Son of a Beard

by Lani Lynn Vale

  He thrust his hands through his hair and took a seat at the table, dropping down so heavily that I wondered if he was sick.

  Was that why he drank so much? Was he dying?

  His next words had me realizing that no, he wasn’t dying. Though, he may soon wish he was dead.

  “I slept with Destiny a week and a half after y’all broke up, but I didn’t realize that I did until I found out that I had an …STD.”

  I blinked.

  “I’m clean,” I said. “Got checked after I found out she was cheating…why would you think this…”

  He sighed.

  “I’m not sure what or how it happened. I just think it’s fucking comical that I catch crabs around the same time she tells me that she has crabs, and that was a day and a half after she stayed at my house,” he grumbled under his breath. “I don’t even know how it happened. One second I was sleeping, and the next I was having sex. I wasn’t even aware that it wasn’t a dream until...”

  “Until you got crabs,” I supplied.

  Verity sounded like she choked, but I couldn’t be sure without taking my eyes off of Eugene, and I suspected if I showed the least bit of reaction, he might very well flip a switch.

  “And how did they even know that this baby wasn’t Kenneth’s?” I asked, really tired now. Was it acceptable to sleep a solid twenty-four hours? “And why are they here?”

  “I convinced Kenneth that you might be able to help.” He wiped some sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. “She came to my house, drunker than a skunk and high on…something I haven’t been able to identify yet, and spent the night.”

  “And fucked you while you slept…”

  Eugene nodded once.

  “Fuckin’ A. Why’d y’all have to bring me into this bullshit?”

  “Because it was either bring you in, or tell Kenneth that I slept with her…and I know how much you like my face…”

  Verity, who finally chose to stop hiding the fact that she was listening to every single detail, turned and surveyed Eugene’s face.

  “There’s more to it…” Verity added in her two cents.

  “The baby has a genetic anomaly that causes birth defects, and they said that if the baby makes it to term, the baby may need an immediate liver and or kidney transplant.” He licked his lips.

  “Why not just tell them?” she finally asked.

  “Because if I tell them, then I have to tell my brother that I slept with his wife, which will inevitably cause him to beat the shit out of me. It’s bad enough already. I need you to be the buffer,” Eugene admitted reluctantly.

  I licked my lips and turned my gaze to the tabletop.

  “I still don’t understand why you think I can help,” I told my cousin, who was sitting there looking so forlorn that it was sad.

  I was literally sad for the man and what he had to endure.

  But I didn’t know what else I was supposed to do. It wasn’t my kid. Wasn’t my wife nor my girlfriend, and Kenneth wasn’t my brother. He was my cousin…a cousin who I despised.

  So yeah, I couldn’t really see it. And honestly, I felt no sympathy for the two outside.

  The one inside, however, yeah—I didn’t even know what to say to that. You didn’t have to be a genius to figure out that Destiny had taken advantage of him.

  How, I wasn’t sure, but I would be figuring that out.

  “I want you to tell him.”

  It came out so fast, that I had to slow down and think about what he just said.

  “You want me to tell your brother that you slept with his wife, my ex-girlfriend, the woman who cheated on me with him. Do I have that correct?” I asked slowly.

  Verity started to snicker from beside me, and she quickly turned to busy herself at the sink again.

  She was peeling potatoes, and from what I could tell, doing a piss poor job at it since her hands and shoulders were starting to shake.

  I leaned back in my chair to see what she was doing, and frowned when I saw frozen chicken thawing in the sink.

  I didn’t bother to ask her what she was doing, especially since I could hear my cousin’s sniffles across from me.

  I wanted to throw up.

  “You still have crabs?” was the smart thing that came out of my mouth next.

  Eugene gulped.

  “No.” He shook his head. “Thank God.”

  Verity dropped something into the sink.

  I ignored her and continued to stare at my cousin.

  “Are you sure that the kid’s yours?”

  He nodded miserably.

  “Whose else could it be?”

  That was when I laughed.

  ***

  Two hours later, plenty of crying, bitching, moaning and generally bad moods around, my family left—leaving me with one last thing to deal with.

  I stomped into my house, in a much worse mood than I’d been in when I’d left it two hours before, and found myself staring at a meal spread out across my dinner table and no Verity in sight.

  I prowled through the house, and growled her name. “Verity!”

  She didn’t answer, but I knew she was here…somewhere.

  Because her car was still here, and because she’d spent the last two hours silently watching the spectacle on the front porch with a look of glee on her face.

  Though, it didn’t matter if she had left. I would’ve tracked her down.

  Mostly because I wanted to know why the fuck she was wearing a wedding ring on her finger—one that I sure as hell didn’t give her.

  She either got married in the short time since I’d last seen her, or there were some other reasons for her to be wearing it. A reason that I didn’t yet understand.

  “Verity!” I bellowed when I didn’t find her in the bedroom or bathroom, either.

  There was one last place to look, and that was my workshop.

  And as I prowled down the steps and opened the door to my office, I was stunned to see it brimming with shit.

  A lot of shit.

  It hadn’t escaped my attention that she’d moved other shit in, too.

  I’d seen the new couch—and had idly wondered what she’d done with my old one.

  I’d also made note of the new bed, the clothes of hers hanging in the closet, the bras hanging from the shower rod, and the new fucking ugly ass rug on the living room floor.

  The big ass TV, however, was a welcome addition.

  I didn’t often watch TV, but when I did, I’d hated watching it on my television.

  But you used what you had, and I was too cheap to go buy a new one when I could wait a couple of months and get one on sale on Black Friday.

  So I’d ignored the fact that half of my TV was pixelated and shitty, and I hadn’t realized how much I hated it until I’d gotten a brand new one that sat in its place.

  The shop, however, was pushing things.

  Her shit was shoved in there with my shit, and I could tell immediately it wasn’t going to work.

  She was even using my forge!

  “What are you doing?” I bellowed. “Get out!”

  Verity didn’t bother to look over her shoulder at me. Instead, she continued to do something with the glass she had on the end of one of my goddamned pieces of metal tubing—the ones that I used to shape my swords—and stuck it back into the fire.

  “You can’t be here,” I tried for reason. “It’s not safe.”

  “Marriage is a matter of public record,” she said bluntly to me without so much as a flinch. “All he would need to do is run a search on you, and he’ll find my named linked to yours…in marriage.”

  “We’re not married!” I barked, worry making me say it a little more harshly than I would have normally.

  She smiled sympathetically at me.

  “Unfortunately for you, we are,” she said, getting up and emptying her pockets.

  She came up with a folded piece of white computer paper, hand
ing it to me with an apologetic look.

  I opened it and froze, seeing the marriage certificate in all its glory.

  “When…how…where…”

  She started to laugh, then.

  “Vegas, baby,” was her answer. “Apparently, what happens in Vegas, doesn’t always stay in Vegas.”

  My jaw clenched.

  Her eyes studied my angry face.

  “At least I’m not pregnant,” she offered, thinking it’d diffuse the situation.

  But the only thing it did was make my mind go wild with possibilities. If she was pregnant, I’d be ecstatic. At least until I thought about all the ugly possibilities that could happen to a child—and a wife—of mine.

  “We have to get it annulled,” I shook my head.

  “No.”

  “Verity,” I growled, taking a menacing step forward.

  She took one of her own toward me, and then threw herself into my arms.

  “I won’t leave you,” she said. “You could take your name back, but that would only hurt me. And you don’t want to hurt me. That’s what all of this is about, isn’t it? You don’t want me to get hurt.” She leaned forward until her forehead touched mine. “You take your name from me, and that’ll hurt me worse than anything you, or anyone, could ever do to me. It’ll rip my heart out, and leave me bleeding and vulnerable.”

  Chapter 15

  If you love someone, just tell them. Or text them eighteen times. It’s the same thing.

  -Verity’s secret thoughts

  Verity

  I’d been living with my husband—and yes, I still couldn’t believe that I was calling him that, let alone that he actually was—now for a week.

  I’d realized a few things.

  One, he was messy.

  Two, he was bossy.

  Three, he was noisy.

  Four, he was whiney.

  Okay, maybe not that fourth one so much until just this minute.

  “I’m going to work.” He frowned hard at me.

  I idly wondered if that frown of his worked on other people, or if it was only me who was immune to his anger. Maybe it was because I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. Or maybe it was because I could see the excitement in his eyes when I fought with him.

  I could also see the hard column of his cock that was straining the front of his black tactical pants that he wore while he was teaching.

  “I don’t think you…”

  “I’m. Going. To work,” I repeated, much slower this time.

  He sighed. “Fine.”

  My lips pursed.

  “Why’d you give in so easily?” I demanded.

  “Because I knew you were going to go in. I got yesterday out of you, but that was just by the skin of my teeth,” he answered instantly. “Now, I need to tell you about the cameras and the security system. Give you emergency numbers, and a code to use if you feel you’re in trouble and can’t speak.”

  I bit my lip to keep from denying him, knowing he needed this to know I was safe.

  That didn’t make me feel better about being treated like a prisoner by my own husband, though.

  Even if I had brought it upon myself.

  I listened as he droned on and on, even taking my phone at one point to program in not just every member’s number in the Dixie Wardens Alabama Chapter, but also the Benton, Louisiana chapter. A man named Silas, his son named Sebastian. A man named Kettle. Trance. Loki. Cleo. Torren and Sterling.

  There were also a few men from some place in Texas, but he told me not to use them unless I’d exhausted all of the Dixie Warden resources.

  “Okay,” he said, handing me back my phone. “I’ll go get a shower. Is there anything else you need?”

  I bit my lip to keep from calling him crazy, and instead settled on shaking my head.

  I even managed to keep my temper under control…all the way up until he insulted one of my favorite songs by Macklemore.

  “This is the stupidest song I’ve ever heard,” he grumbled.

  “Then close your ears,” I snapped.

  He sighed, long and loud.

  “I’m only doing this for your own good,” he said to me.

  “Why are we in my car, anyway?” I snapped, glaring out the window.

  I knew why.

  If I was insistent on going to work, he was going to be sure that I was virtually stuck there unless I called someone to come get me. And he knew I wouldn’t bother him while I was at work, and he also knew that I wouldn’t be leaving because I’d already been out the week prior.

  So, by taking my car, he would then take it to work after dropping me off at the pub.

  Effectively stranding me there until he was ready to come back and get me.

  “Remember what I said about the cameras. There is one in every room, even the bathroom,” he started to repeat for the fourth time that morning. “If you go in there, make sure you text me or the number I gave you so they can switch it off.”

  “I’m not texting you,” I started to say, but he interrupted me before I could finish. “And I’ll be sure to tell the prospects to pay attention. If they see you go in there, they’ll know to turn it off before they see anything I don’t want them to see.”

  I harrumphed.

  “This is ridiculous,” I muttered.

  And it was.

  But the kiss he gave me as he dropped me off in the dining room of the pub was enough to leave me weak and breathless. At least until he called halfway through the day and told me he wouldn’t be back until well after closing time because something ‘had come up.’

  Which left me there for six hours longer than I wanted to be.

  By the time he arrived an hour after closing, a long thirteen hours later, I was tired, hungry, and not in the mood to go to a club party.

  Did he ask me what I wanted, though?

  Hell no. He just took me straight to the clubhouse, which was so far off any main roads that I knew I would never find my way out if I happened to wrangle the keys from my man, and pulled into the longest fucking driveway in the history of mankind.

  Then he wedged my car into a parking spot so small that I knew I’d have to exit out his side of the vehicle or I might hit the bike he’d parked next to, and he knew it.

  Chicken shit.

  I stayed there, waiting for him to get out, and finally sighed and gave him my attention.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “For what?” I snarled.

  “For finally looking at me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “What did you want, your highness?”

  His mouth twitched, and then his arm was around my waist and he hauled me roughly across the console before slamming his mouth down onto mine.

  I gasped, unable to help the reaction my body had to his, and threaded my fingers around his neck.

  He pulled back, and then opened his stupid mouth.

  “Should’ve kissed you half an hour ago, and might’ve gotten you into a better mood.”

  I smacked him on the forehead, causing him to laugh.

  He got out, and pulled me with him, and waved at another bike that pulled up behind my car.

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  Aaron.

  I turned to him and wrinkled my nose.

  “I’m hungry, and tired, and my husband is an asshole,” I turned back to my man. “You could’ve at least warned me that this was what we were doing.”

  “I would’ve, but you refused to answer my calls.”

  “I refused to answer your calls,” I poked him in the chest. “Because you wouldn’t stop calling to check on me in between every single break you took, which, might I add, was a whole lot more than normal.”

  He shrugged.

  “I don’t like you being there by yourself…especially not after…my grandfather.”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “Don’t try to play the pity card with me,” I poked him again. “Shi
thead.”

  He laughed then, making me want to smack him.

  “Your hair is sticking up,” he continued to dig his grave deeper.

  I gave up and turned on my heel, walking straight to the back porch where I could see the now retreating back of Aaron.

  I could hear Truth’s footsteps behind me, and I hurried faster, but he easily kept pace with my shorter stride.

  I could feel him at my back as we climbed the steps to the porch, which was suspended about twenty feet or so off the ground and were attached to the back of the large house.

  I waved at those that I knew, and came to a halt at the table of food that was laid out before me.

  I went for a cup of ice and the tea, resigning myself to disappointment.

  “Grab yourself a plate,” Truth ordered from my side.

  He was already filling up his own plate, piling it so high with crab, shrimp, and corn that I worried for the integrity of the plate.

  “It’s seafood. It’s good. I promise.”

  I knew it was seafood. I also knew that if I ate it, I’d be in the toilet having the fires of holy hell leaking out of my ass because it gave me diarrhea almost the moment the food hit my mouth.

  So no, despite knowing they were good, I wouldn’t be eating them.

  “No thanks,” I shook my head in the negative.

  It was just my luck that the entire get together was based around a crab boil—something that also made my colon want to eject from my body.

  I also couldn’t eat the potatoes or corn since they’d been boiled with the crab and shrimp.

  “Come on, try it, you’ll like it.” He waved the shrimp in front of my nose.

  I bared my teeth.

  “If I eat it,” I said lowly so only he could hear. “I’ll spend the entire night on the potty trying not to shit my guts out…okay?”

  He clamped his mouth shut, finally realizing that everything here was along the same lines as the shrimp.

  “I’ll go get you something…”

  I left him before he could finish, heading straight to the table where the ladies were sitting and dropping in next to Aaron’s wife, Imogen.

  “Men are stupid,” I told her.

  She snorted before taking a drink from her red Solo cup.

  “I think you should meet my husband,” Tally said. “He’s an ass on a good day. On a bad day, well let’s just say he’s…”