Overdosed: Fury's Storm MC (8 page)

I nodded. “Right. Of course.”

“It’s my job to find out what happened to Rae after she met up with The Scarecrow. Where is his normal hideout, did anybody see her around there, that sort of thing. I have to track her down, and I will. It’ll be all right.”

I sank into the chair again, my knees weak. Rae. What the heck had she been doing all this time? And poor Gigi. How many close calls had she had? Her mother was involved with a guy who sold people. I shuddered to think how close Gigi might have come.

“You okay?” Lance asked. His voice was gruff, his eyes staring intensely at me.

“Of course.”

“You seem a little shaken up. It’s okay to be shaken up.”

“Is it? Thanks for the permission.” I turned my head away so he wouldn’t see the tears threatening to overwhelm me.

“What is it? Come on. Listen, I was upset, too. Okay? You wanna hear that? I was upset. I was more than upset. I wanted to kill Bobby for doing drugs in that house while my daughter was upstairs. I wanted to fucking kill him for it. I wanted to kill Rae for letting him do it. I wanted to kill her for putting herself in danger when she was raising my fucking kid. She put Gigi in danger, too. And I know that’s why you’re upset, so don’t bother telling me you’re not.”

I didn’t bother. He was right.

“But Gigi’s okay. She’s here, with us. And we’re not gonna let anything happen to her.”

I looked at him, trying to read him. He was so different from one minute to the next. First, he’d been cold, distant. Now he was caring, for all the gruffness he tried to put out. He couldn’t fool me.

“I believe you,” I admitted.

“You do? I’m surprised.”

“I can tell.” I grinned. “I see how everybody likes her, wants to protect her. That’s reassuring. And as ridiculous as it might sound…I feel better about her being here than I did about her being with her mother.”

He nodded slowly. “That doesn’t sound ridiculous. I guess I understand what you mean, though. The outlaws versus the junkie.”

“Yeah. The outlaws are the ones I’d rather have her with. I saw the way they treat her. It’s sort of sweet.”

“Yeah, it’s weird.” He grinned.

I grinned back. For a brief moment, it was just the two of us. Two people. Not a criminal and a “good person.” Two people who cared about the same person and wanted what was best for her. For a moment, we could put our feelings about each other aside.

Lance

Once Gigi was in bed, it was time to relax a little. Everybody had been on their best behavior all day, so the drinks and swearing started flowing fast and heavy when she was upstairs with the door closed.

“God damn, it’s been a long week.” Flash took a whiskey from Erica and tossed it down his throat.

“You’re complaining about my little girl?” I asked, only joking.

“Hey, I’ll be the first one to say she’s a great kid, but it’s a little exhausting being cheerful all the time.”

“You don’t have to be,” Erica pointed out, pouring me a drink. “Just be your normal self.”

“No, don’t do that,” I said, shaking my head. “We don’t wanna scar the kid for life.” Flash took a swipe at my head, but I ducked just in time.

Everybody else loosened up, too, and on one of the side room a bunch of club members got an actual game of poker going. Once they had a beer or two in them, things usually got a little out of hand. They deserved it after everything they’d done for Gigi and me.

I noticed movement on the stairs and watched as Jamie came down from Gigi’s room. She looked less than thrilled by the way things turned around while she was upstairs.

“It didn’t take long for the party to start,” she observed.

“Listen, I’m gonna give you a piece of advice. You’re welcome to take it or leave it.”

She smirked. “Okay. Shoot.”

“Take the stick outta your ass long enough to have a good time. You might actually surprise yourself when you do. Hell, you might actually laugh.”

“Thanks for the advice. I feel so much better now.” She sat at the bar, asking for a club soda with lime. I rolled my eyes—she would deliberately be a pain in the ass just to irritate me. I decided to let her do whatever the hell she wanted, as long as she stayed clear of me.

I went into the room where the poker game was starting up, telling myself to forget about her. She wasn’t worth the trouble, determined to be a bitch. It didn’t matter how hot a woman was if she had it in her head to be a bitch no matter what.

“How’s it goin’ with her?” Flash asked.

“Don’t get me started.”

“That good, huh?” He snickered.

“She’s a fucking bitch, okay? There’s your answer.”

“You’re just pissy she’s not already sucking your cock.”

“Watch it, buddy. I can still kick your ass. It doesn’t matter if you’re my VP or not.” I glanced out the open door. She was still at the bar, sipping on her club soda. Stuck-up.

“I’m just sayin’ you’re not used to working for a woman’s attention.”

“Are you ever gonna finish talking?” I asked.

He laughed. “Fine, be that way. Be angry because she doesn’t care that you’re the president of the club. Be pissed off because she won’t hang all over you or try to seduce you or whatever. Pretend all you want that it doesn’t bug you. I’ll believe you.” He snorted, taking a swig from his beer. I tapped the bottle, making him miss his mouth and spill it on his shirt.

“Asshole,” he spat, running his hand down the front of the shirt.

“Oh, sorry. Did I make you spill your beer?”

He scowled…then grinned. “Yeah. You should go get me another one.”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh yeah. I think Lance should get me another beer because he made me spill mine. All those in favor?” Every hand in the room shot up.

“Vice president doesn’t get to call votes,” I grumbled, but stood up anyway. They jeered as I left the room.

There was Jamie, still sitting there. Still in a bitchy mood.

“Do you think you guys could maybe be a little quieter in there? Gigi’s trying to sleep.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” I saluted.

“You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“Oh, language.” I shook my head in disapproval.

“Why are you being so nasty?”

“Why are you being so stuck-up? Why can’t you relax a little bit? You’re not any better than any of us.”

She frowned. “I never said I was.”

“No, not out loud, but you’re acting like it. I thought you had maybe loosened up a little. But no. You’re gonna sit here all night and act like a mom, giving us dirty looks because we’re having a good time.”

“I’m not giving you dirty looks. I’m not even looking at you.”

“You don’t have to, believe me.” I walked away, taking the beer to Flash.

“Maybe if you’d act more like a father…” she muttered.

I heard every word, and after I had handed Flash his beer, I went straight back to her.

“What the hell does that mean?” I stood in front of her, hands on my hips. I knew I could be intimidating when I wanted to, and I saw the way her eyes went wide when she took in my size.

“What does what mean?”

“I don’t act like a father.”

She shrugged. “You don’t, do you?”

“I guess your father was something out of a sitcom. Right? The perfect dad, the perfect mom, the perfect life.”

“Something like that, yes. My father didn’t whore around, drinking and partying it up every night. He had a responsibility to me.” Her eyes flashed, and her creamy cheeks had a flush to them. I wanted to kiss her, even with the shitty things coming out of her mouth.

“I’m glad you had the perfect experience, honey, but not everybody did. Wake up. You should know better than to think people have to act that way. Don’t you see lots of kids every year? Lots of parents? There are all types in the world.”

“Yeah, including you.”

“Damn straight, including me.”

She scoffed. “I’ve seen all I need to see.”

“Then get the hell out.” I pointed at the door. “You’re the one who wanted to stay, to take care of Gigi.”

“I didn’t want to stay. You made me stay.”

“If you want to take care of my daughter, yeah.”

“Your daughter. About time she was your daughter. You talk about her like she’s your possession, but you don’t even know her. Seven years of nothing, and now she’s your precious little girl.”

“Listen. Get this through your head.” I leaned down until I could almost feel the fear coming off her in waves. “I never had a father—nothing. So I wouldn’t know, would I? How to be, I mean. And I didn’t know about her until Monday. So excuse me, Miss Perfect, if I’m doing the best I can and it’s not good enough for you. I’d hate to be in the shoes of any man who tried to be good enough for you.”

I walked away then. I was afraid of what else I would say if I didn’t. I sat down at the poker table and didn’t get up for hours. By the time I left the game, she was gone. Probably in bed.

Only she wasn’t. She was in my office, curled up on the sofa by the wall. I looked around, wondering what the hell was going on. I knew Erica already set her up with a room.

I nudged her gently to get her to wake up. She sat up fast, shaking her head.

“Shoot. I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that.”

I shrugged it off. “It’s okay. I was just coming in to turn off the computer. What’s up? Something wrong with your room?”

She shook her head, stretching. I couldn’t help looking at her body when she did, especially when she pulled her arms back behind her and showed off her tits. Even in a baggy t-shirt I saw that what she had going on was mouthwatering.

“I wanted to apologize,” she murmured. Her eyes were on the floor. I knew it wasn’t easy for her to say it.

“For what?” I couldn’t help it. I wanted her to admit what a bitch she was earlier.

“For trying to make you feel bad. You’re right—there are all different ways to be a father. I can’t give you crap for it. You don’t know what you’re doing. By this time, most dads would have seven years of experience under their belts. You don’t have seven days.”

“That’s true.” I leaned on my desk, facing her. “I’m only doing what I can. I’m guessing most of the time.”

“You’re doing well,” she said. “When I thought about it—the way she’s so happy here, or seems to be, the way she’s so comfortable in her room. The way you’ve eaten her favorite food every night to keep her satisfied?” She grinned.

I grinned, too. “Yeah, I’m getting kinda sick of spaghetti. If she likes anything else, and you know about it, tell me. Please.”

She laughed. “I’ll have to think about it. How do you feel about chicken nuggets, though?”

I groaned. “We’ll have to make something separate for her.” Jamie laughed again.

“I know you’re trying. This is all new to me, too. Your world.” She motioned with her arms to take in the whole building and everything in it. “I’m not used to the partying, the drinking and card playing, and all that stuff. I don’t feel comfortable, I guess. And I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“What do you do for fun, then?”

“Fun?” Her face was blank.

“Yeah. Fun. You know.”

“Nothing specific.”

“Don’t you have friends?”

“Oh, yeah. We hang out sometimes, drink wine, watch our favorite TV shows. Now that
Downton Abbey
is over, I don’t know what we’ll do. Though I like
Game of Thrones
, too.”

“I love
Game of Thrones
.”

“Really?” Her face lit up.

“See? We have that in common.”

“We have Gigi in common, too,” she said, softly. “And you have to forgive me, but I’ve been looking after her since late August. I started packing two lunches to make sure she always has something to eat. I keep snacks in my desk drawer for her. I keep an eye on her shoes to see when she needs a new pair. Rae doesn’t do those things. She’s sort of been my project for the year. So it’s hard for me to give that up.”

“You don’t have to give it up. She needs all the help she can get.”

“True.” Jamie smirked.

“Be nice.” Her face went blank again, and I went on. “We can work together. We don’t have to work against each other. I want her to be happy. You want her to be happy.”

“Do you really? Want her to be happy, I mean?” She sounded sort of breathless.

“You don’t believe me?”

“No, I do. I do. I just wanted to be sure you felt that way, because I didn’t know how you felt. I thought maybe you…I don’t know…resented her a little bit.”

“How could I? Shit, I know what it’s like to be resented by a parent. By foster parents, too. I could never do that to my kid.”

“I don’t mean to pry.” Jamie leaned forward, arms crossed over her knees. “What happened there? You talk about foster care like it’s the worst thing in the world.”

“Maybe it’s not for some kids. It was for me. I wasn’t treated well. We’ll leave it at that. Okay?”

She didn’t look convinced, and I didn’t want to talk about it. Instead, I turned around. Lifting the back of my shirt, I asked her to come closer. “See the circle-shaped scars on my back?” There were over a dozen of them, all over. I could close my eyes and tell her where each one was.