Chapter Fifty-Seven
King
“Fuck!”
Grace was related to fucking everyone. Not only was Reaper correct in assuming she was his cousin, but if Popeye was related to Devlin Scott, that meant Malice was also her cousin.
“Does Malice know?”
“He does.” Popeye chuckled. “He’s never acknowledged Scott as his father, so he doesn’t acknowledge me as his uncle. I’m his former VP. That’s it.”
“I have family?” Grace asked quietly.
“You do, baby. Though most of it isn’t worth claiming.
You have a cousin in California, who is batshit fucking crazy, but she would be there if you needed her.
You also have a cousin in New York; she’s married into the Bratva.
But she’s very sweet, and probably the only one worth anything aside from you. ”
A knock on the door interrupted us, and Kytten stuck her head in.
“Sorry to interrupt, but, Grace, I have those results.”
“Come in, Kytten,” Grace said.
Grace looked at her father, tears in her eyes. “I have to tell you something.”
“Baby, you don’t have to,” I urged.
“No, depending on what the tests say, he should know.”
“What is it, Grace? Are you sick?”
Kytten stood at the end of the table, a folder in her hand. Grace inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. I could almost hear her counting in her head. She’d come so far in the last two weeks. Depending on what the tests said, she could backslide.
“Two weeks ago, Karlyn, Jackson’s woman, went with me to the bakery in town. There was an ambush, and Karlyn and I were taken.”
I saw Popeye stiffen. His hand held on to Grace’s, but his eyes were hard. He was a father about to find out how his little girl had been hurt.
“I was raped.”
Popeye didn’t speak at first. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. When he opened them, they were directed at me as he said, “Baby, that was not your fault.”
Grace looked up and followed his gaze. “It wasn’t King’s fault either.”
“He didn’t protect you.”
“I wouldn’t let him. He told me to stay in the clubhouse, but I was angry. So I asked Karlyn to go get a coffee with me. Please don’t blame him.”
“I have to blame someone,” he said.
“Blame the man who did it.”
“Where the fuck is he?”
“Dead,” I answered.
Popeye snapped his eyes to mine. “You killed him?”
“Fuck yeah, I killed him. I wish I hadn’t, though. He died too fucking fast, but getting to Grace was more important.”
Popeye nodded, then turned to Grace. “I can give you some privacy.”
“No.” She grabbed his hand. Her other hand sought out mine, and I scooted closer to her chair and wrapped my arm around her shoulders.
“Whatever it says, we’ll deal. Nothing has changed.”
Grace barked out a sob. “Everything has changed, King,” she said, shaking her head.
“Nothing that’s important, baby.”
Grace looked up. “Okay, Kytten. I’m ready.”
Kytten took a deep breath as if she were steeling herself to give us the news. “All your tests came back negative except one.” Kytten waited until Grace looked up at her. “You’re pregnant, Grace.”
Grace paled. “Pregnant?” she whispered. She started shaking her head. “I can’t have his baby.” She looked at me. “Oh God, I’ll never know who the father...”
I pulled her onto my lap. “Shhh, baby. It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”
I looked up at Kytten as Grace cried against my chest. “Can you do a paternity test?” I asked.
“Not until seven weeks. But I need a sample to compare it to.”
“Mine,” I said, as Grace lifted her head.
“What?”
“We were together the day before, Grace. This baby could be mine. Please don’t make any decisions until we know.”
“But, King—”
I put my finger over her mouth. “Please, Grace. Just a few weeks. I know it’s your body, baby, and your decision, but please wait just a few weeks.”
“I’m not sure I can.” Grace stood up and walked out of church, leaving me staring after her.
“King,” Kytten said.
“Don’t,” I snarled. “Don’t fucking tell me it’s her choice.”
“It is her choice.”
“And what about me? That could be my fucking baby!” I shouted. I leaned forward, my arms on the table. It took everything in me not to jump out of my chair and chase after her.
“And if it’s not?” Popeye asked.
I held my head in my hands as I thought about what he said.
If the baby wasn’t mine, I’d hold her hand while she did whatever she had to do.
I just needed her to wait a few weeks. I couldn’t handle not knowing.
I wanted that baby. Hell, I wanted that baby even if it wasn’t mine, because it was a part of her.
If the baby wasn’t mine, I’d support whatever she chose. But if he was mine, I wanted the opportunity to love him. To raise him. I’d never forgive myself for letting him go.
I didn’t know if I could forgive her either.
I pushed myself up and stormed out of church. I walked through the main room, ignoring the brothers calling my name. After slamming through the front door, I charged toward my bike.
Swinging my leg over, I started her up and rode out through the gate. I needed time. Time to think and clear my head. Time to come to terms with the fact that I had no say over my child’s life.
I could feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw Reaper’s name. I hit the button to send him to voicemail, and it started up immediately. Montana. I hit the button again and again as each of my brothers tried to call.
When I saw Jackson’s name on the screen. I tossed the phone over my shoulder. In the side mirror of my bike, I watched as it collided with the pavement and smashed into pieces. I hit the throttle and roared off down the road.
I’d been riding for hours when I came to a little town in northern Colorado. Stocks had made sure the Death Dogs were gone, but after seeing Grace go over that waterfall, I didn’t know if I ever wanted to set foot in Wyoming again.
I pulled into a little diner and backed my bike into a spot. I went inside and sat down at a booth. I could have picked the counter, but the big bastard who was following me would be fucking uncomfortable with nowhere to put his long-ass legs.
I kept my head down and my eyes on the menu as Morpheus sat down across from me. He didn’t say a word, and when the waitress stopped at the table, I looked up and smiled at her, hoping to ease the anxiety I could clearly see in her trembling body.
“Hi, sweetheart. I’ll take a cup of coffee and the daily special.”
“And you, s-sir?”
Morpheus grunted, and I rolled my eyes. “He’ll have the same.”
She shook her head and scurried off.
“Why are you a dick?”
“Why are you a pussy?”
“Fuck you. Why are you even here?” I stared at him as I waited for him to answer.
“It’s not safe for you to be out alone.”
“You worried about me?”
“Fuck no.” He sat forward and leaned on the table. The waitress stopped with two coffee cups and a carafe of hot coffee. I wasn’t sure if that was the norm, or if she just didn’t want to come back if she didn’t have to. Most likely the latter.
When she scurried away again, Morpheus scoffed as if he was irritated by her. “You’re Jackson’s brother.”
“So?”
“So, my son already fucking hates me. If I let his brother get himself killed, he’ll fucking hate me more.”
“Where the fuck have you been?”
“Around.”
“Have you talked to her?” I asked. Knowing the answer since he hadn’t been in the clubhouse and Darcy had been with Dec outside of the clubhouse.
“No.”
“Are you going to?”
Morpheus shot me a piercing glare. “Long enough for her to sign the divorce papers.”
I rolled my eyes. “You aren’t fucking married. She was using a fake name. The marriage isn’t legal.”
“Still the principal.”
“Fucking principals.” I snorted. “You talk to your sister?”
“Why the fuck are you here?” he asked, ignoring my question.
“Why the fuck are you here?” I shot back.
“I told you why.”
“None of your fucking business.” I took a sip of my coffee. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially not Morpheus. He wouldn’t understand. My mother hadn’t threatened to abort his child.
I probably should have gone to Dec. Hell, even Sal might have had something productive to say. But Jackson was right. Morpheus walked away. He let Kalden pull him back to the club, and he let Jane steal his son.
As if he’d read my mind, he said, “I didn’t know Jane took him. Not until after he’d escaped the Trick Pony.” I looked up at the big man and saw something that looked a smidge like vulnerability in his eyes. “I thought she’d left me. And took Jackson with her.”
“And you didn’t go after her?”
“No.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Did your father go after her?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow.
“He tried. He was only seventeen, and it was the eighties. Despite being in the Mob, teenagers didn’t have many resources.”
“I was eighteen. Same shit, different father.”
I’d just taken a sip of my coffee when Morpheus said what could almost pass for a fucking joke. I coughed and sputtered, trying to catch my breath.
“Why did you take off? Who pissed you off?”
I blew out a breath as I debated whether sharing any information with Morpheus, personal or otherwise, was a good idea. “Grace is pregnant.”
“Fuck,” he cursed. “She gonna get an abortion?”
“I asked her to wait a few weeks.”
“What the fuck for?” he snarled. He pulled his phone out and quickly sent a text.
“Because that baby could be mine. And unlike you and fucking Sal, I want my kid.”
Morpheus slammed his hand on the table and clenched his jaw. “I wanted my fucking son.”
“Just not enough to fight for him.”
“You little cocksucker,” he hissed.
I leaned forward, glaring at the bastard in front of me. “You could have taken him. When Moonshine found him in those woods, you could have manned the fuck up and claimed your son. Instead, you fucking hid him.”
“I had no fucking choice!” He slammed his fist on the table again just as the bell over the door jingled, and a deputy walked in. He was big, but he was young. He looked to be around thirty, and his biceps were bursting out of his uniform.
“Good evening, gentlemen.”
I snorted as Morpheus growled. We weren’t gentlemen, and the fucking cop knew it. He looked at my cut and then Morpheus’ and asked, “Where you men from?”
I rolled my eyes, and Morpheus continued to glare at the man.
“Just passing through on our ride, Deputy. Grabbing a bite to eat, and we’ll be on our way.”
The waitress took the opportunity to drop off our plates while the deputy stood at the end of our table. Before she left, she pulled the check out of her pocket, dropping it on the table.
Message fucking received.
“Today’s special looks mighty good. Think I’ll sit over at the counter and have one myself.”
“You do that,” Morpheus snapped.
“Play nice, brother.”
“Fuck you, King.”
I looked up at the deputy. I watched out of the corner of my eye for Morpheus to take a bite of his meatloaf and then said, “You’ll have to excuse my stepfather. My mom pissed him off again.”
Morpheus choked on his food and started coughing as he croaked out, “Asshole.” I grinned at the motherfucker and tore into my plate. We ate our meal in silence, and when I finished, I dropped some money on the table as I stood. Adding a generous tip for scaring the waitress.
Ignoring the deputy, who hadn’t taken his eyes off us, I walked outside, followed by Morpheus. I swung my leg over my bike, and before I had a chance to start it up, Morpheus spoke.
“There is no greater pain than losing a child, King. Whether you give them up willingly, or someone takes them from you. It’s not something you ever recover from. Sometimes letting them go is the only way to save their mother.”
We rode back to the clubhouse together. I didn’t know where he was staying, but he didn’t come in. I walked up the porch steps as a bike pulled into the lot.
Ghost turned off his bike and climbed off. His face was grim. “What are you doing here? I thought you stayed to protect Mellie and Roxy?”
“It was either I came back, or Sinclair did. He sent me back to protect his son.”
“FUCK!”