Chapter Forty-Eight
King
I stared at the man who’d just walked into my clubhouse and I knew, without hearing another fucking word, who he was talking about. The way James had stared at Grace, then Shane motherfucking Keller walking out with his phone in his hand, I knew something was up.
I pinched the bridge of my nose as my head began to throb. I took a step back and crooked my finger at Blade. When he was close enough to hear me whisper, I said, “Go get Grace.”
Blade’s eyes widened as he glanced at Popeye and shook his head, slipping out of the room.
“You don’t have a fucking daughter!” Montana said to the man who had the power to destroy the life I had just claimed.
Popeye stormed over to James. “Where is she?”
“Next door with the other women,” James said. Then he looked at me and smiled. “She was wearing that fucker’s cut when I walked in.”
Popeye turned and glared at me as I took a step back behind Reaper. I wasn’t proud of it, but I’d already been down this road once before and wasn’t looking forward to doing it again.
“Where. Is. She?” Popeye snarled.
Reaper turned and quirked an eyebrow. “Really? You big pussy.”
Montana shook his head, slapping Reaper on his chest. “I’ve got this one, bro.” Walking straight over to Popeye, Montana smiled, then reared back and punched the fucker in his face. Stumbling back a few steps, Popeye growled, charging Montana, tackling him to the floor.
Brothers from every club stepped back, giving the two men room as Reaper walked over to me and said, “You’d better do something.”
“Do what?”
“Just saying, if your old lady walks in and sees Montana beating the shit out of her old man, she ain’t gonna be happy with you. Trust me. I’ve wanted to take a whack at Vladmir many times but didn’t ’cause I like my woman willing.”
“Pretty sure I’m dead either fucking way.” I rubbed my neck and shouted, “Jingles, Mimic!”
My two enforcers waded into the fray to separate the two men. Arizona pulled Montana back, while Jingles and Mimic held Popeye.
The front door opened again, and Grace stepped inside, looking around for me. “Come here, baby.” I held my hand out as she rushed over.
“Stephanie.”
Grace turned and gasped. “Uncle Stephen?”
Popeye pulled Grace into his arms and kissed the top of her head. I stared at my woman. Who the fuck was Stephanie?
“Where’s your mother?” Popeye asked. Grace didn’t answer right away; she just stared at the man. I knew she knew who he was, but apparently, she had no idea he was her father.
“Where is Scarlett, Stephanie?”
“She died,” Grace whispered. “Almost five years now.”
“Fuck,” Popeye said. “I’m so sorry, baby girl.”
“Why are you here?” Grace asked. “How are you here? Where the fuck did you go?”
Reaper leaned close. “Now would be a good time to protect your woman.”
Grace stepped back, and I pulled her against me. “Grace, do you know him?”
“He’s my uncle Stephen.”
“Baby, I think he’s your father.”
Grace pulled away and glowered at me. “What?” She turned on Popeye. “Is that true?”
“Yes, sweetheart.”
Grace stepped closer and put her hands on Popeye’s chest. In a blur of motion that gave me PTSD, she brought her knee up and nailed the son of a bitch in the balls. Every man in the room groaned and as Popeye started to fall, she shoved him over and walked down the hallway without a glance at me.
Montana roared with laughter as Reaper whistled proudly. “Damn, brother. My cousin has a killer fucking knee. Must be that Golden blood running through her veins.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked. “Cousin?”
“Woman looks just like my cunt of a mother. Not saying your woman is a cunt, but I’d have to be blind not to see the resemblance.”
“Hold up,” Montana butted in. “If she looks like your mother, wouldn’t she be your sister?”
“You fucking moron!” Reaper snapped. “I’d remember if my mother had another kid.”
“Well, you said...”
“I KNOW WHAT I SAID!” Reaper roared.
Groaning, I rubbed my temples, my headache now a full-blown migraine thanks to Tweedledum and Tweedledumber.
Grace stormed back into the room, taking off her cut as she walked toward me. She slammed it against my chest and said, “I’m not doing this again.”
She turned around. “Oh, fuck no!” I shouted, grabbing her wrist. “Get your ass back here.” When she turned back around, she had tears in her eyes. “Nothing has fucking changed. Put this cut back on.”
“I can’t. It’s the same shit over and over. I can’t do it anymore.”
I grabbed her arm and dragged her into church. When the doors closed behind us, I laid the cut on the table and pulled her against me. “Nothing has changed. I don’t give a fuck who that man out there is. You are mine.”
“King—”
“What did I tell you in the beginning about Steele?” She looked away.
“I already fucking claimed you; your father can’t say shit.
He’s not a club president. He’s not even in a fucking club anymore.
He’s retired. Baby, he’s your father and I’m glad he’s here so you can get the answers you need.
But his presence doesn’t change a fucking thing. You. Are. Mine.”
She took a deep breath and nodded. I knew she was scared. She didn’t fully believe me, but I would make sure she did. “Do you want to talk to him?”
“No. Not right now. I can’t.”
“Okay, I can have Blade take you back over...” Grace shook her head.
“I want to go upstairs.”
“I don’t want you to be alone, Grace. You’ll get all up in your head and fucking run. I won’t fucking have it.” I looked at the church doors and blew out a breath. “I have to finish this shit. How about if I call Dec to come get you? He can take you to the house, and you can talk to Maureen.”
She nodded. I quickly sent my brother a text and then I grabbed the cut and helped her put it back on. “Don’t ever fucking take this off again.” I leaned down and kissed her hard, reminding her of my claim, before we walked back into the main room, where Popeye was still on the floor.
“Stephanie.”
“Fuck off,” I snarled. “Blade, take her outside. Dec will be here soon. Stay with her until he picks her up.”
I watched my broken woman walk out with my cousin. And I turned to the bastard who had walked away from her. He got to his feet, and I shoved him back down.
“Why the fuck are you here?”
“My daughter is here!” he growled.
“The daughter you fucking walked away from? Why now? Where the fuck have you been her whole fucking life? You have any fucking idea how much pain she’s in?
Do you even fucking care? You walk into my motherfucking house and think you’ll just pick up where you left off?
You have nothing here. She fucking belongs to me! ”
Popeye got to his feet again, and when I moved, Mimic stepped in front of me, preventing me from doing something I couldn’t come back from. Because make no mistake, I wanted to kill the bastard.
“She’s my fucking daughter.”
“YOU FUCKING LEFT!”
“No, the fuck I didn’t! She fucking disappeared!”
“King.” James stepped forward. “There’s shit going on you don’t know about.”
“Get the fuck away from him, old man,” Reaper snarled, pushing James back. “This isn’t your show anymore.”
“Yeah,” Montana piped up, standing behind Reaper. “The Golden Skulls are under new management.”
“I am so fucking sick of you fuckers coming out of the goddamn woodwork. Just once I’d like to meet one fucking parent who stuck around,” I barked.
“Sometimes, son, sticking around is the worst possible outcome.”
Everyone turned to the voice of the woman standing just inside the door. I recognized Dread, president of the Twisted Dragons, standing beside her, and my face paled.
“Momma?” Hemlock whispered, moving quickly to stand by the beautiful older woman I suspected was my birth mother.
“Who the fuck is that?” Montana asked no one in particular as Snoopy gasped, and Morpheus growled.
“Bridgit?” Snoopy said.
“Gretchen?” Morpheus snarled.
Blade walked back inside, followed by Sal. I dropped my head back. My head spun as I heard him gasp, “Darce?”
Blade looked at the woman, then Sal, then back at me, his eyes wide. “Oh fuck!”
“I’m fucking done!” I barked and walked into church. I sank down into my chair and held my head in my hands, my elbows on the table.
I heard the doors swish but didn’t look up until I heard Reaper’s voice as he pulled out a chair.
“Hiding in here ain’t gonna make them go away.
Word of advice: shit will only get worse if you don’t put a stop to it, fast. Right now, there are three powerful men out there, all connected to your mother. Left unchecked, they will take over.”
“He’s right, King,” Montana spoke up. “We knew this shit was fucked up. Known for a while how deep the blood went, but now it’s your turn. Reaper and I have been where you’re at right now...”
“Really, Montana? You know what it’s like to find out the parents you had weren’t your fucking parents? And then had a dead parent rise from her fucking grave?”
“Well...” Montana hedged.
“Yeah, actually I do.” Reaper grinned. “Look, King. All we’re trying to say is that hiding in here like some stubborn child isn’t going to fix what needs to be done. The appearance of your formerly dead mother doesn’t change shit. We still have shit to do.”
“I need to go upstairs and talk to Jackson.”
“Not yet,” Reaper cautioned. “Let’s deal with the club shit before you deal with the personal shit.”
“We don’t have any answers, Reaper. We have information. We know who we’re dealing with and what they want, but we have no fucking plan on how to find them or how to take them out.”
“Well, your new father-in-law might be able to help.” Reaper grinned.
“Fuck you, Reaper.”
“We need to figure out who is syphoning information out. My guess is, its one of the men out there in that room,” Montana surmised.
“Fine, let’s get this shit done. Maybe if I’m lucky, her fucking baby daddies will kill each other, and I’ll have one less problem.”
I braced my hands on the table and hefted myself up.
“Not to add more shit on your plate, but the big fucker, the one that had Reaper shitting his pants, called her Momma,” Montana pointed out.
“Fucking hell,” I groaned. “We’ll deal with that later.” I looked at Reaper. “And the fact that you killed my brother.”
“A brother you didn’t know,” Reaper argued.
“I wonder how Jackson will take that news.”
I grinned and walked out, leaving Reaper mumbling behind me, “I had a good fucking reason.”