“Deacon, I’m not fucking playing, man. I need your ass out here. Now!”
When I pulled away, Cheyenne mewled in frustration, her legs scissoring for friction. She’d been close before we were interrupted. Craning my neck toward the door, I shouted, “If this isn’t a matter of life or death, I will cut your fucking balls off!”
“It is,” came Rev’s muffled reply.
“Motherfucker,” I grumbled, as I slid off the bed. Snatching up my T-shirt and jeans, I put them on in record speed. When Cheyenne started to get up, I shook my head. “You stay just like that.”
With a sly smile, she spread her legs and ran her fingers teasingly over her pussy. “Just like this?”
“Yeah, but don’t get yourself off while I’m gone. I’m the only one who gets to do that.”
She scowled at me just before I turned to head to the door. When I threw it open, Rev shot me a disgusted look. “For fuck’s sake, man, wipe your mouth and fix your hair a little.”
Instead of arguing that I didn’t give two shits what anyone thought of my appearance, I licked my lips to savor Cheyenne a little longer. Then I dragged my arm across my mouth. As we started down the hall, I jerked a hand through my hair to try to tame the mess that Cheyenne had made.
When I rounded the corner, a silver-haired Hispanic woman came into view. Her apprehension of being in the clubhouse was rolling off her in waves. Her dark eyes darted from left to right, and she nervously fidgeted with her flowing, multicolored skirt. I couldn’t imagine what was so fucking important about this woman to interrupt a fuck-fest.
When her gaze landed on me, her hand flew to her throat. Her expression appeared as someone who had seen a ghost. I glanced from her to Bishop. His usual poker face had been abandoned for one of disbelief. It wasn’t something I was used to seeing. I cocked my brows at him, and he slowly shook his head.
After exhaling a frustrated breath, I asked, “Now, what is so fucking important I had to be dragged out here?”
“You David Malloy?” she asked in a thick accent. Even though she had asked the question, I could tell she already knew exactly who I was.
“Sí, señora,” I replied, crossing my arms over my chest.
Hearing her native tongue didn’t impress her. Instead, she shot me a disapproving look, like I was being a giant smartass, and she was probably right.
“You know Lacey?”
I snorted contemptuously. “Don’t tell me she sent you to try to get some money out of me or something. I cut ties with that bitch five years ago.”
“I no friend of hers.”
“Then what the fuck do you want?”
Behind me, Rev coughed his disapproval for my hostile tone, and I rolled my eyes. “Why are you here about Lacey?” I asked.
“She dead.”
I didn’t like it that my chest tightened at the news. Lacey King had been my first love—my only real love, if I was honest. We were together for three years. Her occasional drug use and drinking hadn’t been an issue when we first started dating, but after her mother died in a car accident, it morphed into a true addiction. When I refused to give her any drug money, she started fucking some guys in one of our rival clubs. Because of my love for her, I didn’t kick her to the curb when I found out. No, I paid for her to go to rehab. She got out, and we had one good month together. During those few weeks, I actually thought of making her my old lady.
And then she fell off the wagon with alcohol. I told her it was either the alcohol or me—she chose the alcohol and left. That had been five years ago, and I hadn’t heard anything from her since. Until now.
“Let me guess. She OD’d or died of alcohol poisoning?”
The woman slowly shook her head. “She murdered.”
My brows rose in surprise. “By who?”
“Police, they don’t know,” she replied. But from the fear that burned in her eyes, I knew there was more to the story than she or the authorities were letting on. “I bring you something of hers.”
“Trust me, there’s nothing of hers I want.”
“You want this. It is yours, too.”
I racked my brain, trying to think if there was something that Lacey had taken from me all those years ago. But I kept drawing a blank. Then, for the first time, I saw there was someone with the woman. A tiny, dark-haired girl was hidden within the many folds of the woman’s skirt. “Willow, come out.”
The moment the little girl stepped into my line of sight, I felt like I’d been hit by a fucking lightning bolt. My body shuddered from the aftershocks. It was as if I were looking at the female version of myself when I had been that age. “Fuck me.”
“This belongs to you. Willow, she your daughter.”
At that moment, the room tilted and spun, and if it hadn’t been for Rev behind me, I probably would have done a pansy-ass thing like fucking passing out. I momentarily leaned on his strength until I could recover. Although the physical evidence showed that the kid was mine, I immediately went on the defensive. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I don’t have any fucking kids.”
Wide-eyed, the little girl stared up at me. From her expression of wonderment, I knew she was putting the pieces together. Regardless of my denial, she knew the truth—I was her father. As I glared down at her, an unwanted feeling of pride coursed through my veins.
Mine.
I’d created the angelic-looking thing before me. As I mentally counted the months and years in my mind, I couldn’t help but think she had been conceived during that one perfect month with Lacey. We’d fucked morning, noon, and night, so I guess it wasn’t hard to imagine I’d knocked her up. I’d certainly been barebacking, and she was off all meds. I guessed now that had included her birth control.