Fortune and Fate (Baum's Boxing Book 2)

by E M Lindsey

  “Yeah,” she said very softly.

  “Well, people like me, who have to be in dangerous situations…well, we get hurt sometimes. The doctors were able to take very good care of me after I was, but I can’t see now.”

  There was a long, tense pause, then Claire asked, “Does it hurt?”

  “No, my love,” he told her. “You can come and see if you like.”

  “I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” Isabel began, but a new voice spoke up with a heavy French accent.

  “Just let the girl go and see her father. There’s no point in trying to hide any of it now, is there?”

  Cole immediately tensed. A French man? She married a French man. He almost laughed, but then a small hand touched his own and he quickly shifted so he could place Claire in front of him. “I have some marks on me, some scars,” he told her, ignoring the way Isabel’s breath sighed out of her, clearly annoyed. He wanted to reach up and take his glasses off, but he knew he wasn’t quite ready yet.

  “Mm,” Claire said thoughtfully. He almost startled when her warm, small fingers touched his cheek just below the arm of the glasses, then prod above them where his skin was stretched tight. Then her hand dropped away. “Did you miss me when you were in the States by yourself?”

  He tried not to sound choked as he took her against him, crushing her to his chest. “Every single day, my love. I thought about you all the time.”

  “Mummy says we can stay a while,” Claire told him. She shifted so she was perched on his leg, her arm around the back of his neck.

  When her head fell against his shoulder, he knew then this had been the right decision. He knew then that when they left—because he knew this wasn’t forever—he wouldn’t be able to let her go far. Not again. He couldn’t concede to Isabel the way he had before. He couldn’t lose this.

  “You can stay as long as you like, okay? Tell you what, why don’t you take Kevin outside to the back yard. He’s got a ball you can throw for him and he loves that a lot. Do you want to do that?”

  Claire sat up straight, a small gasp filling the air. “Mummy? Can I?”

  “Is he docile?” Isabel asked flatly.

  “Bien sûr,” the man said with a small chuckle. “He’s a dog for the blind, mon ange. He won’t hurt the girl.”

  Cole swallowed thickly, not wanting to owe this total stranger whose name he didn’t even know yet. But he couldn’t help appreciate that at her husband’s assurance, she let Claire go. Cole quickly helped unharness Kevin, then directed her to the back door.

  “We can talk in the kitchen,” Cole said. “I’ll put the kettle on and we can watch her through the door.”

  “We can,” Isabel said. “I doubt you’d be able to.”

  Cole froze at the counter, then turned toward her voice. “Clearly I can’t watch her with my eyes, but I’m not incapable of providing supervision. Blind people parent their children all the time.”

  “Blind people who have murderous terrorists going after their loved ones?” Isabel hissed angrily.

  Cole turned back to the counter and flicked the kettle on, curling his hands into fists, then releasing them slowly to calm his desire to unleash every ounce of suppressed rage on her. “You are the one who requested that you come here,” he reminded her. “You are the one who insisted I was the only safe space you had.”

  “That wasn’t me,” she said with a snort. “That was René, and I’m still not so sure it was a good idea.”

  Cole’s eyebrows lifted in surprise as he turned toward their voices. “Well, whatever the case, there’s adequate protection here to keep you safe until the situation is under control.” Turning back from them, he reached for three mugs. “What kind of tea?”

  There was some hesitation, then Isabel said, “Black is fine.”

  Cole prepped the mugs, then turned his back to the counter and rested against it, crossing his arms over his chest. He listened intently, could hear the subtle changes in the room that told him they were both there, and both watching him. He was profoundly aware he would be under scrutiny from now until the moment they departed, and he couldn’t let that control him. “What I’d like to know is why you chose this, René,” Cole said after a moment. “I’d like to know who the bloody hell you are since I didn’t even know Isabel had got married—which I feel I had a right to considering Claire is my daughter.”

  “Listen, you pompous arse,” Isabel began.

  Cole could only imagine René had given her a non-verbal signal, because her words cut off and the next voice Cole heard was deep, masculine, and French. “We understand this is an imposition, but someone attempted to take Claire from her school. When we returned home, we found someone had broken inside and then Isabel received a phone call from one of your former officers.”

  Cole felt a little panic rise in him. Someone had gone after his daughter. He had to remind himself she was safe, she was here, they couldn’t touch her. All the same, he felt a sudden wave of profound resentment he couldn’t just look out the window to spot her. Instead he turned his ear toward the open door, and he heard her soft laughter and the padding of Kevin’s paws as he chased the ball.

  “We debated a long while about what we should do,” René went on. “We were told to expect few details, but we knew whoever these people were, they would go after Claire again. If they want you, they will take her. Our best chance is to stay together.”

  “I still don’t agree,” Isabel said flatly. “I think we could have been taken somewhere secret and hidden, but I was overruled.”

  Cole licked his lips, and then the kettle clicked off which allowed him to turn and busy himself with tea in order to gather his thoughts. The gentle whistle of the liquid indicator was the only prominent sound in the room, and then he felt a presence beside him which was distinctly not his daughter or Isabel.

  “That is a very clever little machin,” René said. “It tells you the cup is full?”

  “Yes,” Cole said, a little terse. There was something about the guy that got under his skin, and he didn’t quite know why. “Feel free to take these to the table if you want to sit.”

  René hesitated, but eventually Cole heard the gentle scrape of the mugs being lifted, and the presence was finally gone. He could breathe a little easier when René was away from him. “This will take some getting used to,” René said, the chair scraping as he pulled it out.

  Cole pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “This is as much of an imposition to me as it is to you both. I’m independent and doing just fine, but it requires certain accommodations in my home which I need you to understand. You two and Claire,” he clarified.

  “If you think we’re going to act like servants,” Isabel said.

  Cole clenched his jaw. “Have I ever given you that impression? I don’t understand why you…” He stopped and shook his head. “We’ve always got on, Isabel. I don’t understand why you’re so hostile.”

  “Do you know what it was like?” Isabel asked, her voice low. “I think I’d always known there was a chance you’d be injured, but to walk into a hospital room and see you like that—mangled, bandaged, looking like some horror-film villain and thinking that I’d have to show that to my daughter, that I’d have to explain to her…”

  “That what?” he challenged. “That the father she loved was injured? That sometimes injuries make you look different? Do you seriously want her terrified of disabled people simply because you don’t know how to explain it to her?”

  “I don’t have to sit here and let you attack me like this,” Isabel said. The chair scraped back, and he had a feeling she’d risen to her feet. “You have no right to have a go at my parenting, Cole! You get to slip in, knock me up, and show up on the occasional weekend to be some fly-by-night hero to her whilst I get to do all the raising, all the disciplines, and weeks with no sleep whilst she’s poorly and parent-teacher nights and listen to her every time she screams she hates me because I can’t bring you home.”

  Col
e swallowed thickly and tilted his head down. “Neither of us thought it would be easy, but we agreed. And I could have done those things. I can still do those things, Isabel. Only you decided for me—and for her—that it would be too much.”

  “Well none of us have a choice now,” Isabel said, “do we? So, I suppose you have some time to prove me wrong.”

  Cole laughed, a bitter, angry thing and he took a step away from the counter. “I bloody-well intend to.” Maybe it was a miracle, or maybe it was a testament to just how well he knew his own home that even in the throes of total rage, he managed to storm out without missing a step.

  ***

  “Then,” smack, “the cow goes and tells me,” smack smack smack, “that I’m an unfit father,” smack smack, “because first I was in the military and now I’m disabled.” He went full-throttle at the heavy bag until Adrian’s hand fell on his lower back and stayed his punches.

  “You’re bright red and you’re not sweating as much as you should be,” he told him. “Time to have a water break and maybe call it a night.”

  Cole swiped his arm across his brow, shaking off his gloves before he reached with trembling fingers and found his water bottle. Adrian was right, it was too full and slightly warm from the humid room, and he took slow, steady gulps until it was nearly half gone. “Sorry,” he said after a bit.

  “Don’t apologize,” Adrian told him. “Anyone in your position would have the right to be furious. Not only is she wrong, but she’s bigoted and you shouldn’t have to suffer through that. I just wish you’d said something. If we knew your daughter was coming…”

  If we knew you had one. Cole heard the unspoken accusation in Adrian’s tone, though he knew it wasn’t malicious. “It’s just…complicated,” Cole told him, groping for the chair. His fingers felt numb and clumsy as he oriented himself and sank down to unwrap his hands. “There wasn’t anything you lot could have done besides.”

  “We could have been there with you. A welcoming party, maybe? In the face of all this otherness, maybe she wouldn’t have been…” Adrian trailed off, like he was searching for a kinder word.

  “Such a huge twat?” came another voice from the doorway. Ryan. There was a smile in his tone as he used the word he’d picked up from Cole.

  Cole immediately perked up at the arrival of his lover and turned his face up once Ryan’s footsteps had gotten close enough for a kiss. He was rewarded by soft lips and an even softer palm cupping his cheek. “She’s backed off a lot since Wednesday,” Cole was willing to allow.

  “Doesn’t change the fact that she still hasn’t let you have five minutes alone with your own kid,” Ryan said.

  “I’m not entirely complaining,” Cole admitted as Ryan leaned against the wall, leaving his hand resting on Cole’s nape. “I don’t know that I’d be much good myself. I don’t trust that I could provide if anything should happen.” If we should be found, if she should be in danger, if anyone hurt her. Cole couldn’t say that to them, however, and the words burned unspoken in his chest.

  “You’ll have limitations,” Adrian told him. “That’s just a fact, but you won’t know what they are, and you’ll never learn to trust yourself if you’re not allowed to try. She needs to understand that, and she needs to understand that your daughter needs time with you.”

  Cole let out a tiny sigh. “I’ve promised her a bedtime story for tonight—I got the school for the blind to loan me some children’s books so I can read them. Ryan’s coming by this weekend to stay and hopefully if I have a sighted person with me, she’ll…” He trailed off, his building frustration with Isabel’s distrust choking him.

  Adrian knocked his shoulder into Cole’s gently. “Why don’t we have a barbeque at Wes’ place. He’s been after me and Noah to come by. It’ll give her the chance to see you outside of the home, see the rest of us. Maybe it’ll change her mind.”

  Cole was doubtful, but he figured after everything else, it couldn’t hurt.

  11.

  Cole’s fingers strayed to a stop when he felt the heaviness beside him. The words, which he’d gone through painstakingly slow, dissolved into formless bumps beneath his sensitive pads, and he pulled one hand away, gently touching it to Claire’s face.

  She murmured and shifted, but it was clear she was fast asleep. Cole carefully shifted her all the way to her pillow, then closed the book and eased himself up. With practiced steps, he found the little desk beside the open door and laid the book on the top, then felt for the light and switched it off. He paused a moment, making sure she wouldn’t wake again, then stepped out of the room and eased the door almost shut.

  He contemplated just going straight to bed. He knew Isabel and René were likely awake and talking—about him, no doubt, and the shite situation—but he wasn’t tired. What he wanted was to beat the shit out of the bag a little more, and maybe go another round or two with Adrian. And then he wanted to feel Ryan’s hard body beneath him, sink into him, fuck him raw until he couldn’t think anymore.

  He hadn’t seen Ryan for longer than a few minutes since Isabel, René, and Claire had arrived, and he felt like he was going mad for it. Maybe it was for the best, but it didn’t feel like it. His place felt empty without the occasional visits, without knowing Ryan might pop up at any time or at least ring him for a late-night dinner, or cuddle, or quickie.

  He made his way to the kitchen, not hearing a word from the lounge, so maybe Isabel and René had retired after all. He didn’t bother with the lights since no one else was up, and he went to the fridge for one of the beers Ryan had left him. Some posh, hipster brew his brother had apparently gifted everyone he knew from his trip to Seattle. It wasn’t that great—American beers only tasted palatable when chilled which put him off a little—but it was something to take his mind off things.

  He felt for the drawer, found his wine-key, then used the bottle opener end to crack the top. The first drink burned a little going down, the bubbles a little much, but it settled nicely in his belly and he sighed, turning to prop his hip against the counter.

  “Sorry,” came a voice to his right, and he startled so badly, the beer sloshed out of the top and splashed on the floor near his feet.

  “Bloody hell,” Cole gasped. He hadn’t heard anyone in the room, and that thought was vaguely terrifying. “I thought you’d gone to bed.”

  René sighed. “I would have just slipped out, but it seemed rude of me. Anyone else would have seen me sitting here.”

  Cole turned away, trying to compose himself, and he reached for some kitchen paper to tidy the mess. “It’s fine,” he said as he knelt down. He brushed his fingers along the tiles for the wet spot. “I just didn’t realize.”

  “Can I help?” René asked.

  Cole knew it was a gesture of kindness, but it annoyed him all the same. “I’m capable of cleaning up a spill,” he bit. “I have, in fact, been living on my own all this time.”

  “I wasn’t,” René began, and then the stool squeaked as he sat back down. “Désolé, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  Cole straightened and threw the wet paper into the bin, swiping his hand over his brow. He felt a little bad for snapping at the man, but something about the guy rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t know him and having a strange Frenchman in his home put him off. Especially because this strange Frenchman was the step-father to his daughter and Cole hadn’t even known the man existed.

  “It’s fine,” he said eventually.

  “No, it isn’t,” René countered. There was the sound of ceramic moving across the counter, like he was shifting a plate or a bowl, and Cole realized he hated that he couldn’t see what this man was doing. He could be holding a bloody weapon for all he knew, which was an insane thought, but one he couldn’t help. “Isabel has gone out of her way to make it seem that we don’t trust you because you are…” he hesitated.

  “Blind,” Cole supplied. “I don’t know the word in French, but it’s blind. It’s not a bad word, it doesn
’t make me feel bad. I lost my eyes in the attack and there’s nothing to be done about it.”

  René cleared his throat. “Yet you are bothered by it.”

  Cole’s eyebrows went up, and he continued to face René even as he felt behind him for his beer. He definitely needed a drink for this conversation. “I’m sorry, but what? Why would you think that?”

  “You hide,” René said simply. “You hide your scars under sleeves, you hide your face behind the glasses…”

  Cole’s hand reflexively rose to his temple to feel the arm of his shades. He’d been wearing them so often he’d all-but forgotten. “I didn’t want to scare her,” he said quietly.

  René sighed again. “Isabel is…confused,” he said after a moment. “She doesn’t understand that Claire is very smart, very brave. When I first met her, she hated me.”

  Cole couldn’t help his grin, though he hoped it was mostly internal. That’s my girl. “I’m sure you two have come to an understanding,” he offered, though he wasn’t entirely sure. In the week they’d been there, René and Claire seemed amicable enough, but they weren’t particularly close. In fact, whenever Cole was home, Claire had been plastered to Cole’s side, much to Isabel’s annoyance.

  “I think Isabel fears that she will be replaced. Claire spoke so highly of you all the time. You are her hero, and Isabel feels…”

  “Slighted,” Cole said, knowing what René was getting at. He’d suspected himself why she’d been so volatile, but he didn’t deserve it. “I’m not going to replace her mother.”

  “I think deep down she understands, but it’s taking her time to get used to all this. And…she’s afraid.”

  Cole didn’t have an argument against that. He dragged his hand through his hair, then decided he was done hiding. He pulled the shades off, then set them on the counter. He waited, listening for any reaction, but he was met with René’s silence. “I know this has been a lot for the three of you—it’s been the same for me as well and I don’t know how long we’ll be here together. But we can make the best of it. I’m having someone over this weekend, and maybe you and Isabel can use the time to get out a little, have some time away.”