Damned (SOBs Book 4)

by Irish Winters

  The Bree he’d known in Paris had been a bundle of overflowing sexuality and vibrant energy. Her zest for life and fun had changed everything in him. They’d danced, for the love of God, something he hadn’t done with any woman before or since. That Bree had him jitterbugging on the cobblestone streets on the way to her hotel. It had been, without a doubt, the most romantic night of his life. And Kruze didn’t do romance.

  But the Bree he’d rescued in Turkey had been someone else entirely. Of course. Romance had made her sparkle in Paris, but the rebels had stolen everything he’d loved about that Bree, her sparkle, her overflowing love of life, her poor heart. How could a desperate woman who’d been kept in a gawddamned hole ever shine like the redhead he’d spent that night loving?

  Kruze grinned like a damned fool as Bree eased out of his arms. Wouldn’t that be the best night of his life, making love again with this woman, dancing with her, making her smile and laugh again, and meeting his daughter?

  Bree was right. They’d played like long-lost lovers in that tiny hotel room the front desk had dared call a suite. They’d had fun, and they’d talked their heads off. Another thing he wasn’t prone to do.

  She’d been so excited about her new job at some uppity media giant in NYC, that she couldn’t stop talking. He’d loved watching her and listening to her. Then, for some reason, he’d told her something personal about himself, another first. Then he’d talked about the Sin Boys first trip to the Big Apple as kids, how they’d toured New York Harbor and seen all the sights. The fantastic bridges over the Hudson. The 9-11 Memorial. The aircraft carrier Intrepid docked permanently at Westside Pier 86. The New York Stock Exchange. Chinatown. The Bronx. Apollo Theater in Harlem. Times Square. NYC’s famous hotdogs, bagels, pizza, and all those fantastic delis. Pagan had been in gluttony heaven.

  The Bree Kruze rescued in Turkey had seemed vaguely familiar, but he never would’ve made the connection. Which stood to reason. She’d looked completely different, and, okay, she’d probably still been mad at him for leaving her that morning in Paris. Who could blame her? But a little girl… He had a little girl!

  Bree sighed, her head under his chin again and his fingers in her hair. “We should get going.”

  “Right,” he replied, eager to see his child. “You tell me where to go and—”

  “Oh, you have no idea how many times I’ve already told you where to go.”

  Kruze started the car’s engine, not sure if she was teasing. “Can’t say I blame you.”

  Pulling up alongside his truck first, he grabbed his gear bag from the passenger seat. Bree gave him directions to her parents’ place. His need to see his daughter kept Kruze’s foot heavy on the accelerator. It’d sure be perfect if Robin were still up. What did she look like? Her mom? Maybe a little bit like him? He’d settle for some resemblance, but expected she was a tiny version of her redheaded mom. Wouldn’t that be perfect? He couldn’t wait!

  Kruze had never planned on marriage or having children. He wasn’t that kind of lucky. A guy in his line of work shouldn’t do relationships. Sure, Chance and Pagan had chosen the domestic life, but what if one of their enemies tracked them to Montana? Their wives and kids would be at risk, and that just wasn’t smart. Yet now Kruze was doing the same thing. He couldn’t help the excitement building in his chest. His heart burned with the need to see his daughter. His fingers itched to hold his little girl. He’d never been more driven to meet anyone in his life. He had a little girl! Who would’ve ever thought a guy like him could be that lucky?

  Before long, he eased Bree’s antique Chevy into the double driveway of a well-kept, cottage-style, stone house. Complete with shuttered windows, coved shingles that hung low over the eaves, and a wide double entry with a wooden entry door, the quaint little home fit Bree to a T. He could almost see her sitting at one of the many multi-framed windows, the eraser end of a pencil at her mouth, staring into space, and dreaming. Maybe about him. Maybe waiting for him to come home after a hard day’s work, and ‘two cats in the yard’…

  Okay, no. Screech. Halt. Back that damned Crosby, Stills, and Nash hippie-bus the hell up. Kruze was not the marrying type. Love, he could do. Women were easy to love, but marriage was a different ballgame altogether. He’d never aspired to domestic life. So, yeah, cut that fairytale off at the knees. Marriage was Chance’s and Pagan’s thing. Not Kruze’s. He was a one-and-done kind of guy.

  “We’re here,” Bree said. Her fingers were still clamped on his arm.

  Kruze liked the mood between them. Her PTSD seemed to have disappeared after she’d revealed Robin. “Ready?”

  “You bet. Let me out and I’ll introduce you to my folks.”

  And Robin, he almost reminded her. Kruze shut the engine down, opened his door, then helped Bree slide across the seat to his side of the car. Helping her to her feet, Kruze handed Bree the keys. “You’ll have to drive me back to get my truck later.”

  “No problem. Just so you know, I asked Mom if Robin was still awake. She is. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

  “Ah, yeah, well… yeah. Did you tell your mom who you’re bringing home? That I’m Robin’s dad?” That I knocked you up, then dumped you?

  Kruze didn’t want to tell her how hard his heart was pounding, or that his worst fear was that Robin would be afraid of him and reject him. That would make him look pathetic. Reaching over the front seat, he snagged his leather jacket from the back and prepared to be all he could be.

  Bree shook her head. “I just told Mom you were someone from the meeting tonight. I thought I’d see how this plays out first. You’ll understand once you meet Robin.”

  Kruze fully expected that Bree’s father might knock him on his ass for what he’d done with his daughter. But Kruze had it coming. He had used Bree in Paris, but he’d never led her on, not once. He was methodical like that. He never hinted his hook-ups were anything more than one-night affairs, a mutual need for physical pleasure and release. There were no mornings after, no intimate chit chats, or snuggles, although…

  Now that he recalled that explosive night in Paris, they had definitely snuggled into the early morning hours, after they’d blessed every flat surface in that tiny ‘suite.’ Bree had been different then. She’d been an energetic lover and maybe a little tipsy. Which had made her entire body blush. Her gorgeous coloring had made her stand out, that crown of red silk and the way her skin and lips had seemed to echo the glow of her hair.

  Despite her drawn appearance now and her dull, limp hair, Kruze remembered the vibrant, copper-hued woman he’d kissed into oblivion back then. She’d had cinnamon freckles sprinkled across her nose and shoulders. He’d kissed every last one of them, well, he’d tried. He adored her freckles, but they were gone now. What’d she do, erase them? Was that even possible?

  He’d run into Bree that afternoon, on a side street near the Seine. She’d just come from touring the Cathedral of Notre Dame. He’d been on his way to a curbside café for dinner. He’d had two days off between operations, one in Egypt, the other in Belgium. That was his last night in France. She’d been on assignment for a story he couldn’t remember. He’d chalked their quick jump into bed to them being in the city of romance.

  But now that Karma had brought him full circle, Kruze recalled how Bree had all but danced on the way back to her hotel. How she’d laughed and coaxed him to dance with her, another very un-Kruze-like response to an enchanting woman. How she’d sparkled beneath the soft glow of all those Parisian street lamps. That’s what was missing now. Her love and excitement for life. Bree hadn’t laughed once in Turkey. Or tonight.

  Kruze wondered how to make her happy again. But his mouth was as dry as the mountain air in Eastern Anatolia, and he was sure he was having heart palpitations. Over a child. His child! There his heart went again, galloping like a herd of wild Arabian horses set free in the Egyptian desert.

  Slinging his jacket over his shoulder, Kruze took Bree’s hand, and together they wa
lked through the already open four-car garage to the inside door. He opened it for her, and they entered her parents’ house through a tidy mudroom, complete with a slate-gray tiled shower, washer, and dryer. The spacious room’s frosted casement window opened to the street.

  From there, Bree took over, leading him through a cozy kitchen decorated with roosters, the walls done in brick-reds and mellow golds. It made the house a home, and he liked it. The small light left on under the rangehood reminded him of San Diego. His mom had always left the rangehood light on when he and his brothers came home late. Thoughtful. Motherly.

  The angst that had been climbing Kruze’s spine settled down. He could do this. Right now he was no one special, just a friend. Bree might even introduce him as a boyfriend. He had nothing to worry about. Still holding his free hand, she ushered Kruze into a large family room, where a gas fire-log burned brightly in a stone fireplace that took up the entire opposite wall.

  He stopped cold. Bree was talking, introducing him to her parents. Or something. He heard her voice. He heard their voices. But they sounded vague and indistinguishable. Distant.

  His jacket slipped off his shoulder. Kruze knew he should be polite and respond to whatever her father was saying, but he couldn’t help himself. His hearing had failed along with his heart. He couldn’t breathe. He walked straight to the oil painting on the wall at his right.

  My God. There she is. She looks just like me. Shiny, short, curly, black hair. Bright white teeth. Rosy cheeks and full pink lips. Cocky, crooked smile. But those mischievous green eyes…

  They were his. She was his. Robin looked just like him. There was no denying it. Not that he ever would. Robin might as well be his clone. His Mini-Me. In that instant, the charming little girl in the portrait became his heart and soul and every day of the rest of his life. She looked… Just. Like. Him. He was her father. She looked the same as he had in all those old baby pictures his mom saved. Where were they now? Suddenly, Kruze wanted to know.

  The conversation in the large room behind him stilled, as, for the first time in his life, Kruze touched his perfect baby’s face. He couldn’t help it. The portrait was suddenly as blurry as hell. He had to blink just to trace the curve of Robin’s cheek with his index finger. Damn it, he couldn’t make that finger stop shaking.

  It took a full minute or two before he felt Bree’s warm body snuggle into his side. He hadn’t expected the comfort her touch brought, but he was grateful she’d reached out to him. When at last he could tear his bleary eyes off Robin, Kruze looked down into the stunning pale-blues of the woman he’d made love with four years ago. Four years. He choked at all he’d missed because of his stupid male pride. Those nine months of anticipation. The joy of Robin’s birth. Her first steps. Her first tooth. This. All this…

  “Ahem,” some guy growled behind him.

  Easing away from Bree, Kruze spun on his heel, embarrassed, overwhelmed, and damned close to falling apart and making a fool of himself. Who was he kidding? He’d already done that. Wiping a swift hand over his face, as if he could hide his leaking emotions, Kruze extended his dry hand to the man who should be kicking his ass.

  “Sir,” he said clearly, going for broke. He had a beat-down coming, and by hell, for Bree and Robin, he’d take it. “It’s a privilege to meet—”

  Kruze didn’t get to finish. Bree’s father jerked him into his chest and hugged the hell out of him, squeezing him and slapping his back, as if he didn’t know what a bastard Kruze was. Which Bree’s father should’ve known. A woman didn’t keep that kind of secret from her parents, not if she was living with them. And there was no mistaking that Robin looked just like him. What the hell?

  Kruze hugged back, sort of. Kind of not. Hugs were his brother Pagan’s thing, not his. But when Bree’s father whispered, “My God, you’re her father. She looks just like you,” instead of, “I am going to whip your ass and put your lousy head on the steel spike I’ve been saving for you, you bastard!” Kruze sucked it up and hugged Bree’s father with both hands. Chest to chest. He’d barely stepped out of the crushing hug with... Hell, he didn’t even know the man’s name.

  “Brandon Banks, young man. You were a little busy looking at my one and only granddaughter when Bree introduced us. Of course, you didn’t hear her. Nice to finally meet you,” Bree’s father said, his voice as tight as Kruze’s. “She said she was bringing a special friend over and to be nice to him. Sure wasn’t expecting it’d be you.”

  He sounded like he knew Kruze, but Kruze had never met Brandon Banks before. “Sir,” he replied unsteadily, shaking hands with the man who could still kill him. “The pleasure is mine.”

  “Would you like to meet our granddaughter?” a quiet voice asked. Bree’s mother stood at the hall doorway with a stern look on her face and a sleepy little girl in her arms. “If you’re who I think you are, it’s about time you showed up. This is Robin.” Bree’s mom’s eyes were the same pale-blue as Bree’s. “I’m Lark, by the way.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, yes. I’d l-l-love to meet your granddaughter.” The sight of the little girl sitting upright in Lark’s arms, staring at Kruze, ripped his heart out. Robin was ready for bed, dressed in pink flannel shorts and a matching tank top with white ruffles along the armholes and hem. She was olive-skinned, just like him, not pale like Bree and her mom. Robin’s feet were bare. Dimples dotted her chubby knees and ankles, even her elbows. The backs of her fat little hands, too. She was perfect.

  Kruze croaked at the generous welcome he was receiving. Him, the middle son and the most forgettable. The bastard who’d knocked up Brandon and Lark’s daughter, then deserted her when Bree had needed him most.

  The moment Lark set Robin on the floor, Kruze’s heart fell at her feet. He had a little girl! A beautiful, perfect little girl! He crouched down to her level, his hands loose and relaxed between his knees, letting his daughter set the pace of this momentous meeting.

  “Hey, Robin,” he offered softly. Tentatively. Not making any sudden moves, not wanting to do anything to frighten her.

  He was so much taller and bigger than Brandon. Robin was already looking up at Kruze suspiciously, her head cocked, and biting her index finger. But she wasn’t sucking it, and she hadn’t once cowered back against her grandmother’s legs. She wasn’t shy. It was more as if she were thinking extra-hard and needed to chew on her finger to do it. Even her lips were pursed in a thoughtful pucker around that gooey digit. At last she asked, “Are you Mommy’s boyfriend? She never had one before. So? Are you?”

  Kruze’s heart stuttered at that very adult question. Her diction was perfect. Not baby talk. But damn. Bree had no boyfriends? He looked up to Bree for that answer.

  “Yes, Robin. This is Kruze Sinclair, my boyfriend. Kruze, this is my little girl, Robin.” There wasn’t a titch of tension in Bree’s motherly voice. She was good at this, smoothing things over. Making sure Robin wasn’t nervous.

  If only it worked on Kruze. He was as twitchy as hell, dying to hold this little one, in his hands and under his chin. To smell her curly, black hair and breathe the scent of her skin into his soul. There was no question she was his child. Robin was a Sinclair, all right, and he wanted her with every jackhammering beat of his heart.

  “I think I like Mister Kruze, Mommy. He’s a pretty good boyfriend.” Robin nodded while she mumbled without a hint of the maelstrom of emotions storming Kruze. “You look just like my picture. Did you see me?” She took that slippery finger out of her mouth and pointed at her portrait. “See? Look. You and me both have black hair, only mine’s longer. And we both got green eyes. We might be twins, Mister Kruze.”

  He could’ve cried. She was so damned smart, and she recognized him at some level. She might not have connected all the dots yet, but it wouldn’t take her long.

  “She’s a smart one,” Brandon murmured.

  “She is,” Kruze breathed. She gets that from Bree. “What grade are you in?” he asked Robin.

 
She shook her head. “I not in school yet, Mister Kruze,” she scolded as if he should know better. “Mommy says I get to go to pre-school next year, but I’m not old enough now. Not yet. I hafta wait until September,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “How old are you?”

  “I’m pretty old.”

  “Old enough to know better, but dumb enough to do it again?” Bree teased.

  He glanced over his shoulder at her. She’d hung his jacket on the arm of the couch. But after the astounding events of this day, there wasn’t a teasing bone left in Kruze’s body. He met Bree’s light-hearted comment with a stern, “And again and again, if that’s what it takes.”

  She blinked at what he’d insinuated, that he was dumb enough to make love to her again, the prettiest pink blush climbing up her creamy neck and cheeks. Even her dad chuckled at Kruze’s forward-march declaration. He was standing opposite his wife and granddaughter with his elbow cocked, and his chin in his fist as he watched. Yeah, Brandon knew exactly what Kruze said—and meant. Bree might ignore his insinuation to make more babies with her, but another man recognized a challenge when he heard one. Kruze meant to claim this woman. Soon.

  “Do what again?” Robin asked. Not waiting for an answer, she grabbed hold of his index finger and asked, “Wanna come color with me? I got two sets of pretty pencils and a big bucket of crayons and a really cool pencil sharpener. I’ll let you use them, and Nana just bought me a brand-new coloring book, too. It’s got puppies in it and lions and lots of baby animals. I like baby animals. Come on! I got a table and two chairs in my room. Wanna see?”

  Kruze blinked back tears at her light-as-a-feather touch, then blinked again, not going to cry in front of his daughter. But when he lifted to his feet, and Robin ordered him to, “Carry me,” he lost it.

  Bending over, he picked up his daughter for the first time in his life and settled her little butt on his forearm. His heart pounded like a beast. Robin was so small, and she weighed next to nothing. He tipped his nose into the side of her head. The scents of baby shampoo and powder, or whatever it was, filled his heart. He was as bad as Chance and Pagan. He was head over heels in love and falling apart.