by Robin Kaye
“You really know nothing about your brother, do you?”
“I—”
“That’s a rhetorical question. Storm, you and Slater haven’t seen much of each other for ten years. You might want to spend some time getting to know him again before you start making blanket declarations. People change. Heck, just look at you.”
“People don’t change that much. He buries himself in his computers for a reason, Rocki. He doesn’t feel things like other people do. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“And don’t say I listened to you. But don’t worry. You’ll see. Slater’s going to prove you wrong.”
“I only want the best for all of you. For your sake, I hope to God you’re right.”
“I am. I’m sure of it. We should be home as soon as Jackson’s okay. Tell Pete I’ll call and let him know when to expect us.” She didn’t wait for a reply before she ended the call.
• • •
Slater hit the driveway at a dead run. The pounding of his feet matched time with the pounding of his heart. He didn’t know if he was running toward something or away.
Nicki could be his daughter. If that wasn’t mind blowing enough, his own brother thought that he was capable of mistreating a child. His child. He thought he’d been angry before, but shit. From what Storm said, everyone knew since the day he came home, and he was just finding out about it now? Only because Storm stuck his size twelve foot in his mouth. Had Rocki known too?
He had to release some of this anger Storm had stirred up or he’d explode. Just the thought of his brother had him punching the air. He’d never allowed himself to feel the anger he felt at that moment.
Storm was wrong about him having a computerlike brain. Just because he kept a lid on his feelings and emotions didn’t mean he didn’t have them. He had so many emotions and feelings running through him, he was swamped by them. Especially if you took into account the amount of anger he felt. Yeah, right now, anger was a biggie and that’s what scared him.
He remembered the way Rocki looked at him when he’d yelled at Storm when she was on his lap. He saw fear in her eyes and the thought that she might be afraid of him sliced him to his core.
It didn’t help that his own brother thought he was capable of mistreating Nicki. What the hell was that about?
Sure, maybe Storm thought he was unfeeling, but Slater had never once been abusive. He’d never hurt anyone who hadn’t asked for it and then only if they left him no choice. It took a lot to make him use force. He’d taken down a guy who was attempting to rape one of the locals just off base. Even that night he was in control. He froze as soon as he knocked the guy out. He’d made sure the girl was okay, offered to call the police, and put her in a cab home when she’d refused to involve the cops. Hell, he’d even picked up the petty officer and carried him to the infirmary to make sure he was okay—and to file a report.
The one time he remembered losing his temper had scared him enough to make sure he never did it again. He’d been nine or ten, and had gone after one of his foster fathers when the man took a strap to his own daughter. No one deserved to be whipped like that. Slater had broken the guy’s nose and it took two of the neighbors to pull him off the man. Social services had Slater out of the house before the end of the day.
That feeling of being out of control, of wanting to hurt someone badly enough to ensure that the man would never hurt anyone ever again, scared the life out of him and that’s exactly what he felt when Storm accused him of mistreating Nicki. If the two of them had been face-to-face instead of on the phone, Slater didn’t know what he’d have done—and that’s what scared him most of all.
He might not know much about his past, but he knew the man’s face he saw in the fragment of memory used anger like a weapon. He fed on it. He’d embraced it. He was a monster. And Slater knew he was somehow connected to that anger. The man’s face might have looked like something out of a horror movie, but the thing that scared him the most was that the man stared at him through eyes so like his own. The eyes he saw every day when he looked in the mirror.
Tears ran down his face, either from the cold or from the anger—or hell, maybe he was just crying and didn’t know it. Right now, nothing would surprise him.
He stopped, wiped his face on his shirt, braced his hands on his knees, and tried to catch his breath. He wasn’t sure how far he’d run or how long he’d been gone but knew Rocki must be worried. Shit, how the hell was he supposed to explain this to Rocki when he didn’t know what to make of it himself?
He jogged back toward the house amazed at how far he’d run. By the time he made it up the hill, his calves were screaming. He got to the door, stretched out his quads and calves and stood there trying to come up with something to tell Rocki. When the cold froze his sweat-soaked shirt he knew he’d have to wing it.
Slater pushed the door open and caught Rocki, who launched herself at him.
“Are you okay?”
“No.” He was gross and sweaty and cold but he didn’t have the strength to put her down. He drank in her scent, and just the feel of her in his arms calmed him. “But if anyone is going to teach Nicki to ride a bike, it’s going to be me. I’m her father. I’ll teach her, dammit.” Just the thought of one of his brothers teaching Nicki to ride a bike, and his blood pressure shot through the roof. The beating of his heart pounded in his ears.
“What?” Rocki’s blue eyes were wider than he’d ever seen. “Did you just say that Nicki’s your daughter?”
Shit. He ran his hand through his hair and led her back to the living room. “I didn’t know.” He paced to the window, turned on the frozen landscape, and made his way back. Rocki stared at him the entire time. He saw no judgment in her eyes, just patience. She looked as if she’d wait forever for him to answer. “I didn’t know. Storm just told me.”
“You’re Nicki’s father.” It wasn’t a question—it was a statement. She tried it on for size and nodded as if she agreed with the fit.
He certainly didn’t. He could relate to the wild mustangs he’d seen out west. They would capture part of the herd, break them, and sell them. He’d heard mustangs made great mounts once they accepted the saddle—but the first time they put one on, it was scary. He’d always felt bad for the horse. It couldn’t be easy to go from completely free to saddled. Giving up freedom for three squares and a nice stall didn’t seem like a good trade to him. “I don’t know if Nicki’s mine or not. Everyone seems to think she is. It’s a possibility—Marisa and I hooked up once. When she dumped Nicki off at Pop’s, Marisa said Nicki was his granddaughter.”
Rocki slipped her arms around his waist and leaned in, holding on, her head tucked beneath his chin. “What are you going to do?”
“When I get home, I’m going to take a paternity test. And if Pop’s right—” He shook his head. “I don’t know, Rocki. I don’t know how to be a dad. I can’t remember my father—there’s no picture, no memory, no nothing”
“You had Pete.”
“I was half grown when Pop took me in.”
“He’s still your father. Look at you. You’re amazing.”
Slater laughed. “Yeah, I’m so freakin’ amazing my parents dumped me in the foster system. Hell, I don’t even know why. I don’t remember them.”
“If you don’t remember then how do you know it was something you did? Have you ever asked Pete?”
He shook his head. Every time he thought about it he was paralyzed with fear—which was something he wasn’t about to tell Rocki. She teased him about being a superhero. Little did she know that he was nothing but a coward.
“It’s not as if she’s a baby. Nicki’s ten.”
“Ten and a half. Nicki’s a little girl. She deserves someone who knows how to be a dad.”
“Parents aren’t parents until they have kids, Slater. It’s on-the-job-training. You learn as you go. Nicki’s a great ki
d. She’s easy to love.”
“I know that. It’s not Nicki. It’s me. I’ve never wanted to have kids. I don’t want to screw anyone up like I am. I’m not father material. The last thing I expected when I went home was to find out that I’m a single dad with a ten-year-old daughter.”
He raked his hands through his hair. “I’m supposed to leave the country by the first of the year and now I don’t know what the hell is going to happen. I can’t take Nicki to Bahrain. I’ve worked toward this for years, and it’s finally coming together. I’ve been offered a multimillion dollar contract, and now I’m not even sure they’ll want the program if I’m not there to implement it.”
“Slater, it’s a contract. It’s only money. Nicki’s your daughter. Do you have any idea how lucky you are?”
Spoken like a true trust-fund baby. Money is only a problem when you don’t have it, or in his case, when you’ve never had it. He didn’t mention that—it wasn’t as if he didn’t understand where she was coming from—but shit, he’d worked for ten years and everything he’d worked toward was within reach. “Lucky?” Even if he didn’t take the contract into consideration—he knew he could find a job tomorrow if he wanted one—that wasn’t the problem. He was too terrified to feel lucky. “I probably sound like an uncaring bastard, but I hardly know Nicki. I look at her and God, Rocki; she’s still so small. She asks questions I don’t know how to answer, and she needs stuff—stuff I don’t have.”
“Stuff?”
“Emotional stuff, security, a home. Stuff I’ve never had except for my time at Pop’s.”
Rocki pushed him down on the couch, straddled his legs, looked right into his eyes, and then kissed him. It wasn’t an I-want-you’re-body kiss, it was more of a it’s-going-to-be-okay kiss.
Too bad his dick didn’t seem to recognize the difference. Especially when she scooted up to him, her breasts pillowed against his chest, her fingers combing through his hair. As if they had a mind of their own, his hands went straight to her ass and tugged her tighter against him.
“Slater, listen to me. You’re everything in a dad that Nicki could ever want. If you’re afraid you won’t be able to give her all she needs, it means you care enough to try. Look, my parents were wonderful, but they weren’t perfect. No one expects that, not even Nicki. If you’re Nicki’s father, you’ll be a wonderful dad. I know you will. And besides, everyone is involved in Nicki’s life; you’re not in this alone. It takes a village, and you have a pretty amazing one. You have Pete, Storm and Bree, Logan and Skye, Patrice and Frankie, and you have me.”
His eyes locked on hers and held on like a lifeline. “I have you? Still?”
“Did you think this would change how I feel about you? I love Nicki. I love you.”
“I love you too. But right now that’s the only thing I’m sure of.”
Rocki nodded. “You need to talk to Pete. You need some time. I understand.”
“Listen.” He looked into her eyes. “I promise we’ll talk about this—just not now. Now I’ve got to get cleaned up so we can take your brother his dinner.”
“Okay.” She still looked worried but he was glad she didn’t push. “I can go to the hospital by myself if you want.”
Man, he wished he could take her up on that, but it would be a cop-out. “No, it’s fine. Why don’t you call in the order for pickup. Give me ten minutes.” He gave her another kiss and forced himself to set her down. If he brought her upstairs, there was no telling how long it would take him to get cleaned up.
“What do you want?”
Her laid out in a bed, but that wasn’t going to happen. “Whatever you’re having is fine.” He’d be lucky if he could eat. His gut felt as if someone had used him for kickboxing practice.
He felt better after a minute under the scorching water—that was all the time he had. He pulled on some clothes, hoping he didn’t look as trashed as he felt, ran a comb through his hair, and headed back down.
Rocki tossed him his coat. “Want me to drive?”
“Do you have a license?”
“No, but I know all the cops.”
“Yeah, I think not. Thanks though.”
“So I let my license lapse—it’s not as if I’m not a good driver.”
“I’m sure you are. Renew your license and then you can be the chauffeur.”
She shot him a sexy smile and laughed. “A chauffeur with benefits?”
“Sweetheart, you can be whatever you want. You’d sure look cute in the hat.”
CHAPTER 17
Jackson was relieved to be out of ICU. He’d hated that place. The pain in his head was lessening. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was no longer hooked up to all those damn noise machines or just because the lighting was better. Either way, he was thankful for walls that weren’t made of glass and the fact he could actually get up and take a piss without help. He learned early on, no matter how cute the nurse—and damn, there were some really cute nurses—there were just some things a man liked to do without an audience.
Rocki pushed through the door without knocking—not that Rocki ever knocked. She’d barreled through more doors than a SWAT team, and with more force. “I hear you have one less hole in your head.”
The scent of grease hit his nostrils and his mouth watered. “Yeah.” He rubbed his hand over the gauze-covered wound.
“Did it hurt?”
“Not as much as I thought it would, it just felt really strange.”
Rocki’s “friend” Slater didn’t say anything but he didn’t need to. He looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but there. Jackson could definitely relate. He just wasn’t sure why. What did the guy have to be nervous about?
Rocki carried a bag already riddled with grease spots. “I don’t know how you live on a steady diet of this stuff. It’s amazing your arteries aren’t clogged.” She put one on the rolling table beside his notebook computer, reached over, and kissed his cheek.
She looked as if she hadn’t slept in a week. There was bruising under her eyes and her normally pink skin was pale. Shit, he’d known what she’d gone through when they’d lost their parents. It looked as if for her, the last few days had been a recurring nightmare. “Did you get me bacon cheese fries and onion rings?”
“Yes, and a burger with the works. Hold the mayo.”
“I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”
She passed a bag to Slater. “Jax, you remember Slater.”
How could he forget? “Your friend, right?”
Rocki snatched the bag of food right off the table, almost taking out his computer. She’d always been too quick for him. “Jackson, if you don’t behave, I swear this is going right in the garbage and you can eat whatever the nurses want to serve you.”
Shit, all they’d given him was clear fluids for hours, and then they gave him what would be considered gruel and soft foods. God, all he wanted was a juicy burger and french fries.
Slater cleared his throat, and Jackson looked over to where he’d pulled a chair. “Give the man back his food, Rocki.”
Maybe Teddy was right about this guy after all. No one Jax had ever known had the guts to tell Rocki what to do. If nothing else, this little visit would be entertaining. It had been a while since he witnessed Rocki let someone have it. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”
“Ours. Depriving him of a good meal isn’t going to make him any happier about his sister going out with a guy like me.”
Jax had to hand it to Slater; at least he knew where he stood.
“A guy like you?” Rocki shoved the bag back into Jax’s hands and shot him a warning look before turning her attention back to Slater. “I happen to think you’re amazing, and my bullheaded brother is just going to have to get used to it.”
“Hey, I’m not deaf, Rocki.” He pulled a fry out of the bag, and gave Slater a nod while wondering what he’
d drugged Rocki with. “Thanks, man. I was worried there for a minute.”
“I would be too if I were you.”
So maybe this guy did have his Rocki’s number after all. Just the thought of it brought a smile to his face. Rocki ran roughshod over every guy who seemed at all interested in her and once she conquered him, she lost all interest.
“I don’t know who to smack first. But at least you’re getting along. Why you have to bond while ganging up on me is the question.”
“So, Jackson.” Slater ignored Rocki, which worked for him. “Are you on any pain meds?”
“No, man. They took me off the juice yesterday. Today it’s nothing but Tylenol.”
Slater reached into his pocket and pulled out a beer. “You want one?”
Okay, so maybe Slater wasn’t a complete waste, but Jackson still didn’t like the way he looked at Rocki.
Rocki grabbed the beer out of Slater’s hand. Damn, foiled again. “No, he doesn’t want a beer.”
Jax sat up straighter and the pain in his head made itself known. “Like hell I don’t.”
Slater hadn’t even fought her over the beer. Jax started to rethink his admiration. Still, there was something in his eyes. Rocki turned and Slater shot him a warning look. “Think fast.” He pulled out another beer and let it fly.
Good thing he’d played catcher all through high school and college. The beer connected with his hand—he still had it. “Thanks. Maybe you’re not so bad after all.”
Rocki just shook her head and put her hands on her hips, giving Slater what he was sure was her stink-eye. “Did you think to bring me one?”
Slater smiled, “Of course, sweetheart. I always think of you.” He slid another out of a pocket and twisted off the top. “Man, I love this jacket.”
Jackson had to concur; he had one just like it. “You ride?”
“I have an old Harley Sportster I rebuilt.”