He needed to stop that. Was he doing it on purpose? Was this a game to him?
Was this how he convinced an Amish woman to hike up her dress and allow him to take her virginity?
She carefully prodded the worst bruise to make sure the ribs hadn’t shifted out of place. Even as gentle as she was, he sucked in a sharp breath.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, but hurried to finish.
When she was done, she stepped back, giving herself some space and breathing room.
“They seem to be healing, but you need to be careful. Try to carry Dyna in the car seat rather than in both arms. Just carry the seat with your left arm instead of your right. I’d tell you to avoid lifting anything heavy, but I know you’ll ignore it.”
When he didn’t answer, she looked up from his chest to his face. His eyes held curiosity. And even a little interest.
No, they weren’t going there. No chance in hell.
She was here to help with the baby, not scratch some biker’s itches. Even if he kind of made her itchy, too.
Even with the busted up face and the broken nose, she could tell he was normally good-looking. However, looks were only skin deep and that tattoo permanently marking his skin, the large one on his back, was enough to not make her search any deeper.
He held out his shirt to her. When she stepped closer again to take it, he murmured, “Jem...”
With her heart racing, she panicked and snapped, “Stop it,” before she could bite it back.
His mouth tightened and the interest in his eyes flickered and died.
Thank fuck. She was struggling as it was.
She ignored the humming in her veins and helped him tug on his shirt. She watched him carefully shrug his cut back on. That leather vest alone was like an anti-aphrodisiac. It was enough to chill her blood.
The perfect reminder of what she didn’t want out of life.
She pulled her attention from Dyna’s father back to the baby, now asleep in the bouncer.
She fought the urge to scream at him, “If you love your daughter, take her far, far away from this fucking club!” Instead, she said, like a civilized, somewhat sane person, “I’m going to head out now. I’ll be back Monday morning before you leave for work.”
As she turned, he caught her wrist and pulled her back to face him. His blue eyes locked with hers. Once again, she could read the intense, obvious interest in them. She shook off the ribbon of heat threatening to swirl through her.
This wasn’t what she was here for.
The only reason to be in this mobile home was for the baby, not the baby’s father.
Dyna was proof he didn’t make the smartest decisions. His interest in her was another one.
It would never happen. Even casually.
She’d never been a casual sex kind of person. Being intimate with someone was just that. Intimate. Meaningful. A special connection.
She knew plenty of people who could have a one-night-stand, roll out of bed and never say boo to that person again. Deacon previously being one of those people. Judge also. Jemma had never been like that. That was why she never did casual.
“Jem,” he began, his warm honey-like voice sliding over her skin. “Got a question for you.”
She already knew what he was going to ask. However, after what she just saw and with her disturbing reaction to him, she hoped he wouldn’t.
But he had no choice, he would ask it because he was putting his daughter above himself. Once he did, she would need to make a decision. She had previously made it after talking to Judge and Trip last night, but now she was second-guessing that answer.
“More like a favor,” he continued.
“Me coming home to help out is already a favor, but not for you. For my brother.” And for an innocent baby who hadn’t asked for what life handed her.
“Yeah, get that. It goes along with that.”
“If you’re asking me for a favor, it doesn’t.”
“Then this one would be for me, Jem. For Dyna.” He grimaced. “But I might not be able to pay this favor back.”
She already knew that. Even so, she wasn’t going to make this easy for him. Especially now. “Then, is it a true favor?”
He reached up, pulled the bandana off his head, closed his eyes and raked his fingers through his hair.
Doing so messed his hair up even more, but it fit him. That cocky, don’t-give-a fuck look. He’d look good in ripped jeans, a holey T-shirt and with a damn smear of grease on his face.
Some men could pull it off. Cage would be one of them.
Some women would find it panty-melting. Jemma was determined not to be one of those.
Not here. Not now. Not ever.
That should be her new mantra. A reminder she apparently needed.
However, his next words tugged at her heart, especially when he didn’t bother to hide the desperation in them. “If I gotta beg, I will, Jem. I can’t do this alone and do it right. Need to do it right. Don’t wanna fuck this up. Can’t fuck her up. I can’t.”
Oh God, it wasn’t a tug, he was reaching into her chest, ripping out her heart and squeezing it within his fingers. He wasn’t fighting fair.
“You’re going to fuck up, Chris. You will. It’s inevitable. Perfect parents don’t exist.” A parent who did their best despite screwing up was as close to perfect as one could be. Parents who recognized they made mistakes, and would make many more, but still provided for, protected, loved and cherished their child.
Being truly loved was more important than the latest gadget or toy.
From what Jemma saw so far, Cage seemed desperate to want to do his best. What his motivation was—either from the loss of his own mother or from something else, Jemma didn’t know—but it eased her worries a little bit.
“’Kay, then. Don’t wanna fuck it up too badly. Wanna do my best to give her a good life. So, I need to give her a good start.”
She stared at him for a minute. Maybe two. Ugh. She had this damn deep-rooted need to help people. She had no idea why because she certainly didn’t inherit it from Trixie or Ox. But that pull was why she became an RN. It was both a blessing and a curse. Right now, it felt like a curse.
Because just in the little bit of time she’d spent with the man before her, something about him drew her. She couldn’t figure out why or what, but it was there.
She was afraid to dig to discover what it was. Staying at Lottie’s at night and seeing him only in passing would make ignoring whatever that weirdness was between them easier. Living with Cage would not.
In a two-bedroom trailer, not much privacy existed.
“Are you going to ask?” If he got around to asking, she could say no and that would be that.
“Know you’re not stickin’ in town. I get why. Not only ‘cause of the past but the future. You’re a nurse, not a babysitter. But,” he inhaled deeply, “askin’ you... While you’re here... ‘Til you leave...”
Jesus, he was killing her. Should she put him out of his misery?
“You want me to move in here,” she said. Last night she hadn’t been scared to say yes. But today? It scared the fuck out of her.
“Yeah. I’ll give you the bigger bedroom, if you want. If you wanna stay close to Dyna at night. Or... whatever... whatever you want. I just... I just can’t... Don’t wanna do this alone. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doin’ and I’m scared to fuck it up.”
He wasn’t the only one scared right now.
She reminded him, “You could’ve stayed at Dutch’s if you didn’t want to do it alone.”
He pressed his lips together. “You saw what went on there. Got strange pussy comin’ in and out...”
Yes, Jemma wouldn’t like the idea of random strangers being around her baby, either. “When I leave, you’ll be on your own again,” she warned. Because no matter what this weirdness was between them, no matter how attached she got to Dyna, she was leaving.
That wasn’t even a question.
“Will look for a house m
ouse in the meantime.”
“A house mouse,” she muttered. A young girl without any parenting skills. Most likely someone irresponsible who only would agree to be Cage’s house mouse to get closer to the club.
A foot in the door.
Maybe even her ass in his bed.
She remembered what a house mouse was. One had lived with them for a short while to help around the house and to take care of Jemma when she was a baby. Jemma had been too young to remember her well, but Judge told her later that Trixie had knifed her after finding her in their bed with Ox. Not enough to kill her, but enough to scar her face so “no other man would ever want her.”
Judge had no idea what happened to her after that. Their parents never talked about it, of course.
“Yeah, like Saylor. She does good with Daisy.”
“Daisy isn’t an infant.” A teenager shouldn’t raise a child. They were only children themselves.
“Jem... The way I’m hurtin’, it’ll kill me right now, but if I gotta, I’ll get down on my fuckin’ knees and beg.”
She ripped her gaze from him and glanced around the trailer. Anything to avoid the desperation in his eyes.
She spotted the stuffed monkey on the couch and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Jem, please...”
She opened them. She would regret this...
“Okay.”
Chapter Eight
Jemma blinked her eyes open. Like a cold glass of water to the face, it hit her where she was.
The trailer.
She had left Cage and Dyna yesterday and went out for a couple of drinks at Crazy Pete’s to clear her mind. While there, she chatted with Dodge, Trip and Stella for a while. Actually, Dodge flirted with her for most of the night and she flirted back to try to scrape Cage out of her head.
That weirdness.
Whatever it was.
It had to be because she had a soft spot for men who were good fathers. Since she’d had such a shitty one.
That had to be it. Nothing more.
Cage had been thrown a hard ball and maybe, just maybe, she could help him knock this fatherhood stuff out of the park.
Stella and Trip didn’t talk about the Fury’s past with her, but instead, the club’s future and what they hoped to achieve.
Family and financial security were two main goals.
One thing in their favor was the club’s president and his ol’ lady were strong people apart and even more powerful together. If anyone could make the club successful, it would be those two. However, they were trying to sell it to the wrong person, because she wasn’t buying it.
While it sounded good on the surface, Jemma had a hard time not looking back at the past. She only hoped they weren’t hitching their star on a bunch of false hope.
Ozzy had also stopped in—with some woman hanging all over him—to talk to Trip for a bit. Then he—and the girl stuck to him like glue-paper—left to go drink at The Barn. Jemma didn’t feel comfortable doing the same since she wasn’t a part of the club.
Ozzy didn’t remember her, but then he was barely eighteen when the Fury detonated from the inside out. He mentioned he lied about his age when he became a prospect. And what seventeen-year-old boy remembered a five-year-old girl who had the perfect hiding spot at the warehouse when her mother would drag her there?
Jemma had hated the yelling and fighting, the noise, the smell, everything about being around the club and its members. At the time she didn’t know better, but now she knew what went on. The violence, the drinking, the drugs, the shakedowns, the gang bangs, the rapes, and treating women like shit. And that wasn’t everything.
All of it, now that she understood what it was, left a bitter taste in her mouth.
When she asked Trixie once why a woman had been forced to her knees, even though she cried and begged to be let go, her mother told her to keep her mouth shut and mind her own business. It didn’t concern her.
So, she’d hide in her secret spot with Annie, the dirty doll one of her father’s “brothers” had given her, but not until she agreed to pretend he was Santa and sit on his lap. She didn’t stay there long because he held her too tightly and his lap wasn’t comfortable. He had smelled and breathed funny, too.
She and Annie would have pretend tea parties and sleepovers. Jemma would tell her doll all kinds of stories and sing songs to her just to drown out what went on outside her secret hideaway. Eventually, she’d fall asleep and Judd would come find her and carry her home.
When she asked her brother why some women who visited the warehouse laughed and some cried, Judd wouldn’t explain it. He’d simply say, “I don’t know.”
He knew. Her brother was smart. He just didn’t want to tell her. He probably thought she was still a baby and wouldn’t understand.
But she was smart, too.
One good thing that happened that day... The day the police stormed the house and Ox grabbed her to use her as a shield from the guns being pointed at him...
She never had to see Trixie or Ox again.
She never had to listen to any women cry in that warehouse again.
She never was forced to sit in anyone’s lap again.
She never had to hide in her secret spot again.
Jemma’s heart began to thump heavily in her chest.
Holy fuck, she hated Manning Grove.
She fucking hated it.
She scrubbed roughly at her eyes and sat up in bed, trying to control her breathing.
Tilting her head, she listened carefully.
Nothing but silence.
She had woken up a few times during the night, once from a nightmare and twice from hearing Dyna cry. She had waited to see if Cage would come ask her for help, but he didn’t. He handled whatever his daughter had needed.
She smiled. Yeah, he was going to knock this fatherhood thing out of the park.
She rolled out of bed and tugged down the long T-shirt she wore. An oversized tee she had pilfered from her last boyfriend. She had loved the T-shirt, just not the man. So, she kept the one and got rid of the other.
Wearing the Rolling Stones shirt to bed gave her more satisfaction than he ever did. He wasn’t a dick, but he didn’t give good dick, either. She could only deal with the bad sex for so long.
He had been a big guy, so the T-shirt was loose and long enough to hit her mid-thigh.
With a sigh, she opened her bedroom door and went still at the sight before her. She didn’t know what to expect her first morning living with Cage, but what she saw wasn’t it.
Bare-chested and bare-footed, he was sprawled across the couch fast asleep. One arm was folded behind his head like a pillow, the other held Dyna, who only wore a diaper, to his chest. From what Jemma could see, she was sleeping just as soundly as her father.
That view was enough to melt any cold, dead heart.
On the end table next to the couch were two empty bottles—one baby, one beer—a spit-up towel and a cell phone.
She tiptoed past, figuring she’d leave them undisturbed for a few minutes while she emptied her full bladder, brushed her teeth and at least washed her face.
When she finally came back out of the only bathroom, she headed to the couch, where Cage’s mouth was now open, and he snored softly.
She shouldn’t be standing over him and watching him like she was, but she couldn’t resist. While, yes, his face was still fucked up, there was something about it being relaxed in sleep that reminded her of when he was a kid. He looked as vulnerable and innocent as Dyna, even with the busted nose, slightly swollen lip and black eyes.
Her fingers curled to fight the itch to run them through his messy hair. To brush it away from his face and assure him everything would be okay.
Holy shit, she was fucking losing it.
She didn’t want to get caught staring, so she concentrated on Dyna instead. The baby shouldn’t be sleeping on her belly, so she decided to take her and put her in her bassinet for now.
As she slowly peeled his f
ingers off her back, trying not to wake either of them, his grip on his daughter automatically tightened.
His blue eyes popped open. “Wha—”
“I was only going to put her down. She shouldn’t be sleeping on her stomach.”
He glanced down and muttered a soft, “Fuck.”
“Let her go,” she whispered.
Jemma gently pried Dyna from his hold, moved away from the couch and checked her. Her belly was full and her diaper empty. She should sleep for a little bit.
When she looked up, she saw Cage was now sitting, his bare feet planted apart, his elbows on his knees and his head in both hands.
He looked drained.
“How much sleep did you get?”
He sat upright and shook his head. “Not much.”
“You have to be at work in an hour. Do you have time for breakfast?”
“You makin’ it?”
“Sure, since I have to eat, too. When’s the last time she ate?”
“A half hour ago.”
That gave Jemma time to make them something. “Don’t let her sleep on her belly. Even when she’s on your chest. A little bit of tummy time is okay but not when she’s sleeping. Go grab a clean blanket and put it on the floor for now but add a playpen to your shopping list.”
She heard his groan and turned her face away to hide her grin. “Ever hear that condoms are cheaper than babies?”
“Used a wrap.”
Her head snapped back to him. “You used a condom?”
“Yeah. Both times.”
She thought about Judge and how Jen had gotten pregnant with Ry. Jemma doubted the Amish woman came with a condom or would even poke a hole in it to get pregnant on purpose, but that didn’t mean someone else hadn’t poked holes in Cage’s condoms.
And, if that happened, it was an evil thing to do.
“Do you think someone sabotaged your stash?”
“If someone did, I’ll fuckin’ kill them,” he growled. He strode through the trailer and into his bedroom, returning not a minute later with a baby blanket. He spread it out on the floor where both of them would be able to see Dyna. He came over, plucked the baby from her arms and placed her on her back in the center of the blanket that bore the Blood Fury colors.
Blood & Bones: Cage (Blood Fury MC Book 5) Page 11