Romance: Sports Romance: ON SIDE (Secret Baby Pregnancy Football Romance) (Contemporary New Adult Fiction) (4 page)

Owned & Claimed

By Em Covax

Chapter One

“Hey doll, another one, will ya?” Daniel Wyman slurred, leaning over my bar and holding his glass and begging for a refill as if he were a bum out on the street begging for change.

“You know the rule, Danny,” I said, hands on my hips, casting him a firm look. “I have to cut ya off. Your wife would kill me if she found out I'd already let you get this drunk. Again.”

“Screw her,” he said, slamming his glass down on the table, nearly breaking it.

“It's not about her, Danny. It's the law. Now go on home. It's almost closing time anyway.”

Danny didn't worry me. He was in here nearly every single night. He'd been one of the regulars since – well, seemingly forever. Kicking him out was part of the job and had pretty much become the nightly routine. It went along with the territory. But what didn't go along with it was him breaking shit.

Danny moved his hand and knocked the glass onto its side. It rolled off the table and shattered onto the floor as his head slammed against the bar.

“Damn it, Danny,” I cursed, not particularly wanting to bend over to clean the mess up. “Don't you know I'm – ”

The air around us suddenly went still. My heart fluttered in my chest in a way that could only mean one thing. The air felt like it had been sucked from my lungs and the scar on my neck burned as if someone had set my flesh on fire.

I stopped speaking as I heard the door to the bar open and then saw a familiar face walking in – a face I hadn't seen in months. He sauntered in with his usual band of brothers right behind him. They were all tatted up and scarred. They were the type of men known to cause trouble whenever they were in town. People feared them. We're intimidated by them. Did everything they could to avoid them. 

The man standing at the front of the pack was tall, broad-shouldered and dressed in ripped jeans and a leather jacket with no shirt. I looked and saw fresh ink on his skin. Several new tattoos covered his chest and his sleeves were now complete, from the look of it. Beautiful artwork, as always. Beautiful artwork on an even more beautiful canvas, if I did say so myself.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” I said, trying to pretend like nothing had happened. I stood behind the bar in a way I thought hid most of my body. “Deacon Walker, I wasn't sure I'd see you again after the last fight you got into here.”

Deacon ran a hand through his long, black hair, pulling it aside so I could see the new scar that lined his cheek. I remember the blood from that night – there was so damn much of it – and how his face looked like it had been torn open. He was lucky to have left the place with only that scar as a reminder.

“Yeah, Micah tried his damnedest, didn't he? But he can't get rid of me. Not that easily.”

Deacon stared at me with his intense, steely gaze. His deep, thunderous voice ripped through my chest as if it could physically rip my heart out. He smiled at me and I licked my lips nervously, seemingly unable to speak.

“How ya been, Lucy?”

Deacon took a seat directly across the bar from me, and I leaned into it, making it seem like I was huddling closer to him. Not because I was flirting – though, that's exactly what Deacon seemed to think I was doing. His dark eyes were almost black, but the light from behind the bar hit them just right and made the sparkle like they were filled with chips of diamond for a moment. Only for a moment, though.

“I'm good, I suppose. Not much has changed around these parts. Except that, I put my notice in last week.”

“Oh yeah? Quitting, huh? I thought you liked this place, Luce?”

Sighing, I glanced around the old, decrepit bar that had been my home these last few years. It was only meant to be a part-time gig while I went to school. But I'd fallen hard for Deacon and threw in the towel on that dream, thinking I'd ride around on the back of his Harley as His Girl.

“I do, but I'm going back to school, Deacon. Finally going to do it. Finally going to get out of here.”

I passed Deacon his normal beer, passed a few around to his buddies as well, all the while hiding behind the bar and trying to keep my cool.

“Good for you, Lucy,” Deacon said, pounding the bar with his fist. I jumped back a little, which made the boys laugh with delight. “You know, I'd heard you were doing really well. I'm glad to see it's true.”

“Oh yeah, I'm just swell,” I said, averting my gaze.

Sometimes it was hard to remember who – and what – Deacon really was. It was very difficult to hide anything from him – he could usually smell it on me. That was the thing with these shifters. Their abilities – especially their senses – were far superior to mine. But I wasn't sure if this was one of those things he could smell on me. God, I sure as hell hoped not. The last thing I needed was for Deacon to get involved in my life again. Not now. Not when it was finally going so well.

“Yeah, that's what I heard, Lucy,” he said, narrowing his gaze on me as he took a long swig from his bottle. “But you know, you can't always listen to what other people say. Sometimes you have to see for yourself.”

Licking my lips, I nodded, holding onto the bar even though my palms were sweaty. Could he sense my nervousness? Could he smell it on me?

“So how've you been, Deacon?” I asked, trying to change the subject. “The road been good to you since the last time we talked?”

He nodded, “Yes, yes it has,” he said softly. He looked at the clock behind me and turned to his boys, “Looks like the bar is getting ready to close up. One more beer for the road?”

They roared with cheers and I reached down for a few more bottles, but Deacon stood, hovering above me, reminding me just how much bigger he was than me.

“Hey Lucy, while we're asking each other questions and all, I have one for ya.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, wiping my forehead and pushing a few loose strands of blonde hair back behind my ear. My heart sped up, accelerating like it was going to burst through my chest. But I tried to control my breathing. Tried to remain calm. At least on the outside.“What's that?”

“When were you gonna tell me I'm gonna be a father?”

Chapter Two

“Deacon, I swear, it's not like that,” I said, looking at him and his boys.

They were also standing, all trying to get a good look at me, gauging my condition for themselves. My hand naturally fell to my belly, protectively. It was still small but was obviously growing. I looked more like a girl who'd had a big dinner and a few too many slices of pie than someone who was pregnant. But I was only a few months along and my petite frame hid the swollen belly well.

“Not like what, Lucy? The fact that you're carrying my child and you didn't even bother to tell me about it? Because that's kinda how it looks to me.”

I backed up against the wall, but not because I feared for my life.  Deacon would never lay a hand on me. I knew he wouldn't. That was one thing about him – he never hit women. And the fact that I was with child – possibly even his child – made it even less likely that he'd start now.

“How could I? It's not like I can call you any damn time I please, Deacon. You change your phone number weekly, you never call, never stop by – ”

I let it all fly and held nothing back. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, or maybe my pent up anger was finally coming out once and for all. Whatever it was, I let it out because I'd had enough of his shit.

“And besides,” I snarled, “it might not even be yours.”

Deacon's men fell utterly silent for the first time since they'd arrived. Everyone looked at me, then at Deacon, then back at me. They looked shellshocked and had expressions on their faces that made it clear that they were wondering what he might do.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he asked, slamming his hands down on the bar hard enough to crack it in several places.

“It means, you aren't the only man I've been with, Deacon,” I said softly.

At one time, I would have given anything in the world to be his. I'd have left this hillbilly town far behind, given up on my dreams of going to school and becoming something. I would have done it all just so I could ride around on the back of his bike for all of eternity. At one time, I'd have been happy to have been pregnant with his child. But things had changed since the last time he rolled into town. A lot of things had changed.

Deacon turned to his men, looking to his second-in-command and shouting, “GET OUT! All of you fuckers. Get the fuck out of here.”

Roy, the older man second only to Deacon, led the charge. “Come on, you heard the bossman,” he said, “Let's leave the two of them alone.”

Roy was a good guy. He was somebody I admired a hell of a lot. I often wondered how he got caught up in this nonsense. But then again, I could say the same for Deacon.

Deacon glared at me in silence until the last of his men were out the door. We listened as their bikes roared to life and the sound of the engines disappeared off in the distance. It left Deacon, myself and Danny Wyman – who was still passed out at the bar.

Deacon walked over to the drunk man, yanking him up by the collar. Danny's eyes opened and once he caught sight of who was holding him up, his expression grew almost comically terrified and he just about shit himself.

“Get out,” Deacon said, his voice low and angry.

Danny stumbled to his feet, grabbing his wallet from the bar, and rushed toward the door, catching himself on the door frame. Turning toward us, he looked at me with pleading eyes, “Could you at least call a cab for me, doll?”

“Don't call her doll,” Deacon said, lumbering toward him. “And you can walk, Danny. You live what? A mile from here? A little fresh air will do you a world of good. Now go.”

“But it's cold – ”

“Did I stutter, man? Because I didn't think I did. Get the fuck out of here or I'll throw you out.”

Danny looked at me and I shrugged. Not much I could do. Besides, Deacon was right. He didn't live that far and his wife would probably be thankful that he walked the alcohol off a little before coming to bed.

Danny stumbled outside and Deacon grabbed the door, closing it behind him with a slam. I heard the locks sliding into place, and he turned the neon, glowing “Open” sign off.

It was just him and me.

Chapter Three

“Lucy, Lucy, Lucy,” Deacon said, stalking toward me like I was an antelope and he was the predator. An apt comparison, all things considered. “Is there anything else you'd like to tell me now that we're alone? Any other secrets you're carrying around with you?”

I stood with my back against the wall, breathing harder than before. A sharp and sudden pain hit me in the neck, causing me to reach back and rub at the spot with my hand. It hurt like hell and forced me to cry out a bit.

“Tone it down, Deacon,” I said, after catching my breath. “You're hurting me.”

He did as I asked him to, however, he managed to do it. I still didn't understand all that he was capable of. But my neck stopped hurting and the pain was replaced by more of a warm, almost burning sensation instead. More bearable, but still uncomfortable.

“I'd never hurt you, Lucy. Please know that,” he said, coming toward me and lifting my face up to meet his gaze. “Never in a million years, baby.”

“Yet you have,” I spat. “Over and over again.”

He cringed as I said those words. It was the truth, though. He'd never laid a hand on me, not in a way that I didn't beg him for at least. But the wounds he did cause me were deeper than the flesh. Much deeper.

“You knew how I felt for you, Deacon. And that last time we were together? The last time, you promised you would stay,” I said. “And being the naive girl I always am, I fell for it. But not anymore, Deacon. No, not anymore.”

Deacon's nails dug into my flesh, drawing a pained gasp from me. He knew I liked it rough, it had always been part of our game. But this time, I wasn't playing. And neither was he.

“Now that you're carrying my child, things are a little different. Maybe it's high time I made you my Queen, Lucy.”

I pulled away from his hands. “No thank you,” I said, shaking my head. “At one time, I would have killed for that honor. But now? Knowing what you are? Knowing what you're capable of? I just can't be with you like that, Deacon. I can't.”

“You know I can make you do anything I want. You know I can call you to me at anytime I feel like it and there's nothing you can do about it. You know that you wouldn't be able to leave if I didn't allow you to.”

As he said the words, fear hit me hard. But in addition to the fear, my blood boiled with rage. “You wouldn't, Deacon,” I said. “You don't want a sex slave – you like your whores ready and willing.”

“You liked being my whore,” he said, a half-smile on those perfect lips of his.

“I did,” I said, unable to lie. Something about Deacon made it nearly impossible to lie to him. I just couldn't. I stared into those dark, familiar eyes and spoke the truth. “At one time, I did. And I would have done anything to be with you. Anything at all.”

“What changed, Lucy?”

“I did, Deacon. Because God knows you were never gonna change for me,” I said, feeling my eyes burn with fresh tears. How long had it been since I'd cried for this man? Only a few months, but that was a record in and of itself. “Now please, I have a new life now. I can't keep – ”

But if Deacon didn't move, I wasn't going anywhere. He held onto my chin, looking deep into my eyes. Yes, there was part of me that still thought about kissing him. Part of me still longed to feel his rough tongue in my mouth, on my flesh and my even more tender parts. But I wouldn't do that. I was stronger now.

I was different now.

I had a family to think of.

“You can't raise this baby alone, Lucy,” he said, looking genuinely concerned. “I have the money. I have everything you could ever need – ”

“I don't need your fucking money, Deacon,” I said, rolling my eyes just so I didn't have to look at his face. “I'm fine on that front, trust me. You can keep doing what you're doing. And I'll keep doing what I'm doing. And I repeat, the baby might not even be yours.”

His grip on me tightened.

“You were with someone else?” he asked, his face twisted into a pained expression. It hurt him to think of me with someone else.

“Yeah, because you've only been with me. Please. We both know you have no problem fucking other women,” I said.

“I haven't, Lucy, I swear. Not since – ”

“Enough!” I shouted, putting my hands on his chest and pushing him back as hard as I could.

I was about a foot shorter and about a hundred and fifty pounds lighter than him, at least. But my shove took him by surprise and he stumbled back, just a bit, staring at my hands as if I'd physically hurt him.

“We're over, Deacon. The night you and Micah busted up my bar, nearly costing me my job, that was it. When you rode off into the night with your brothers, not even calling to let me know you were okay, I was done. I was tired of worrying about you ending up in prison or dead on the side of the road. I was tired of you not giving a shit about me when you got wasted and started trouble you couldn't finish. I'm done cleaning up your messes. You made your bed, Deacon Walker, now lie in it.”

Deacon didn't move as I stepped past him and walked toward the door. With one last look over my shoulder, ignoring the burning sensation in my shoulder as best I could and said, “Lock up when you're done in here, will ya? And pay for all that you drink because I won't be there to bail you out of county this time.”