Chapter Eight. #2
Laila grinned evilly and then stopped. “Mom. I don’t like the idea of someone replacing Dad. Actually, I hate it. But I also don’t want you to be alone for the rest of your life. Does that sound wrong?”
“No, honey. It’s probably what all kids think.
And nobody will ever replace Vulcan; he’s irreplaceable.
The heart has the capacity for new love, Laila.
What shape that takes, I can’t say. If you wish to get to know Magic, Vulcan wouldn’t feel betrayed; he’d have encouraged it.
Vulcan recognised he was your father in every way that counted, and no blood relative can steal that.
He was secure enough in his love for you both to let Magic into your life if that’s your choice.
Vulcan would have understood that Magic couldn’t take his spot. ”
Laila pursed her lips before nodding. “What am I going to do about my hair?” she asked, teenage crisis kicking in.
“Let’s see what that little shit used,” I said and headed inside with her.
Magic
I swung off my Harley and stood staring at the bar.
I was trying to process everything, and frankly, I was finding that fuckin’ hard.
Lars and Laila, my twins. A boy and a girl.
That unsettled me. A daughter. Already, my instincts were raging; Laila was sixteen and a half.
I bet Laila thought she’d be able to date; nope, that wasn’t happening.
Even with green hair, Laila was beautiful.
Christ, I needed to take root outside their house and ensure no randy assholes came calling.
I owned a lovely shotgun called Ballbreaker; it was time to dust it off and scare the crap out of some randy fuckers.
Naturally, I had double standards where Lars was concerned.
It was hypocritical, but I couldn’t help it.
How had Vulcan managed to watch Laila grow up and know that teenage boys would be sniffing around?
That was another dilemma. There was no mistaking the pedestal Vulcan had been placed upon. Jody doted on the guy, the twins, and Aster’s kids. By all accounts, Vulcan was a decent man. I needed to understand more about the person who’d become a father to my kids.
“Magic?” I looked up and saw Inglorious. Shit, I’d not even heard his bike pull in.
“I’ve got a daughter,” I blurted.
Inglorious raised an eyebrow. “Is she sane?”
“That’s your first question?” I demanded, insulted.
“It’s a fuckin’ valid one!”
“True.” I gave Inglorious that. “Yes, Laila is. And beautiful.”
“Oh, you’re screwed,” Inglorious said helpfully.
Agitated, I wanted to punch his lights out. Instead, I ran a hand over my beard. “You’re right.”
Inglorious nodded. “You just found out about her? How old is she?”
“Sixteen and a half.”
Inglorious looked stunned. “Anymore deep secrets you want to spill?” he asked, amused.
“She has a twin brother. Lars and Laila.”
“Those are unusual names.”
“They were raised in Denmark.”
Inglorious’s eyebrows disappeared under his hairline. “You knew about them?”
“I knew Jody was pregnant, but only after she ran.” I scuffed my boot in the dirt. What armaments did I have in my bunker? I’d have to stock up on bullets and build more IEDs. The house would need protecting.
“Oh, you’ve gone there.” Inglorious began laughing.
“Where?”
“You’re trying to figure out how to secure their home so no boy gets near your little girl,” Inglorious stated, and I nodded vigorously.
No doubt Laila’s brother and cousins would do a great job, but teenage boys were sneaky assholes.
However, Jesper certainly had skills. He was a good one to train.
No fear in that kid. I tugged my beard. No, they needed help; I decided.
Lars and Jesper would be dealing with other fathers who were overprotective, so I had to step up.
“Is a landmine field too much?” I asked and then shook my head. “No, never mind, I wouldn’t trust Jesper not to trip it on purpose. I could buy those tracking scanners. Add the faces of the family to them, and anyone who doesn’t match the gun turrets could shoot them. Yeah, that’s an idea.”
Inglorious began laughing uncontrollably as I stomped towards the bar.
I needed to head into my bunker and reach out to some contacts.
The turrets were army-grade, but the black market had all sorts of things.
Mission set, I flung open the door and froze as Alice and Bunny spun around.
Oh shit, my girls were here. Their asshole husbands smirked as they leaned against the counter.
“Start talking!” Bunny demanded, and I sighed. I wanted to research face-recognition gun turrets. Instead, I was about to be grilled within an inch of my life. Sucks to be me.
Jody
Laila’s hair had been returned to its glossy brunette, and she had paid Jesper back tenfold. She’d put itching powder in his underwear—all of it. Jesper had learned the art of twerking in an instant.
Laila had been deprived of her social media for three days as punishment, something she claimed was unfair because Jesper had started it. She also refused to babysit him again. I needed a job, not for the money, but for the adult interaction. I was starting to get desperate.
There weren’t any clubs around for moms with teenage children.
Plenty of mother and toddler groups, but for my kid’s age range—nada.
I wondered if there was a market for it.
It would certainly be a viable business opportunity.
Until a few years ago, I’d been able to visit the Torden Hingste clubhouse with the kids and find instant adult contact.
Even when it went dark, the old ladies congregated at someone’s house.
But their men were dead, same as mine, and we’d scattered to the four winds.
Now, I was raising seven children alone.
In desperation, I loaded up the laptop and searched for teenage parent clubs, but found nothing.
Huh. Maybe I didn’t need a job, but a project instead.
I had money; that wasn’t an issue. Naturally, the sale of Aster and Kanon’s house, along with their savings and life insurance, had been set aside for their boys.
I’d done the same with Vulcan’s life insurance, and that would pay for college and give Lars and Laila a nice nest egg for the future.
However, Lars and Vulcan had been out for blood.
They’d ‘liberated’ some of the dirty money, and I owned it now.
A quarter of a million wasn’t to be sniffed at.
Plus, there was also the small fortune that came with Crook House.
There was a stipend nobody could touch unless needed for repairs.
But there was a monthly living allowance, a generous seven thousand dollars per month, deposited straight into my bank account. I could spend as much or as little as I wished, and whatever remained was mine. There was also an annual allocation of an extra fifty k, should the present owner need it.
Meanwhile, the fortune kept gathering interest and growing. The fund never seemed to go down; instead, it grew exponentially. Shirley had left me her own savings, a rounded sum of two million. I didn’t even ask how she’d saved that, although I’d bet anything most came from the allowances.
Now that the idea had caught hold of me, I began looking for suitable locations to buy and, if necessary, convert.
To my surprise, there were a couple of places that would suit my needs.
A rather substantial doctor’s surgery with an enclosed yard and parking spaces was up for six hundred thousand.
Interesting. There was plenty of space, but I was unsure how to utilise it.
This would take some further research, but it would give me a project. That was for sure. Was this something I wanted to undertake? Or should I get a job? Decisions, decisions.
Laila
“What do we do?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” Lars replied.
“About Magic. Should we visit him?”
Lars looked disgusted. “Why would we want to?”
“He’s our donor. Don’t you want to understand what happened?”
“No, Laila, I don’t. Magic’s not our father or anything to do with us. The guy is a stranger. If Magic believes he’ll crawl back and replace Dad, think again.”
“Mom says—”
“Laila, what is this?” Lars demanded angrily. “Are you seeking a daddy figure? That man isn’t it!”
I flinched and got up. “Nobody can take Dad’s place.”
“Then stop looking at Magic as one.”
I walked away from Lars, furious. There were questions Magic could answer, such as hereditary health issues, family past, and his own history with Mom.
I had a right to those answers. Magic wasn’t my dad, but maybe we could be acquaintances or friends?
I didn’t know what I wanted, but Lars was wrong.
And if Lars wished to be an asshole, then I’d act alone.