“Cox,” I whispered. He turned.
“I’m not sure what your plans are, but Kami and Devin are a package deal. You try to fuck that up, and you’re going to go up against a wall of Demons. We clear?”
Deuce’s lips twitched, but Cox remained impassive. “Yeah, Foxy,” he whispered. “We’re clear. You don’t gotta worry ’bout your girl. Had some time to cool off. Figure some shit out.”
Cox walked over to my bed and sat down beside Kami. “Bitch,” he whispered in her ear, “wake the fuck up.”
Kami blinked sleepily, saw Cox looming over her, and let out a shriek.
Cox slapped his hand over her mouth. “You crazy? My kid is sleepin’.”
Kami’s pretty blue eyes narrowed, and she mumbled something nasty-sounding against Cox’s hand.
“Just met your fuckin’ husband, and sure as fuck don’t want my kid near that asshole ever again, ’specially don’t want him callin’ that motherfucker daddy.” He gently pushed a lock of hair out of Kami’s eyes. “And bitch, you’re not goin’ back to him. Not ever.”
Kami visibly relaxed and sank back into my pillow. Cox removed his hand.
“Gonna lay it out for you, babe,” he continued. “Not about to take my boy away from his mama. So we can work somethin’ out. I gotta get to know him first, want him to feel safe with me, and then we can talk ’bout him goin’ back and forth, yeah?
“Or you can pack up your fuckin’ shit and haul your bony ass down to Montana, and I’ll help you get a place. Maybe shit could happen between us, maybe not ’cause you’re fuckin’ crazy, but no way in hell you’re ever goin’ near Ripper. Basically, bitch, you will promise me right the fuck now that you will be stayin’ away from Ripper from now ’til fuckin’ forever.”
Shocked, I glanced at Deuce. He was looking at the ceiling, praying for patience maybe.
“What about your wife?” Kami hissed. “Will you be staying away from her?”
“I’ll take care of it,” Cox hissed back.
She snorted. “And how will you be taking care of that?”
“Not your concern.”
Kami jackknifed into a sitting position. “You expect me to pack up my life, uproot my son, move to a town where ‘Super Sluts’ is the only salon in sight, just so some shit may or may not happen between us? You might be fine as hell and fuck like a god, but sorry, I don’t think so.”
Cox grabbed Kami’s upper arms and jerked her forward. Nose to nose, they glared at each other.
“I’m gonna be brutally honest with you. Not one woman has ever worked me like you do. Not one and I’ve fucked a lot of women. Pissed me off every time you split when I still wanted more. Now you got my kid, and you still look slammin’, and I still want more. You come to Montana, and we’ll see if this shit works. If it does, I’ll leave my wife; if it doesn’t, I’m not fuckin’ leavin’ her. Don’t wanna do my own laundry, and sure as shit don’t wanna be payin’ alimony.”
“Oh my God,” Kami breathed. “You are the biggest asshole I have ever met.”
“And you’re a damn crazy, seriously spoiled bitch.”
I’m still not sure who moved first, maybe they moved at the same time. One second they were glaring, and the next they were kissing. And wrestling. Wrestle kissing?
They rolled off the bed in a heap, Kami reaching for Cox’s belt while he tore open her shirt.
I ran for Devin since neither of his parents were taking into account that their four-year-old was mere feet from them.
“Jesus, you’re fuckin’ perfect,” Cox rasped.
“Shut up,” Kami hissed. “And fuck me!”
Deuce held the door for me while I carried Devin out of the room.
Last thing I heard before Deuce closed the door was Cox groaning loudly, “Oh, fuck yeah, bitch, your crazy ass is comin’ home with me.”
“No, I’m not!”
I shook my head. What a difference a day makes.
“You ready to go home, darlin’?”
I looked over at Deuce. He was staring at the little boy in my arms.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “I’m ready.”
He looked up and smiled. “That’s good, babe. Real fuckin’ good.”
• • •
Deuce turned onto the interstate. Wearing his helmet, Eva sat behind him, her thighs cradling his hips, her arms encircling his waist, her cheek pressed between his leather-clad shoulder blades. It felt good. Right. It felt like a fuck of a long time coming, but it was here now, and he could finally breathe easy.
Extending his arm straight out, palm facing down, he signaled his boys to slow down. Then he put his arm up in the air and extended his index finger. The boys slowed and went single file in order of their rank: Deuce, Mick, and then Cox bringing up the rear.
They headed home.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“I’m not going in there.”
Deuce folded his thick arms across his wide chest. “You gonna sleep out under the stars?”
I shrugged. “Since I’m not going in there, yeah.”
Closing his eyes, he took a couple of deep breaths. I knew I was wearing down his last nerve, but honestly, I couldn’t find a shred of give-a-damn. He had good intentions, yes, but he wasn’t listening to me and didn’t care how I felt about any of this. I had just up and left behind everything I’d ever known for him, and he was expecting me to move in with him and his kids. His grown-up kids. His grown-up kids I’d never met!
From what I could see, he had a beautiful home. It was a two-story rustic Montana cabin, widespread, with a wraparound porch and a backyard that went on for miles. It was off the beaten path—no neighbors, no traffic, no nothing. Just Deuce. And his two grown kids.
Holy crap. I had to get far, far away.
Was there a bus stop in the mountains? I didn’t remember seeing any. In fact, I don’t think I saw any buses either. Or people. Or anything at all actually. But there had to be a bus stop, right? If there’s a road, more than likely a bus will show up eventually…right?
“Reel it in, Eva,” Deuce growled. “How far you think you’re gonna get? You don’t even know where the fuck you are.”
“This is kidnapping!” I yelled. “And stop reading my mind!”
“Fuck me,” he muttered. “Are you always this crazy?”
“Yes!” I screamed. “Which is why you need to take me to an airport or a bus station or any sort of civilization and let me go home!”
He ignored me. “I don’t remember you bein’ this crazy.”
“You want to know why you don’t remember me being this crazy? Because out of the twenty-five years we’ve known each other, we can count on our fingers and toes how many days of that we’ve spent together. And some of those days weren’t even full days!”
“Eva,” he said, exasperated. “You’ve spent four days on the back of my bike and sleepin’ in a tent, pukin’ your fuckin’ guts out. You look like shit, you smell like shit, and I’m willin’ to bet you’d love to sleep in a real bed. So how’s ’bout you and I continue this fuckin’ bullshit inside?”
I was praying for serenity, praying for the strength not to rip his throat out, when I heard the most awful noise in the entire world.
“Dad?”
A miniature Deuce sauntered down the driveway. I stared at him. He was nearly as tall as his father, not quite as well-built, but still impressive for an eighteen-year-old. His hair was long and blond and pulled back in a man bun, and when he flashed me his lady-killer grin, it was Deuce at Rikers all over again. But he didn’t have his father’s eyes. While Deuce’s were frosty blue, mini Deuce’s were brown.
Deuce pointed at his mini him. “Cage,” he grunted. Then he pointed at me. “Eva.”
Sheesh. He sounded like a Neanderthal. “Me man, you woman.”
The mini Deuce grinned again and lifted his chin. “’Sup, Eva.”
I buried my face in my hands. “Oh my God,” I whined. “I need a bus station.”
“Daddy!”
I peeked through my fingers at the screaming, giggling mass of blonde hair flying down the driveway. Dear God. This chick was a teenage diva. Skinny jeans and a sparkly pink tank top with furry pink boots, highlighted blonde hair, long and layered with perfectly side-swept bangs. Way too much eye makeup. This did not bode well for me.
I was not a diva. None of my clothing had ever been accused of being furry.
She launched herself at Deuce and wrapped her body around him. Since no one was looking at me, I decided to tiptoe slowly out of the driveway. How hard could it be to find a bus stop?
“Eva!” Deuce bellowed. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare!
I stopped and glanced over my shoulder. Deuce was storming toward me while both his kids looked on curiously.
So I did what any victim being forced to live with your man’s grown children would do. I turned tail and ran like hell. True, I had no idea where I was going, but there was a road, and a road had to lead somewhere. If it didn’t, how would people get anywhere?
Deuce’s boots pounded heavy on the pavement behind me, growing closer and closer until he was close enough to grab me. I screamed and made a hard right off the road, jumped over a small ditch, and headed straight for the woods.
I didn’t make it.
“Bitch, I know I wasn’t fuckin’ hallucinatin’ when you said you were sick of runnin’,” he growled.
“Fuck you,” I hissed. “FUCK YOU!”
“That what you need, Eva? You need me to fuck you to remind you where you fuckin’ belong?”
“Daddy?”
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Go back to the house, Danny.”
“I want to talk to Eva.”
“House. Danny. Now.”
“No, Daddy, I want to talk to her.”
Sighing, Deuce set me down. I scrambled away from him, glaring. He glared right back.
“Hi,” Danny said cheerfully. “Daddy told me all about you!”
Danny grinned at me. Sheesh, she was gorgeous. She had Deuce’s eyes—icy blue and hypnotizing. But her face was her mother’s, sweetheart features, delicate, and utterly beautiful.
“I thought you would be older,” she said and giggled. “Daddy’s age or maybe my mom’s age. But you’re so young.”
“Fuck,” Deuce muttered. “She’s not that young.”
I glared at him. “I’m thirty.”
Danny burst out laughing. “She’s like closer to my age than yours, Daddy! You’re like fifty!”
Deuce looked to the sky and closed his eyes. “I’ll be on the porch,” he growled. “She runs again,” he pointed at me, “you fuckin’ yell.”
He stalked off.
• • •
Deuce sat on his porch steps, his elbows on his knees, and his face in his palms. He was destined for a life of crazy.
“She’s hot, Dad. Really fuckin’ hot.”
He turned his head toward his son. “Yeah,” he muttered.
“Great fuckin’ legs,” Cage continued. “And her tits. Jesus, no fuckin’ bra with tits that big…fuck me.”
He glared. If Cage didn’t shut the fuck up, he was going to knock him out.
“You get done with her, pass her the fuck to me.”
“Reel it in,” he growled. “Or I’m gonna knock you the fuck out.”
Cage stared at him. “Are you serious?”
“As tequila.”
“Since when do you give a fuck if I tap club ass?”
“Since right fuckin’ now. And she’s not a club whore. Call her that again, and you’re gonna be pissin’ blood for a fuckin’ minute.”
Cage burst out laughing. “Oh shit,” he gasped, holding his stomach still laughing. “You fuckin’ like this one.”
Like? That didn’t even begin to cover how he felt about that crazy bitch.
He grabbed his whore of a son by the front of his T-shirt and yanked him across the step until they were nose to nose. “You’re fuckin’ young. You think ridin’ and pussy are all that fuckin’ matters. I get it. I’ve been there, but you’re gonna learn real fuckin’ quick to respect women, whores, good girls, old fuckin’ ladies—all of ’em—or I’m gonna bury you. You feel me?”
“Yeah, Dad,” he said quietly. “Sorry.”
He shoved him back and looked toward the woods. Still no sign of Eva or his daughter.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“She the reason you’re pissed off all the time?”
“Yeah.”
“She the reason you left Mom?”
“Yeah.”
“You love her?”
“Yeah.”
There was a long pause.
“Cool.”
“…yeah.”
“Dad?”
“Jesus, Cage. What?”
“Does this mean I can have at Miranda?”
Christ.
“Yeah, you fuckin’ hornball. Have at it.”
“Cool.”
• • •
Danny and I walked back to the house—me, silent with my arms wrapped around my middle and her, a bouncing blonde ball of teenage girl, telling me all about her summer break from school. She was sixteen—the same age I was when I first kissed her father and fell hard for him—and it all felt supremely awkward.
As we reached the end of the driveway, I could see Deuce and Cage sitting on the porch steps. Cage was leaning back on the railing smoking a cigarette; Deuce was doing a face-plant in his palms. My heart clenched; he was upset.
When he spotted us, Cage kicked Deuce in the calf. Deuce’s head jerked left, his face tight with anger, and Cage reared back, pointing at me. Our eyes locked.
“Danny,” Cage yelled, getting to his feet. “Help me make dinner!”
Danny touched my arm. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I muttered.
“He would never hurt you,” she whispered.
I looked down at her. “Yeah, baby, I know.”
She grinned, and I cringed. The girl didn’t just have his eyes; she had his heart-stopping grin.
“Daddy calls me baby,” she whispered. Then, with a hop and skip, she ran off. She and Cage disappeared inside the house, leaving Deuce and me staring at each other.
Oh, Lord, help me. I couldn’t do this. And yet, I was walking straight toward him.
I stopped in front of him. “Look, I can’t do—hey! What the hell?”
Deuce grabbed my waist and pulled me on his lap. “Fuckin’ hell, bitch,” he said hoarsely. “You make me fuckin’ insane.”
I let out a long, shuddering sigh and sank into his body. His arms tightened around me.
“You’re not leavin’, Eva.”
I was. But I didn’t tell him that. Instead, I told him how unbelievably bad he smelled.
“Yeah, babe. So do you.”
• • •
Deuce’s home was incredible. An honest-to-God log cabin dream home. The inside had been decorated rustic chic. When you first walked in, you were greeted with a two-story foyer complete with a handmade wooden chandelier. The entire first floor was an open plan. The only divider was the sprawling staircase that led to the second-floor balcony.
To the left of the foyer was a living area separated from the family area only by furniture. The furniture was top-of-the-line, not at all lived-in, and reminded me of Chase. The family area was more my thing—beat-up wide-seated couches, a thick, furry throw rug, an enormous flat screen, and every video game console a teenage boy could dream of. Photos of Deuce and his boys, of his kids, of his different motorcycles over the years covered the width of two walls. To the right of the foyer was an enormous kitchen and dining area. The kitchen was nearly identical to the one at his clubhouse. Black-and-chrome appliances and black-and-white marble counters. The dining set was exquisite, with solid, cherry-stained oak and high-back ladder chairs fitted with forest green cushions.
Up the sprawling staircase and across from the balcony were five bedrooms and three bathrooms, not including the master
bedroom, which had an all-inclusive bathroom with a Jacuzzi for a bathtub and a shower big enough to fit a family of ten, complete with benches and multiple showerheads. Deuce’s bedroom was just as ridiculous. Although sparsely decorated, what was there was not at all how I pictured Deuce’s bedroom. A long dresser with a large vanity mirror and a matching stool lined one wall. A Tiffany lamp hung off to the side. On the opposite wall were two vertically tall dressers. The bed was a four-poster California king with black silk bedding and too many pillows to count. And there were mirrors everywhere, even on the ceiling.
I stared at Deuce, who shrugged and muttered, “Christine.”
Cage’s bedroom was typical of a teenage boy. Dark sheets and dark curtains. Posters of motorcycles and naked women posing with motorcycles and stolen street signs lined the walls. The floor was carpeted with clothing and sneakers, his bed was a mess, and dirty dishes were piled high on his dresser.
Danny’s was of the utmost girly-girl variety. Everything was either pink or purple, or pink and purple and fuzzy. The second I stepped inside, I felt like I’d walked into Candy Land and instantly retreated to safety.
When my tour was complete, Deuce brought me back to his bedroom, pointed me toward the dresser with the vanity, and ordered me to unpack. I scowled at him. “I’m not staying,” I told him. “Therefore, I am not unpacking.”
“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered. Grabbing my arm, he dragged me into the adjoining bathroom and started the shower. Then he stripped.
When he was standing butt naked in front of me, I stared at the tattoo of his wife, a half sleeve of her face. I had seen it before, but had never given it much thought. Until now. Until I was here in her home with her husband and her two children.
“Don’t fuckin’ go there, Eva,” he growled. I narrowed my eyes. How did he always know what I was thinking?
Muttering something about crazy women, Deuce crossed the bathroom and pushed me up against the ceramic-tiled wall. He yanked my T-shirt over my head and tossed it in the garbage can. Had his wife picked out the garbage can? Was her toothbrush in here somewhere?
I was momentarily distracted from my musings when I felt Deuce’s hands on me. Deuce’s mouth on me.
A Ride or Die Kind of Love Page 143
