Wanderer (The Nomad Series Book 2)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  “Kitty,” Skylar shouts as she leans her chin on the top of Sal’s head and points to my bare stomach.

  Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I lift my head and smile at Skylar.

  “Hey, gorgeous girl,” I rasp hoarsely.

  Cupping the back of my neck, I step aside and force my gaze back to the couple staring at me like I’m a figment of their imagination.

  “Sal, Nancy…” I blow out a breath. “It’s good to see you guys.”

  Silently we stand in front of each other, staring awkwardly until Sal bends his knees and lifts Skylar from his shoulders. Placing her down on her feet, he rises up to his full height and steps toward me. His eyes rake over me, taking in all the tattoos before he shakes his head in disbelief.

  “Never thought I’d see you again, boy,” he croaks.

  I don’t know what to say to him. I want to say I’m sorry. Looking at him, it’s obvious he felt some kind of way after I left. I’m just not sure if it’s despair over losing the kid he took under his wing or hatred for the guy who left his little girl broken hearted.

  I get my answer when he places a hand on my good shoulder and pulls me into an embrace.

  “You bastard,” he hisses, his voice thick with emotion.

  Relief settles in and I pat him on the back as I laugh nervously.

  There are good people in the world.

  People who never get noticed for their big hearts and hospitality.

  Good people you forget exist.

  Good people who make the world a better place.

  He breaks the embrace and leans back, leveling me with a look.

  “You got some explaining to do, kid,” he says.

  “I know,” I agree, turning to Nancy. I reach out and brush the tears away from her cheek with the pad of my thumb.

  “Quit crying, Ma, I promise you I’m not worth the tears.”

  She wraps her hand around my wrist and brings her other arm around my neck.

  “I knew you would come back,” she says softly. “I knew the minute I laid eyes on my granddaughter you’d be back one day.”

  My eyes dart down to the little girl next to me staring up at us curiously. Winking at her, I take a chance and offer her my hand as Nancy untangles herself from me.

  On pins and needles, waiting to be accepted by a pint sized human I watch her smile as she places her little hand in mine.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, my chest pounds and I subconsciously begin to tally her smiles too.

  Breathtaking smiles.

  Fucking stunning.

  “Should we go wake up mommy?” I ask her.

  “No need to,” Celeste says from behind me. Dressed in a pair of sweats she stares wide-eyed at all of us.

  “What are you guys doing here?”

  “Your father thought instead of waiting for you to pick her up, we’d come here, pick you up and take you both to breakfast,” Nancy answers. “We didn’t know you’d have company.”

  Resembling a deer caught in headlights, Celeste chews on her lip.

  “Imagine the surprise when Jagger opened the door, half-dressed,” Sal adds. “Not only is he alive and well, but apparently nothing has changed.”

  He pauses and looks down at Skylar who by some grace of God is still holding my hand.

  “I take it back. Some things have changed.”

  “Good to know I can still shock my parents every once in a while,” Celeste says finally, offering them a smile.

  “Yeah,” Sal huffs. “Lucky for me we only had one kid or else I’d be in an early grave.”

  “So which of you two will explain all this to us?” Nancy questions, closing the door behind her.

  “She will,” I answer. Immediately pointing a finger at Celeste.

  “He will,” she says at the same exact time, pointing the same finger back at me.

  Turning to one another, our eyes lock and the two mischievous grins lost between innocence and sin reappear.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  I wish I could say I’ve spent the last few days getting to know my daughter better, but after Celeste’s parents brought her home, I only got a few hours with her before I had to tend to my club. Even if I didn’t have my hands full with Vic’s funeral, days wouldn’t be enough to make up for the year and a half lost.

  I shouldn’t complain. Each day before the first viewing I managed to sneak in some time with Skylar. I learned she prefers waffles over pancakes. I also learned never to give a child syrup. That lesson came after she stuck her hand in the syrup and then touched her hair. Bath time is fun. Everyone gets wet and not the way I’m used to.

  This morning before the church service, I took my little girl to day care for the first time. Celeste added me to the contact card, and for the first time I was labeled that girl’s dad. My name was scribbled on the card in Celeste’s handwriting and she added my cell number next to it, right next to the spot where it said father.

  Proudest moment of my life.

  Amazing what a label can do to a man.

  A label worth having.

  I left that hospital feeling like I was on top of the world only to return hours later feeling as if I was kicked in the gut.

  Vic’s body was barely lowered into the ground when Jack’s wife’s water broke, sending us all to Labor and Delivery.

  Where we’ve been for the last eight hours.

  Bikers dressed in leather.

  Mobbed up mourners dressed in black.

  We fit in.

  Said no one.

  But ask if any of us care.

  Not even a little.

  This is the good stuff none of us ever thought we’d get to experience. The shit that makes life worth living. The good stuff I missed with my own child.

  “Bro, how long does a kid take to come out?” Deuce questions beside me. “I mean it’s been a fucking eternity since we blew through those doors. Should we be worried?”

  Lost in my mind, I absorb Deuce’s question and wonder how long Celeste was in labor with Skylar. Was there anyone in the room with her? Was she scared? Were there any complications?

  All things a father should know.

  All the things I don’t.

  “Hello? Earth to Cobra,” Deuce says, waving a hand in front of my face. Blinking, I stare back at him trying to remember what his initial question was.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake, you’re no help at all,” he groans before his eyes light up and he stands abruptly. Figuring it was Jack that walked through the doors, I turn and my eyes lock with Celeste’s.

  “Blondie, thank God,” Deuce exaggerates.

  She smiles at me but all I can do is look at her. With my eyes I ask her all the questions running through my head.

  “We’ve been here for a year and a day and Jack still hasn’t come out here to tell us anything. Is there any way you can find out if the kid is okay or not?”

  Turning to Deuce, she swallows and glances around the packed waiting room. All eyes are on her, wondering the same thing as Deuce.

  “Let me see what I can do,” she replies, turning back to me. “Everything okay?”

  Not trusting my voice, I nod tersely and throw her a wink.

  Masks.

  We all have them.

  Put them on when we’re being pussies and can’t voice what we’re feeling.

  The doors open wide and all eyes turn to see Jack walk through them, pulling his paper mask from his face. The lines on his face crease as his smile widens.

  “It’s a boy!”

  Some of us get a chance to take those masks off.

  Some of us get to express joy.

  Shout that shit loud for the whole wide world to hear.

  A sea of black stands to their feet.

  Worn leather and the finest of silk all bleed into one and circle around Jack Parrish. The finest Cubans are passed around as everyone congratulates the man on the birth of his son.

  After my turn comes to congratulate him, I take a step back and sh
ove my hands into my pockets and take it all in.

  All the joy.

  “Are you okay?” Celeste questions softly beside me, reminding me she’s there.

  Glancing over at her, I shake my head, deciding I’m no pussy.

  “No,” I admit. “Can we go somewhere?”

  Studying my features, she seems to read my thoughts and grabs my hand. Leading me away from the crowd of well-wishers, I’m sure won’t even notice, she takes me into an on-call room.

  Closing the door, she leans against it and crosses her arms.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Running my fingers through my hair, I glance around the room before turning to her. It’s not her fault. She didn’t get pregnant on her own. She didn’t ask to do it all on her own. Still, I’m having a hard time looking at her and not feeling all kinds of jealous.

  “Just say it,” she demands, uncrossing her arms. Stepping toward me she blows out a breath and shoves her hands into the pockets of her scrubs. “Whatever it is, just say it.”

  “When is Skylar’s birthday?”

  How fucking pathetic is that? I don’t even know her birthday.

  “November fourteenth.”

  “Who was with you when she was born?”

  “I was by myself. I had called my mother when my water broke but she didn’t get to the hospital in time. Everything happened very quickly.”

  “Was she okay? Were you okay?”

  “There weren’t any complications if that’s what you’re asking,” she says, pausing to study me. “I had a very normal pregnancy.”

  I nod as I lift my eyes to hers and try to imagine everything I’ve missed. Clearing my throat, I reach for her, forcing her to remove her hands from her pockets. She laces her fingers with mine and I lean down to brush my lips over hers.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur against her mouth. “I’m so sorry I missed all that and I’m so fucking sorry you had to do it all on your own.”

  “I have pictures,” she whispers. “Albums full. I know it’s not the same but maybe it will help.”

  “I want to see them,” I rasp as I lift my hands to her cheeks. “I want to know every detail.”

  “Okay,” she whispers, tilting her head back so our eyes meet.

  “I want to know all her favorites. I want to know what makes her laugh the loudest. I want to know if she has a favorite bedtime story. I want to know everything. Most of all, from this point forward I want to live through her eyes the same way you do.”

  Her hands roam up my chest.

  “Then we’ll make it happen,” she assures, gripping my shirt in her hand as she stands on tiptoe to kiss me, sealing the promise. Her mouth is hard and demanding—so fucking hot.

  Driving my hands through her golden locks, I twist tightly and yank her head back, granting myself better access to her mouth.

  Desperate and greedy.

  Our roles switch, and I became the one hooked on a promise.

  Edging back for a second, I groan against her mouth and force my eyes open. I don’t give a fuck where we are or who might walk through that door and find us, the need to bury myself deep between her thighs is feral.

  A sharp breath leaves her mouth as she rolls her tongue over her pouty bottom lip.

  That’s it.

  Diving back in, my lips close over her mouth. Nipping and sucking, I grin against her mouth as her hands reach for my belt and she flicks her tongue over mine.

  Moaning, she pushes my hips and forces me back. The back of my legs touch the tiny bed. Dropping onto the stiff mattress, I pull her onto my lap and wrap those crazy long legs around my waist.

  “You lock that door?” I question, as I pull her top over her head.

  “I don’t remember,” she says as she rocks against my cock.

  “Fuck it,” I growl, pulling down the cups of her bra, baring her sweet tits. “Ain’t no way I’m stopping now,” I say as my mouth comes down hard on her nipple.

  Her hands snake around my neck and she glances down, watching my tongue flick back and forth over her nipple.

  “So hot,” she murmurs as I suck her slowly.

  “Can’t fuck you with your clothes on, baby,” I mutter, releasing her tit before slapping her ass. “Get naked for me.”

  Watching her hop off my lap I lean back on my elbows and take in the view. She hooks her fingers under the elastic of her scrubs and shimmies her way out of them. She toes her sneakers off, pulls at her socks and then reaches for the clasp, removing the bra completely.

  Completely nude, chewing on her swollen lip, she glances over her shoulder at the door.

  “Lock it.”

  “What’s the fun in that?” she counters, turning back to me.

  Those chocolate eyes flash with mischief.

  That’s my girl.

  She juts her chin to the bulge between my legs.

  “Am I going to have to do all the work?”

  “Think I can get on board with that idea, gorgeous,” I grin, drawing down the zipper of my jeans. She kneels in front of me and pulls off my boots.

  “I bet you can,” she says coyly. “Tell me, Cobra, do you want to fuck my mouth?”

  “More than I want my next breath,” I admit as she drags the black denim down my legs, removing both my pants and underwear in one swoop. I shrug my leathers off my shoulders and pull the black t-shirt over my head.

  She nudges my legs as far as they’ll go and crawls between them. Her eyes lock with mine as she wraps her hand around my cock and bends her head.

  “Like when you look at me,” I mutter. “Like it a lot.”

  Her eyes stick with mine as she smiles briefly before her mouth grazes over my head. A growl escapes my mouth as her tongue dances out and laps the tip.

  “Fuck, wish I could take a picture of you.”

  “With a mouthful of cock?” she teases as her fingers slide down my shaft and cup my balls.

  “So fucking pretty,” I grunt.

  Inch by inch she slowly takes me in until the tip of my dick tickles the back of her throat. She doesn’t gag, she takes it all then just as slowly, she tortures me by taking me out of her mouth.

  “Do it,” she demands, licking her lips.

  Confused, drowning in pleasure, my dick twitches as I narrow my eyes at her.

  “What?”

  “Take the picture,” she murmurs, angling her head to drag her tongue along the back side of my shaft.

  “So when you’re riding you remember I’m home waiting for you. Waiting for this.”

  Fuck me.

  I was wrong.

  She’s not looking for mischief.

  She’s looking to kill me.

  Grabbing my cut, I reach into the pocket and pull out my phone.

  “Come on, baby, let’s make a memory,” I urge, holding the phone between us. She opens her mouth wide and jerks my cock against her cheek.

  Snap.

  Her other hand snakes out and she rubs the skin just beneath my balls. Barely able to keep my eyes open I press my thumb to the screen of my phone.

  Snap.

  Snap.

  Placing both hands on my knees she lowers her head, parts her lips and looks into the camera as she draws my cock into her mouth.

  Snap.

  Snap.

  Snap.

  Tossing the phone on the bed, I tangle my hands in her hair and lift my hips.

  “Fuck,” I seethe, pushing the back of her head as I fuck her mouth wildly. “Like my cock in your mouth, don’t you? Like it a whole fucking lot, baby.”

  Her eyes water but remain latched on mine as her nails dig into my thighs.

  Eyes of an angel.

  Mouth of the devil.

  Lost between heaven and hell.

  My hips snap and flashes of white light blind me.

  “Heaven,” I growl as my eyes snap shut.

  Definitely heaven.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Signing off on the invoice the trucker hands me,
I order him to unload the Atlantic Express buses from his flatbed and tell him to park them all in the lot next door to Pipe’s garage.

  My phone rings as I hand the clipboard back to the trucker. Pulling it out of my back pocket I accept the call and answer.

  “Morning, gorgeous.” A small smile plays on my lips as I watch the trucker walk over to his flatbed.

  “I’m mad at you,” she declares.

  “What did I do this time? Leave the seat up?”

  “Nope, you’ve been good in that department. Your aim is another story. I heard if we put cheerios in the toilet we can make a game of it. Sort of like target practice…you’re good with that, right?”

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I suppress a chuckle and shake my head.

  She’s fucking crazy.

  “You’re lucky I’m not home,” I growl.

  “Oh yeah, why is that?”

  “I’d bend you over my knee, gorgeous.”

  “Is that supposed to be punishment? Because I kinda like it,” she retorts.

  I don’t have to be face to face with her to know there is a mischievous smile spreading across her lips.

  A smile is a smile.

  And so I add it to the count.

  Deuce rounds the garage, lifting his shades on top of his head.

  “There you are,” he says. “Come on, dickhead, Jack is waiting.”

  I flip my middle finger and watch as he blows me a kiss in response. I tell Celeste I’ll be home early and promise to take her and the baby somewhere before I disconnect.

  Shoving the phone into my pocket, I saunter over to Deuce and smack him over the head.

  “Anyone ever tell you you’re a dick?”

  “All the time,” he admits. “It’s growing on me. Maybe it’s time for a new road name.”

  Shaking my head, I follow him into the office and spot Riggs, Blackie, Jack and Stryker huddled around the desk staring at the computer.

  Talk about a fish out of water.

  They look fucking ridiculous.

  “Gangs all here,” Stryker announces, diverting his eyes between me and Jack. “We done here?”

  It’s obvious I missed something. What that something is I don’t know, but Jack bursts out laughing.

  “Saddle up, boy, you’re about to find your heart,” he tells Stryker. “Now where the fuck is my table?”