HIS VIRGIN VESSEL: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (War Cry MC)

by Nicole Fox

  "Tell me everything that's been going on with you."

  "I'm not sure we really have time for that," Dugas spoke up. Now that this meeting had failed to fulfill the purpose he had envisaged, he was keen to keep it as short as possible.

  "Well, I could catch you up on what's been going on with me," I suggested, "But that wouldn't really take very long. Why bother coming at all, if we're not going to talk? Unless there was something specific you wanted to discuss?" I targeted that at Dugas. If he wanted to tell his daughter how he had tried to threaten me, then he could be my guest.

  "I think I should start visiting more regularly," Corinne said. "I feel happier now than I have in weeks. I think it's actually good for me."

  "No, we discussed that, Corinne..."Dugas began.

  "But Asa didn't get a say," Corinne pointed out. "It's our relationship that's been broken up like this, and I think he deserves for his opinion to be heard."

  After her victory over where she got to live, Corinne was clearly feeling confident. The thing was, I was with her father on this one. It wasn't so much that I thought visiting me and maintaining that very visible connection put Corinne in danger, although that was a factor. It was more than that. Corinne was a young woman, at the start of her life, and I was an older man, at the start of a long jail term. I didn't want her to waste her potential waiting for me. I wanted her to go back to the city and give art another try, which she could hardly do if she felt chained to my prison. I wanted her to get out and experience life, which, again, was somewhat precluded by forever having a partner who was 'unavailable.’ I didn't want her to go out and find herself another man, but that was probably what she should do. I had made my decisions, and now I had to pay for them, which I did gladly, because those decisions had led me to her. But I didn't want her to have to suffer because of the life I had led. I was lucky enough to know the love of a wonderful woman. If that proved only to be for a matter of weeks, then so be –it. It was worth it. But she had the option of so much more. She could be anything, and she could do anything. Or, she could drag herself along to a prison once a week and dream about a future that could only begin when I got out. I wouldn't do that to her.

  I wasn’t the most eloquent man in the world, but I tried to say all that to her and make her understand as best I could. When I had finished, Corinne spoke.

  "You want me to have whatever I want. What if what I want is you?"

  "That's what you want now," I said. "But after six months, you might well feel differently. Only, then you might feel a loyalty to me that you can't break. I'm not taking the chance."

  "But..."

  "Look, when I get out, then feel free to look me up. Maybe then we can be friends. Maybe more. Maybe we can even pick up where we left off. But I don't know what's going to change for you between now and then. And I want things to change for you. I want you to have the exciting, fulfilling life you deserve. I don't want to do anything that might get in the way of that happening. Live your life as if I'm not in it. Because I won't be."

  "That is good advice," Brian Dugas said, happy that I seemed to be back on his side.

  "Is it?" Corinne asked, in a voice that could have cut glass.

  "Better yet," I added. "Live your life as if I was never in it. Then you don't feel any ties. And, if we meet again, at a happier time in the future, then it can all be new again. Like we're starting from scratch."

  "Live my life as if you were never in it?" Something seemed to be amusing Corinne now. I couldn't imagine what, but a little voice located somewhere toward the back of my mind was telling me that I ought to know, reminding me of something I had heard and forgotten.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Live my life, as if you were never in it," Corinne repeated, shaking her head and now laughing to herself as she spoke. "That's going to be a bit of a challenge."

  "Initially, sure," Dugas said. He seemed as confused as I was by Corinne's growing amusement. "But you'll get used to it, once there's nothing to remind you of him."

  Corinne burst out laughing. "Sorry. I'm sure you're right. Nothing to remind me of Asa. Absolutely. Can I ask you two wise, old men one question?"

  "Sure," I said, wondering if she was losing it a little.

  "Anything," Dugas agreed.

  "If I can't visit Asa - not at all - then how is my son or daughter - though I kind of feel like it’s a daughter - going to get to know his or her daddy?"

  I hoped that I looked less stupidly dumbfounded than Brian Dugas did, but that might have been too much to hope for. I could feel my mouth hanging slackly open and my eyes goggling wildly at... the mother of my child.

  I was going to be a father.

  It was a shock, and, yet, I also felt strangely as if I had already known, or ought to have. I had never really thought about being a dad. My own father had been so awful that it was not something to which I had ever aspired. If I had ever entertained the idea, then I had imagined that I would be everything as a father that my own dad had so pointedly failed to be. I would be great at it. Now, it seemed that I was becoming a Dad under the worst possible circumstances. My child was going to get to know me as that man behind the glass that he saw once a week and who everyone talked about in hushed tones. That was not the sort of father that anyone wanted to be.

  On the other hand, I was going to be a daddy. With Corinne as the mommy. The circumstances might be several million miles from ideal, but the person with whom it was happening? This was the dream. Not a dream I had ever had, and, yet, as soon as I heard it, it felt like a dream fulfilled.

  "Are you happy?" Corinne asked earnestly.

  "I shouldn't be, but I am!"

  She understood what I meant, and we were both on our feet and in each other's arms.

  "Dad?" Corinne turned to Sheriff Dugas. The confidence with which she had delivered this bombshell had now evaporated to be replaced by nervousness.

  Brian Dugas had initially looked as knocked back off his feet as I had felt. His expression had now morphed slowly into something more set and determined, though what that might mean, I could not say.

  "Dad?" Corinne tried again.

  Dugas turned that stony stare at us. "Right." That was all he said, but he said it in the same tones that Moses must have used when walking up to part the Red Sea.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Corinne

  I remembered, when I was a little kid, seeing how people reacted when my dad walked into a room. You could spot the ones who were up to something, just from the looks on their faces. Nothing put the fear of God into criminals, like Brian Dugas coming for them. I thought I had seen him at his best, but, it turned out, I hadn't seen anything yet. When Sheriff Brian Dugas strode into the appeal hearing that he himself had set up for Asa, everyone turned to look at him, and, when he spoke, the walls came tumbling down. To see Brian Dugas in full flow, fighting passionately for something he believed in, made you wonder why he hadn't been a lawyer all his life, instead of a sheriff. It was a sight to see. There was no one in that room who could doubt that Asa Covert was a man who had fallen into crime following a troubled childhood, that the 'crime' into which he had fallen was petty, relatively harmless, and in some cases actually helpful to the community, that he had been reformed by the love of a woman, that he was done with that world, and that he wanted nothing more now than to be a father to his unborn child. Above all, there was no one in that room who would dare doubt that Asa had been brave above and beyond the call of sanity during the Frank Rassi case, that he had been willing to sacrifice his life to save an innocent woman, and that he had damn near done so.

  "Am I biased?" Sheriff Brian Dugas asked the question that everyone was asking. "Of course I am. He is the father of my grandchild and, without him, my daughter would be dead. Without him, Frank Rassi would still be on the street, and I don't know how many others might be dead. Without him, business owners in my town would have been threatened and cowed for years by mobsters and thugs. Am I biased? I am biased in fa
vor of as brave a man as I have ever known, and I am suspicious of anyone who wouldn't be biased towards such an individual. He has misdirected so much of his potential through his life, and now that he has found direction, are we going to see him squander that potential languishing in jail? No, I say! We can use men like Asa Covert. We should use men like Asa Covert. We need men like Asa Covert."

  I watched proudly from the sidelines. I knew that my dad couldn't have delivered such an address if he didn't mean every word of it. There was just one last hurdle left to cross, one thing that Dad would have to do that was contrary to everything he believed. I held my breath as the chairman of the appeals committee spoke.

  "Sheriff Dugas, you've spoken eloquently in defense of the prisoner and provided a great deal of evidence backing up your words, as well as the testimonials of the SWAT team who took down Frank Rassi. But what about evidence against Mr. Covert? It is my understanding that there was a book detailing serious criminal activity, which can hardly go overlooked. What do you know about this little Black Book?"

  Dad never even blinked. "I've heard rumors about it, as one always hears rumors. But what sort of criminal keeps a record like that? I've never met anyone who has verifiably seen this book. It's my opinion that it doesn't even exist."

  My heart was fluttering in my chest as I sat outside the prison. It seemed unlikely that anything could go wrong now, but I didn't want to jinx anything by saying that, or even thinking it. A week ago, I would have said that such an outcome was impossible, but that was before I heard dad speak. A local sheriff's demands might not carry a great deal of weight with an independent appeals committee, but the right words delivered by the right man can accomplish almost anything.

  # # #

  The gate swung open. Dad came out, and, a step behind him, Asa. I held my breath, as if at any second an arm might reach out from the gate and drag him back in. But no arm came.

  I couldn't wait any longer. I sprang out of the car and ran to meet Asa, hurling myself into his arms.

  "Well, that can't be good for the baby," Dad said, laughing to himself.

  "Quiet, Grandpa," I said, my face buried in Asa's neck.

  Dad shook his head. "That one's going to take some getting used to."

  We headed back to where I had parked, and Dad and Asa shook hands.

  "Thank you, Sheriff."

  Dad smiled. "I think maybe you can stop calling me that."

  "Call him, dad," I suggested.

  "I'd rather not," Asa said, honestly. "Bad associations, you know."

  "Brian will do fine," said Dad.

  Asa looked uncertain. "I sort of feel like I should call you 'sir'. Brian is very..."

  "Familiar?" Dad suggested.

  "I was going to say 'equal’."

  Dad shrugged. "That seems about right, son."

  "Thank you," Asa said fervently.

  Asa and I got into the car.

  "You need a lift?" I asked Dad.

  "No. You two could probably use some time alone, and I don't want to intrude. I really don't." He leaned in through the window by Asa. "You'll take good care of her?" It wasn't said sternly. He was really asking.

  "I will.”

  "I can take care of myself," I pointed out.

  Dad shot a look at Asa, who said again, "I will."

  Dad nodded. "And for the love of God, son, try to keep her out of trouble."

  Asa threw up his hands. "Damn it, Brian, I'm only one man. And you know what happens when you try to keep Corinne out of trouble."

  "Hey!"

  Dad ignored me and nodded. "Yes, I do. But, sometimes, it all works itself out for the best. Eventually. By the way, what are you planning on doing now?"

  Asa shrugged. "Hadn't really had much of a chance to think about it. I didn't like to make plans before everything was..."

  "Sure," Dad nodded, thoughtfully. "You and I need to sit down and talk sometime. Not today, but sometime."

  He nodded a goodbye to us both and strode off. Asa turned to look at me. "Where to?"

  "How about home?"

  He shook his head. "'Home.’ I don't know when I'll get used to that word, but I'm looking forward to trying."

  The drive back to Fiona's passed in a whirl of conversation and plan-making, none of which either of us would be able to recall afterwards, but which seemed very important at the time. At the side door to the bar, which led up to my - I should say our - apartment, Asa stopped me.

  "Aren't I supposed to carry you over the threshold?"

  "I think that's just married couples."

  "Does it have to be?"

  "I can't imagine why."

  Asa swept me up off my feet, into his arms. I reached down to unlock the door, and we headed in and up the narrow staircase. In all honesty, that narrow staircase did diminish the romance somewhat, as I clonked my head twice, and Asa had to go very carefully. But I don't think either of us cared as we made it through the next door and kissed. It was a kiss that kept on going, neither of us ever wanting it to end and not seeing any real reason that it should. Except one...

  "Let me show you the bedroom," I gasped, as we finally broke.

  "You took the words right out of my mouth," Asa said.

  I pointed at the bedroom door, and Asa, still carrying me, hurried on, kicking off shoes as he went. Once in, we fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, groping at each other, fingers urgently seeking out buttons.

  "Do you know what's directly underneath this bedroom?" I asked, as Asa kissed his way down my neck and towards my chest.

  "To be honest," Asa said, slightly muffled. "I don't much care. I have got things on my mind other than a tour of the building."

  "It's Fiona's storage closet," I said.

  Asa stopped what he was doing and looked down at me. "Fiona's storage closet?"

  "Yep."

  "The one where you and I....?"

  "Yep."

  "Where we, for the first time..."

  "Yep."

  "And where you lost your..."

  "Right downstairs."

  Asa took a brief moment to consider the cyclical nature of life before saying, "If only we'd known that there was a bed right above us."

  "Tell me about it."

  Clothes vanished in short order, and we dived beneath the covers. I delighted in having Asa's naked body close to me again. There had been times when I had thought that this might never happen. But here we were, together again and in our home. The first time we had made love in our own home. The first of many. And, as that thought struck me, it was followed quickly by another one: this was a first time. The nature of our relationship had meant so many last times. Every time had been a last time. This was the first, first time, since that first time that had taken place ten feet below us.

  It felt like a first time. Neither of us had the self-control to wait for anything as time-consuming as foreplay. We were both achingly ready. As soon as Asa thrust into me, I felt a first orgasm burst through me. I had been waiting so long for this moment, for this perfection, and that was the only possible reaction.

  It goes without saying that the sex was great. Asa and I always worked together in every way. It goes without saying that it was more than great sex, that there was the same meeting of souls that made our love-making something beyond the physical pleasure. But, as always with Asa and I, there was also so much more, so much we could say with our bodies that went unspoken. There was an optimism, a hope for the future, and, above all, there was passion. We made love like we never wanted to stop, each desperate to express how much they had missed the other and how they would never let the other go again. At one point, as the headboard knocked a hole in the wall, someone in the room below started banging on the ceiling. Fiona might be glad that we were back together, but she had a business to run.

  Afterward, when we lay in each other's arms, slicked in sweat and deliciously exhausted, Asa took in the room.

  "You know, you did a real nice job with this place."


  "Risa and Joseph helped."

  "Joseph Hartman?"

  "Yeah."

  Asa shook his head. "A biker with a flair for interior decoration. Who'd have thought? I guess everyone has their hidden side."

  "The parts that they play."

  Asa nodded. "I'm glad you gave him the opportunity to be himself." He fell silent for a bit.

  "Everything okay?" I asked.

  "Yeah, just thinking." He wriggled round on the bed to look at me. "Actually, I've been doing a lot of thinking recently. Not much else to do, you know? And I realized that I wasted ten years of my life, maybe more."