Lush Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 8)

by Marysol James

  “I don’t know, Daddy.” She clutched her favorite doll tightly. “Maybe?”

  “Did your Mom send you to wake me up?”

  “Nooooo.”

  Something in her voice, some note of worry and hesitation, set off alarms in his head. He sat up, glanced over at the clock, blinked in astonishment. It was just past noon, and he’d fallen into bed after a double shift less than two hours earlier. He’d asked Kathleen to send Cindy in at six, to get him up for a family dinner and a Disney princess movie night… so what was his daughter doing here now?

  “Sweet pea,” he said, suddenly very afraid but not knowing why. “Where’s your Mom?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “Noooo…” Those brown eyes were brimming with tears now, and she hugged her doll closer. “She left.”

  Sam bolted to his feet. “Left? Left the house?”

  “Yes, Daddy.” Cindy sniffled. “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, no… sweet pea, don’t be sorry.” Sam scooped her up into his arms, dropped a kiss on her dark head. “You didn’t do anything wrong, OK?”

  “OK.”

  “So.” He winked at her and she giggled a bit, tried to wink back but blinked both eyes instead. “Let’s go see where your Mom is, alright?”

  “She left a note,” Cindy said, her voice muffled against his throat as he held her close. “On the table.”

  “Did she?” Sam asked calmly, though calm was hands-down the last fucking thing that he felt in this moment. “Did she say anything before she left?”

  “No, Daddy.”

  “Alright, Cindy… don’t be upset. Show me where the note is?”

  “There.”

  Cindy pointed at the kitchen table, and he carefully set her down on the floor. That was when he saw that she was still wearing her little pink pajamas and had cookie crumbs all down her front. How long had she been out here on her own? Jesus Christ, if Kathleen had just walked out and left Cindy alone to choke, or fall, or turn on a stove element, or pull a glass vase down her head, just so she could go shopping with her windfall of cash from him or some other damn fool thing, Sam was going to fucking kill her.

  He picked up the note, skimmed it, felt his jaw tighten. He glanced at the thick stack of documents on the table, flicked through them, read a few headings, narrowed his eyes in anger. He then saw Cindy watching him, looking worried. He gave her a big smile and set the papers back on the table.

  “You want some juice, sweet pea?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Apple?”

  “Mmm-hmmm.” She wandered over to her doll house, put her doll to bed gently. “Please.”

  Sam poured the juice, put the plastic cup on a coaster on the coffee table. Cindy was fully absorbed with tucking her baby doll in now, singing to herself and chattering, so he went back to the kitchen, retrieved the note and documents with mixed feelings of rage and resignation.

  He already knew what they said.

  **

  Scars was checking the alcohol delivery in Satan’s Bar, the bar owned and run by the Road Devils motorcycle club, when the bartender appeared in the door of the backroom, looking puzzled.

  “Hey, Veep?”

  Scars turned. “Yeah, Cole?”

  “Your brother’s here.”

  Scars damn near dropped the crate of vodka that he was holding.”What?”

  “Yeah. He’s asking for Jinx. And…”

  “What?”

  “He’s got a kid with him. A little girl.”

  Scars shot out of the storeroom, almost knocking Cole over as he barreled past. Jesus fuck – Sam never set foot anywhere near Road Devils business, and he sure as shit would never bring Cindy into the same damn zip code as Satan’s. Not without damn good reason.

  Or bad reason.

  “Sam!” Scars skidded to a halt, saw his adorable little niece on a bar stool, swinging her legs and playing with a straw. “You OK?”

  Sam nodded, clearly totally lying, holding onto Cindy as she tottered on the stool. “Is Jinx around?”

  Cindy looked up, saw Scars, and she smiled. “Hi Uncle Vic!”

  “Hi, babyface.” Scars rumpled her hair and she squealed. “Lookin’ cute as always.”

  Sam managed a tiny grimace, then his face tightened up again. “Jinx?”

  “Yeah. Over in The Garage.”

  “Can he come over here?”

  Scars paused, glanced at Cindy. “Because…”

  “Because he was a lawyer,” Sam said. “And I need one.”

  “Gotcha.” Scars nodded at Cole, who was out the door in a flash, headed over to the club garage. “Something to drink?”

  “Water, please.”

  “Juice!” Cindy piped up. “Apple!”

  “Uhhhhh,” Scars said, at a loss. Satan’s didn’t run to juice, didn’t actually serve up much more than the hard stuff, and even though he was damn good and sure that Sam could use a shot, he had to get his niece something to drink. “No juice, babyface. Water?”

  “OK,” she said amiably. “With an ice cube?”

  “Of course,” Scars said opening up the freezer. “Only the best for you, you know that.”

  She giggled, watching him pour the water. “Is this where you work?”

  “Yep.” Scars set the glass in front of her. “Right in this very room.”

  She nodded, drank her water, then jumped a bit as the bar door opened with a crash.

  “It’s OK, sweet pea.” Sam stroked her back. “It’s just Uncle Vic’s friends. They’re a bit noisy.”

  “Sorry,” Jinx growled, wiping his oil-stained hands on a rag. “Cole said to hurry.”

  “Yeah,” Scars said. “How’s about you and Sam go into Wolf’s office? He’s out this morning.” He winked at Cindy. “And you, babyface, will stay here with me and keep me company. Good?”

  Delighted, the little girl nodded. She’d been madly in love with Uncle Vic since she’d first laid eyes on him a week earlier at Sam’s house. Scars had been worried about her shrinking back at the scars on his face and arms and hands, at the very least he thought that she’d ask a million questions, but she hadn’t, really. Just asked him if it had hurt when he’d gotten the long, white scars, and he’d said yes, and she’d accepted that, and the conversation had been over.

  “Thanks, Vic,” Sam said softly. “I owe you.”

  “You owe me nothing, man,” Scars said in a husky voice. “Just an explanation, when you can.”

  Sam nodded, the shook Jinx’s mostly-clean hand. “It’s a doozy.”

  “Oh, I know.” Scars’s tone was even, but his blue eyes were blazing with suppressed anger. He knew that it was bad, whatever it was, and he knew that it involved that selfish, poisonous bitch queen, Kathleen. He also knew that it was going to hurt both Sam and Cindy, and he was already furious about that, even before he knew what it was causing the hurt. “I’ll get the alligator pit ready.”

  Sam paused in surprise, then cracked a real grin. “Oh, yeah. For sure.”

  He followed Jinx down the hall to a closed door, then went inside. It was a nice office, actually, and the fact that it was the private workplace of Wolf Connor, the MC President, came as a bit of a shock.

  “OK,” Jinx said, pushing his long, dark hair out of his eyes. “What’s the deal?”

  Sam reached into his jeans pocket, unfolded the thick stack of papers. “Is any of this legal?”

  Jinx wiped his hands on his jeans quickly, then took the documents. First, he read the note, then glanced up at Sam.

  “She walked out on you and the kid? Just this morning?”

  “Sure looks like it.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Jinx’s mint-green eyes were cold. “What’s this money she’s talking about?”

  “B
ack pay for child support. I didn’t know about Cindy out there until a little over a month ago. Kathleen – Cindy’s mother – showed up and I went to a lawyer, and he told me how much I owed. I paid the full amount yesterday.”

  Jinx looked at the note again. “Lump sum payment to her bank account?”

  “Yes.”

  Jinx sighed heavily. “You know it’s cleaned out by now, right?”

  “I figured as much.”

  “Hmmmm.” Jinx turned his attention to the legal papers, flipped the pages rapidly. “And these sign over full parental custody to you? She’s waived her legal rights as parent and guardian of one Cindy Marie Loughlin?”

  “I think so. But that’s what I need you to confirm. I mean, she never put my name on Cindy’s birth certificate, never gave her my last name, so how can I even prove that I have any legal right to the child? Besides these papers, I mean.”

  “Loughlin is her last name? Kathleen’s?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Ohhh-kaaaay.” Jinx sank down on to the massive sofa, flipped back to the first page of the documents. “Lemme read these. I need a few minutes.”

  Sam nodded, left the room. He stood in the hallway for a few seconds, trying to grasp the enormity of what the hell was going on. If Kathleen was really gone, if she’d really taken the money and run, if she’d really abandoned Cindy, then… well, Jesus.

  Then Sam was raising his daughter alone; his heartbroken, devastated, confused, scared daughter. Because how the actual living fuck was he going to be able to explain Kathleen’s selfish, horrible, appalling actions to an almost-three-year-old? Christ, he didn’t understand them himself.

  “Daddy?”

  He turned now, turned to see Cindy standing at the end of the hallway. Scars loomed behind her, watching Sam closely. His brother wasn’t number-smart or what anyone would call traditionally ‘educated’, but he could read Sam like a fucking book, he always could. God knows what he saw now, but his hard face was pitying, worried, kind.

  He knew. He knew everything.

  “Hi sweet pea,” Sam said now, holding his arms open. “Need a hug?”

  “Yes.”

  “C’mere, then.”

  Cindy ran into his embrace, clung to him tightly as he stood up.

  “Daddy?”

  “Yes, my adorable girl?”

  “Is Mommy gone?”

  Sam met his brother’s eyes over Cindy’s head. “Yes, baby.”

  “For good?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Like Daddy Keith?”

  “Oh, no… no. Mommy isn’t gone that way.”

  “Mmmm.” She pulled at her hair. “Am I staying with you?”

  The office door opened then and Jinx stood there, holding the papers.

  “Are you staying with me?” Sam echoed, clearly directing the question at Jinx. He met Sam’s eyes, and he nodded. “Yes, sweet pea. You’re staying with me.”

  “Just us?”

  “Yes. Just us.”

  “Oh.” She was silent, clinging to his shoulders. Then: “Daddy?”

  “Yes?”

  “Can we still have the princess movie night tonight? Just us?”

  “Oh, Cindy.” Sam’s heart snapped in two for this sweet, innocent little girl who hadn’t asked for any of this, who sure as hell deserved none of it, and he resolved right there and then to do anything, to do everything, to see her through this. “Baby. Of course we can.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  One week later

  The day of Sarah and Jax’s wedding dawned cool and clear, a perfect spring morning.

  Sarah stood in the kitchen, staring out the window. She had a cup of untouched coffee in front of her, and she was a nervous wreck. Jax came into the room, saw her watching the mountain road outside.

  “No sign?” he asked, and Sarah jumped.

  “No,” she said. “Not yet. What if – oh, God, Jax. What if it’s not ready?”

  “Did Elise say that it was ready?” he said calmly. “When you called her this morning?”

  “It wasn’t ready,” Sarah said, almost in despair. “She said that she was working on it. Jesus, Jax, this is all my damn fault! Why did I have to go and lose sixteen pounds in the past two months?”

  “Because, Red,” Jax said, crossing the kitchen to hold her. “You had a bad flu for most of the winter and lived off chicken broth.”

  “Damn flu,” she muttered. “Messing up my wedding dress fitting.”

  “Did Elise say that the dress would be ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “Has the woman steered you wrong yet?”

  “No.”

  “Then baby, sit down and drink your coffee and that fruit salad that I made you. The hair and makeup people will be here soon, and your Mom, and all the ladies. I’ve got to haul ass out of here in an hour and get to King’s, but I can’t leave you like this.” Jax stroked her curls. “It’s our wedding day, doll, and I want you to be happy and excited, not worried to death.”

  “I know, but –”

  “No buts,” Jax said severely. “Elise Jordan will come through. Sit. Eat. Drink. Relax. Now.”

  “Is that an order, Mr. Hamill?”

  “You are goddamn right, Ms. Matthews. Now do what I say.”

  Sarah laughed, already feeling better. She sat at the scrubbed wooden table, watched Jax refresh her lukewarm coffee. “Practicing for our married life, I see.”

  “You know it,” he growled, bringing her the fresh cup. “I can’t wait until you’re Mrs. Hamill, and you’re all barefoot and pregnant with twins in this kitchen.”

  “What?” Sarah exploded. “Twins?”

  “That’s the part you object to, huh?” Jax asked her. “Not the barefoot in the kitchen part?”

  “I’m already in the kitchen,” Sarah pointed out. “And I’m barefoot now. But what possessed you to hope that we have twins?”

  Jax shrugged, ran his hands through his dark hair. “I dunno. I guess I just thought maybe you’d be more likely to have twins, being one yourself. Like, maybe it runs in your family?”

  “Oh, Christ. Yeah. Yeah, it does.” Sarah gulped her coffee. “Why have I never thought about this before?”

  “Are twins an issue?”

  “Well… no. I mean, yes. I mean, they’re a lot of work.”

  “You think you’d be on your own, baby? I’m not your absent Dad, and you know your Mom would be here faster than you could say, ‘Grandma’.”

  “True.” Sarah ate a piece of apple. “She practically has ‘free babysitter’ in a balloon over her head.”

  Just then, the bell from the front gate rang. Sarah jumped to her feet, launched herself over to the security system on the wall.

  “Elise?” she gasped. “That you?”

  “You know it,” came the sultry, husky voice of Elise Jordan. “I said I’d be here sweetie, and here I am.”

  “Thank the Lord.” Sarah pushed the button that swung the gate open, and she smiled at Jax. “You were right.”

  “From what I’ve seen on TV shows, baby, that’s my go-to line to survive married life.”

  “Bah,” she huffed. “I love you, handsome.”

  “Love you too, Red.” Jax kissed her, then held her face in his hands. “I’m gonna see you in a few hours… and then about an hour after that, you’re gonna be my wife. Mine, forever. You and me, doll, for better or for worse, you and me against the world.”

  “I’ll be there,” she whispered. “I’ll be the one in the wedding dress.”

  **

  Elise Jordan stepped back, cocked her head, shifted her weight to one curvy hip, stared hard at Sarah.

  “Perfect,” she pronounced. She shook her head in wonder. “You’re beautiful, hon.”

  As Annie, Gabi,
Mirrie, Noami, Callie, Maria, and Tessa gathered behind her, Sarah turned to look at herself in the bedroom mirror, blinked in astonishment. Somehow, the floor-length, pale blue dress was even more stunning than she remembered: clean, simple, elegant, with a bit of beadwork around the bodice. She looked at it and saw no sign – not even one – that Elise had hand-sewn some alterations into the back just a couple of hours earlier.

  “My God,” Sarah said. “Elise, you’re a genius.”

  “You are,” Annie agreed, awe-struck at her daughter. “And Sarah is almost perfect.”

  “Almost?” Callie said, clearly scandalized. “That’s not very nice. Even I know that it’s rude to insult the bride on her wedding day. Noah and I read about wedding etiquette on the internet, and it said so.”

  Everyone laughed; Callie looked confused.

  “What did I say that was funny?”

  “I was just teasing Sarah, sweetie,” Annie said gently. “Because there’s one more thing that she has to put on. Then she’ll be perfect, believe me.”

  “Oh,” Callie said. “What does she still have to put on?”

  “This,” Elise said, opening a large, square blue box with a flourish. “A pre-wedding gift from your future husband.”

  “Ohhhhh, no,” Sarah breathed. She saw the crystals reflecting on the ceiling, bouncing and catching the sunlight, and she already knew what it was. “No, no, no. Elise… I said it was too expensive when I tried it on at your shop.”

  Elize shrugged, lifted the tiara from the box. “Jax didn’t care about the cost. He wanted you to have it.”

  “Ohhhh,” Sarah repeated, deathly afraid that she was going to cry and ruin her eyeliner. “Damn that man.”

  “Put it on,” Mirrie said gently. “Let us see you in all your bridal glory.”

  “Crystals and all,” Gabi said, as the makeup woman expertly lined her eyes. “Shine on, girl!”

  Sarah shook her head, but accepted the tiara from Elise. She turned back to the mirror, lifted her hands, gently placed the gold and crystal piece of art on to her curls. She’d opted for a sleek, simple hair style to complement her streamlined dress, and she was now fiercely glad that she’d changed her mind about doing anything fussy or fancy. The casual elegance of her curls pulled back at the nape of her neck, then tumbling down her back in a warm auburn wave, was the perfect backdrop for the icy fire of the tiara.