Diablo Blanco Club, Rite of First Claim

by Qwillia Rain

  “But, Mat, he’s family,” Lyssa pointed out before turning her attention back to the men across the room.

  “Not when I get through with him. He’ll be lucky to be fish food. Hell, he’ll be lucky to be food for fish food,” Mattie declared indignantly.

  Lyssa tore her gaze from the three men and stared in confusion at her sister. Mike was their flesh and blood; Lyssa wasn’t. “Mattie, I don’t want to make trouble for you.” She swallowed back the nausea burning in her throat.

  “It’s not you making trouble, Lys,” Mattie assured her.

  “You have to make them stop, Mat. Why should—” Her head swam. She clutched at the back of the sofa beside her. Across the room, she saw Mike’s concerned gaze as he moved toward her, ignoring his brother and father.

  “Lys?” Mattie’s face grew concerned.

  Mattie reached out to her as Lyssa felt herself sway. Her grip on the sofa tightened, and she drew a deep breath, hoping to clear the dizziness. “Why, Mattie? Why would they care about me? I’m nothing. Nothing to them,” Lyssa demanded. As much as she wished Mike would hold her, the expression on his face warned the punishment she’d earned last night was still in effect, despite the worry darkening his eyes.

  Before her sister could respond, a tiny hand reached up and patted Lyssa’s belly. Bright green eyes gazed up at her as Maggie smiled. “You belong to us, Aunt Lys. Halseys protect our own.”

  “Very well said, munchkin.” Mike lifted Maggie into his arms and kissed his niece’s cheek. He watched Lyssa but made no move to get closer to her.

  Freeing one arm, he wrapped it around Tuma’s waist and turned her to face his brother and father. In the area beside the coffee table, the blond-haired boys crawled around on the floor, pushing toy trucks and attempting engine sounds. Sean, the youngest of the children, was curled up asleep in a playpen set up at one end of the sofa.

  Lyssa watched Mike smile at his daughter. When Lyssa glanced at Bryce, Jacob, and Mattie, she could practically smell the smoke as the three’s patience went up in flames.

  “Tuma, these are my nephews, Dylan and Duncan.”

  Tuma smiled at the boys as they hurried over and tried to use Mike’s legs as a ladder. “Hello.”

  Dylan grinned, but Duncan held up his arms to her. “Want hold,” he demanded. Tuma chuckled and obliged.

  “That one let’s his needs be known.” Jacob moved forward, the smile on his lips looking forced.

  “Like you, Dad?” Mike asked with a wry grin.

  Jacob’s gaze met Mike’s. “Exactly. If you haven’t the gumption to ask for it, you won’t have the determination to keep it,” Jacob informed him.

  “Really? And what if the asking gains you nothing?” Mike queried.

  Lyssa winced, knowing his disappointment still lingered after last night.

  “Then a little subterfuge might need to be employed, son.”

  Tuma leaned toward Mike. “He knows you well, abani,” she whispered.

  “Indeed. Tuma, this is my father, Jacob Halsey.”

  Jacob smiled and lifted Tuma’s hand to press a gentlemanly kiss to the back of it. “A pleasure, my dear.” He lifted Duncan from her arms. “I’ll take this rascal off your hands before he chews on any more of your hair.”

  One look at Bryce’s expression and Mike finished the introductions. “The lovely lady with Lyssa is her sister and my sister-in-law, Mattie. Then there’s my brother, Bryce. And this little angel is my niece, Maggie.”

  “I am very happy to finally meet you all.” Tuma smiled at everyone.

  “Finally?” Bryce asked. He moved in behind Mattie but brushed a reassuring hand along Lyssa’s shoulder as he passed her.

  “Yes, abani has spoken of you often.” Tuma nudge Mike in the side. “Abani, stop teasing.” Tuma gave him a look Lyssa interpreted to mean the girl’s patience was thinning.

  “Very well, basha.” He nodded and pulled Tuma closer to his side. “Everyone, this is Tumaini Nagweni. My daughter.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Just a few days later, Mike was finding it difficult to keep his attention on the light box he worked over. The negatives looked good. They simply weren’t strong enough to keep his mind from straying. The old-fashioned methods of film and light helped soothe the irritation that stirred to life every time he glanced at a calendar. The thirty days was almost over, and Lyssa had yet to say the three words he wanted to hear. He was beginning to think she never would.

  She’d been skittish since Thanksgiving Day, after he’d found her napping with Sean on a sofa in the downstairs playroom. The care she’d taken to avoid touching him during the holiday dinner and after, when he drove her home and left Lyssa’s car for Tuma, showed in her eyes. The dark circles underneath had only grown more pronounced in the last few days.

  It was debatable if the feelings were because she was relieved to have the month at an end, or if she was still reeling over the intense reaction she’d had when he’d lifted her punishment and allowed her to touch him again. Mike had to admit, they’d both been surprised when her tears had began to fall the moment he’d led her to her bedroom and started to undress her the evening of their holiday dinner.

  In a moment, she went from holding him tight to shoving him away as she ran into the bathroom and vomited up the delicious meal she and her sister had spent hours preparing. The more he tried to soothe her through the bout of sickness, the more anxious Lyssa grew. When her stomach finally settled and she’d brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth, Mike had lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed, holding her until, exhausted and worn-out, she fell asleep.

  The next morning, the ice had begun to form around Lyssa, and Mike was scrambling for another plan.

  The jangle of the bell over the studio’s front door drew Mike from his thoughts.

  “I know I’m early, but I thought we’d grab something to eat before the movie.”

  What the hell? The man’s voice sounded familiar, but Mike couldn’t quite place it.

  The sound of Tuma’s laughter and quick agreement came as Mike pulled open his office door and stepped into the reception and display area of his studio.

  A young man braced his hands on the glass-and-chrome desk, his body leaning toward Tuma, seated behind it. “If you’re very good, maybe I’ll even give you dessert.”

  “And just what kind of dessert would that be?” Mike demanded, striding across the room toward the couple.

  The man spun around and grimaced. The healed scratches from the shrubbery were still visible.

  Mike recognized him immediately. “You didn’t answer me, Lance Corporal. Just what kind of dessert are you promising?”

  “Abani! Stop, you are embarrassing me,” Tuma admonished.

  “Father?” Lance Corporal Corvus squeezed his gray-green eyes shut for a moment, then opened them. A resigned sigh slipped from his lips as he straightened his shoulders and faced Mike. “Nothing beyond what’s on the menu at the restaurant, sir.”

  “And what time were you intending to return her home, Corvus?” He hadn’t spent twelve years protecting Tuma from kidnappers, murderers, and white slavery rings only to have some marine waltz in and tempt her away from safety.

  “No later than midnight, sir.”

  “Oh no.” Tuma shook her head as she moved from behind the desk. “Last time we went to that club and didn’t leave until closing, E.J. You said you didn’t have to be back on base until tomorrow—”

  Corvus groaned. The sound conveyed a combination of disappointment and fear.

  Disappointment because Mike was sure the boy wanted to keep Tuma out until all hours of the morning. And fear because Mike knew the expression on his face reflected the dissatisfaction he felt at learning Tuma had not only been out with this boy, but he’d not gotten her home until well after three in the morning. “And what club would that be, Tuma?”

  “I don’t remember, but the music was very loud and the dancing was stimulating.”

  Corvus wi
nced. “Tuma, I’m not sure—”

  Tuma waved him into silence and grabbed her coat from the chrome tree nearby. Corvus moved to help her put it on, his gaze shifting to find Mike every few seconds.

  With her arm tucked through Corvus’s, Tuma smiled. “I can just see what a dragon you’re going to be when your own daughters begin to date, aba.” She laughed, dragging Corvus to the door. “I’m a big girl. I’ll be home when I get home.”

  Mike shook his head at Tuma’s taunt. At the rate things were going with Lyssa, he was never likely to have children unless they were an accident. Considering they’d been with each other every night—

  His thoughts ground to a halt. During their nearly thirty days, Lyssa hadn’t had a period. What were the chances Lyssa’s cycle would have accommodated their bargain so well? Thinking back over the last month, he had no recollection of nature interfering with their nightly lovemaking. Then there was the fact that Bryce and Mattie seemed to make a habit of conceiving easily.

  Was it a coincidence that Lyssa’s breasts seemed more sensitive in the last week? And what about the nausea she’d grumbled about for the last week or so. Not to mention the naps she’d begun taking and the dizzy spell at Thanksgiving dinner and the episode when he’d lifted his punishment. When he added them up, Mike determined he’d rather err on the side of caution.

  Locking the studio door, he flipped the sign to CLOSED, shut off the lights, and then headed to the garage. There was a drugstore two blocks away. He was sure they carried one of those pregnancy test kits. As much as he’d hate to force Lyssa into marriage, he’d already warned her there was no way he’d allow a child of his to be born without him.

  * * *

  The headache wouldn’t go away, and the nausea only made things worse. The repeated ringing of the phone didn’t make things any easier. Lyssa rolled her chair away from the drafting table and snatched the telephone off the charger. “Hello?”

  “Lyssa?” Tuma sounded surprised at her gruff greeting.

  Sighing, Lyssa apologized, “Sorry about that, Tuma. The phone has been driving me crazy. What’s up?”

  Tuma made a soothing noise. “That’s okay. I was calling to see if Mike was there. I tried the studio and his cell, but they’re going directly to voice mail.”

  “No, hon, he’s not here. Do you want me to take a message in case I see him before you talk to him?” Lyssa offered.

  “If you could, please.”

  Lyssa tucked the phone between her chin and shoulder. “Hold on a sec; let me get a pen and something to write on.” She reached for a paper and pen off the drafting table. “Okay, go ahead.”

  “Tell him he must stop calling Ben and Vance to play nursemaid.” Tuma’s tone was disgruntled and decidedly annoyed.

  “So, he finally met your marine?” Lyssa grinned. Tuma had told her about Eugene Corvus in the week before Thanksgiving. If she wasn’t mistaken, Lyssa was almost positive that the girl had fallen head over heels for the soldier the first night they ran into each other.

  “Yes, nina, he did, and now E.J. is terrified to touch me,” Tuma complained.

  “Tuma, don’t do anything hasty. You barely know this guy.” Lyssa scribbled a note next to Tuma’s message, reminding herself to have a long discussion with Ben and Vance about Lance Corporal Corvus.

  “Lyssa!” Tuma’s voice held a distinct whine. “You are as bad as aba. I am twenty-three years old. I am a grown woman.”

  “But you are still Mike’s little girl, honey. He’s not going to stop protecting you even after you’re old and gray and playing with your own grandbabies.”

  Her heavy sigh sounded in Lyssa’s ear. “I know. I know. He is a Halsey, and Halseys protect their own.”

  “Exactly.” Lyssa chuckled.

  “Then you must hurry and have many, many babies like Mattie does. Keep abani occupied running after your babies so I can play with my marine,” Tuma commanded.

  A tingle skittered down Lyssa’s spine, stilling her breath as Tuma laughed over the phone. Hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she suddenly felt, Lyssa replied, “You go have fun with your marine, but nothing that might make babies, young lady. Your father is too young to be a grandpa.”

  “And you are too young to be a grandma? But not too old to be a mother, right?” Tuma teased.

  “Hush, girl. Go have fun and behave.” Lyssa waited for Tuma to disconnect before she set the phone down. Her hands trembled at the thoughts darting through her head.

  What would she do? What could she do? Their month was almost up, and she hadn’t had to tell him about the miscarriage. Guilt prodded her. Actually, she might have another secret. She fought the urge to cry.

  Another wave of lightheadedness struck, making Lyssa grimace and rub at her brow. Considering the way she felt—and the pregnancy test she’d taken that morning after Mike left—she hoped both the test and her suspicions were incorrect. If they weren’t, it would complicate matters more than she wanted to contemplate.

  Exhaustion tugged at her eyelids. Glancing at the design on the sheet, she determined spending any more time trying to work would be a waste. She settled her tools into their cases, put her pencils and rulers into the tray, and then turned off the light over her drafting table. Getting from the bedroom she now used as her studio to the one she shared with Mike took only a few minutes, but it proved more tiring than she expected.

  Crawling back into bed seemed the obvious solution to battle the tiredness plaguing her. She was familiar with the early signs of her cycle, having gone through them since she was thirteen. The disappointment was hard to swallow. She was two weeks late, and she’d begun stressing over hiding her possible condition from Mike. Lyssa should have known better, even with the positive result of the test. Her doctor and the literature she’d read had warned that delayed or skipped cycles were one of the early signs of menopause. Even the pregnancy test warned of possible false positive results.

  Pain pulsed behind her forehead. She eased onto her side. Mike’s pillow still held his scent as she settled in. She dragged the green throw she kept on the foot of the bed up to her chin.

  She had been weakening to Mike’s constant persuasion. After Thanksgiving and the punishment she’d earned, Lyssa realized how much she depended on Mike’s presence and approval. Every part of her balked at those emotions, but there was no turning away from the truth. It hadn’t been the first time either. Soon after Mike had moved in, she’d grown aware that the pleasure in having him with her seemed to supersede her desire for a baby. She should have heeded the warning signs. She had been sure it wouldn’t last. That he’d lose interest. But he hadn’t. Which made her heart pound and her head swim at the possibility that he would be with her forever, just like he’d promised. Even the pesky voices from her childhood were silent. The doubts remained and surfaced occasionally, but it was easier for her to ignore them because they weren’t true.

  And now she had another dilemma to face. If she gave in to the temptation to tell him her feelings, she would have to tell him about the baby she’d kept secret and lost. She wondered how soon she could expect him to leave once she revealed it. Her gaze moved to the drawer of the nightstand. If she confessed to the child she’d already lost, she’d have to tell him about the possibility she could be carrying his baby now.

  Tired and not wanting to think about it any longer, Lyssa turned her face into the pillow, breathed in his scent, and tried to fall asleep.

  She’d begun to drift off when she heard the rumble of Mike’s truck in the drive. Not wanting him to find her abed, Lyssa threw off the blanket and padded down the hall to the living room. She was pulling her mussed hair into a loose ponytail when he opened the door.

  “We’ve got a problem.”

  “What problem?” Unsure what he meant, Lyssa searched his expression. It was impossible to read, and his eyes seemed to pierce her, delving into the secret parts of her mind looking for something she was sure she needed to keep from him.

&nbs
p; He held a box out to her. “Take it.”

  She swallowed, her eyes going from him to the box. The distinctive blue and white packaging was familiar. Had he found the one she’d hidden beneath the bathroom sink? “I don’t—”

  “I read the instructions. You can use it at any time.” Taking her by the arm, Mike led her down the hall to the master bathroom. “Take it.”

  “What? Why?” Lyssa didn’t know if she should be relieved or afraid.

  “Nothing is one hundred percent effective, Lys. Ask your sister. Then there’s the incident before Thanksgiving. I didn’t use anything.” He moved closer, his hand cupping her breast, his fingertips brushing over the firm crests. “Your breasts are more sensitive and swollen, hon. You haven’t had your period the entire time we’ve been together.” When she started to shake her head in denial, he pinched her aching nipple.

  Lyssa gasped, first with pain, then pleasure. “That doesn’t mean anything, Mike. I’ve been late before.”

  “You weren’t sexually active then.” Mike spotted the rumpled bedding. “Were you taking a nap?”

  Lyssa could feel the heat in her cheeks. “Yes, but—”

  “All the signs are there, Lyssa.” He tapped the box she held gripped in her hands. “Take the test—”

  Lyssa dropped the box onto the nightstand. “I don’t need to.”

  “It takes two minutes. Why won’t you—”

  “Because I already did.”

  “Did what?” Mike looked at her, his gaze suspicious.

  Lyssa turned away and tugged open the drawer on the nightstand. The white stick with its distinctive red letters lay wrapped in a plastic bag. Exhausted, she sat on the bed and pulled the bag from the drawer. “It has to be wrong.”

  Mike took the bag from her. “You’re pregnant?”