by Jayna Vixen
Rhee picked up on his inability to decipher the kid-speak. “Her name is Sirena,” she said softly. “It means mermaid.”
He didn’t even know his daughter’s name. Hearing it sent a punch straight to his guts as loss and grief mingled with the feeling that he was being allowed a rare privilege—-the honor of knowing Sirena, even if it was only for a little while. Dax swallowed the lump that had mysteriously appeared in his throat.
“Beautiful name,” he said honestly. “It suits her.” A mermaid was an elusive creature and once you found one, you never wanted to leave her. Dax shook the bizarre thoughts from his head. But…I can’t stay.
“Thank you.” Rhee mumbled her response and then busied herself cutting up the child’s food, avoiding his gaze.
Man, this was beyond awkward. He could hear the tremor in Rhee’s voice. The little girl wiggled onto the bench next to him as Manali doled out portions of food. Startled, Dax felt tiny fingers on his arm, poking one of his tattoos.
“Pretty,” Sirena commented seriously as she inspected his ink.
A shiver went down Dax’s spine. She’s mine. My daughter. My own flesh and blood. He stared at Sirena as goose bumps prickled down his spine. What am I doing? How do I fit here?
Abruptly, it was painfully obvious that he didn’t fit. I can’t be a father!
Dax stood up suddenly. “I—need to go.”
Rhee looked away quickly, but not before he noticed the hurt and…was that disappointment in her eyes?
Manali stood up, her presence oddly commanding. “Tonight, after Sirena is in bed, you two will talk,” she said firmly.
“I—I have to go to work tomorrow,” Rhee said lamely.
“No, you don’t.” His voice came out harsher than he had intended.
“You can’t tell me what to do—” she huffed.
“This is coming from Turtle. And me. You don’t work there any more, Rina.”
Rhee tensed, presumably at his slightly sarcastic use of her fake name. Her eyes flickered from Dax to Manali, who busied herself at the table. At first, the stowaway looked like she was going to give him a piece of her mind, but apparently Rhee knew better than to argue. Still, she made a final comment.
“My stuff is still there. In his studio.”
“Turtle said his boys would take care of it.”
For a brief moment, Rhiannon’s shoulders sagged. He wondered what she was thinking. Maybe that…well, that she was out of a job. He watched as she glanced from Sirena to Manali and knew that he had supposed correctly. The new, unyielding strength Rhiannon wore like a coat of armor wavered. The anxiety flickering on her face did him in. Dax couldn’t help himself. He had been fighting to avoid touching the stowaway since the second he had walked into the yard. He gave up his internal struggle and walked to her side.
God, she was still so tiny and perfect. Dax had forgotten just how small the girl was. The top of her head came up to his shoulder. He bent, allowing her hair to tickle his face. The smell of jasmine and vanilla met his nostrils and he inhaled her scent deeply. Dax wanted nothing more than to sweep her into his arms and kiss the worry right out of her. But, that would be inappropriate for so many reasons. Dax smiled, remembering how hard the stowaway had slapped him the first time he had kissed her. He settled for running a long finger down the side of her face, brushing away a tendril of her hair, to tip her chin up to meet his gaze.
“Everything is going to be okay, Rhiannon. Trust me.”
“Okay.” she whispered, but she sounded unconvinced.
“I really do have some business to take care of. I’ll clean up and head back over here around seven.”
“I’ll be putting Sirena to bed at seven.”
“Oh.” He glanced at her daughter—their daughter—and then back at Rhiannon. “Eight, then.”
***
What was happening here? There was a strange roaring in her ears and Rhee was starting to feel a little faint. Dax Jamison was picking her up at eight so they could discuss their child and…their future? Together? Her breath was coming fast and uneven. Rhee realized that he was still standing there, waiting for her reply. He was so close that she could feel the heat coming from his body, could smell the tang of salt that clung to his skin. Oh, dear God. How long had she been standing there, mute?
She looked up into his face to find Dax smiling at her. It was that same lopsided grin that had been her undoing the first time she fell for him. It should be illegal to be that hot. Dax was cocky, boyish, and charming all at the same time, while possessing a hard edge of dominance, violence, and danger. Before Rhee could react, he was leaning towards her. Liquid desire pooled in her belly as Rhee’s mouth fell partway open in anticipation of his kiss even as her brain screamed at her to pull away. His eyes were fixated on her mouth as Rhee’s eyelids fluttered closed. Everything except the heat emanating from his body faded away.
But he didn’t kiss her. Rhee felt the maddening sensation of his rough thumb as he traced her lower lip, ever so slowly. Her eyes flew open. Dax was wearing a knowing smirk—one that made her want to punch him.
“Until later.”
Dax’s voice had deepened; his tone promising that “later” would be a major exercise in self-control. Rhee would not allow herself to sleep with him. Never again! She eyed him, her cheeks heating as thoughts of not sleeping with the man gave rise to thoughts of doing just that.
To Rhee’s surprise, Dax crouched low, to Sirena’s eye level. “See you later, mermaid.”
He ruffled her hair and Sirena smiled at him happily, then went back to her snack.
“I’ll walk you out, keiki.”
Keiki?! It seemed that both Sirena and Manali had accepted the man. Why couldn’t she?
Chapter Thirteen
Wince paced nervously. Where the hell was Dax?!
“I can’t believe he left me here to deal with this shit by myself!” he muttered to himself. Following his unexpected departure, Dax was gone all day. The sun was starting to go down. If he didn’t show soon, Wince would be forced to call Hawk to ask for instructions. Dax wouldn’t like that—not one damn bit. And neither would Hawk.
Just as Wince picked up his phone to make the dreaded call, his elusive vice president slammed into the suite, the door thudding into the wall as he flew inside.
“What the fuck, bro?” Wince screeched, his voice going up an octave or two higher than it should ever go, given his gender.
Dax paused, giving Wince time to look him over. He was shirtless and bootless, which was odd to begin with. He was also wearing surf trunks. With his blond hair and newly tanned skin, Dax looked like a seasoned tourist, back from catching a few waves on vacation.
“You—you went surfing?” Wince was incredulous.
Dax shrugged. “Yeah.”
Wince adjusted his expression, realizing that his mouth was hanging open. Dax went surfing. For some reason, that seemed so out of character. But then again, when it came down to it, there was a lot Wince didn’t know about Dax. Other than club business, and that shit that went down with Rhiannon, Dax was pretty guarded. Well, every man had his demons, and even though he was pretty tight with Dax, he wasn’t the type to sit around spilling his guts. Whatever. Wince wanted some back up with the arms deal, and he was irritated that Dax was out enjoying the sand and bikinis while he slaved away in the hotel room.
“Our samples are coming in tonight, private carrier.”
“Great. Pick ‘em up and call that dipshit, Vidal. The sooner we secure this, the better.”
“Why’s that?” The sharp edge to Wince’s voice didn’t go undetected.
Dax pinned him with an intense stare. “Because he’s the last fucking thing on my mind right now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dax hesitated and for a moment, Wince thought the man of few words was about to bare his soul. Wince had his share of abuse and pain. He had participated in mandatory group therapy during his jail sentence as a young adult. A certa
in kind of catharsis could be achieved by opening up. It was clear to him that Dax had been through some major shit—shit that needed to be aired out so it would stop stinking up Dax’s life. For some reason, the man’s troubles seemed to be affecting Wince. The man was the closest thing he had ever had to family. So, he waited, arms akimbo, for Dax to talk.
***
Dax regarded Wince. The kid looked nervous but there was only one way to get ahead in this business and that was to jump in with both feet. There was no training program once a guy earned his cut. Dax was confident that Wince would handle things. He liked the kid more than he would ever admit. He didn’t always agree with Wince, but Dax found that he carried a grudging respect for him. The guy was smart. Plus, Wince was one of the few men that challenged Dax, stood up to him. And he always protected Rhee.
Ah, Rhee. She had grown up. She was a mother now—the mother of his child. That simple yet complicated fact made her all the more appealing for reasons Dax didn’t fully comprehend. She seemed stronger now. Older. Wiser, perhaps. Knowing that he had been her first, and that she had carried the fruit of his loins inside her body made Dax burn with an irrational desire to possess the girl. Dax knew he affected Rhiannon as well. She had shivered, her lips parting provocatively just before he left her standing there in her yard, her frustration and desire nearly tangible. Her response pleased him. At least I still have a little control!
The whole way back to the hotel the night before, Dax had been a mess of emotion and he fucking hated it. It had been years since he had been unable to control himself. The ability to check out was so automated that he had no idea what to do when it didn’t just happen by itself. Now, he was determined to make Rhee experience a small fraction of the regret and angst he had endured. It was childish and it was wrong, but he wanted to make her sorry—for a lot of things. Sorry for leaving. Sorry for lying. Sorry for everything.
And there was only one way he knew how to do that.
“I’ve got some unfinished business here,” he told Wince.
Wince nodded. “With her.”
“Yep.”
“You gonna get on her case about leaving?”
“Most definitely.”
“Dax…” Wince trailed off, but his tone held the undercurrent of warning.
“Yeah?” he bristled.
“Don’t…well, just…go easy on her. She was just a kid. Young. Been through a lot.”
Always protecting the stowaway. He shot Wince a look before turning on his heel and heading for the shower. The kid threw his hands up in the air, as if he was exasperated. Dax wondered again if Wince still had feelings for her. The jealousy that shot through every pore in Dax’s body at the thought indicated that Wince wasn’t the only one who still harbored feelings for the stowaway. And it pissed him right off. I don’t want to want her. As he stood under the warm spray, tension wound through his body. She left me. She lied to me. Guilty by omission. And it was a major omission. He was madder than hell about it. Dax flexed, trying to dispel some of the discomfort his thoughts and feelings generated.
Tonight, at dinner, he was going to give Rhiannon a taste of her own medicine. Rejection hurt. It was time she understood that.
***
Rhee wasn’t sure what to expect but as eight o’clock grew ever nearer, her agitation became so apparent that Manali poured her a shot of coconut rum and practically forced her to drink it. The alcohol burned its way down her throat to settle into her tummy. Warmth spread down into her toes. It took the edge off. Barely. The sound of a car pulling up spiked her blood pressure.
Oh, God. He’s here.
Was it dread or anticipation that made her dizzy? Or was it the rum? Rhee nodded at Manali, who only smiled knowingly as she stepped out into the warm night, clad in her one and only little black dress. A dark van sat parked on the curb. As she approached, the door opened and Dax stepped out to greet her. Rhee’s breath caught in her throat as she caught sight of him.
The Dax she recalled, the one who haunted her dreams, was perpetually clad in jeans, a leather vest, and boots. Thanks to their cataclysmic reunion in the hotel parking lot, Rhee now had memories of the man in a shiny, tailored suit to compete with those images, and that was bad enough. But now, the sight of him moving towards her with the predatory grace of a jungle cat was enough to steal her breath straight out of her chest. He loped, with the easy grace of a predator, confident that his prey didn’t stand a chance.
To Rhee’s added surprise, Dax looked like he had taken extra care with his appearance. Aside from the suit incident, she had never seen him wearing a shirt with a collar. But tonight, Dax was wearing dark jeans and a white linen shirt. The kind of shirt you’d get over at Hilo Hattie or Tommy Bahama. It was a warm night, and the light linen made sense, but dear God, why did the material have to be so thin?! She could see how cut his chest was right through it! Rhee stifled a groan as wet heat flooded her core. He had both hands in his pockets and he shot her a sheepish grin as she raked him with her eyes.
“Rhiannon.”
“Dax.” she responded breathlessly.
“You look gorgeous.”
Dax sounded sincere, and there was no ignoring how his eyes slid purposefully from her face to her breasts and then to her legs. He offered her his arm. For a moment, Rhee was afraid to touch him. If the sight of him caused her this much turmoil, what in God’s name would happen if she made contact with his skin?
I’m being ridiculous, Rhee chastised herself. I can handle this. Hesitantly, she placed her hand on his forearm, breathing in his spicy, male scent. She flushed, grateful for the dark sky to cover up her reaction. He walked her to the passenger side of a black van with tinted windows. Rhee hesitated, the image of such a vehicle sparking a painful memory, long buried. She shook it off, ignoring his quizzical glance.
Dax opened the door for her and she climbed in. “Where are we going?”
“Your buddy recommended a place.”
“Turtle?”
“Yep.”
“Are you here to do business with him?”
Dax shot her a sharp glance. “The less you know about it, the better, Rhiannon.”
She remembered that tone. It still pissed her off. She had a child, for shit’s sake, she didn’t need to be treated like one.
“Look, I’m not sure what you have in mind, but I need to make an early night of it. We get up early.” She emphasized the “we,” noting that the reference to his daughter had the intended effect. Dax looked decidedly uncomfortable.
“Just dinner and some long overdue conversation. Okay, stowaway?”
“Don’t you think it’s time you stopped calling me that?”
Dax glanced at her as she sat stiffly in the passenger seat. “Actually, I’ve been thinking the same thing. What would you prefer? Runaway fits you pretty well.”
There was no mistaking the acid in his voice. Runaway? How dare he? How fucking dare he?! Rhee made a huge sacrifice to preserve Dax Jamison’s relationship with his girlfriend and now he was accusing her of running away? Plus he as much said that he didn’t want me. Not like that.
“How’s Trish?” she asked, sarcasm lacing her words.
A mask slipped over his face, his features hardening like granite. “Married.”
Acute disappointment cut her. Deeply. Of course they’re married.
“Congratulations.” With some effort, she managed to keep her tone neutral and light.
Dax looked at her strangely. “Not to me, little girl.”
Rhee wasn’t expecting to feel such elation. She could barely contain it. Her heart soared so high that she had to force herself not to smile with glee. There he goes with the little girl again. Oddly, she was no longer irritated by his choice of nickname, as she used to be. There was history to that nickname. She had always assumed it to be condescending—an indicator of her age and inexperience. But maybe it meant something else. Rhee forced herself back to the present.
“Um…I don’t understand.
”
Dax’s jaw clenched visibly and she wondered if she had crossed the line somehow. A line. That was an interesting metaphor. Since the day she met Dax, she felt rather like she was walking a thin tightrope, stretched taut. Teetering between desire and obsession, she was never certain which side of the line she was on with him.
“Trish and I…we found each other in high school. She changed me in a lot of ways…for the better.”
Rhee tensed at this unexpected revelation of his. Trish was awesome. Duh. She already knew that! Dax continued speaking in a low, raspy voice that did all kinds of unmentionable things to her insides.
“But something was always missing. It just wasn’t meant to be. She wanted—needed—more. I think we both knew that for a long time. She left. She came back because she needed my help. She was really grateful to the club. She more than paid her dues. Then, well, she left for good. About six months after you…disappeared.”
For the first time, Rhee felt a twinge of guilt for leaving so abruptly. At the time, running had seemed like the only option. She hadn’t stopped to consider that her absence would have any impact on the guys. Especially Dax. Surprised, she saw raw hurt flicker in those intense blue eyes before they went as cold as ice chips. Rhee knew what it was like to be alone and she wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
“I’m sorry.” She managed to sound sincere. She hoped.
“Don’t be. I’m not.” There was no trace of bitterness in his voice, only acceptance. “It was for the best. I couldn’t give her what she needed.”
Wow, that was a hard thing to admit. Chalk up a little more respect for Dax Jamison.
Rhee shifted in her seat as they pulled up to a little hole in the wall. She recognized the place. The owner was Turtle’s cousin. Sometimes, it seemed like everyone was Turtle’s cousin around here. Dax came around to open her door and her wrist sizzled at his touch, but Rhee managed not to react. He guided her into the small, local establishment. They were seated in the back, out of the way, at a table under a dim lamp. It was the perfect backdrop for their awkward rendezvous.