Lucky 13 (Deadlines & Diamonds)

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Lucky 13 (Deadlines & Diamonds) Page 18

by Kearns, Morgan


  “Here, here!” Kane raised his glass then downed its contents in one gulp.

  Shayne pressed the crystal to her lips, but paused when another person stood. Ricky’s hand tightened on hers. He stiffened.

  Teresa held her glass up and stood. She smiled. Ricky frowned and fought the urge to strangle his brother.

  “Ricky, I always thought I was the perfect woman for you.” She raised her champagne flute. “Until I saw how absolutely miserable you were without her. You deserve all the happiness in the world and she’s it. Congratulations.”

  Ricky’s relief bubbled out of him, percolating with hers. Shayne sighed as he raised his glass. “Thank you.”

  Crystal clinked as guests offered their salutations.

  Dinner proceeded. Shayne picked up his left hand and turned it over, running her finger over the lines on his palm. “Do you like your ring?”

  “I love it.”

  “It’s engraved, you know.”

  No, he didn’t know. How could he? She’d put it on his finger and he hadn’t taken it off.

  She tugged at the titanium and it slid off easily. She handed it to him.

  My heart. My hero. My husband.

  He cleared his throat. Blinked. And leaned in to kiss her to keep his emotions hidden. He’d always wanted a woman to fall in love with him, the kind of love those stupid chick-flicks made famous. Dang, he was turning into such a pansy.

  This woman, this amazing woman, captured his heart and, the really holy-shit of it was, she’d honored him by trusting him with hers.

  He felt like jabbing his hands in the air. Victory!

  There were a few moments in his life when adrenaline surged so strong he needed to release it somehow. He’d hit the game-winning RBI and sprinted around the bases. Once he’d made a diving catch, shot to his feet and sent the ball to second, making a double-play. He’d settled down with a few jumping jacks right there in left field to bring himself back down to earth.

  This was different. Better. More intense.

  Marrying Shayne, getting her to agree to be his wife was officially the greatest accomplishment of his life. And he knew exactly how he wanted to work off this particular surge. Unfortunately, they had to keep it PG-13 for a little while longer.

  “Would you like to dance, Mrs. Santiago?”

  She put her hand in his and stood. “As long as you hold me close, Mr. Santiago.”

  That he could handle.

  ***

  It seemed completely appropriate that they’d met at a wedding, shared their first contact on a dance floor much like this one. Shayne leaned her head on her husband’s chest, closed her eyes, and basked in everything Enrique Santiago. His heat. His strength. His musky scent exclusive to him.

  They spun in a small, lazy circle. Ricky set the pace. She happily followed.

  He jerked and her eyes popped open. X smiled. “You think I could steal just one dance with my baby sister?”

  Ricky lifted her until they were lip to lip. He kissed her. “I love you.” He carefully placed her back on her feet, steadying her before backing away.

  Xavier stepped in, put one hand on her waist and held up the other. He looked so proper—so unlike her brother. Shayne smiled. He moved them around slowly.

  Looking her in the eye, he asked, “You’re happy?”

  Didn’t the grin on her face say it all? Apparently not. She nodded. “Very.”

  “I’m glad.” A few seconds drifted into nearly a minute before he said, “I didn’t like him much.”

  “I know.”

  “Frankie always did though.” X sniffed then laughed softly. “That’s probably why I didn’t like him. I never realized I had the chemical makeup of a possessive sonofabitch. I probably should have given my genetics.”

  “You’re nothing like our father, X.”

  “You don’t remember him.”

  The vivid memory of that man standing over her, hand raised slammed into her. A full body shiver raced from her toes until her scalp tingled. “I remember enough to know you’re nothing like him.”

  “In some ways—”

  “In no way.” Shayne smoothed his tie. “You’re going to be a great father. One who loves his child and absolutely adores their mother.”

  He kissed her forehead. “That, sister dear, is the God’s honest truth.”

  Shayne kissed his cheek. “Now dontcha think you should be dancing with that sweet wife of yours?”

  In unison they looked over to where Frankie stood all by herself. Her hands covered her belly. Her small smile seemed contented, private.

  She pushed her brother lightly. “Go to her. I’m all right.”

  “We’ll take Matt home tonight.”

  Her heart did a flip-flop. “Thank you.”

  X started toward Frankie. Shayne knew the moment her eyes flicked up and caught his. His stride changed, became more predator than athlete. She changed too. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. Her chest rose and fell with her breaths.

  In that moment an overwhelming sense of dread heated Shayne. It wrapped around her, suffocated her. If history had taught her anything it was that a person could have too much of a good thing. Too happy. Too lucky. Too…much. And the Xavier family had definitely been given a lot of happy lately.

  Shayne just prayed they weren’t nearing their quota.

  ***

  “I’m going home with X and Frankie tonight.” Statement, not question.

  Ricky sank down onto a bench in the hallway, just outside the banquet room. “You don’t have to.”

  Matt laughed. “Yeah, I do.”

  Ricky shouldn’t feel embarrassed thinking about making love to his wife, but sitting here talking about the whys of Matt’s relocation for the night, sweat broke out in his pits. “You haven’t heard—”

  “No!” Matt groaned, shook his head. “Oh, man! Don’t take me there. I just thought you guys would like some time—” He made a gagging noise. “Seriously, dude. I kinda hate you right now.”

  He shuddered, jumped to his feet and paced.

  Ricky knew he shouldn’t find the kid’s gross-out funny, but damn if he didn’t want to bust a gut. He chuckled a bit, sobering when Matt plopped down next to him again.

  “I’ve been thinking.”

  “You gotta be careful with that.”

  Unamused, Matt rolled his eyes. “I’m being serious. I want to talk to you man to man.”

  Well, shit. Ricky nodded, wondering which topic would come up next. Obviously it wouldn’t be sex. Thank, God! “Okay. Man to man.”

  Matt bit his lip, wrung his hands, smoothed his palms on his rented pants. “So, um, I’ve been thinking.” He took a deep breath, then puffed out his chest. “You’re married to my mom now.”

  When he didn’t continue right away, Ricky supplied a, “Yeah.”

  “And that makes you her husband.”

  “Ah, yeah.” Thank you, Captain Obvious.

  Another deep breath. The vein in the kid’s neck vibrated with his racing pulse. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Dontcha think you should be my dad?”

  Relief, warm and encompassing, wrapped around him. “I already am.”

  Matt shook his head. “No, I mean, I want you to adopt me.”

  Tears pierced his macho. He didn’t know what to say, wasn’t sure he could have found his voice if his brain suddenly spewed sonnets.

  Without looking at him, Matt sat up straight, prepared to stand. “Never mind. It was a stupid idea.”

  Snapping a hand out, he clamped onto Matt’s wrist and put the kid back in his seat. “Look at me.”

  Matt’s chin quivered with stubborn pride. He pursed his lips, then lifted narrowed eyes to look at him. Ricky watched the bitterness drain out of the boy. First his face softened, his shoulders slumped, his torso released a great sigh.

  Ricky put his hand on the adolescent shoulder and squeezed gently. “I married your mom. And that makes you my son.” His voice cracked and he clear
ed his throat.

  Matt’s eyes glistened and his chin shook.

  “I would love to adopt you.”

  Matt threw his arms around Ricky’s neck. He’d never been happier not to be able to breathe. He hugged his son.

  Matt jumped to his feet and, flat-footed, shot up to touch the ten-foot ceiling. “Once it’s all said and done would it be okay if I changed my name to Santiago?”

  Those damn tears plowed into him again. “Yeah, I think that’d be okay.”

  21

  “So how do we make that happen?” Shayne held the phone against her ear with her shoulder.

  Megan’s quiet, “I’m not really sure,” didn’t fill Shayne with a whole ‘lotta warm-and-fuzzies.

  “It should be easy, right?” Shayne twisted her finger around a lock of hair. “There’s no father on the birth certificate, so easy-peasy, we add one.”

  “Easy-peasy is not a term we use a lot when it comes to law.” Papers shifted and keys clicked on a keyboard. “I’m not really familiar with family law. It’d be best for you to deal with another attorney.”

  Shayne frowned. “I don’t want some idiot I don’t know handling this. I want it done as quickly and as easily as possible.”

  “Lemme put you on hold for a second.”

  The happy-go-lucky, elevator tunes made Shayne mental. She paced around their bed, out into the family room, through the kitchen. Opened the fridge. They needed milk. Closed it. Walked into the pantry. They were out of cereal. She stalked into the living room, rearranged a picture fra-…

  “Shayne? Are you there?”

  “Y- yeah.” She nearly dropped the phone getting it back up to her ear. “I’m here.”

  “Okay, I’m putting you on speaker.” A beep sounded. “Are you there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Scott McCafree is here. He’s agreed to talk to you.”

  “Hi, Shayne.”

  “He knows more about this kind of thing. I’ve explained a little about your situation. He can help us find the best course of action.”

  “Okay.” Shayne didn’t sound any more onboard than she felt.

  “It’s my understanding,” Scott said, “there is no father listed on the birth certificate.”

  “Right.”

  “Do you know who the father is?”

  Defensive fury raged. “Why does that matter?”

  “It matters.” Damn Megan and her come-in-off-the-ledge voice.

  “I’d rather not—”

  Scott cleared his throat. “Okay, here are your two options. One, you publish a notice in the paper. It states your name. Your son’s birthdate and the city of birth.”

  “So it’ll be public knowledge?”

  “Yes.”

  She didn’t like the sound of that. “And then what?”

  “Then we wait.”

  Shayne grimaced. The last thing she wanted to do was wait. Combine that with putting Matt’s paternity in black and white... Yeah, no. “What’s my other option?”

  “Well, if you know who the father is, we can approach him and ask that he voluntarily relinquish his parental rights. If he agrees, he signs a form, gets it notarized and we file it with the court. If everything goes according to plan, all could be said and done in a few weeks.”

  A few weeks, she did like that.

  “And then the adoption?”

  “Well, yes,” Megan chimed in. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, though. The adoption part is, as you put it, easy-peasy. But we have a lot of hurdles before we get to that point.”

  “So all we need is for you to tell us how you want to proceed,” Scott said. The sound of shuffling papers sounded loud and clear through the phone. “Just let me know. Goodbye, Shayne.”

  “Bye.” She heard his footsteps on the hardwood floor in Megan’s office, then the opening and closing of her door.

  A beep. “Okay, you’re off speakerphone. Do you know who the father is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “Yes.” And the only way he would ever get out of there was in a body bag.

  “Shayne, does he know about his son?”

  “No.”

  Megan grunted, a small, feminine snort of disapproval. “How is he going to react if he finds out?”

  “It’s not like he’s exactly the prime candidate for Father-of-the-Year.” Shayne lifted a shoulder even though nobody was around to see it. “He’s in prison. For life. No chance for parole.”

  A sigh blew through the phone. “How long’s he been in prison?”

  “Twelve years.”

  “Is it a coincidence that Matt is twelve?”

  Shayne could tell Megan attempted for casual, gentle, but it’d been so long since she’d been violently assaulted, she no longer needed the caudle. “He’s not in for rape, if that’s what you’re asking. Alex is on death row for a list of crimes so long they didn’t need his status as rapist to lock him away for the rest of his life.”

  “Okay.” Megan paused. “What are you thinking?”

  “I don’t want my son’s name listed in the newspaper.”

  “There’s probably a good chance he won’t see it.”

  “But who else might? No.” Shayne had made up her mind. “I want to keep this as quiet as we can.”

  “You do understand we’re going to have to contact him.”

  “I’ll do it.” As the words came out of her mouth, she wasn’t sure what had possessed her.

  “Shayne.” More with the padded-room voice. “That’s what you’re paying me for.”

  “No, it’s about time I faced my past and put it behind me.”

  ***

  Shit!

  Shit! Shit! Shit!

  And viola! just like she’d predicted, storm clouds!

  Shayne paced in the foyer of her brother’s home. When Frankie had welcomed her inside, she’d frowned at seeing whatever her face said. She’d rushed off to find X and left Shayne alone with her thoughts.

  The kind that involved flame throwers and atomic bombs. Very dangerous idea.

  X came around the corner, concern on his face. “Frankie said you wanted to talk to me.”

  “Both of you actually.” She did her best to come up with a smile. “If you have time.”

  “Of course.” Frankie waved a hand toward the kitchen. “Come on, I’ll get us a snack.”

  Shayne wasn’t really in the mood for a snack. In fact, her stomach twisted and turned so badly, keeping anything in her belly didn’t seem plausible. She followed her brother and his wife, taking a seat at the wide oak table. X sat directly across from her and Frankie, without cracking the fridge, carefully sank down next to him.

  “What’s up?” He reached forward and snagged an apple out of the bowl in the middle of the table.

  “I need your help.”

  He took a hunk out of the apple, chewing slowly. His hazel eyes interrogated her. His jaw worked, as did his throat. “What kind of help do you need?”

  “Ricky wants to adopt Matt.”

  He nodded. “And you want me to help you stop him.”

  “No!” She leaned forward. “I want Ricky to be Matt’s legal father. So does Matt.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  In for a penny… “His biological father.”

  Frankie looked down into her lap. X didn’t say a word, just kept working on the Washington State’s best. He licked his lips, stood and walked over to the sink. He dumped the core in the trash and turned on the water. After cupping some in his hand, he rubbed at his mouth. He returned and sat back down.

  “Let me get this right; you need me to help you with Matt’s biological father to clear the way for Ricky to adopt him?”

  “Yes.”

  He jammed his lips together, his nostrils flared. “And why exactly aren’t you asking your husband for help?”

  She should have known her brother would ask the question. She would have if roles were reversed.

  �
��I don’t want him to know.”

  “How frickin’ convenient.”

  Frankie put her hand on Xavier’s arm, her fingers tightening. “Ricky loves you. I’m sure he’d—”

  “I was raped.”

  Time stopped. Even the air molecules ceased their bump and grind. Well, except for the murderous glare in her brother’s eyes and the hop-skip-and-jump of his jaw. Then his fingers curled into fists.

  Frankie’s voice soothed—all of them. “What do you need from us?”

  She went through the whole explanation of getting the letter signed. “…and I’d like you to go with me.” She purposely left it open because, sitting with her brother now, she wasn’t sure taking him was the best idea.

  Frankie smiled. “I’ll go.”

  “Like hell you will!” X slammed his fist into the table. “I don’t want either of you two in the same state as that sonofabitch.”

  “I’m going with or without you,” Shayne said.

  X scrubbed his face. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” He heaved a breath out through rounded lips. “I don’t like not tellin’ Santiago. He needs to know.”

  She had to get him to understand telling Ricky was not an option. Ever.

  “Look down deep, brother dear. Grab hold of that rage you got clawing around in your gut, take a long eval.” As his face tightened, she tipped her chin. “Now imagine it happened to Frankie.”

  He stood so fast the heavy wooden chair flipped back and banged to the floor. He stomped over to the sink, picked up the folded dishrag, wadded it in his hand, and cocked his arm back. The rag met the porcelain. He braced himself against the counter on stiff arms. He dropped his head as though it were too heavy to hold up. His chest expanded with his heaving breaths.

  Although it happened in a quick succession of flash frames, X’s palpable rage filled the room, expanding until it occupied every inch.

  Frankie quietly got out of her chair, crossed the room and rubbed his back. He shook his head. She leaned forward to whisper something in his ear. Taking her hand in his, he came back to the table and, after righting his chair, sat down again.

 

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