when I open my eyes. As if he’s waiting for some sort of answer. Maybe it’s exhaustion or misdirected fury but I grab a handful of his shirt and shove him. Hard.
His back hits the wall with a thud and his eyes widen.
“Don’t you fucking dare question her,” I snarl. “The baby was mine.”
He drops his gaze to where his shirt’s in my clenched fist and after a moment I release him.
“I can’t imagine the grief you’re going through right now, son, so I’ll let that slide.” He adjusts his cut. “Someone planted that article. You got any idea who would do something like that?”
I flick the magazine across the table. “Could be anyone. A reporter. Andrew’s ex. Take your pick.”
“Andrew?”
He’s a first-class motherfucker for sure but we came to an understanding. Besides, as big of an asshole as he is, deep down in his twisted soul, he cares about Mallory. I can’t picture him showing up to the hospital with flowers and offers to help us out, then turning around and hurting her on purpose.
“He’d be at the bottom of my list of suspects.”
“Well, last thing I need is her father getting wind of it.”
Laughter bursts from my lungs at the absurdity of his concern. “I don’t think they allow tabloids in prison, Dad.”
He doesn’t join in on my merriment. “Don’t fool yourself.”
“Fuck.” I run my fingers through my hair. “He’s the least of my worries right now. I left in the middle of a tour. The band’s going to kill me. Jacob’s a fucking mess. And I’m out of fucks for anything besides Mallory right now.”
“You need me to call anyone for you?”
I’m too old to have my daddy making phone calls for me, but I still give him Thom’s number.
“Tell him I’ll try to make Atlanta on Friday. If Nick can fill in for me, I’m fine with it.”
“All right.” He pats my shoulder. “Go take care of your girl.”
After he leaves, I prowl through the house, checking the doors and windows. Locking everything up tight. I leave one lamp on in the living room, then make my way upstairs.
Mallory’s curled on her side but stirs as I crawl into bed. “Is your dad okay?” she whispers.
“Shh, he’s fine. Don’t worry about him.” I kiss her shoulder. “Are you okay? Need anything?”
“Will you hold me until I fall back asleep?”
We’re going to be okay. We’ll make it through this no matter what.
I wrap my arm around her, pulling her close. “I’ll hold onto you forever.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chaser
Maybe my father’s worried I’m brooding too much or need to get out of the house. The next afternoon, he invites me to sit down at the table with the club for church. And by “invites” I mean “orders.”
“All right.” He holds his hands up, halting the conversation going around the table. “Our last two visits with the Lost Kings went well. Now it’s time we extend the same courtesy—”
“Brother, I gotta object here,” Mouse interrupts. “No matter how much titty-fuckin’ we all did down at Crystal Ball, I don’t fuckin’ trust their current president.”
Well, I guess I didn’t miss anything on the club’s last run to Empire. Every time my club visits Crystal Ball, the brothers come home and start bugging my dad to open up our own strip club.
“Good, ’cause Ruger ain’t coming. His SAA is the one making the trip.”
“That’s even worse,” Tally says. “Their prez wants to do business here but can’t drag his lazy ass out and show us some respect.”
“Let’s see what Grinder has to say before we blow off the Lost Kings. Bishop’s stopping by too.” My father shrugs a little too casually. “Maybe our three clubs can work out something that benefits everyone.”
“Great, Bishop and Grinder will probably kill each other. Problem solved.” Mouse slaps his hands together. “Saints and Kings don’t mix well.”
My father snorts. “They’re two obstinate fuckers, aren’t they?” He points down the table at Trick. “Stay the fuck away from Bishop’s ol’ lady this weekend. I don’t need more bullshit in this clubhouse over that fuckin’ whore.”
“Nora isn’t a whore,” Trick grumbles.
My father’s expression doesn’t change.
“Fine.” Trick throws his hands in the air. “I won’t tell her about the party. Nothing I can do if Bishop tells her.”
I roll my eyes to the ceiling. Hell help that fucking woman if she comes near Mallory again.
My father asks me to stick around after the meeting. “I know you’re headed to Atlanta for your show. Think you’ll be back for the weekend?”