“No. I’m here to tell you that you need to stay away from me.” I level him with a look, trying to convey how serious I am. “You have your money, more than what I owed you.”
“Ah.” Keith nods his head, and I watch him take another drag of the cigarette. Over his shoulder, I spot a woman on the couch, her clothes leaving nothing to the imagination, and her age…Well, I’d be surprised if she is older than I am.
My father is a good-looking guy—when he isn’t completely fucking strung out. Not only that, but he has a way about him that drags you down with him, whether you want to go or not. It was a miracle that my mom got out when she could, thatshe finally knew when enough was enough and wouldn’t let him around us anymore.
She would be ashamed if she knew that I’d let him get to me, which was why I don’t want her to know.
“See, the thing about that is, once you know all my little secrets,” Keith looks at me, a glint in his eye showing a danger that I don’t like. “There is no getting out.”
“Jax is done, Keith. So say goodbye, because this is the last you’ll ever see of him.” Mitch’s voice shatters the tension our father builds, and I hate myself for it, but I’m grateful he’s here to help.
Keith laughs, the sound grating. “You think so, boy?” He pulls in another drag. “’Cause from what I figure, he owes me six grand.”
I frown at him, scoffing. “Six grand? You’re delusional. I’ve never taken anything that is worth six grand.”
His eyes widen, and he stands up straight, pretending that he’s thinking through it. “Well, see, there’s labor costs, delivery, interest on payments not made. The list goes on.” He tilts his head, his hawk eyes watching me carefully. “It’s not cheap to send my boys out to find you, you know. That’s another expense.”
My eyebrows drop over my eyes, and I lean forward, my anger pulsing under my skin. “I paid. Every penny.”
Suddenly, he moves. Moving faster than any man who takes as many drugs as he does should and pins me against the wall. He is a strong guy, but not as strong as I am. I shove him back, and before I can get in the swing that I planned, Mitch is there, throwing his fist into Keith’s face and breaking his nose.
His guy who answered the door comes rushing out, going after Mitch, but with a few planned moves, Mitch has the guy pinned to the floor, unable to move. “Don’t move, fucker.”
Blood drips from Keith’s face, and I turn to look at him, shaking my head. “Don’t fucking talk to me ever again.”
He glares at me, anger pulsing through him, making his face bright red. I turn to walk away, Mitch on my heels, when he yells, “I know who you’re with, you son of a bitch! I know what she’s worth. I’ll get mine.”
I start to turn around, ready to go back and get in the punch that he deserves, when Mitch spins me around, pushing me to leave. “He’s not worth it. We’ll protect her.”
I let him move me out of the building, my adrenaline coursing through me at a rate that feels alarming. I’ve had this feeling before. Being a bullfighter and professional rodeo clown is fairly adrenaline-inducing.
But I’ve never felt it with anger attached, and I didn’t know what to do with it.
“Your phone is ringing,” Mitch says, nodding to the phone I left in my cup holder.
I grab it, read the texts from Thea, and curse. “We need to get to the hospital.”
I crank my engine, pulling out of the shitty hotel’s parking lot, and head to the one place I need to be.
36
felicity
Jax walks backand forth in the room, a little bundle wrapped in his arms and an adoring smile on his face.
He was right.
It is a boy.
Right as the nurses and doctor had me start pushing, Jax burst into the room, heading right for me and calming my nerves instantly. He held my hand, watching me push our baby out, and then wiped the sweat from my head, kissing my forehead and praising how well I’d done. Then, the baby was placed on my chest, wet and covered in things I didn’t ask about, and when I met my son’s eyes for the first time, my whole heart stopped in my chest.
Jax cut the umbilical cord, and the nurses called him Dad, making my normally levelheaded boyfriend burst into tears as he leaned over the two of us, pressing kisses to our son’s head and mine, stroking his cheeks and counting his fingers and toes.
“He’s perfect, City,” Jax whispered to me, not taking his eyes off the baby. “He’s absolutely perfect.”
A fear I’d been holding on to disappeared at that moment. One that told me when the baby got here that Jax wouldn’t feel the way he said he did, that something that would throw him off once the baby actually arrived.
It never happened. He never said anything like, “Well, he’s not actually mine.” Like I halfway expected him to. No. He is in, truly and fully in, and I will always be grateful that he never made me feel any other way.
