Checkmate With Bishop: A Hellions MC Novel (12 page)

“You wanna try and explain exactly what the fuck is going down here, Dore?”

I tried to play it off, attempted to circumvent Dare’s accusations by playing dumb.  “What do you mean?”

Dare neared until he was front and center before me, blocking my view of anything other than his huge, muscled body.  I more than knew it was a move to prevent my face from being seen just as much as it was to avoid me using J.R. as a distraction.  “You know exactly what I’m after, girl.  The 4-1-1 on why, after all this goddamn time, you roll back into town with my Hellion brother’s kid in tow and try to play that shit off as if it was fuckin’ nothing.” 

I didn’t say a word, couldn’t speak as I watched him drag his fingers through his mink-colored hair.  “I’m guessing you never fuckin’ told him though.  Bish doesn’t have any goddamn clue, does he?”

Swallowing involuntarily, I tried to find words that would help cover me in the glare of Dare’s indictment.  “Our breakup was mutually agreed.”

“Bull-fucking-shit, Dory,” Dare breathed, towering over me as he called my bluff.  “I watched him mourn your loss for fuckin’
years
, girl.  Try again.”

I sighed, only then realizing I was twisting my fingers, tugging on them as I tried to get to the bedrock of truth.  One that came out in a rush with a pleading for understanding evident.  “I didn’t know I was pregnant when I left.  It was a few weeks afterwards when I went to the doctor because I was throwing up all the time…”

His body jerked and I looked up at him, marveling at how such a skinny, almost scrawny kid had turned into such a handsome man.  “But that still doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell him.”

I swallowed around the huge lump of guilt and fear that had concealed in my throat, my brain racing, searching frantically to find an excuse, a reason that didn’t sound as phony as I needed it to be. 

His eyes when I finally looked back up at him, were narrowed almost glaring as he watched me.

“You gonna tell him or am I?”  There was no getting around it, no way for me to wiggle my way out of that one.  Because for Stan to hear that he had a son, that J.R. was his was something I knew he needed to hear from me.  Along with the full explanation of why I’d kept both the knowledge and his kid from him for so long.

“I’ll do it.”

“And are you gonna tell J.R?”  Dare demanded on a hiss.  “You gonna let that wonderful boy know he has a daddy worth knowing?  One who holds more value in his little finger than ten other men you’d be lucky enough to meet in a lifetime?”

Everything within me went to stone with Dare’s questions.  Because it was one thing to tell Stan of a son he had no information about but quite another to face the accusation that was sure to be in J.R.’s eyes when I told him of his father—a person he’d always wondered about and wanted to have in his life.

“Asked you a question, pretty girl,” Dare reminded on a deep fervent growl.  “Because I’ve got the stones to tell the kid if you can’t.”

“I’ll…” I started but had to clear my throat in order to squeeze out the rest.  “I’ll tell him, Dare.  I’ll tell both of them.”

“Fucking right you will!”  At long last, he took a step back from me.  “I’ll give you fuckin’ twenty-four hours to get that motherfuckin’ shit straight.”  He leaned in again, offering the last of his warning in a harsh whisper.  “You get it said, Dory, or I swear to fucking Christ, I’ll do it.”

I felt a wetness trail down my cheek and raised a hand to wipe it away.  When had I started crying?

“Now give us a cuddle, girl and make like we’re just old friends having a convo about old times, yeah?  Because, your little man is on his way back to you.”

Quickly pasting a smile on my face, I willingly went back into Dare’s arms before disengaging at the sound of J.R.’s voice.

But I had no recollection of what was said after both he and Huff joined us.  Or when Dare and Huff left.  My guilt was too deep, my self-reproach too sharp to allow me to participate in my surroundings.

The only thing I heard was the tick-tick-ticking of a clock, scared at how very, very short twenty-four hours actually could be.

Chapter Ten

The soft rapping on my room’s door found my hands trembling, shaking so bad I could barely get the wand of my lip-gloss back into its tiny barrel.

Stan. 

Stan had arrived.

And at the sound of his knock, all my carefully crafted words, the ones I’d spent creating and discarding in the hours since Dare’s ultimatum went up in a puff of smoke.  Leaving nothing behind but ribbons of panic as my mind raced to get them back.

I took one last look in the mirror, adjusting the low neck of my blouse only hoping maybe the unencumbered view of my cleavage might help soften the blow of what I needed to confess.  But doubt dogged my steps as I teetered across the carpet in the highest heels I’d brought with me.

Smoothing my skin-tight jeans over my hips, I reached for the doorknob while taking in a deep breath and pasting what felt like a too-bright smile on my then glistening mouth.  “Hey, Stan,” I greeted, but even I could hear the tremor in my voice.

Stan began to take a step inside but his foot faltered as his eyes took in the amount of skin I had on display before roaming even further south and then slowly moving back up again.  “Damn,” he mumbled in a voice made up of more breath than volume, seconds before his eyes hit mine.

 I could feel my quivers even in the corners of my mouth as I tried to keep my smile in place.  “C’mon in.”

And he did, but he did it without ever taking his eyes off me.

“I hope pizza’s all right.  I remembered how you loved sausage and black olives, so I hope that’s still your pie of choice.”  Who was this woman who was prattling on in such a deep, breathy voice?  It couldn’t have been me, because I was buzzing like I was plugged into a wall socket or something.

He turned his head away from where I stood poised, a practiced hand on a canted hip as the other sweated while it gripped onto the doorknob for dear life.  “Can I get you a drink?  I picked up a bottle of Patron on my way back from the storage place.”

I saw he was looking around the room, his gaze moving everywhere but me before he finally replied.  “No thanks, but I’ll take a water if you’ve got it.”

Shit!  In my imaginings of the scene, the one where I admitted to having his child and then keeping that news from him, I hadn’t accounted for Stan being completely sober.  No.  In my mind, he needed to be slightly buzzed, mildly turned on and replete with good food.  I’d hoped the view of an awesome rack and a glowing belly full of booze would help soften the blow of what I had to say.  But that disappointment wasn’t exposed in my simple, “can do.”

Taking the same chair as the night before, I heard the whoosh of the seat as he settled himself into it.  “J.R.’s not around?”

I glanced at him over my shoulder, just then realizing I should’ve bent at the waist to retrieve a water bottle from the cooler instead of going into a knee-deep crouch.  It had been too long since I’d thought to try and seduce a guy.  “Ally and Mike invited him for an afternoon of gaming and junk food at the office with their son, Marshall.”  Remembering the role I’d planned for myself, I carried on, but in a more sultry voice.  “It’s just you and me.”

But my pains to play the siren didn’t seem to be working.  Not if the frown he wore as I sash-shayed towards him was any indication.  “Is there something wrong, Stan?  I thought it’d be easier for us to talk without him around.  And you did say we needed to talk, right?  Isn’t that why I made the trip?”

His eyes wouldn’t meet mine as I lowered myself into the chair opposite, watching as he chugged half the contents of the water-bottle down in one go.  “You used to do this,” he finally muttered after allowing a few seconds of quiet to settle between us.  “Used to try and fuck with my head, my body before you dropped the boom.”

I didn’t reply, but felt my shoulders tense.  Was I really that transparent?  The tension in my body increased tenfold going from trembling to shivering in the space of a heartbeat.

“So what’s the fucking boom this time, Dory?”

I slowly swallowed as my mind raced.  My carefully planned scenario was quickly going to hell in a hand-basket.

“What kind of fucked up news do you have to deliver, babe?”  His words hung in the air above us and I swallowed, my mind racing at how best to start.  But I was so scared, so terrified of what the next few minutes would bring.

He sat the bottle of water down on the table before pushing his chair back.  I was afraid he was going to leave, so fearful that he was going to just stand up and walk out the door.  An exit that might find him hearing of J.R. from Dare. 

I opened my mouth, feeling the heavy stickiness of the gloss on my lips as they parted although I didn’t know what to say.  So it was no wonder that in my beleaguered panicked state, what spewed forth from my mouth came straight from the core of truth I carried inside me.  “J.R. is your son, Stan.”

Stan was a big guy, tall but not bulky in the way of Dare or even Huff.  Still and all though, when his whole body went inert, it was one of such quietude that it was visible on a grand scale.  And when that stillness was accompanied by his stunned expression as well as his whispered, “da fuck?” I knew I’d failed in my opening gambit. 

I took a deep, quivering breath and plowed on.  “When I left you, I didn’t realize I was pregnant.  It was only after I’d been in Casper for a while and what I thought was the flu had gotten worse.  So I went to the doctor.”  I tucked my lips between my teeth in an effort to get a handle on how my mouth wanted to work without my consent.  “That’s when I found out.  That I was, you know, like, pregnant.”

The only movement he made was to bring his eyes back to mine bearing a look that held absolutely no emotion in them at all.  The lack of expression in them scared me more than anything, but even as fearful as I was, I continued.

“Using the money I had from the sale of Mom’s house, I enrolled in beauty school.  And I got my cosmetology license two weeks before J.R. was born.”

He still didn’t speak, react in any way, shape or form and I found I couldn’t keep watching him.  Not when he wasn’t giving me a clue as to what he was feeling.  “I’ve tried to give him a good life, Stan.  The very best one I could give.  I bought a house, joined the PTA and tried to bring him up to be a good man.  Someone you could be proud of.”

“But you didn’t
give
me the motherfucking chance to,
did
you?”  His bellow was so loud it rattled the window in its frame.  I raised my gaze and was taken aback by the absolute fury in his face, the wild, vicious censure that flared in his eyes.  “You goddamn, stupid, no good, fucking
cunt
!”  He shot to his feet so fast, the chair tipped over onto its back, thudding as it hit the carpet.  “Just who the
fuck
do you think you are, you fucking
bitch
!  That. Is.
My
. Motherfucking. Kid.”  His thick, long finger stabbed toward the window in the direction of the reception area, punctuating every word he spoke.  “
Mine,
for fuck’s sake!  And for you to deny me
my own son
?  Goddamn, Dory!”

I watched in horror as he started around the small table.  Stan had never hit me but he’d cornered me on more than a couple of occasions to yell into my face, almost causing me to wet myself in fear at what he might do.  But the rage I was witnessing far exceeded anything I’d ever seen before. 

Was so freaking scary I sat frozen in my chair.

Instead of coming to my side of the table though, he began to pace the width of the room, the silence only broken by his harsh breaths and my panting ones.  “I
never
would have fucking thought it! 
You
of all people hiding our kid from
me
!”

I folded my lips in, biting them in order to stay quiet.   There was nothing I could think to say that would make the situation better.  Besides, I couldn’t hear everything his mouth was uttering over the booming of my heart.  But I did notice that Stan had a large hand planted on his flat stomach, pressing and rubbing at it through his t-shirt as he paced.  It wasn’t a move I ever remembered him making before.

He stopped at one point to glare at me.  The hand not on his mid-section came up and his finger stabbed my way.  “You are
such
a motherfucking
cunt
!”  When I didn’t respond, he went back to his muttering as he wore a rut in the carpet.

I left him to it, kept to myself only hoping that he’d work his anger out soon.  That was until he finally fully stopped and turned towards me.

His gaze was so filled with emotions I couldn’t hold his eyes for long.  Not with all the remorse that was pounding within me, the recriminations my mind was spewing.

When he finally spoke, his harsh whisper sounded almost broken.  “
Why
, Dory?  That’s the fucking part I just don’t get.  Why’d you keep my son from me?”

“I ah…” I stuttered, the maelstrom of my thoughts preventing a full sentence from forming.  I tucked my shaking hands between my knees and clinched my thighs together tightly.  “I wasn’t going to allow him to be raised a Hellion.”  I glanced up to determine how my explanation was received. 

Stan was scowling but I interpreted his look as one of deep confusion.  He shook his head, his braid whipping at the movement before he dropped his ass to the edge of the bed, the ever present hand still clamped to his stomach.  “What the fuck does that even mean?”

I licked my lips, taking courage that he was asking me instead of demanding or calling me names.  “I couldn’t allow J.R. to be a part of the club.  Not after what I’d gone through.  Not after the shit I’ve seen.”  I wished, prayed even, that I had better words, a more detailed rationalization but I didn’t.

 Stan brought his elbows to his knees curling into himself, the heels of his hands to his eyes.  “God-fucking-
damn
you, Dory!”

It took more than a few heartbeats, more than a few seconds for my brain to realize that Stan was crying softly as he rocked himself on my mattress.  But it took only micro-portions of time for me to rush to him, falling to my knees as I inveigled myself between his thighs, bringing his face into my neck to wrap him in my arms.