Within the Ashes (Burn For Me #4)

Chapter One

O n the list of shit I didn’t expect to happen today, this has just taken the number one spot.

From a box on my porch, the bundle, wrapped in so many blankets you can only see its limbs moving, cries and writhes, its wails echoing down the street.

It’s fucking freezing out here. The ground is wet, so why the fuck is there a baby on my damn porch?

I need to pick it up, but there appears to be a misfire in my brain because it can’t send the memo to my limbs to move. Instead, several long seconds pass before I can function again.

“What the fuck?” I mutter to myself as I lean down and pick the box up with the baby swaddled inside, only just noticing the ripped and damp note attached.

“Hey,” I murmur to the crying child, “Shh.”

Behind me, I hear the group laughing, music playing as they all talk and relax.

Stepping back inside, I place the box on the console table and place my hand on the baby’s chest, hoping the small contact will offer some kind of comfort, but what the fuck do I know?

Computers, software, and calculations I know, babies not so much.

Ripping the note from the box, I read the messy scrawl.

I can’t do it.

She’s yours.

Give her up or take her; I don’t care.

Don’t contact me.

Seline.

Seline!? Who the fuck is Seline?

I rack my brain, trying to place the name, but I’ve been with many women, most of whom I don’t get their names. I’m in the business of pleasure, not commitment.

I can list the names I have on one hand, and as I go through them, placing each one, Seline’s face floats to the forefront of my mind.

Thirteen months ago. A dark club. She gave me her name, and apparently, she already knew who I was. That wasn’t uncommon, but she also understood it was a one-night thing, no strings attached, no feelings involved.

Fuck.

She got pregnant!?

My eyes lower to the baby, wrapped in a small pink blanket with ducks on it, the edges worn and fraying. She fusses, no longer crying but not content either. This baby is only a few months old, tiny, fragile, and… mine.

No , fuck no .

What am I supposed to do with a baby, damn it!?

I struggle to swallow as I retrieve the infant from the box, the few times I’ve held Hope, my best friend’s daughter, flashing in my memory. Her clothes are damp, and her diaper seems fuller than it should be, but what the hell do I know?

What’s her name? I turn my attention back to the note, but there is no name I can see, nothing on her clothing or the blanket.

The baby whines, the sound soft but miserable.

“Shh,” I whisper gently, attempting a rocking motion I’ve seen Sebastian do with Hope. She’s so fucking cold. What would have happened if I didn’t hear the knock? Didn’t know she was there!? She would have frozen to fucking death!

My blood heats inside my veins, the quiet anger working through me like a snake. My teeth grind together as I reach for one of my coats on the hook and wrap it around her, attempting to warm her, but I know she needs to be changed, probably bathed, and fed.

This must be some kind of mistake. This can’t be my baby. I can’t be a dad. I take precautions; I make sure I wear a condom so this doesn’t happen. I’m not father material, never wanted to be.

Staring down into the little round face with pink cheeks and watery brown eyes, something connects. A magnet finding its other half.

Holy shit.

Numb legs carry me back toward my living room, where my friends still are. We only intended it as a relaxed gathering with drinks, food, and a game on TV.

My brother, Killian, snaps his eyes to me as if he somehow knows, while his girl, Savannah, leans forward, concern washing across her face.

“Dean?”

But words fail me, my heart pounding inside my chest, so I simply lower the bundle in my arms so they can see what I have.

“Why the fuck are you holding a baby!?” Killian stands abruptly.

“I’m a dad,” I choke, the words like lumps in my throat.

“What!?” Killian snaps loudly.

“She’s mine.”

I should have felt scared many times in my life. Like the time my father beat me so badly I wasn’t sure I was going to survive, or when I watched my brother kill him. I’ve been in situations where bullets are flying, and men are dying but I’ve never been as afraid as I am right now.

The baby moves in my arms, letting out another soft cry.

The room erupts into chaos. My brother rushes closer, his dark eyes wide, as my best friend, Sebastian, reaches over to ease the fabric away from the baby’s face for a better view. His wife, Willow, starts rummaging through her bag as if looking for something.

“How can you be sure?” Killian asks.

“I’m not,” I shake my head.

“Malakai,” Killian turns to our other friend, he’s the head of the criminal organization we all work for. “Can we do something?”

“I’ll arrange a DNA test,” Malakai says stoically, the only one in the room seemingly not panicking at the new addition to the group. Olivia, his wife, watches on, her hand on her own growing baby bump.

“How?” Is all she asks.

“They left her,” I swallow, “On the doorstep.”

“Her mother left her!?” Willow snaps, her attention diverted from her bag for just a second, a look of anger passing over her face.

“What are you looking for?” Sebastian asks her.

“I carry spare clothes and diapers everywhere, always,” She rushes out, “I’m sure they’re in here somewhere.”

“What’s her name?” Savannah asks quietly, running a single finger down the infant’s cold cheek.

The rage from before rears up, snapping my teeth together. “She doesn’t have one.”

“Oh my God,” Savannah clasps her hand across her mouth, tears filling her eyes. Killian wraps an arm around her.

“We’ll figure it out,” He assures me, “We’ll get this fixed, brother.”

“I need to run home,” Willow declares, “I have nothing here.”

“I’ll go,” Sebastian offers, “What do I need to get?”

“How old is she?” Willow asks.

“A few months, if that,” I explain.

“Hope has some clothes she can have; She’s grown out of them now, and we have diapers and formula.” Willow assures me, “Get everything, Bast, we need it!”

When Sebastian rushes out, keys in hand, Willow steps over, “Can I look?”

I nod mutely, handing her the baby over. She takes her to the couch and settles onto the cushion, placing her down onto her thighs, where she then unwraps her.

“She’s freezing,” Willow winces, “And wet.”

I nod, unable to really form any words.

“We need to get her warm, Dean,” Willow says sternly, “Now.”

“Do whatever is needed,” I tell her, and the moment I give her permission, she’s up and rushing out of the room and up the stairs. I follow behind, leaving everyone else to watch after us. In the bathroom, Willow begins to run a bath and then sets about undressing the layers on the child.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Willow whispers, “How does this happen?”

“Her mother,” I hang back and watch from the doorway, “It was a one-night thing months ago. I didn’t know.”

“I don’t blame you, Dean,” Willow says softly.

Once Willow strips away the wet clothes, leaving her in a diaper that definitely needs changing, she wraps the baby in one of the warm towels from the rack and then gently rocks her while the tub continues to fill.

“Can you check the water?” She asks me.

“What for?” I head to the tub.

She laughs, “The temperature. Use your elbow; it will help you judge whether the water is too hot or too cold.”

I stare at her blankly.

“You’re going to be fine,” She assures me. “Here, take her, and I’ll check it this time.”

Taking the baby, I cradle her in my arms. Already the color is returning to her cheeks, her skin warming up. But I don’t see how I’m going to be fine .

I’m not built to be a father. It was never something I wanted, too fucking traumatized by my own to even entertain the idea. Now, there is no choice.

As Willow takes her from me now that the bath is done, Sebastian returns, two large bags in his hands. He gives Willow some shampoo and body wash and then places the rest of the stuff in the bedroom before coming back to me and slapping me on the shoulder.

“You’re so totally fucked, man.” His fingers squeeze.

“Comforting,” I grumble as I watch his wife bathe the baby.

But I know he isn’t wrong, and I know the moment I find out if this baby is actually mine, they’ll be nothing I won’t do for her. Whether I wanted this or not.

We were able to fast-track the results of the DNA test, and now they’re in my hands, with the match at 99.99%. She’s my daughter.

“She needs a name,” Savannah says, holding the little girl who coos, with a strand of her long blonde hair in her tiny fist.

“I need to find Seline,” I fold the paper and tuck it into my pocket. “I need to know all of her information, everything.”

She nods in agreement, “Are you going to take her with you?” She says, referring to my daughter.

“Fuck no,” I growl, “As far as I am concerned, she has no fucking rights to the kid anymore. She gave her up; there’s no taking that back.”

Savannah nods in agreement, “Listen, me and Killian can watch her while you go, if you want? We have everything we need here now.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I agree. Truthfully, for the past several days, I’ve leaned heavily on my friends to help with my daughter, passing her off every chance I can get.

It makes me a shitty person and an even shittier dad, but I don’t know how to do this.

I don’t know how to bond with a child I didn’t know existed until a couple of days ago.

Or even how to be a father.

“I won’t be long,” I tell them as I grab the keys to the Porsche and realize I’m going to need another car since it isn’t exactly child friendly.

“Fuck,” I grumble as the car beeps to signal it unlocking, and then I climb in behind the wheel, hitting the button to start the engine. It roars to life before it settles into a purr, and once it’s warm, I hit the gas to peel out of the driveway.

I don’t know Seline’s last name or anything else except where she works. It’s midafternoon; The club won’t be open, but there may be someone there who can point me in the right direction.

She’s missing.

And anyone who knows her was never told about the child. She didn’t tell anyone, and as far as I’m aware, that makes the child nameless and unregistered.

I slam my hands down on the steering wheel. Her full name and address were all I was given, so I went there after the club, only to find it empty. She cleared out and disappeared, probably the same night she dropped the kid off on my doorstep.

I’ll fucking find her though, she doesn’t know who the fuck she has messed with here. She could have killed my daughter by leaving her out on that porch, assuming I’d be in to get her.

I’ll kill her myself for it.

I turn into my drive a half hour later and cut the engine before I climb out and head inside. Killian is on the couch with my daughter asleep in his arms, while Savannah washes up the few bottles Willow donated to me.

“She went down about twenty minutes ago,” Savannah says.

“Her name is Lily,” I whisper.

“You found Seline?”

I shake my head, “She’s disappeared, but no one knew about her. She didn’t exist.”

“Oh,” Savannah breathes sadly.

“You gonna find her?” Killian growls under his breath, his anger clear in his eyes.

“Yes,” I promise.

“Good.”

We both know I’m not finding her out of the goodness of my heart.