually takes my hand three punches to hit the button for the ground floor. I check my reflection in the elevator mirror doors, wondering why Jacques even came. Why after all this damn time? I brush my hands over my unruly curls, trying tuck a few stray ones back into the messy bun my hair is pinned up into. Then I press my lips together and stare back at my reflection. My mind’s still running a hundred miles a damn minute…

  What if he already left? What if he came, I was a bitch, and that costs my daughter a relationship with her dad? What if—

  The elevator jars to a stop a little sooner than I anticipated it to, and I step farther back in the elevator. I pull my shoulders back and fit a smile back on my face as someone enters the elevator.

  And whatever pose of poise I was going for is completely fucking lost the moment my eyes land on Jacques.

  “Hey, Vagabond. Just the one I wanted to see.” He winks, and a split second later, both of his hands are circling mine and I’m being pulled from the safety of the elevator car.

  “Wait. No. Where—” I yank a good five times, but his grip is like a damn unbreakable vise. “Stop! Or, shit, unhand me. What are you, a barbarian?” I growl, preparing to yank one very fucking good last time, but the next thing I know, his weight is redistributed and my back is connecting with the hard oak of one of my father’s suite doors.

  “No. I’m done waiting,” he growls into my ear. “I thought I made that perfectly clear.” He pins my wrists behind my back, and then the door opens behind me. “And I do got a fuck-ton of business here today, as previously mentioned. And not only with our daughter, but also with you, missy. No matter what you’ve told yourself. Actually”—he hoists me up and into the room when I don’t allow him to usher me in with his hands on the small of my back—“I’d like to start the first of that business right now. My business with you.”

  “Stop manhandling me, Jacques! What the hell?” I growl, swinging my arms and trying to shove him away and find some leverage, but it’s useless. Any and all of my pathetic protests are wasted against his strength. “Okay!” I yell with all of my might and step as close to his ear as I can up on my tiptoes.

  Then he shuffles me into the room and closes the door behind us.

  The fuck? Is this headed towards rape? What’s he doing? Does he really think I’m just gonna allow him to push me around?

  “What are you doing?! Jacques!” My voice echoes between us in the dark room as I seek out his eyes through the shadows. I’m somewhat disoriented from going from the bright corridor of the hall to the pitch-dark room. When my eyes are finally able to compensate, I try to take in my surroundings, but Jacques keeps advancing on me, making it a bit hard.

  Much like all the master suites on each of my father’s hotel floors, this one also is themed. And it has a broad marble foyer that houses a good sized mahogany table with a centerpiece usually proudly displaying the finest blooms New Orleans has to offer that time of year.

  So, when the backs of my legs meet a blunt edge, I assume it’s the table he has me cornered against. And, when his massive frame leans over my petite one, bowing my back, and there’s a crashing sound just before my bare back meets with the cold wood of the table, I know that my assumptions were spot-on.

  It is the table he has my upper body caged to.

  “Jacques, please. If you want to talk, then fine. We’ll—”

  BAM.

  That’s all I really have. That singular word to describe the very next moment…

  Okay, BAM. STARS. FIREWORKS. Christmas lights! All of them light and twinkle behind my eyelids as a moan escapes my throat the moment Jacques fucking Cain’s mouth slants across mine. I can’t even recall what I was trying to say to him. Not that it matters! I don’t even remember why I was pissed or, hell, where I am as his tongue wages a war with mine. His teeth cut into my lip before it’s eagerly sucked into his mouth.

  “No more talking,” he mutters as his mouth assaults mine.

  A moment later, one of the hands cradling my face slides down the front of my body and roughly jerks at the stretchy material of my dress.

  “No more fucking thinking.” He moans his words out as he shoves his erection harder against my core.

  My legs helplessly fall to the outside of his. And his moans easily elicit one of my own—but I’m past caring. I can’t help it. I never have been able to. Not with him. Not with this man.

  His navy gaze pierces mine as his hand settles at the nape of my neck before he pulls my mouth back up to his. I feel the cold air hit my bare legs as his other hand continues yanking my skirt up.

  “You think I don’t feel your body responding to mine?” he growls around roughly kissing me from ear to e
ar then shoulder to shoulder. His beard abrades all the flesh in its wake. “You think I don’t know you fucking need this as much as I do? You’re wrong, Vagabond. You’re so goddamn wrong.” He pulls his face back, and his grip on my neck tightens, but I close my eyes, refusing to open them.

  Not when he’s being this real. Not with the words he keeps letting fall out of his mouth. I can’t take it. I’m no fool. So, instead, I just quietly lie there, my eyes closed as I try like hell to calm my breathing down as our breath mixes between us.

  After a few quiet moments, he settles his forehead against mine. And even though it feels like his body is pulling away from mine, leaving me feeling cold, it’s only a brief feeling of abandonment before an entirely different brand of something I only feel with him floods my veins.

  His hand settles between my legs before he rubs harder against my core. “This still mine?” he grunts through pursed lips as his hand fully cups my bareness.

  And I can’t help it. When my eyes finally fly open, they lock onto his immediately.

  Without thinking, I nod, answering him as honestly as I can. “Y-yes. Always.” And I don’t know why, but I have to shake my head and try really hard to blink tears away.

  Thankfully, this guy has always been ready with the perfect distraction.

  A split second later, when Jacques leans back to tear his T-shirt over his head, he pins his weight between us so his hard cock is still shoved against my core. and I glance down where we meet. I slowly scan every inch of beautiful, inked flesh that’s been embedded into my brain since the last time my starved eyes got the chance to peek at him. And I can hardly pull my gaze back up to his. At least not until his husky voice rings out through the darkness, calling out my name.