Checkmate With Bishop: A Hellions MC Novel

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  “I’ll get Stephenson to stop it, to change it.”

  I couldn’t help my sigh and I turned my head away to escape the pain that was etched on Stan’s face. I sat down in the chair opposite him and placed my hands on the table. “Okay. You do that. But Stan?” I leaned towards him because I really needed him to hear me. “What’s to say you won’t change your mind again?”

  Stan shut his mouth with an audible click and stared at me before a muscle in his cheek began to flex.

  “Like I said, I want to work with you which is one reason I bowed out of dinner. I think you spending time with J.R. is a good idea and hope that as you get to know him and vice versa, that sharing him will become easier for us both.” And I figured that it was finally time for me to take the next step in trying to find peace between us. “Actually, there are things I have to do tomorrow afternoon too so if you want to take him again, I’d be okay with that.”

  Stan sat back and blinked at me in surprise before a one-sided grin began. I didn’t want it to change but I needed to get the rest out before his expectations got too high. “But it’s just you and him. No Hellions and by that I also mean no going to the compound.”

  The corner of his mouth that had been quirked dropped a bit.

  “That’s my number one rule, Stan, and nonnegotiable. I don’t want J.R. around the club in any way shape or form. If we can get that understood, then I don’t have any problems with the two of you spending time together.”

  We shared a long look.

  “Okay,” Bishop finally replied but I could tell he didn’t like my restriction in the least.

  *.*.*.*.*

  Bishop watched her as stood up from the table, snagging her cup and taking it into the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “What you having?”

  “Just some chamomile tea with honey.”

  His mind went over the list of acceptable drinks on his new diet plan and made his decision. “Sounds good.”

  “Since when did you start drinking tea, Stan?” Her voice was light, teasing as she pulled a second cup out, filled it with water and set it in the microwave to heat.

  But he didn’t want to shoot the shit about his dietary restrictions, just then noticing a spiral edged notebook and pen that had been shoved off to the side of the table. “Notes, babe?” Somehow Dory making fucking notes, setting their shit to paper bothered him. A lot.

  Although it could have been the residual of her demand that J.R. couldn’t be around the club. A non-negotiable demand.

  “I just thought maybe you and I could work a few things out before I go see Cranston tomorrow.” Her chin pointed at the notebook as she pulled out teabags from a box. “I mean if you’re going to get Stephenson to change things, maybe we could have a plan in place before this goes any further.”

  As ideas went, it was a good one. Would find both of them having their say, working things out with each other instead of having their lawyers fucking going toe-to-toe in court. He read a couple of the items she had listed and had to admit that it seemed like she had thought things through pretty well.

  Dory put his cup down next to his hand along with the honey and a spoon. “I meant what I said, that I’m willing to share J.R. but I think we need to spell out the particulars.”

  And for the next couple of hours, that’s what they did, talking through all the items she’d listed.

  “Still a moot point, babe, if we’re living right next to each other,” Bishop mumbled when they went back through their proposed visitation schedule. Which made her frown, the first bit of emotion she’d shown beyond the business-like one she’d been working to keep front and center. “You’ve gotta make a decision on where you two are gonna plant it.”

  She sat back in her chair and glanced at him before turning her face away. “I’m don’t want to be living in your back pocket, Stan. Which I would be if I decide to rent the Henderson place.” She folded her arms on the tabletop and shook her head. “How would we lead separate lives living so close?”

  “Separate lives?” Bishop’s heart skipped a beat but before he allowed himself to get pissed, he wanted to fully understand what she meant. “Kinda hard to have separate fucking lives, babe, if we’re sharing a kid.”

  “I mean, you know, things like dating and stuff.”

  “Dating?” He hated how he was parroting her but the idea she’d be actively seeking and enjoying the company of other men set his teeth on edge. Had she missed something in their doings of the night before? Of how he’d unequivocally re-staked his claim with her three fucking times?

  She stared at him, her face holding a slight frown that wasn’t just one of confusion. “Well, I don’t know about you but I’m not planning on becoming a nun until J.R.’s in college.”

  “So you’re gonna find yourself a boyfriend?”

  Giving him a look that was of the ‘no-duh’ variety, one that found him grinding his teeth together, she shrugged. “What am I supposed to do? Sit around, twiddling my thumbs for the next five or so years?”

  Questions he couldn’t answer because Bishop knew, fucking knew beyond a shadow of a doubt if he opened his mouth, it’d be to start chewing her shapely, rounded ass out. So he shook his head, more to clear it than to offer a negative response. But she obviously didn’t understand.

  Or chose not to.

  “Good. So you can see that having us live right next door probably wouldn’t be the smartest play. That way you can do your thing and I can do mine without having to sneak our lovers in and out without rubbing each other’s nose in it.”

  Lovers? Dory was already fucking planning to have lovers?

  “Plus, I don’t think it would be smart to have J.R. witness all the different Honeys leaving your place in the mornings. I mean, I don’t want him to grow up a prude, but I’d like him to have a good moral compass when it comes to sex and I think it’s up to us to set the example.” Honest to Christ, she was gonna make his fucking head explode with the shit coming out of her mouth. First by letting him know that she would be screwing multiple men whenever she’d have the opportunity and then basically calling him a man-whore if he wanted to get some himself! “Don’t you agree, Stan?”

  Oh fuck to the no! He absolutely, totally and in no fucking way agreed with anything she was fucking spouting! And to do it in such a level, calm voice? The bitch needed to take it fucking down a notch if she wanted to talk that sort of shit through.

  So he let loose, knowing in advance that it was gonna be on the wrong side of rough. “You wanna share that pussy around town? Ain’t no skin off my nose, but you won’t be spreading those beautiful thighs in that particular house! Go to his place or get a room, but J.R. better not know about it.” He wanted to include himself in the list of who didn’t need to know but didn’t think he was ready to play that specific card at that moment. “I’ll make sure to keep my fuck bunnies at the compound and away from our kid. Is that gonna work for you?”

  “Why are you so mad, Stan?” Christ! She was a piece of work! “I was just pointing out that…”

  “Shut it, mama,” he warned. “Don’t say another goddamn word or I’m gonna lose my shit.”

  She stared at him like he’d lost his mind. There were a few moments of quiet but it was the thick kind, one that seemed to need more than a while to settle. “I wasn’t trying to make you angry, Stan. Really.” Taking in a deep, deep breath and sitting back, she seemed to be trying to remain calm. “I just want to get it all out in the open before we make any decisions.”

  “Talking about you fucking somebody else, being filled with another fucker’s cock ain’t the way to do it, Dore.” He knew he was giving her ammunition, giving her a head’s up about the feelings he had for her but it couldn’t be helped.

  It was her turn to blink and she did it hard and deep. “That wasn’t what I said.”

  “That’s what you meant though, right? Just said it with a bunch of frilly-ass, pretty words but the idea’s the same.”r />
  He watched her throat move as she swallowed thickly. “Actually, I signed a six-month lease a two bedroom house today.”

  “What?” His voice still held a harshness of the anger that was just starting to dissipate.

  She raised her gaze to his and sat even more upright in her chair. “It’s only two blocks from your place. Close enough so J.R. can go back and forth but not so close that we’re up in each other’s stuff.” Her tone was one that, to Bishop’s ears, sounded cautious and the fact that she appeared worried about his reaction had his heart skipping another beat.

  And even though he knew he should’ve counted it as a win, should’ve been smiling at getting his way in having her stick around and start settling into Missoula, Bishop found he couldn’t.

  Not when she had made it more than motherfucking clear that while he was welcome in J.R.’s life, she didn’t want him in hers.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  “I don’t get it,” J.R. mumbled, his forehead crinkling as he tried to work out my explanation. “You say he’s my dad, he says he is and everybody knows I am just from the way I look. So why do we have to do this test?”

  I kept my smile to myself because my boy-man had a point but he was still too young to realize the ways of the world. “Because the attorneys will need it when our case goes to court.”

  “And we have to go to court because…?” Ah, we were finally getting to the root of the questions he’d been zinging my way the entire time since we left the motel to go to the clinic.

  “Because your dad and I don’t want to have any misunderstandings when it comes to you. There’s a lot of things that are based on parentage, baby. Inheritance, medical issues and all sorts of stuff I’m probably not aware of.” Okay, my answer was total bullshit because I was making it up as I went, but lucky for me, it seemed to satisfy J.R.

  Turning the conversation on its head, my kid went a new direction. “You guys talked for a long time last night.”

  Even though I felt his question down to my toes, to the point it had me readjusting my grip on the steering wheel, I tried to keep it breezy. “Did we keep you up?”

  His head turned to his side window. “Not as much as the night before.”

  Wait…what?

  I coughed as, for some unearthly reason, I tried to breathe my spittle instead of swallowing it.

  He’d heard us?

  “Erm…what do you mean?” I was going for the ‘dumb mom’ play as I carefully checked the side mirrors, even the rearview one, while I switched on my indicator to turn left into the clinic’s parking lot. My mind was racing, trying to remember if I’d screamed aloud or had only heard that sound in my head as Stan had given me my bliss over and over again in the night before last.

  “Just that you were pretty loud when you were in the bathroom getting sick and Bishop was trying to get you into bed.”

  My shoulders sagged in relief as I pulled into a space.

  “And then again when the two of you had your bed thumping against my wall.”

  Holy shit! He had heard us!

  “Well…” I started, carefully unlatching my seatbelt and wishing I still had long hair that could’ve hidden the flames I knew were moving up my face.

  “No worries, Moms,” my kid uttered, as he opened his door. “My parents have a thing for each other.” He leaned back into the car where I was sitting as still as a statue. “It’s all good.”

  Shit, shit, shit!

  “You coming or not?” I didn’t even want to look at him, embarrassed down to my core. I’d always been so careful when it came to anything to do with J.R. And that had included keeping my sex life out of the arena of our little family of two. That he’d heard me and Stan doing our thing…well. I had absolutely no freaking clue on how to handle it.

  Without a word, I got out of the car, finding I was being overly fussy in straightening my clothes, turning on the car’s security system, doing anything and everything I could to give myself the space in order to get myself together. And in glancing up, I saw J.R. was giving me just that by walking in front of me, cavalierly holding the door open and allowing me entry into the medical center in front of him.

  It didn’t help when I saw Stan’s scrawl on the visitor log-in form which announced he’d already been in and had gone.

  “It’ll be just a few minutes,” the receptionist told us. “Just have a seat and I’ll call you when the lab is ready for him.”

  “But we had an appointment,” I sputtered.

  “And we had one of our senior’s pass out so we’re a little backed up at the moment.” Her face held a professional smile but her eyes were cold and assessing. Was I going to be one of those kind of people who would muck up the calm, efficient vibe she’d worked to create? “Just have a seat and I’ll let you know when Mr. Bastian, Junior, can go back for his blood test.”

  “Blood test?” My boy turned wide eyes to me and I caught the quaver in his voice. “You said it would be a swab thing on the inside of my mouth.”

  And I had, since that was all I knew from the different talk shows that played in the shop when I was working my hair mojo. “Can you tell us how long?”

  “Maybe fifteen? Twenty? I can’t see it going longer than that.” Luckily her eyes had warmed or I would’ve been even more seriously worked up than I was.

  “Thanks,” I managed to mumble as I turned to snag J.R.’s arm and stepped away. “I need to make a phone call but I’ll be quick, honey. Can you hang tight for a while?”

  I saw my kid drag his palms down his thighs as he eyed me warily. “Okay,” he finally sighed. “When you talk to him, ask Bishop if he can come down here, okay?”

  How did J.R. know? How had he figured out I needed to call his dad? “Yeah, baby. I will,” was all I could promise as I adjusted my purse back up on my shoulder and turned to the glass entryway.

  “What’s doin’, babe?” was how my ex-husband answered his phone on the first ring.

  Because I didn’t have time to arrange my thoughts beforehand, my mouth started running as soon as he stopped speaking. “We’re at the clinic and they told us that the test is one of blood, not just saliva. J.R. is beginning to freak out. As in asking-for-you-to-come-down-here kind of freak.”

  There was dead silence and after a couple of heartbeats, I pulled the phone away to see if we were still connected.

  We were.

  But Stan didn’t say anything.

  “Plus, he informed me that what we got up to the other night woke him up!”

  Still nothing.

  So, I tried explaining. “You know, the stuff we did in the middle of the night? He said he could hear the thumping of the headboard.” My words were offered on a rush.

  Complete silence, not even a rustle or the soft click of keys were heard.

  “Stan? Are you there?”

  “Yeah, babe,” he replied and it was just at that moment I realized his voice held some kind of electronic buzz just as I heard motorcycle pipes of a bike just entering the driveway of the medical center. “Can you see me yet?”

  My heart sputtered. How had he gotten there so fast? “Yeah, I see you.” Resolved to get a grip and act as a grown-up instead of the freaked out wimp that had somehow overtaken me, I breathed in a deep breath that I refused to call a sigh. “I’ll meet you inside.”

  “Yep.” That was all I got before I turned on my heel and tucking my phone away into its pocket of my big bag, made my way back inside. As soon as I cleared the door I saw J.R.’s wide, frightened eyes come to me. I did a dual thumbs up as I walked to my kid who seemed to be almost visibly shaking.

  “Is he coming, Mom?”

  I eased into the seat next to him, automatically reaching across his shoulders to pull him against me. “He’s already here, buddy.”

  “Shit, really?” His voice came from around my collarbone as my kid started to struggle against the grip I had on him. And then I heard it, heard such a note in my boy-man’s voice that my heart tipped over. �
�Hey, Dad.”

  “Little man,” was the reply and the connecting chairs moved as Stan dropped into the seat on the other side of our boy, which found J.R. twisting out of my arms only to throw himself into his father’s. I tried to watch, I really did. But I kept having to blink to clear the view from the tears that wanted to fill my eyes at the sight of their two dark heads coming together, of how Stan’s large frame bent over a much smaller one and of how his large arms moved to hold our son as close as possible. “Heard you were asking for me.”

  “They want to take my blood, Dad.”

  “Took mine earlier, so we’ll be sporting the same arm shit, yeah?” God, was that Stan’s voice speaking so tender? “It’s a pinch, J.R. That’s all it is, just a quick pinch, a couple of minutes and you’re done.”

  J.R. opened his mouth to reply, his eyes still closed as he clung to the man who’d planted his seed in me but, just as he was about to speak, we heard, “Stanley Bastian, Junior, please report to the lab. Stanley Bastian, Junior.”

  I reached out a hand, fumbling to find a space on the skinny back that didn’t contain one of Stan’s large fingers. “That’s you, baby.”

  All three of us rose as one and I led the way to the young, pretty Latina who was standing outside of the room notated as the ‘Laboratory’. To my mind, the way she had unzipped the top of her scrubs to showcase a good two, maybe two and a half inches of cleavage wasn’t very professional. Nor were her flashing, dancing heavily eye-linered eyes and overly-glossed, full mouth.

  “Senor Bash-tee-an,” she crooned to J.R., giving his name a Latin flare and a look I decided was entirely nonprofessional as her dark, exotic eyes did their roam over his still boyish physique. One that lingered on my boy-man’s face, his shoulders before sliding southward. “Are you ready?”

  J.R. didn’t spare either me or his father a glance as he stepped up to her, closer than I found socially acceptable. “I’m a little nervous,” he said, but he spoke with such élan that anyone else would’ve missed the quaver in his voice. “It’s my first time.”