by Aliyah Burke
As if he hadn’t known about their child.
Five
The motorcycle roared up the driveway and screeched
to a halt. It seemed the large man on the bike was off it before
the engine had completely shut down. Long strides took him
up the five steps in two.
His pull on the screen door was so forceful one of the
hinges gave under his yank. It didn’t stop the thirty-six year
old man, however. He didn’t care about the damn door.
“Where is everyone?” he hollered as his steps took him
farther into the living area of his youth.
Maverick was beyond pissed. Five weeks before I left, you
got me pregnant. Tempest’s words wouldn’t leave his
subconscious. Could it be true? He thought back to the slip up
that Talli had said about him having a child. And how his own
mother had been quick, desperate almost, to change the subject
when he’d broached what Talli had told him.
Receiving no answer, he began to search the entire
house. It was empty, no one. Frustrated and filled with the
need to do something, Maverick ran out of his parents’ house
and climbed back on his bike.
He drove across town to the small house he remembered
Sarah Whitehall living in. The driveway was full of vehicles
and so he parked his bike along the street. Carrying his helmet
with him, Maverick strode up the front steps and knocked on
the door.
“Yes?” An older woman asked as she opened the door.
“Mrs. Whitehall?” he questioned. She looked a bit
familiar, but he’d never really known them that well.
Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, that’s me. Something I can do
for you?”
He could hear the sounds of a party going on behind
her. “Yes, actually there is.”
She waited a moment and said, “And that would be?”
“I think it would be best if I could talk to you and your
husband in private,” he tried.
She shook her head and snorted. “I don’t think so. I’m
having a party.”
“I know that, ma’am; I just need a minute of your time.”
God, I want to smack that damn smirk off her face.
“I don’t want to give you anymore time,” she snapped.
And I’ve had enough of your rudeness. In a voice loud
enough to carry to the others, he demanded, “Tell me why you
never told me your daughter was carrying my child. And why
you tossed her out.”
Carol Whitehall formed a perfect “O” with her mouth as
her dark skin lost some color. Inside, the party fell totally silent
as her husband, Mitchell, appeared beside her. He was much
older and frail looking, “Did someone say something about my
daughter?” he asked as his rheumy eyes looked over the tall
man in his doorway.
“No,” Carol hissed. “No one said anything about
anyone. This man was just leaving.” She tried to shove the door
shut, but Maverick wedged his foot in there. The woman didn’t
stand a chance against his strength.
“I know you disowned her; just tell me if it was true.
Was she pregnant?” he pled, desperate to know the truth.
Brown eyes narrowed in anger, “Yes, the bitch was
pregnant when we tossed her out. I don’t know why you
would think it was yours. She was such a slut.” The venom in
her voice was enough to almost make Maverick wince.
“I know because I took her virginity. And thanks to you
and your callous attitude I lost out on twenty-one years of my
son’s life.” Black flames raged in his eyes. “Twenty-one years!”
Mitchell stepped a bit closer. “I have a grandson?”
“Shut up and get back inside, Mitchell. We have guests,”
Carol ordered. Pinning her evil glare back on the man before
her, she snarled, “Go away and don’t ever come back here. I
don’t have but one daughter and she is inside this house right
now.” She slammed the door in his face.
Standing alone on the porch, Maverick wanted to hurt
something, someone, hell, anything. A rage began to burn deep
within his gut. Could his parents really be that callous too?
With a military spin, he was headed back to his
motorcycle and his parents’ house. This time when he pulled
into the drive, he remained seated, trying to control his anger.
Turning off his bike, he moved towards the door. Like
the previous time he’d been here, he didn’t bother knocking,
just went right on in. He knew they were home, for he could
hear his mother singing as she cooked.
His father was carving a statue out of wood and looked
up when the door opened. He opened his mouth to speak but
stopped as Maverick roared, “Ina, I need to talk to both you
and Ate.”
“Why are you yelling in my house, James?” Dawn
Lonetree asked as she came into the living room.
“Tell me,” he ground out, his teeth clenched as he tried
valiantly to control his temper. “Tell me you didn’t keep the
fact I possibly had a child from me? Well? Amayupta yo!
Answer me!”
The looks that flickered between the two of them
answered his question. Overwhelming anger flooded him only
to be replaced by sadness. “Why? Why would you do that?
How could you do that?”
His father, Rodney, stood. “It was for your own good;
she was a liar and we didn’t want her to hook you into her
schemes just because you had been nice to her a few times in
town.”
“Besides, you deserve so much more than someone like
her,” his mother added. “We were thinking of your future.” She
crossed her arms over her bosom and asked, “How did you
find about her ruse?”
“Ruse? It wasn’t a ruse. I know that because I was in
New Mexico and I ran into my son and his mother.” His black
gaze pierced their bodies, stripping away their skin and seeing
the dark hearts that lay beneath. “My own son, who is twentyone
and thinks I didn’t want him or his mother!” he shouted.
“Imagine my shock when I’m in a bar and I find a woman who
hates me; and then, much to my surprise when I find out why, I
can’t say I blame her. What gives you the right to do something
like that?”
“We were thinking of your future in the tribe—” his
father began.
“Enough!” Maverick slashed his hand through the air. “I
want nothing to do with you or your schemes. I’m not quitting
what I’m doing to come live here and be with the tribe. I am
proud of my heritage but I’m not going to be your pawn. I have
to find a way to become a part of my son’s life.”
Rodney sneered. “She probably slept with someone and
blamed you for it.”
“We were just trying to protect you from her,” his
mother insisted. “She is a liar. Is she demanding money? Take a
paternity test.”
“Shut up, Ina,” Maverick groaned. “Just shut up. She
doesn’t want a damn thing from me; she hates me. And I know
he is mine. I’m not even going to ask
what you mean by her.”
“Don’t talk to your mother that way!” The deep voice of
Rodney Lonetree filled the room.
“Jesus, I can just imagine how scared she was coming
over here. All you two did was yell and scream at people. And
yet, you never told me she was here.” Maverick ignored his
father.
“It was a lie!” Maverick’s mom hollered at him.
“No!” he shouted right back. “I took her virginity,
Mother. Me. No one else. I did. And I would have taken
responsibility for the results if I had known. You took my son
from me. Your own grandson.”
He began wearing a hole in the floor as his body
digested the information he’d received. “You took everything
from me, his first step, word, everything. I never got to hold
my own baby. You know what I got from him? A fist to the jaw
because I was an ass who made his mother cry.”
Maverick rolled his head on his shoulders as he tried to
calm down. “You two are despicable. I can’t forgive this.
Goodbye.”
A perfect about-face and Maverick was out the door
with both his parents hollering after him to stop.
“We did it for you, James!”
“Don’t you walk away from us—get back here!”
Nothing deterred him. When his father grabbed his
shoulder in a bruising grip, he reacted. Within seconds, his
father was kneeling on the hard ground before him. “Don’t you
ever think you can lay a hand on me in anger again,” Maverick
told him in a deadly calm voice. His eyes were unreadable as
they stared down his father. “I’m not a scared little boy and I
don’t like to be grabbed.”
Just as quickly as it happened, it was over, and Maverick
was straddling his bike as the powerful engine roared to life.
Without stopping, he backed up his ride and took off down the
road.
At the outskirts of town, Maverick slowed down when
he saw someone along the road. With a wave of
acknowledgment, he pulled off the road and rolled his bike to a
stop beside the old truck that sat there.
Shutting off the engine, he remained sitting on his cycle.
His eyes were cold and calculating as he watched the roadside
individual approach.
“Thank you,” the voice was raspy with age and
deteriorating health. “For stopping.”
“What do you want, Mr. Whitehall?”
“Did you really see her?”
Bracing his powerful legs on either side to keep his bike
steady, Maverick crossed his arms in front of his massive chest.
“I saw her.” And she was beautiful from the second my eyes landed
on her.
“Is she…is she well?”
In his runny eyes, Maverick noticed the pain of a father
who lost a child. “As far as I can tell. She wasn’t exactly
welcoming to me.”
“And my grandson? I bet he is a wonderful child.” The
man glowed with pride as he said that.
“He’s no child; he’s twenty-one years old. But, he seems
to be. He’s working at the same bar as she is.” Maverick wished
he could see her and explain everything.
“You know, we disowned her. She even legally changed
her name. She must hate me,” he moaned.
Maverick picked up on the “me” as opposed to “us.” “I
have to get going; I’m going to try and set things right.”
One withered hand went up. “Wait, I have something
for her.” He shuffled back to his truck and pulled out a thick
letter that he handed over to Maverick. “Please give this to
her.”
Placing the letter in the saddlebag, Maverick nodded. “I
will.”
“What did he look like? What did she look like?” the old
man asked desperately.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out this was a man
who’d realized he’d erred grievously and wanted to find a way
to fix it. Maverick gave him a general description of how they
looked, leaving out the part of how Tempest made him lose his
breath.
Mitchell Whitehall nodded his thanks. “I was the
stupidest man on earth when I let her go. I hope you are a
smarter man than I was.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Mitchell.” Maverick put on his helmet,
zipped his vest up more, and started his engine.
The man waved until he couldn’t see the man or the
motorcycle anymore. Tears were sliding down his face as he
climbed into the cab of his truck. “Oh, Sarah, what have I done
to you?” Making sure there was no trace of his tears left,
Mitchell started his vehicle and drove back home to his waiting
wife.
Maverick pushed hard to get back to Albuquerque and
got a hotel room near where he’d been before. Hoisting his
saddlebags over one shoulder, he walked up to the second
floor and opened the door to his room.
He unpacked his sea bag and got the room to where he
felt semi-comfortable. He pulled off his leathers and took a cold
shower.
Exhausted, yet clean, he lay on the bed dressed only in
his boxers and allowed the air conditioning to cool him down.
“Now all I need is a plan of attack. I have no idea how I’m
going to get you to give me a chance, Tempest. No idea. But
I’m not leaving until I explain it to you.” Content with his
decision, Maverick nodded off to sleep.
His dreams weren’t pleasant. They were nothing but
Tempest in horrible situations; and each time she would look at
him and say, “This is all your fault! I’m in this because you
abandoned me!”
The next day, Maverick located where she lived by
looking up her name in the phone book and used a city map to
find her home. He rode past her house on his bike. It was a
small home, one level and a very typical Southwestern stucco–
style home.
The outside was painted a beige color. Large windows
were on the front, allowing for the maximum sunlight to come
in; although for the time, all the shades were drawn. He noticed
a stucco fence that seemed to encompass all of her backyard.
There was no grass on her lawn; instead, it was a desert
and rock garden, which made sense given water was so
precious. She had a few large cacti out in the front with
trenches dug around each plant, and a stone walkway led from
the sidewalk to the front door and around to the gate leading to
the backyard.
Maverick wanted to stop and go to the door. He wanted
a chance to meet the young man he’d not been allowed to
know. And he still wanted a chance to get to know the woman
who’d ensnared him from the first moment in the bar, the
woman who’d fascinated him before he knew who she truly
was and how their lives were intertwined.
As he drove around the block, Maverick tried to figure
out how to approach this. One; he’d just recently found out that
he was what he referred to as a deadbeat dad. Two; his son
hated him. Three; Tempest sure as hell wasn’t about to
welcome him with open
arms. Four; all of his charm and
smooth lines were not going to be working on this woman.
So where does that leave me? He drove off and pulled into
a shopping center. Parking his bike, Maverick entered one of
the many stores. That leaves me at square one and no way to woo a
woman who hates my guts.
Walking past a display of flowers, he paused, then
shook his head and moved on. He didn’t know a damn thing
Tempest. Hell, he didn’t know all that much about her when
she was Sarah. If he forgot the fact they had a child together
and he’d left her to raise it alone, then perhaps the flowers
would work, but he knew enough about women to eighty-six
that idea.
Sitting down at an empty table outside, Maverick tipped
his head to feel the full blast of the sun’s rays on his face. For a
while he just sat there and people-watched families, couples,
and move in and out of the stores, laughing and talking with
one another.
It was when he started watching the small children in
strollers that he got choked up. He’d missed all of that of his
son’s life. He was a stranger to his own flesh and blood.
Standing abruptly, Maverick strode to his bike, totally
unconcerned with the amount of female gazes upon his easy
movement. He was just as focused as he was on missions.
Once properly attired, he left the parking lot and went
back to the beige house on a side street in Albuquerque, a
house that hopefully would let him find some answers and
peace to the guilt that had been ravaging him since Tempest
had told him.
Parking his motorcycle on the street, he took off his vest
and helmet before heading for the door. Stealing a brief
moment to gather himself, Maverick reached out with one
bronze hand and knocked.
Six
“Can I help you?” The question was asked with barely
contained civility.
Maverick looked down to see his son standing in front of
him. It was obvious he wasn’t pleased to see the man on the
outside of the door. “Can I speak to Tempest, please?” he asked
politely.
“No.” The answer was snapped out so quickly that
Maverick wasn’t even sure the young man had heard the entire
question.
Bristling a bit at the attitude, Maverick had to swallow to
not bark back. “I need to talk to her,” he insisted.
Dakota narrowed his black eyes at the man he’d just
come to realize was his father. For a long time he’d dreamed of
