The Perversion Trilogy: Perversion, Possession & Permission

by T. M. Frazier

  I smile. “Sort of.”

  I look down at the small box. Written across the top in familiar handwriting is my name. I know exactly who it’s from. My heart beats wildly.

  Gabby and my mother enter the room. “What is it, dear? Is it the babe? Is everything alright?”

  “Everything is…” I can’t finish because it’s not true. Everything isn’t fine. “The baby is fine,” I say, pressing my flattened palm to my rounded stomach. A little hand gives me a high five and then proceeds to pummel my ribs. I wince and take a deep breath.

  “What’s that?” Gabby asks, pointing to the box.

  “It’s from Grim,” I say.

  “Just give her some room, and let her open the darn thing,” Callum barks. But he doesn’t retreat, and neither do Gabby or my mother. In fact, they all crowd in closer.

  I take a deep breath and rip off the top. There’s no note. No card. Just a ring. A man’s ring. A simple black rose with bleeding red stones falling from the petals. I hold it up for my family to see.

  Gabby smiles. My mother looks terrified.

  I have no idea how to feel just yet.

  I glance from the ring to Callum’s stoic face. “Does this mean what I think it does?”

  He rocks on his feet and clasps his hands behind his back. “Aye.”

  “So, Marco is…” Gabby trails off, but I know she’s not upset about potentially hearing of her brother’s demise. I recognize the look on her face. She’s merely impatient.

  Callum nods. “Yes, darling. Marco Ramos is dead. The war is over.”

  Twenty-Two

  Several Months Later

  Chief David pulls into the driveway, and I find it odd, considering I haven’t seen him outside the reservation save for a handful of times. He glances at the bucket of stucco in my hand. “Renovating?”

  I look up to the house, shielding my eyes from the sun. “As much as I like to think the bullet holes give the old girl character, I think it’s time for a fresh start.” I set down the bucket on a step of the ladder and pick up a trowel and take a large scoop of the grey cement like mixture. I flick my wrist to shuck the mixture over one of the holes I’d already wired up, pressing it into the wire then smoothing it over. “Once it’s dry, I’ll add another layer to mimic the skip trowel texture on the non-damaged portion of the walls. She’ll be good as new after a layer of fresh paint.”

  The chief surprises me by shrugging off his jacket and laying it across the bed of his truck. He rolls up his shirtsleeves and picks up another trowel. He digs it into the bucket and begins to repair another one of the holes.

  “You don’t have to help,” I say.

  “Did you know what I did on the reservation before the casino opened?” he asks.

  “No, I don’t.” We work quickly together. I pick up the bucket, and Chief David helps me move the ladder a few feet to the next set of holes.

  “Stucco and drywall,” he says proudly. “It’s tedious work. But I always enjoyed it. Kept my mind focused. I came up with some of my best and worst ideas for the tribe and my people while laboring in the heat covered in drywall dust and stucco mud.”

  “I can understand that,” I say looking up at the house. Bedlam. I want it to be more than a house. I want it to be a home. In case… I shake the thought away and resume my work.

  “I know what you’re doing,” the chief says. “Does she know the war is over?”

  “I’m not sure. Callum knows because Marci told Alby. I don’t know if he’s told her, but it doesn’t matter. I told her there isn’t a deadline on this. I want her to want to come back, and not just because the war is over and it’s safe for her now.”

  “She’ll come. Of that, I have no doubt,” the chief says, sounding sure.

  “We don’t know that for sure.” I finish the last bullet hole, then toss my trowel in the bucket. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but honestly, this entire house project is a sign that my hopes are already up. “If she does come back someday, I want to give her something to come back to.”

  “A home.”

  I nod. “Safety. Security. A life. A real one,” I admit.

  The chief tosses his own trowel into the bucket. “Everything. You want to give her everything.”

  I inspect the chief’s work. It’s immaculate, much better than my own. “You gonna tell me what really brought you off the rez today? I assume the trip wasn’t just to help me stucco. Good work, by the way.”

  “Thanks, and you’re right. As much as I like working with my hands, it’s not the reason I’m here.” He wipes his hands on a rag and adjusts his turquoise bolo tie. “The reservation lab received an odd request. Actually, I received the request personally, and then sent it over to the lab.”

  “Does is affect security?” I ask.

  The chief retrieves his jacket. He reaches inside and retrieves a folded paper he hands to me. It’s a blood work form from the lab. “No, but it affects you.”

  I hand him back the paper. “You’ve already tested my blood, if you don’t recall. Unfortunately, not a trace of the tribe. I believe your words were something along the lines of you’re the bastard son I’ve never wanted.”

  He shakes his head and holds up his hands, refusing to take back the paper. “I know that. Read it. It’s not a Native blood test.”

  I look it over again and realize it’s not blank, although the line where a name should be is blank. There are boxes checked for two samples A and B.

  “We didn’t receive the actual samples, but the DNA breakdown was sent in an email,” he explains.

  “It’s a paternity test,” I say, confused.

  “It is.”

  “Why did you get it?” I ask, as a ridiculous thought begins to unfurl in the back of my mind.

  “Because we’ve got the best lab in the whole damn country. We can pinpoint origin down to a village or tribe or region, better than any of those mail-in tests can. And because a favor was asked of me and I figured you’d want me to oblige.”

  “I mean why are you showing it to me?” I glance over the paper again, but it’s as jumbled as my thoughts. “Just tell me what the fuck is going on?”

  “The DNA samples emailed over were of two females.”

  The chief has a knowing look on his lined face. “You think Gabby and Tricks?” I shake my head. “But they already know they aren’t related.”

  “That’s what I thought at first. Maybe, they just wanted to be sure. But then the report came back. It turns out that one female is around eighteen to twenty-five years in age, consistent with Gabby, but the other unrelated female is under a year.”

  Love and worry and panic swirl around in my brain. I lean on the ladder for support. “A baby.”

  “If they compared the baby’s DNA to Gabby’s it means they were trying to rule out, or find out if she was related to Marco.” I say as the realization takes hold.

  “Yes, but since we store all of our DNA reports in our system, I told them to go the direct route and test the child against you.”

  The baby could be Marco’s or any one of…I push the thought aside, it leaves my mind as quick as if it never was. It doesn’t matter whose DNA made our kid. Tricks is mine; so, the baby is mine. It’s just that simple. Like breathing. I don’t even have to think about it. Mine. A little girl. Holy shit. I have a little girl.

  “The results,” he turns the page toward me.

  I shove it away. “No, I don’t need to know.”

  “Why not?”

  I smile. “Because it doesn’t fucking matter. I’m a dad.”

  “Good man.” Chief David slaps me on the shoulder. “Congratulations, Papa.” He shrugs his coat back on and looks up to the house. “Looks like you’ve got more renovating to do than you thought.”

  I stand outside and look up at the house for hours without moving. I might never move again. I’m fixated on the swirling emotions inside me. I’m half-tempted to go to Ireland and drag Tricks back, even though every fiber in my being te
lls me it’s a decision she has to make on her own, but now, she’s had my baby, and I haven’t heard a word from her since I sent her the ring. It’s been so long. What if her feelings for me have changed? What if she doesn’t want me to be part of her daughter’s life?

  My daughter.

  That won’t fucking happen.

  I’ll give Tricks time.

  A month. Tops.

  After that, I’ll be going to collect what’s mine.

  My girls.

  Twenty-Three

  “It came out beautiful,” Marci says, standing next to me on the driveway. I’ve just finished replacing the shutters and windows. The entire house has been repainted, and new shingles line the roof. “You did a great job.”

  “Thanks. Looks better than it did.”

  “The inside, too. Especially the one room. It’s never looked better.”

  I shrug. “It needed a face-lift. I figured while I was already at it I’d finish the job. I should have done it a long time ago.”

  “I know exactly what you figured, Grim. You can’t fool me.” She wraps her arm around my waist. “She’ll love it.”

  If she comes back.

  It’s been months since Callum learned of Marco’s death and the end of the war. Either he hasn’t told her or she doesn’t want to come back. Either way, doubt has crept in shadowing my every move.

  Sounds of tires on the pavement behind me. My instinct is to reach for my gun, but it’s not there. There’s no need for that now. The war is over. I turn around, and Marci takes a step back into the house with a ridiculous smile on her face just as a town car with blacked-out windows pulls up in front of the house.

  The rear door opens and out steps Tricks. Or what used to be Tricks.

  She’s filled out. Muscular. More…everything. My mouth waters, and my fucking heart stops. She’s wearing a pair of tight fitted faded jeans, ripped in all the right places and hugging her every curve. Her tits are bigger, straining against the thin fabric of her Debbie Gibson t-shirt that hangs haphazardly off one shoulder revealing a new tattoo I can’t make out from this distance. Her hair is down and hanging wild around her face, longer than I remember, well past her shoulders now. She pushes her sunglasses from her eyes up onto her head. Her blue-green eyes are bright and clear. A mixture of a wild green lawn and the bluest of skies.

  Her eyes land on me. She smiles.

  I don’t even know I’m moving until we meet in the middle of the lawn. For a second, I’m unsure of what I’m supposed to do. “You’re here,” is all I manage to say, as if I can’t really believe what I’m seeing.

  She smiles wickedly, then changes her expression to a pout, pushing out her bottom lip. “Mister,” she begins, with a begging look in her big eyes. She rocks on the balls of her feet and produces a tiny kitten from behind her back. “I was wondering if you knew anyone who could take Mrs. Fuzzy here. She’s lonely and needs a home, and I swear she’ll be no trouble at all.”

  I laugh at my girl and go to pet the kitten, who takes a swipe at my hand.

  She giggles and then remembers her act. “See? Friendly as can be.” She bites her bottom lip. “So, can we keep her?”

  “I think you're forgetting something about that day.” I say with wicked intentions of my own.

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  “The kiss,” I grab her hips and pull her close until my lips are on hers. She feels soft and warm and very much like home. The kitten meows, forcing us apart.

  “So,” she says. “Can we keep her?”

  “We can,” I say.

  A throat clears, and I look up to find Callum Eagan standing at the curb with his wife who’s bent over the back seat. She stands and turns around revealing a baby cradled in her arms.

  My eyes go wide, and it’s as if I really am meeting Tricks for the first time all over again because whatever defenses Tricks hadn’t crumbled that day shatter like glass all around me with one look at my baby girl.

  Tricks squeezes my hand and leads me over to her mother. She takes the baby from her arms and places her into mine. My heart literally breaks. Pain like I’ve never felt and wanted more of strikes me like a dagger to the chest.

  “So,” Tricks says, leaning in over my shoulder to smile at our baby in my arms. “Can we keep her?”

  I look down at the blonde bundle swaddled in pink. Her eyes open, and she smiles up at me with shining gold eyes.

  I clear my throat. “Absofuckinglutley.”

  “Oh,” Tricks says, “One more thing.” She comes around to my front and holds up my wallet, the one that had just been in my back pocket. She waives it in the air. “You might want this back.”

  I laugh and look down at my baby and up to Tricks. My pocket might be empty, but my heart has never been so full.

  “What’s her name?” I ask.

  Tricks smoothes a lock of curls from our daughter’s eyes. Her gaze meets mine. She reaches out and presses her hand to the base of my throat over my Bedlam tattoo.

  “Rosey.”

  “I have something to show you,” Grim tells me. He tugs me by the hand into the house and opens a door across from the master bedroom. I’m so overwhelmed with emotion at what’s before me that I sink to my knees while Grim rocks Rosey in his arms.

  “Grim, it’s beautiful,” I whisper, taking in the large quote stenciled onto the soft pink wall above a pristine white crib.

  Let her sleep, for when she wakes she will move mountains.” - Anonomous

  On the other side of the room is a changing table, stocked with diapers, rash cream, even nipple pads. There’s a shelf above it stocked with children’s books.

  What has me gasping in the mural painted around the window. It’s a castle with waiving pink flags at the top. Over it is a crown of flowers alternating between black, white, and pink roses.

  “It’s us,” Grim says.

  I turn back to find him staring at me. He’s even better-looking than I remembered and after months apart the air in the room crackles and snaps. I can practically see it, flashing little lights exploding like firecrackers all around us.

  “I know, it’s…I can’t believe you did all this,” I say, feeling every emotion pile up inside me. “It must have taken a long time.”

  Grim nods. “I started the second the Chief told me about the DNA test.”

  I grin feeling ashamed for not having told him myself. “I knew he’d tell you. That’s kind of why of all the labs I picked his. I wanted him to tell you before I had to. I’m sorry. I chickened out.”

  “Don’t be sorry, Tricks,” he says, stepping up to me. The hand not holding Rosey tips my chin up so my eyes meet his. “I understand. I wish I was there for you. It must have been hard when you found out you were pregnant.”

  “It was, but mostly I was worried about what you’d think of it. Of us.” I wave the thought away and look to our sleeping child in his arms. “You must have been so relieved when you saw the results.”

  He looks to Rosey. “I’m seeing them right now, for the first time,” he admits. “She has your hair and my eyes.”

  My heart stops. “You mean, you did all this—” I wave my arms to the walls, the beautiful white crib, the rocking chair, “—before you knew she was yours?”

  He shrugs casually as if it was a totally natural reaction to build a nursery and a life for a child you didn’t father. “Tricks, the second the chief told me you had a baby, she was mine. The rest didn’t matter.”

  “I’ve been obsessing all this time,” I say with a sigh.

  “Have a little faith in me, Trick’s. I’m a monster, but you gave me a heart, and I’m giving it back. To both of you. She’s mine. You’re mine.” His eyes drop to my breasts which are at least a cup size bigger since I had Rosey. Grim’s voice deepens. “All mine.”

  Twenty-Four

  My parents and Gabby are staying at a hotel a few towns over. I saw the hesitation in my father’s eyes before he left, but after having a private talk with Grim, which I�
��m sure included threats to his life, they reluctantly left me and Rosey with the promise to be back first thing in the morning.

  “When are they going back to Ireland?” Grim asks as I step out of the shower, wearing nothing but a towel.

  I’m tired from the long trip but a shirtless Grim has suddenly given me a second wind.

  He’s sitting on the bed, wearing a pair of tight black boxers, his back against the headboard, feet crossed at the angles. When he sees me, his lips part and his eyes darken as he takes me in. A sly smile tugs at his lips.

  My body feels warm all over, and it’s not from the shower. “They’re not. They refuse for us to be separated again, so they’re all staying here. They’re already talking about buying a house to renovate.”

  “It makes sense that they’re staying,” he says. He swings his legs over the mattress and pulls me between his spread thighs. His hands digging into my waist.

  “It does?” I ask standing next to the bed.

  “It does, because home is where you are.” He tugs at the towel and groans, burying his nose in my belly button. He breathes me in, dragging his lips across my skin.

  My arms wrap around his neck, and I yelp when he lifts me up and sets me on top of him so I’m naked, straddling his waist. His growing erection swells against my sensitive skin, and I moan at the sensation.

  “Shhh…our baby might hear you,” he teases.

  I giggle as he lifts me with one hand, the other making quick work of the boxers in our way. When he pulls me back down, he flips me onto my back and wastes no time pressing his full lips to mine.

  The heat of his throbbing erection against my skin makes me groan as he nudges my legs apart with his knees.

  He kisses me deeply, parting my lips with his tongue. He rocks his hips, rubbing his cock through my wetness. I lift my hips, needing more contact. More Grim.