Chapter 21
twenty-one
DANE
Secrets are a tricky thing. You want to be honest with the people in your life while protecting those involved.
My mother tried for many long years for a baby that never came. They applied to different agencies, hoping to bring home a child. Despite the Bordelon’s legitimate wealth from farming, with the club’s activities at the time, all they saw was a biker and his old lady.
One night, my godfather Ruger came to see my parents. The favored sweetbutt at a neighboring club he visited was pregnant, the potential father allegedly any of a dozen men. If she kept the baby she would have to leave, but she was determined to stay. My parents jumped on the chance.
Money exchanged hands, and a private adoption was arranged. “First time in a long time I went somewhere without my cut on,” Dad had said. “Your mom was afraid if she knew who we were she’d come back and take you from us.”
I know in most adoptions, things are more open, but usually, the parents, biological or adoptive, don’t have enemies with scores to settle.
When the married club president brought me to my parents, my mother said it was glaringly obvious who had sired me. Still, with one last envelope of cash, he handed me over without a backward glance.
The club president died in prison before I was out of diapers, and the sweetbutt did as she promised and never showed up again.
I don’t give two shits if people know I’m not related by blood. My father is Solomon Bordelon, and my mother is Allison. I feel the same way about Owen. He is my son just as much as if Darcy and I created him together.
My parents weren’t open about how I came to be with them to protect me. Decades later, it’s up to me to provide the same shelter for Owen.
Taking a long deep breath, I slowly ease away from Darcy. She’s passed out cold, exhausted from the long day.
It felt as if my soul was being sucked from my body as I poured myself into her earlier. Her pussy had clamped down, milking my seed from me.
Slipping on a pair of jeans, I quietly make my way across the room, opening the bedroom door. I grimace at a loud squeak, watching for not only Darcy, but Owen to stir.
I creep over to the bassinet, watching my son sleep. We have a lot in common, the kiddo and I.
Her purse is by the diaper bag, on a wobbly café table. As I reach in, the table rattles against the linoleum flooring. I stop mid-act, my head turning to the bassinet. Owen doesn’t flinch, the white noise machine doing its job to buffer out unwanted sound.
There’s not much in her handbag…a wallet, a purple hairbrush with a scrunchie tied around the handle, and some Tylenol. I dig around in the pockets until my fingers find a foil packet about three inches long. That’s it? Each little divot is labeled with a day of the week, and only Monday is missing. It’s Tuesday night. She must take the pills at night and missed the next pill. Good.
I check again, ensuring that’s the only strip of pills, but all that’s there is a random tampon, grape-flavored bubble gum, and a small notepad with Odin’s knot doodled on the cover.
Ha. Thinking of me while you’re working, Sugar?
Putting everything but Darcy’s prescription back as I found it, I walk over to the side door of the cabin. Steep steps lead down to the boat launch, close by in the unlikely event of a raid. Even more confident in my decision, I fling the pills into the murky water of the bayou below.
I know at some point in time, something is going to spook Darcy and make her want to run. I see it in her eyes constantly, that scared little rabbit look. It’s only natural—she thinks it's her only defense.
But protecting Darcy is my job, even if it’s from herself. I’m not above doing anything and everything I can to slow her down and make her rethink trying to skip town.
Am I trapping her? Absolutely.
Am I in the least bit sorry? Nope.
Sometimes a wounded creature finds safety and security in capture, free from any worries of predators or hunger. Maybe Darcy will find the same comfort and start to heal.
I have no real interest in having a child just so that I share DNA with a family member. The club and my adoption have taught me that family is found. Despite some of the fucked up stuff I dealt with as a kid, I still knew I was loved unconditionally. The same cannot be said for Darcy. I want it to be undeniable in her mind that I’m too desperate to ever let her go.
Tomorrow she’s moving into my house. With only one dose of birth control in her body, perhaps our second child is taking root at this minute. As soon as Folgers is done digging, I’m going to deal with the asshole at the bank and get Darcy’s money back so she has a nest egg of her own.
With time, Darcy will thrive, living as my queen.
Things are changing fast in all of our lives, but as I close the door to the boat dock, seeing my son sleeping safely in his bed, I’m certain what I’m doing is right.
There’s no remorse or regret in my heart as I crawl back into bed.
Wanna know the truth? I wouldn’t have done things any differently if there wasn’t a debt, or if she was in love with Seth. I’d have found a way to make Darcy mine. Any hint of morality is gone when it comes to her. I would have been a crazed man until Darcy was mine in every single way, heart and soul.
It’s only fair since she owns mine.