by Parker, Ali
“Uh.” I looked back and forth between them. “Beats me. I’m not much of a wine guy.”
“Neither is Uncle Tom. But this is a celebration.”
“Perhaps we forget the wine in favor of champagne then?”
She arched an eyebrow and gave me an impressed nod. “Champagne. Good idea.”
Genevieve put the two bottles back on the shelves and skirted around to the coolers, where she pulled a bottle of champagne out from the bottom shelf, held it up, read the label, and nodded. “This will work. Come on. We’re already late. He hates it when I’m late.”
She was worth waiting on. I was sure her uncle felt the same way.
After paying and pushing our way out through the door, we climbed into the back seat of the luxury SUV Genevieve’s driver had parked at the curb for us. Genevieve told him we were ready, and he pulled smoothly out into traffic.
“So your Uncle Tom,” I said slowly, wanting to learn as much about the man I was about to meet as I could. Call me crazy, but I wanted to impress him. And if not impress him, at the very least, I wanted him to like me. “Tell me about him.”
“What can I say about Uncle Tom?” Genevieve leaned back in her seat and crossed one leg over the other. A small smile played on her lips. “He’s great. I mean really great. He’s young enough so—now that I’m not a girl anymore—we have a pretty strong friendship. He’s super honest. Maybe a little overprotective.”
I could understand why.
Genevieve had already been through Hell and back after losing her parents.
Uncle Tom sounded like a very respectable man. I was eager to meet him. He played a huge role in Genevieve’s life and part of who she was was because of him. That, in itself, already made me like him.
“What’s he into?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Meat.”
“Meat?” I chuckled.
She nodded. “Yep. He loves grilling steaks, burgers, all kinds of things. He’s bummed that summer is over and patio weather is almost gone. But that just means he’ll be making stews and soups and whatever else his imagination cooks up.”
“It’s nice to have a cook in the family.”
“I’m vegan. It drives him up the wall.”
I snorted. “Poor guy.”
Genevieve giggled. “I do feel a bit bad about it sometimes. He gets so much joy cooking for people. I think he’s glad you’re coming over tonight. A fellow man and meat appreciator.”
At least we had our pure carnality to bond over.
Genevieve sighed and rolled her head to the side to gaze out the window at the passing power lines and orange maple trees. “What else can I tell you about Uncle Tom? He’s funny. Really funny.”
“What does he do for work?”
“Nothing now. He’s a hobbyist. Actually, that’s not true. He’s a handyman. Sort of. He pops over to neighbors’ places or responds to ads from people living alone who need help with things like hanging shelves or—I don’t know—repairing things that need fixing. He does it for a good price, too. I think it’s his way of paying it forward. He used to be a manager for a big corporate telecommunications company before I came into the picture.”
“What changed?”
“He inherited a bunch of money from my dad and became a full-time father himself,” Genevieve said, rolling her head back to look at me. “He says it’s the best thing that ever happened to him. But sometimes, I wonder what he gave up for me.”
“Whatever it was, I’m sure it was worth it.”
“I hope so.”
The drive to her uncle’s place was short. Within fifteen minutes of picking up the champagne, we were pulling into a short driveway lined in knee-height shrubs. An opening led to a path which cut across a green, healthy lawn and wound through a somewhat overgrown garden to the steps below the front porch.
Genevieve and I hopped out of the back of the SUV.
She stopped at the passenger window when Harry rolled it down. “Thank you, Harry. I’ll call for you when we’re ready to leave. I’m guessing around ten o’clock or so. Will that be all right?”
“Of course, Miss London.” Harry smiled. He was a sheepish-looking man with hardly any hair left on his head and glasses straight out of the eighties. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready.”
Genevieve gave him another award-winning smile before letting her hand fall from the car door. Then she turned toward me and nodded up at the house. “Shall we?”
“Let’s do it,” I said, offering her my elbow.
We stepped through the opening in the shrubs as Harry reversed out of the driveway and drove off. Then we made our way down the path to the front door.
Her uncle’s house was a lot more on par with my comfort level and what a home felt like than Genevieve’s sprawling house. The siding was blue, and I imagined years ago, it was a much brighter, fresher shade. The sun had faded it, along with the shutters on the living room window and the white trim. The paint on the porch was peeling, but not terribly so, and was in need of a sanding, a fresh coat of paint, and some new sealer.
Maybe if he decided to get the place up to snuff next summer, I could offer my assistance.
I shook my head at myself.
Slow down, man. You’ve only known her for two and a half weeks.
Planning ahead like that was insanity.
The front door was white with a welcome mat that read, “No Solicitors.”
Genevieve stood upon it in her white, pointed-toe pumps and rapped her knuckles on the door.
We couldn’t hear anything from inside, and after waiting a good minute and a half, she decided to let herself in.
“Uncle Tom?” she called down the narrow hallway on the other side of the door. “Uncle Tom? Hello? We’re here!”
There was no response.
She stepped into the house and cocked her head to the side. “Ah, I think he’s in the shower. Come on in. I’ll show you around, and we can have a glass of that champagne.”
I followed her in, slipped out of my boots, and peered down the hall into the kitchen. That was where we went first. I popped the champagne, and she poured us each a glass, and then I began my tour.
The house was quaint and very pleasant. It smelled like mulling spices, barbeque, and smoked meat; like autumn in a nutshell. Dark hardwood floors contrasted the warm but light shade of beige on the walls. The crown molding was dark to match the floors, giving the place an almost rustic vibe.
Her uncle’s furniture was all dark earth tones: greens, browns, coppers. There wasn’t much in the way of decor save for some family photos all spread out above the fireplace.
I made my way over to peer at them. Genevieve stepped up beside me and picked one of the pictures up. It was of her, her uncle, and another young blonde girl who I assumed was Marley. They were at an amusement park, and the two girls were holding up two of the biggest rolls of cotton candy I’d ever seen. The man I assumed was Uncle Tom stood between them, a hand on each shoulder, looking down at Genevieve and laughing joyously at her blue-stained cheeks and fingers.
She handed me the picture. “This is one of my favorites. This was taken a couple of months after Mom and Dad died. Uncle Tom had been trying for weeks to get me to smile. And there it was. Caught on camera and everything.”
I smiled down at the picture, my eyes instantly going to Genevieve. “You were a cute kid.”
“I was a mess.” She laughed.
I heard the shower shut off down the hall. For some bizarre reason, butterflies took flight in my stomach.
I wasn’t the kind of guy who got nervous. Not this kind of nervous, at least. But here I was, with sweaty palms and a quickening heartbeat as I anticipated meeting the man who raised the girl I was falling hard for. This was a high-stakes moment.
I focused on the picture and used it as a distraction. As I stared at it, my eyes went to her uncle. I frowned.
He looked familiar. Very familiar.
My heart leapt into my throat.
Shit.
Here it was. My karma.
Uncle Tom was one of Hyde’s old buddies. He hadn’t come to the service the MC held for him because of the reason he and Hyde lost touch in the first place: because he was a Lost Breed. But he’d been around, and I knew Ryder was the one to deal with him and explain what had happened.
It was a job none of us envied, but it was the president’s job.
Shit. Fuck.
The bathroom door down the hall opened with a soft click. I put the picture down on the mantel. It was too late to bail now. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize me.
I almost laughed at my own optimism. That was wishful thinking.
Footsteps came from down the hall. The moment of truth was here. Genevieve turned from the fireplace with a smile, and her eyes lit up when she saw her uncle.
“Uncle Tom,” she said as she moved forward to give him a hug.
His hair was still wet, and he was dressed in a black and red plaid button-up shirt and a pair of blue jeans. He had socks and slippers on, and I could smell his soap from here. Tom hugged his niece before taking her by the shoulders and holding her at arm’s length. “Congratulations, Genie. I knew you were going to get this thing done one way or another. I’m so proud of you.”
Genevieve beamed and reminded me of the younger version of herself in the picture on the mantel. The little girl with her cotton candy.
“Thanks, Uncle Tom.” She turned and gestured toward me. “This is who I’ve been telling you about. This is Liam.”
Tom’s eyes slid from her to me. Then he looked me over from head to toe, and his eyes narrowed. He took a step forward.
Genevieve sensed the sudden tension in the room as her uncle angled himself in front of her and pointed an accusing finger at me. “You.”
I stood there like an idiot, powerless to whatever was about to happen next. I deserved this. I’d pushed it too far. I should have come clean right from the start.
Tom squared his shoulders. “You’re one of those Lost Breed dogs, aren’t you?”
I winced.
Genevieve put a hand on her uncle’s shoulder. “Lost Breed? Uncle Tom, what are you—”
Tom flicked his chin toward the front door. “Get the fuck out of my house.”
Genevieve’s grip on his shoulder tightened, and her eyes went wide as she looked back and forth between me and her uncle.
My mouth was dry. My face was red.
Uncle Tom took a menacing step forward.
I could have taken him. Easily. But I wasn’t going to fight Genevieve’s uncle. He was right to hate me. Right to want me to leave.
So I dropped my head and nodded before brushing past him and making a beeline straight to the front door.
Genevieve made to follow. “Liam, wait.”
Her uncle caught her wrist. “Let him go, Genie. You and I have a lot to talk about.”
Chapter 18
Genevieve
I was still standing in the living room with my mouth hanging open when the front door slammed behind Liam.
I rounded on my uncle. “What the fuck?”
Uncle Tom was boiling with anger. I’d never seen him like this before. He wouldn’t even look at me as he shook his head and marched into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of champagne. He tossed the whole glass back in one steady gulp before pouring a second.
“Explain,” I demanded, planting my fists on my hips.
Uncle Tom braced himself on the counter and kept his back toward me. “He’s a bad seed, Genie. He knows bad people. Chooses to be one of them. I don’t want you seeing him again.”
My hackles rose like that of a rabid dog. “Excuse me?”
He turned toward me. His expression was slack, tired. “I said I don’t want you seeing him again.”
“Why? What is the Lost Breed?”
Uncle Tom sighed and ran his hand down his face. “Come. Let’s sit. I’ll tell you everything.”
I followed my uncle from the kitchen into the living room, and we took up seats on opposite sofas. I crossed my legs and wished I’d had the hindsight to bring a change of clothes with me. The white skirt from my meeting earlier today was very tight, and the anxiety clawing at my throat and chest had me aching to be in something more comfortable.
My heart hurt for Liam. Where had he gone? And why hadn’t I run after him?
“Liam is a Lost Breed member,” my uncle said, pulling me away from my thoughts.
“I don’t know what that is.”
“They’re a fairly large motorcycle gang in New York City.”
I blinked at him. Then I started laughing. “Liam? In a gang? Yeah, right. You must have him confused with someone else.”
“If I had him confused with someone else, don’t you think he would have told me so himself, rather than leave with his tail between his legs?”
I stared at my uncle and he stared right back.
Uncle Tom continued. “The Lost Breeds have been around a long time, Genie. Decades. They keep to themselves, sure, which is probably why you haven’t heard of them, but there was bad shit happening in their circles a few years ago. There were bodies turning up. Shit the cops couldn’t figure out.”
“Bodies?”
“Murders. Gruesome ones. Criminals, all of them.”
“How do you know so much about this?” I asked.
Uncle Tom stared at his hands in his lap. “One of them was an old friend of mine. Someone I wrote out of my life a long time ago because of the choices he made. I didn’t want to be associated with him or with the Lost Breeds. Not with you in the picture. They’re trouble, Genie. Real trouble.”
“Which friend?”
“His name was Hyde.”
“I’ve never heard you talk about him,” I said softly. How much did I not know about my own uncle? How much was he keeping from me for my own sake?
“I don’t talk about him. We were close. And then he fell in with the Lost Breeds, and I… well, I closed that door and made my peace with it. Then not too long ago, I got a call that he’d been murdered.” Uncle Tom shook his head. “No. Slaughtered.”
“What?”
“By Isaac Reed.”
My head started spinning. “The maniac who was all over the news and in the papers? The guy from…” I trailed off as the pieces started falling into place. “From Chicago.”
“Yes.”
Liam had told me he was from Chicago, and I’d known there was something he wasn’t telling me. Something he wasn’t ready to say out loud.
I never dreamed it could be something like this.
“This doesn’t make sense,” I whispered. “Liam isn’t bad. He’s not like that. He’s a good man, and he’d never hurt anyone.”
“He has hurt people, Genevieve. It’s his fucking calling card.”
“No.”
Uncle Tom pinched the bridge of his nose and let out an agitated sigh. “I’m not saying this to upset you. I’m saying this because it’s true. And after how hard you’ve worked, the last thing you need is a guy like that taking up space in your life. It will only end badly, Genevieve. Messy. Bloody, even.”
“He wouldn’t hurt me.”
“You don’t know him.”
“Yes, I do!” My tone was sharp, and I suddenly felt like a teenager all over again—like I was defending my high-school sweetheart to my overbearing father. The worst part about this was that Uncle Tom was right.
I didn’t know Liam that well. Sure, I felt like I did, but feeling close to someone was a different thing than really knowing them. I’d been well aware that he had secrets. But I never dreamed they’d be these kinds of secrets.
“He’s using you.”
I lifted my teary gaze to my uncle and shook my head. No words came out.
My uncle leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and he looked at me like he pitied me. I hated that. His brows drew together as he frowned, an
d then he let out another long sigh. “You have to consider this from all angles. I know you think you know him. And maybe you do. But at the end of the day, even if he’s different from all the others, there are still others. And they’re a big part of his life. You do not want to get caught up in that.”
No, I didn’t.
But what was it exactly I’d be getting caught up in?
I had a hard time envisioning Liam spending any time with men who were dangerous. And I was fairly certain he’d never jeopardize my safety. He’d been by my side, keeping me safe, for weeks now. Even if it was just to get close to me, he meant it, and he took his role seriously.
“I have to talk to him,” I whispered.
“I won’t allow you to see him on your own.”
“I’m a grown woman. You don’t get to dictate my choices for me anymore.”
Uncle Tom hung his head and nodded. “You’re right.”
“I know.”
I hated this. I hated fighting with him. I hated being at odds over something like this. A night that was supposed to be all about celebrating had taken the worst turn, and now Liam was who the hell knew where, thinking who knew what, and here I was, trying to defend him and feeling like a schoolgirl.
“Can I say one more thing?” my uncle asked.
I nodded.
“The Lost Breeds have no role in the life of a woman busting her ass to open a women’s shelter. The Lost Breeds are the men those women are running from. If you’re serious about your mother’s dream, which I know you are, you won’t see Liam anymore. You’ll make a clean break. And when all is said and done and you heal, you’ll understand that it was the right call. For you and for him.”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat.
Why did he have to go and say that?
Why did it make sense?
And why did it leave me feeling so hollow inside?
My uncle leaned back. “I’m sorry, Genie. If you’re an advocate for women’s safety, then you have to act like one.”
“Walk the walk,” I muttered.
“Even when it’s hard,” Uncle Tom said.
He was responsible for me getting through some bad bullying bouts in high school. When I would come home and tell him about how mean the girls were, he would tell me to keep my chin up and take the high road. To walk the walk even when it was almost too hard to do so.