Haunt (Bayonet Scars #6) (23 page)

“I can’t believe you had everybody sing ‘“Happy Birthday’” to Z,” Amber says. Her body shakes with laughter in my arms. I hold her tighter and place a soft kiss to her cheek.

“Did you see Pip’s face?” I ask, laughing at the memory of our daughter realizing that she had to share her birthday. She’s only just turned two yesterday, but we spent the entire week telling her that today was going to be her day. I guess she didn’t appreciate us throwing some celebrations in there for her brother. She shook her little fist at Z and said, “Not you.”

“She’s been like that since the day she was born. Bossy and defiant.” Amber’s voice is wistful, but her message is clear— it’s a clear warning for what’s to come.

“We need another boy to help keep an eye on her,” I say sagely. Last month, after Amber promised we could have another baby if I take he to New York, it’s all I’ve been able to think about. When she was pregnant with Zander, I couldn’t keep my hands off her belly. Maybe I’m just a sappy fuck, but seeing her body grow and change with our son was fucking precious. I love Clara— my adopted mom— she was the only family I had until Amber. But it’s different. I don’t see myself in her features. I don’t know where I got my temper from or my size. As far as parents go, my mom is pretty freaking awesome. Even the shit I do with the club doesn’t faze her. She still looks at me the same way she did the day she brought me home— with love and respect. But with my kids, I see their eyes and know they belong to me. I see their tempers and know that’s on me, too. Except when Piper flys off the wall into a total batshit meltdown— that’s her momma. But these two incredible people are mine. I know it in my blood and bones. If they get sick and need blood, I can give it. If they ever find themselves scared or worried, they know their daddy will be there. I’m doing my fucking best to give them every goddamn thing I never had.

“Oh, right. Because she doesn’t have enough cousins and uncles,” Amber says with a laugh. “We both know she’ll always have the club.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want another boy,” I say. My hands travel down to her belly and rub the empty space with soft circles. Across the park, I catch sight of my mom who’s heading toward us. Things have been chilly between her and Amber so far— and for good reason— but I’m hoping the two women can keep their shit silent for at least today. Amber tenses when she spots my mom. I can practically feel her narrowed eyes.

“I liked the cakes— especially Zander’s,” Mom says as she approaches. She has a smile plastered on her face, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. I get that she’s still not over missing out on fourteen years of grandbabies, but she seems to completely ignore my fault in the situation. I fucking hate being stuck between the two of them. Even Amber understands her frustrations, but there’s only so much attitude someone can take before they lose their shit, whether it’s deserved or not.

“My man did good,” Amber says with a nod. The jab is subtle, but it’s there. Mom’s eye twitches in response. I give Amber a little squeeze to remind her that I’m here and it’s okay. And if I’m being honest, it’s also a silent plea to keep her mouth shut. Caving to my request, she softens her voice and says with a genuineness that she was previously lacking, “I’m really glad you’re here, Clara.”

“I’m glad I was invited.” Now Mom’s eyes are narrowed on me. “I don’t get enough time with my grandkids.”

“Lay off, Ma. I need a solid bond with my kids and that takes time. You of all people know that.”

Mom’s lips turn up into a gentle smile as she appraises me with a nod.

“All issues aside, I wouldn’t be opposed to another grandbaby. One I can spoil from birth this time.”

“All issues aside, you’re a great grandma and our kids are lucky to have you,” Amber says, her voice on the edge of an insult. Shit. I thought dealing with Thumper’s anger over all this shit was bad, but it’s nothing compared to two momma bears fighting it out over their cubs.

“After New York,” I say. My promise is clear and the shudder than runs through Amber’s body tells me that she recognizes it as just that. I’ve been promising her another baby after we get back from New York— and by we, I mean the club. The mother of my children isn’t stepping foot outside of Fort Bragg. I just haven’t told her that I still don’t plan on taking her with me. The boys and I— mostly— agreed that it’s best that our old ladies stay behind. That way, just in case anything goes wrong, our kids have one parent left. There was a bit of disagreement over the decision— especially from Ian— but he didn’t push the subject.

It’s different for him. Mindy can’t have kids. He’s not a father. His woman is still healing from the shit she went through and she’s doing it in a seriously fucked way. He can’t possibly understand what he’d be asking the rest of us to agree to. Holly is a fighter and so is Alex. But they still carry the emotional scars of what they went through. And Nic has a baby. There’s no way in hell that Duke would ever let her leave their daughter. It would be too complicated and far too messy on a personal level to bring a single woman on the trip. Not even Ruby is coming. It’s a dick move— letting our women think they’re coming with us— but it’s better than fighting it out with them until we leave.

My eyes scan the park, searching for my baby girl. My body settles when I find her. She’s running around with a cake smeared face and a little baby bullhorn in her hand. She’s spent most of the day following Zander around until he got boring and she locked her traitorous little eyes on Jeremy. I don’t know what it is about the fucking prick, but the girls love him. The moment Piper ran up and blew the bullhorn at him, Jeremy had bent down and scooped her up in his arms and tickled the hell out of her. The look Chey gave him set off alarm bells in my head, making it impossible to stifle the laugh that erupted when I noticed Grady watching her with alarm as well. The girl has another year left of school before she’s home for good, but judging from the way she’s checking out Baby Boy, it won’t be too long before she makes Grady a grandfather. Fuckin’ kids.

“Daddy!” Piper screams from where she’s standing by the slide. My first instinct is to check that she’s okay and when I determine that she is, I loosen my hold on her momma and kiss her head. With a soft pat to my woman’s ass, I head over for our daughter. She tries to convince me to take her down the slide, but when I try to fit at the top of the play structure, it creaks and moans in an unhealthy fashion and I give up the feat. Instead, I offer to hold her hand as she slides down herself. We repeat this act again and again until she gets tired of me and toddles off to find somebody new and more interesting, likely somebody who can fit on the slide without breaking the damn thing. But now she’s got her big eyes on me and she’s running toward us. She stumbles on the grass before picking herself up, abandoning the bullhorn on the ground, and continuing on her journey. I meet her halfway and scoop her tiny body up into my arms and hold her like my life depends on it. I have to remind myself to be careful not to squish her.

“I gotta poop,” she says in a baby style shouty whisper in my ear. Laughter escapes me as I revel in her innocence. I’m still not so good with the potty training stuff, so I turn to Amber and silently plead for help. My hands are so big and the kid is so small. Piper starts wiggling in my arms and making some noises that tell me it’s too late. Her momma’s in for a messy pull-up.

“With the next one, I’m not changing a single shitty diaper.” Amber’s eyes are narrowed but her tone holds no venom as she takes Piper from me. Shaking off the lingering smell of baby poop, I search for Zander who is now standing by himself near a tree off to the side of the cluster of people at the swings. His eyes are distant as he watches our family of misfits, felons, and killers gathering around the next generation of Forsaken.

My brothers smile at one another, their old ladies, and their kids in a way I haven’t seen in a damn long time. Their old ladies seem to be relaxed for the first time in almost two years. Their kids rush around and play recklessly, yelling loudly, letting all of the pure joy of childhood burst out of them. Everything we do, all the illegal shit, and all the violence that we endure because of it— it’s all fucking worth it in this moment. Watching these kids be kids and feel safe and protected. Knowing their daddies and mommies will lay down their lives to keep them safe.

From the middle of the crowd, Chey waves at Zander, trying to bring him into the fold. He shrugs her off, but her smile never fades. She says something to Holly— a woman she’s not known very long, but is still her mother in every way that matters— and the kid looks whole. She always looked like she was missing something until Holly came along.

Fuck. Fatherhood is turning me into some kind of ginormous pussy.

I pass Chel on my way to Z and place a kiss on top of her head. She smiles up at me the way she always has— like a sister to a brother— because that’s what we are to one another. Hate seeing this woman drop to her knees and take dick for no reason, but nothing I can say or do stops her. Best I can do is make it damn clear to my brothers that if they hurt her, they answer to me.

“We still on for Tuesday?” I ask. She shoots me a smile and confirms that she’s not ditching my ass, nor has she ratted me out to her sister. I tell her she’s a good woman and continue on toward my son.

When I reach Zander, I nudge his shoulder with my elbow and nod my head at the crowd. In the center, Stephen and Izzy— Chief’s kids— are dancing around with their older, half-sister, Elle, cheering them on. Even Xavier, Chel’s son, is dancing along. Elle’s doing her best to ignore the kid exists. Nic jumps in with them, Robin in her arms, and she dances like a damn fool herself. Duke smiles on from the sidelines before he grabs Alex and drags her into the crowd of lunatics dancing around to no music. I catch sight of Jim as he clasps Ryan on the shoulder. The father-son duo share a rare smile before Ruby pulls Ryan into the dancing crowd and Jim heads off to his truck where he turns on a classic rock station and blares it. I turn away to see Ryan standing in the happy crowd, with a scowl on his face, still not moving. He keeps shaking his head at his mother, but she doesn’t give up.

“A pretty girl asks you to dance, you don’t turn her down, son.”

“It’s weird,” Zander says quietly. I barely hear him over the music. “They all like each other.”

“We’re a family,” I say. I don’t address the fact that not all my brothers get along very well. Getting along and liking eachother is nothing compared to the bond and loyalty we all have for eachother and our patch. I don’t have to like these assholes to love them.

“Mom and I didn’t do much stuff with the club back home,” he says. I’ve been waiting for my boy to talk to me for months now. He’ll talk about anything and everything except what his life was like before I came along. It’s never set well with me, but I tried to push and it only ended in a fight. “The guys would come by the house to fix the sink or something. Maybe even to yell at me when mom yelling didn’t do any good, but it was never like this.”

“I’m sorry.” The words feel like they should be easy to say, but they’re not. He shrugs them off regardless. “You never should have wondered about your dad.”

“I didn’t. Mom always talked about you. Sometimes it would make her cry, but she wanted me to know I had a dad. We should have been here. She kept you from us.”

“No,” I say firmly. “Son, I wasn’t a good man. Your mom left me so she could protect you and give you a little slice of normal. You don’t have to like every choice she makes, but she’s your mom. The shit she does is
always
to protect you.”

“It didn’t work,” he says sardonically. “Other moms bake cookies and shit. My mom cleans her guns for fun. My friends’ parents stopped letting them come over to the house because the woman is crazy.”

Amber’s teaching me to pick and choose my battles, so I don’t tell him not to swear. Not that I give a fuck. It’s just a word, but Holly’s had complaints from two of his teachers about his language. I almost marched down to that school and told them to pull the sticks out of their fucking twats. Probably wouldn’t help the boy make friends though.

“Yeah, but she’s crazy hot when she gets going.” My voice is wistful which makes the boy cringe and me laugh.

“No, I mean like one time the bus driver didn’t make sure I got off at the right stop and he didn’t know where I was when mom called the school. Mom kept yelling that she was going to gut the dude if he got me lost again. Another time some kid’s mom wanted me to apologize to her kid after he pushed me, so I decked his ass. Mom didn’t like that much either.”

Zander--
my son
-- doesn’t look at me as he speaks. He just continues with his story about Amber. He calls her mom-- as he should-- like it’s the most natural thing in the world while I sit here and can’t even fucking breathe because he’s here and he’s real and he’s mine. And he’s talking to me. He calls her mom all the time, but he doesn’t fucking talk to me, so it hits me extra hard this time.

“What’d your mom do?” I ask. I already know she went crazy on the bitch just from the way Z says the woman talked to her, but I like hearing his voice. I’m starting to figure out what his voice sounds like when he gets excited or when he’s angry but refuses to show it. This tone though, it’s sad which kills me.

“Mom showed the lady her Forsaken tattoo and told her it means that she belongs to Wyatt Strand and even though the lady doesn’t know what that means now, she better pray she never has to find out. That’s the first time I really remember hearing her saying your name.”

And I’m gutted.