Haunt (Bayonet Scars #6) (10 page)

“You’re high,” she says back. It’s simple but heavy. She isn’t pointing out the obvious—she’s telling me why she can’t stay. And fuck if I can’t let that be the reason she leaves me again. My gut feels like it’s being chopped up into tiny pieces, and the buzzing behind my eyes intensifies. There’s this sweet spot with coke and whiskey where everything is perfectly numb. The world actually buzzes. But one extra sip, one too many lines, and it’s all shot to hell and you end up in oblivion. I think I’m there now. Amber won’t stay, and it makes no sense. I’m here, so this is where she belongs. My vision blurs as I stare into her distant expression. There’s a lot going on behind her green eyes that she won’t talk about. Maybe she wants to come home, but she’s afraid. Or maybe she’s moved on. Maybe she just needs convincing.

“Stay.”

“And what does that look like?”

I can’t find the words to answer her right now, so instead, I move a hand between her legs to show her how focused I am on getting her home permanently. She gasps, her back arches, and her eyes finally lock in on me. My beautiful woman is finally looking at me, and all I can think in this moment is how I want to start over. How I want a thousand forevers with her. How I can’t let her leave again. So I kiss her, forcing her to pay attention to me. She doesn’t fight me. She just wraps her arms around my lower torso and slides them down to my ass. She squeezes each cheek and bucks into me. I can’t feel anything—or I thought I couldn’t—but I feel her touch. I feel her lips and her tight hot cunt getting primed for me. Everything in me tells me this is right. We belong together, even if together we’re fucked up and I can’t stop doing stupid things around her. We’re a family, and we need to be together, and the best way to make that shit stick is to grow our family.

I slide into her quickly and without wrapping my dick. She murmurs something against my mouth, but I don’t give her the time or space to get the words out. She probably noticed that she’s taking me bare, and fuck, I almost forgot how goddamn euphoric this feels. When I finally remove my mouth from hers, I replace it with my hand. She tries to bite my finger, but I use my palm to keep her jaw shut. She’s too beautiful not to have a hundred babies with. Maybe not a hundred, but definitely more than one. I still need to meet my son, but he’s perfect. I already know that.

“Gonna fuck you bare until you give me another son. You can’t tell me I want this because I’m jacked, because it’s not true. I always want you. Every ounce and every fucking breath. And I want more of you, more of us, and another baby. You gonna give that to me?”

I reach around and slowly slide a finger into her ass. Her eyes roll back in her head, and she goes stock-still. I rotate my hips, nice and slow, and breathe heavily into her ear. My hand on her mouth moves down to her clit, and even though it’s fucking challenging to do without falling on her, I manage to twist her swollen nub in just the right way.

“Tell me you want this.”

“Oh fuck. I want it.”

Her words come out on a scream that barely makes any sound. She’s losing her breath, and her heart rate has spiked. I might not let her out of this bed until I get my way.

I scrub my face clean of the memory. I’m pretty sure I fucked her bare for a month straight before I ended up detoxing out of town. That one month of incredible fucking bliss was the last time I saw her until the other day. Every memory from that month came back to haunt me. One stupid idea after another assaults me every night as I try to sleep. I want to see my son, but the idea of how disappointed he might be does a number on me. Maybe I’m uglier than he expects. He probably takes after his mom. I might not know how to talk to him, or I might say the wrong things. Every little what-if leads me back to this paralyzing fear of fucking him up.

Fuck.

The wooden doors to the chapel squeak as they move. I open my eyes to find Jim standing in front of the now-closed doors. He’s staring down at me with a blank expression on his face, and he says, “The fuck you still doing in here?”

“Thinkin’,” I say.

“Takes a lot of effort, don’t it?”

“Pretty sure I’m gonna meet my kid and fuck him up.” I’ve always been an honest guy, but if I weren’t talking to Jim right now I’d feel like a fool.

“Heh. His mom’s had him most his life, so the big fuckup’s will be on her,” he says and sits in my old seat beside me. It’s a strange role reversal I’m still not used to. He might be right, and maybe I won’t have much of an impact on the kid. My stomach sinks at the thought. Fuck. I don’t know if I’m coming or going anymore, and that little memory of the last time I’d seen Amber isn’t helping. I was so trashed that it’s a damn good thing my boys weren’t up for the task. I’ve already fucked up one kid.

“Hey,” I say in a desperate attempt to change the subject. “New York. You thought about it?”

Jim’s face falls, but just a little. He might be softening up as he ages, but he’s still a mean fucker.

“You’re the boss. It’s your call.”

“And if I take a vote?” I ask, prodding.

“Then you’ll find out my answer then.”

He gets up and leaves me, once again, alone in the room and alone in my thoughts.

I need to get the hell out of here.

CHAPTER 8

Walking out of the chapel and heading down the hall for the bar, I get distracted by the partially open doors to the palace. The place isn’t as bad as it could be, but it’s still a fucking mess. A reflective circle shines on the ceiling in the corner of the room. I follow the light down to a mirror that sits on the banquet table at the far end of the room. Fuck. I take two steps into the room, focused on the two lines of white powder that sit on the reflective surface. There was a time when Amber’s being here would have me calling up my guy to get me through her visit, but I can’t do that now. I got nine guys who depend on me to keep them alive. The easiest way for me to fuck up that trust is to fall back into old habits that put them at risk.

A lost girl, Julie, hangs out on one of the chaise lounges. She’s got a cigarette in between her index and middle fingers and a magazine in her hands. She’s hot, been around a damn long time, too, so she knows how it’s always been around here. She’s been there when I’ve fallen apart and Jim’s hauled my ass up to the cabin to detox. She’s seen Amber come in, tear me up, and leave me empty. Julie’s seen it all.

“Hey, babe,” I say with a nod.

She puts the magazine down and takes a pull on the cigarette. The heavy makeup around her blue eyes makes them really shine. She’s a good woman. I’m gonna need her on my side now.

“Mr. President,” she says with a smile. She takes one more drag from her cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray behind her. I head right for her, barely taking note of the tiny little shorts and tank top she’s wearing. She meets me halfway. It used to be that I’d watch the way her legs move, if the shorts ride up or not, and eye her tits as she comes toward me. But in this moment, I keep my eyes on her face.

“Need your help, Jules.” She doesn’t stop until she’s less than a foot away from me. My hands find their way to her hips. “I gotta keep my head right.”

“Your old lady’s back,” she says with a nod. Her smile falls and she says quietly, “With your son. I bet he’s a real lady killer.”

I bite back from saying the first thing that comes to me. I haven’t seen him yet, so I wouldn’t know. Fuck. Does he even ask about me? Does he care? Did Amber tell him about the other day? God, he must be fucked up inside if he knows I know and I haven’t seen him yet.

I’m not prepared for this shit.

“Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” I say. “Just help me keep this place clean, yeah? Nothing but bud and booze.”

“She back for good?”

I don’t know.

She says she is, but she’s said that before. Then I went and fucked it up and she’s gone back to Detroit. I should have tried harder, but how long do you chase after someone who doesn’t want you?

“That’s none of your business, bitch.” Amber’s voice, sounding mean as hell, comes from behind me. Jules tenses in my arms but doesn’t move immediately. I take a deep breath, trying to check my temper. At least in front of Jules. I disrespected Amber enough in front of other women in the past, and I won’t do it again.

“We’re still buds,” I say to Jules. My voice is low, but she hears me. Her eyes flash a silent
thank you
before she steps out of my grasp and walks around me. When I turn around, I find Amber propped in the doorway, hands on either side of the frame. As long as it doesn’t get physical, I’ll allow her this show of strength, and because Jules knows what Amber means to me, she’ll put up with it. Jules comes to Amber, looks her straight in the eye, and says, “Ma’am.”

Something flickers in Amber’s eyes. I can’t tell if it’s anger or not. She’s not one to back down from a fight, though, so there’s no telling what she’s thinking. Even after all these years, I still can’t predict what this crazy bitch is gonna do.

“You don’t ask my old man about me. You don’t look at my old man. You don’t talk to him unless he speaks to you, and you sure as fuck don’t let him touch you. He may be king, but I’m his fucking queen, and I don’t share what’s mine.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jules says firmly.

“Let the others know I’m back and I’m not going anywhere. You don’t know me, but you’re about to get to know me real quick. You’re going to get to know my son, and you’re going to know your place and stay the fuck in it. We clear?”

“Yes.”

Amber moves out of the way and lets Jules pass without another word. I don’t say anything about the exchange. I don’t need to. I stand in place, letting it all sink in.

She’s back.

She’s taking her place by my side in the club—exactly where she always should have been. I want to believe it. I want it all to sink in, but it just doesn’t. Not yet. So many times she’s left and come back, and I’ve let myself think it’s for real this time. And every time it’s not. Every time she just leaves again, and I’m here. And I’m dead until she returns.

Amber moves into the room, shutting and locking the door behind her.

“You touched her.” Her tone has taken on an impossibly angry edge to it. Before, she sounded authoritative, if not annoyed, but her voice is darker now.

“What are you doing?”

“If you don’t want your son, just say so.” The words come out clearly, but they don’t make any sense in my head. I can’t even fathom what would make her think I wouldn’t want our boy. I’ve always wanted him. Even when I thought he wasn’t mine. Even then. He’s a piece of Amber. I’m always going to want every tiny bit I can get.

“I get it. I laid a lot of stuff on your plate the other day. But here’s the thing about being a parent—it’s not about you anymore. You need time to deal, you do it when your kids are asleep. You do
not
just check out because it gets hard or you’re fucked up.”

Amber’s angry voice softens, like something in her is breaking. Little pieces of the walls she’s built up over the years crumble right before me. Her eyes well up with unshed tears. My woman is hard as hell. She’s not soft like Princess or broken like Nic. She isn’t innocent like Holly or naive like Cheyenne. She’s not even lost like Elle. She’s just hell on wheels, all loud mouth and kind heart. She’s bravery and fear and every little bit the protective momma bear I always knew she’d be.

“I want him. I just need time.” My heart breaks with a newfound vulnerability I never knew I could feel. Ten minutes ago I was worried about fucking the kid up, and now . . . I don’t even know what I feel now. It’s one thing to talk to Jim about this. I can keep the wall up with Jim. I don’t have to feel the pain then. This is different. This is Amber.

“You’re not listening.” She stomps forward in an angry rush. Her red cheeks are flushed with a heartache I haven’t had the chance to understand. Her green eyes are wild. Her nostrils flare. Every ounce of me takes notice of her.

“You do not get time anymore. This isn’t about you. This is about your son. He wants to know you more than anything in his entire world, and it scares the crap out of me because I can’t force you to be the man he needs. But make no mistake about it—my kids come before everything, and that includes you.”

My kids?

I can barely move at the thought of someone else fathering her children. Their seed growing in her belly. Sharing the experience of seeing her body change, creating a family with her . . .

No.

All the things I chose not to be a part of.

“Kids?” It’s probably not the right time, but I can’t stop myself from asking. The idea of another man with her, inside of her, just tears me apart.

She flinches. It’s almost painful how she reacts to my question. Does she know how it’s destroying me thinking about her having kids with someone else? Did she think of me and everything we were supposed to have when she had another man’s child? How many does she have . . . two, three? Did she plan them? Is he still in her life?

There are so many questions, and I have no answers. I don’t think I’ll ever have enough answers to make sense of how she could have another man’s child. Not when we’d promised ourselves to each other. Not when she means everything to me.