Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
FREAK
Returning to the clubhouse, I storm my way to the bar. “Double whisky.”
“Whoa, Bro. What’s got you so turned about?”
Instead of answering Bullseye, I cast my eyes around, hoping to find the one man who can help me.
Brothers have been partying for hours, so it’s not surprising to see that the majority are already almost comatose.
Eventually, I spy Genie, our tech expert.
He’s at a table, leaning forward, his head resting on his arms. Hoping he’s just dozing, I march over to him.
But when I poke a finger into his side to wake him, he rolls off his chair and onto the floor.
He’s drunk, and his sudden fall doesn’t hurt him.
In fact, his lips curve into a smile. He shoots me a V sign before once again closing his eyes.
“Fuckin’ useless asshole.” Raking my hands through my hair, I resist the urge to kick his prone, now snoring body.
“Think you need to calm down. My office now, and you can tell me what the fuck’s going on,” Bullseye mutters by my side, obviously having ceased propping up the bar.
Single-minded, I don’t want to talk. I want to check out Antoinette’s story and determine whether the birth certificate is genuine or forged.
Fuck her resemblance to the woman who damn near destroyed my life.
A good surgeon can change facial features.
But even my spinning brain realises that’s a stretch.
Too fucking expensive for a start. And what reason would anyone have in trying to fool me that they’re the twin of my kid’s dead mother?
The only man who can prove whether she’s telling the truth or not is currently snoring at my feet. Fucking useless. And, by the state of him, when he does wake up, it will be hours before he’s able to function with the hangover he’s likely to have.
Pippa. She’d be able to help me, probably better than Genie.
With her experience, I suspect she’d need only to take one look at the birth certificate to know whether it’s genuine.
Ignoring Prez, I start moving in the direction of her and Saint’s house, the one they’d built at the rear of the compound.
“Freak.” Prez’s heavy hand lands on my shoulder, forcing me to stop.
I shake his touch off. “I’ve got to find Pippa. Need her to do something for me.”
His snort of derision has me turning, only to see his raised brow. “You fuckin’ lost your head or something? You must have a death wish if you want to disturb your VP tonight. If you’ve forgotten, I’ll remind you. They got married today, and will probably be fuckin’ for the rest of the night.”
Shit and damnation. Recent events had swept everything else from my mind. Genie will be useless until at least late in the morning, and Pippa, well, she might put in an appearance, or still be getting hammered by her husband.
Fuckin’ Saint. Why the hell did he have to wife her?
“Freak.” This time, Bullseye’s voice comes as a bark. “My office. Now. I want to know what the fuck that woman at the gate said to you, who she is, and whether she’s gonna bring trouble to the club.”
My one-track mind is still focused on what I can’t currently have – an expert eye to look over the “evidence” Antoinette had provided. So I let Prez know I’m disinclined to obey him. Slashing my hand through the air, I dismiss him. “You can’t help.”
His face hardens. “I’m not fuckin’ asking. I’m telling.” His voice grows menacing as he snarls, “Get to my fuckin’ office now.”
Suddenly, I feel as if lightning has just struck me. Something more important than getting the facts checked out. Ace has been in communication with Antoinette. Could he have given her his grandmother’s address? And, not finding him at the clubhouse, could she be headed that way now?
I feel like an idiot for not checking on him right away. That should have been the first thought in my mind. Fuck, but she’s got me so discombobulated, my brain’s not firing on all cylinders.
I try to move around Prez.
“You’re not fuckin’ heading toward my office door. So where the fuck are you going?”
“To see Ace,” I reply sharply.
“It’s fuckin’ gone midnight.” His words were accompanied by an exaggerated roll of his eyes.
“You’re going to scare the shit out of your old mom if you go there now, and the boy, if you wake him.
” Moving so he’s again blocking my way, he growls, “You and I are going to have that fuckin’ talk before you head off anywhere.
” He assesses me for a moment before adding, “Do I have to get Tempest involved?”
“I can take the sergeant-at-arms,” I blurt out without thinking. Then, not having totally lost my wits, I prove I’ve still got some about me. I watch as Bullseye nods to someone over my shoulder, and I swallow hard. “He’s standing behind me, isn’t he?”
Now, if it had only been one limb taken out of action, I might have risked fighting, but Tempest grabs both of my arms and has them twisted behind my back.
And in such a way, I know he means business.
If I struggle, I’m likely to end up with two, or at least one, broken arm.
As Prez leads the way, and the sergeant-at-arms frog-marches me across the room, I feel the fight leaving me.
If I weren’t one hundred percent alpha male, I’d probably have broken down and cried.
“Sit down,” Prez demands, pointing to the chair in front of his desk, while taking the one behind. Tempest, a quick turn of my head shows me, now having released me, is standing with his back against the door, guarding any exit through it.
After taking a fresh bottle of whisky from his drawer, Prez twists the top off, then fills three shot glasses to the brim, sliding one across to me. As if expecting I’ll try and make a run for it, Tempest doesn’t move from his position by the door.
He just murmurs, “Thanks, Prez. I’ll let things get more settled before I partake of your offer.”
After Bullseye takes a long sip from his glass, the expression on his face changes to one that screams he’ll take no more fucking around.
That I’ve already used up any passes he’s inclined to give me tonight.
I’m proved right when, without preamble, he just spits out the pertinent question.
“Who the fuck was that woman who came to see you?”
I suddenly slam my glass down on his desk, ignoring Tempest’s heavy footsteps moving in closer behind me. Using my now free hand, I slide it into my cut and extract the envelope I’d been given. I toss it on the desk.
Bullseye reaches over and grabs it, giving a chin lift over my shoulder, and as a result, I hear footsteps retreat.
“For fuck’s sake, Temp. I’m not going to attack the Prez.
” I jerk my chin toward what Bullseye’s holding with as much trepidation as he would a poisonous snake.
“And now that that’s out in the open, come sit the fuck down.
Maybe three heads are better than one to sort this shit out.
” I nod at the man sitting opposite me. “Open it up. See what you think of what’s inside. ”
Leaning back in my chair, I cradle the whisky in my hands, then, thinking better of just holding it, drain the contents and place the empty glass back on the desk.
Prez shakes out the contents. The first are copies of two birth certificates, which he unfolds and smooths out. He stares at them for a moment, then goes completely still. “Josephine Mordrake. Isn’t she Ace’s birth mother?”
“Yeah, her cunt spat him out.” I shrug. “That was about the most she had to do with him.” Then, to save him the bother of figuring it out, I point to the second one and enlighten him.
“It was Antoinette who came to see me tonight. Either she is Josie’s twin, as those pieces of paper suggest, or she’s spent a fuckton of dollars on facial reconstruction surgery to make herself look just like her. ”
Prez reaches for the bottle and tops off my glass. “If she’s a twin, why didn’t you know about her? And why the fuck is she crawling out of the woodwork now?”
Taking this glass a sip at a time, I fill them both in on the events of the last half hour. When I mention her claim on Ace, Tempest snarls, and Prez bangs both fists down on the desk.
“She’s not getting her hands on my son,” I finish.
“Too fuckin’ right,” the sergeant-at-arms growls.
Prez sits back, resting his chin on his clasped hands. “Does she know what happened with her sister?”
“I haven’t checked that birth certificate out,” I remind him. “I’m not so sure she’s Josie’s sister. That’s what I wanted Pippa or Genie to check. In case it’s a forgery.”
Tempest snorts. “You think you’re important enough that a woman’s going to rearrange her face to resemble the woman who birthed your son?”
“Go easy on him, Temp. Brother must have thought he was seeing a fuckin’ ghost.”
And that’s the sum of it. “I was.” Even under the circumstances, my lips quirk. “I freaked out.”
Tempest, now drinking his own whisky, suddenly asks, “I know Prez has got the full story, but what happened to Ace’s mom? If you don’t mind my asking.”
“Brother, I only got the headlines,” Prez confirms.
Both men are looking at me. I really don’t want to share.
The fewer people who know the full, sordid tale, the better.
But these are the men who I depend on to have my back as I’d have theirs, and who I can trust will help me block fucking Antoinette from ever seeing my son.
So, cognisant that they’ve got their own backstories, I start to divulge mine.