Blood and Honor (11 page)

At least enough to gain the private audience with him she was after.

The loud pounding on Hawk’s door had her flying from her spot on the bed only to force herself to slow down as she reached the door. Her hand went to her hair, smoothing the dark strands as best she could. Alanna took a deep breath. He couldn’t be here already, could he?

“Yes?” she called, hoping to sound sultry and inviting.

“Open up, Alanna.”

A scowl crossed her face but she managed to affect a smile as she opened the door to admit Wince.

“Hello, Wince,” she greeted demurely.

She knew he wasn’t just making a social call when he pushed her into the room and kicked the door shut behind him.

“What the
hell are
you doing?” she demanded.

“I’m not here to discuss what
I’m
doing. I’m here to find out what the fuck
you’re
doing.”

Time to pull out the big guns. Alanna stuck out her chest and shoved her hand onto her hip. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right. Well, it so happens that I recall a very specific conversation we had a few months ago. You made some pretty serious allegations.”

She felt herself pale but maintained her bravado. “So?”

“So. I’m sure you heard that Dax is coming back for a few weeks.”

She couldn’t prevent the hot rush of color that flooded her cheeks at the man’s name.

“So?” she repeated, hoping her desperation to see Dax was not too obvious.

Wince was studying her intensely and she was starting to feel like a bug under a microscope. “He’s bringing his family. And he doesn’t need any more bullshit, you catch my drift?”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Listen, baby. I still don’t know who the fuck you are, or what the fuck you think you know, but you’re damn lucky that I’ve been too tied up to deal with your shit lately. Dax is coming here with his old lady and his kid. You’ll get a ten-minute audience with him. If you don’t deliver, we’re taking your shit to the table.”

Oh, that was not good. Not good at all. “I—I was injured.” She gestured to the tiny scar on her forearm, trying to draw some kind of sympathy from the man. Wince certainly wasn’t the pushover she had assumed he was.

His eyes softened but his words didn’t reflect any kind of concern.

“Yeah, and all of us are indebted to you over that. But we all know the real reason you risked your life for Dax’s kid. And it wasn’t for Sirena, was it?”

Her chest was suddenly tight and her throat was scratchy. Alanna wanted to fucking cry. Because it was the truth. She didn’t take Sirena for the sake of saving a child. All of it was because of Dax.

“That’s all the truth I need from you, baby. Get your shit together. Friday night. Before the welcome home party.”

Alanna felt herself nodding like a bobblehead doll. What else could she do? Wince was the gateway to Dax. She had to change tactics to get on his good side. She was contemplating just what she could do to accomplish her new goal when a loud rap on the door made both of them jump.

Wince glanced at Alanna. “Where’s Hawk tonight?”

“He said he had an appointment. It wasn’t club related,” she answered honestly.

“Fuck.” Wince checked his phone and then flung the door open.

“Everything is going to fuckin’ shit in this place.” Alanna heard him mutter as he put his phone to his ear. Alanna strained to hear the hushed whispers.

“What? Are you fucking serious? Well, what the fuck does
she
want? He ain’t here, man. Set her up in a guest bunk.”

Alanna had no idea what was transpiring, but for some reason, the drama heated her blood. It was fucking arousing. She looked to Wince for guidance and was somewhat chagrined to see the man looking out of sorts. She rather liked the domineering version of Winston Walker.

“What’s going on, baby?”

“Don’t baby me, groupie. Keep your distance. I mean it.”

With that, Wince stalked out of the bunk that she shared with Hawk. Alanna flopped on the bed and turned on the flat screen television that graced the wall opposite of Hawk’s waterbed. That show—the one about a biker gang was on. Gemma…wow, that character was deranged but Alanna admired the hell out of her. She would do anything for the club—just like an old lady should. Whoever wrote this show was a goddamn genius.

Alanna wasn’t sure what her next move was going to be, but she was going to support Dax—however that played out.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Dax wasn’t sure what he expected, but he certainly didn’t expect the trepidation he felt as he headed back to Darling. To her credit, Sirena slept on the plane. Rhee insisted on a red eye flight and had kept their daughter up all day with no nap.

At first, he had wondered if Rhee was being too rigid—too controlling. But there was no doubt that Sirena’s mother knew best. His tow-headed little sprite whimpered during takeoff and landing, but Rhee managed to distract her and soothe her off to never-never land almost effortlessly.

Fuck, she’s such a good mom.

Dax couldn’t help but compare Rhee to the vague, painful memories he had of his own mother. It still hurt inside—pained him—to think about his childhood. Being part of Sirena’s experiences, and seeing the way Rhiannon parented her, erased some of the sharp ache he carried around with him—made him feel lighter somehow.

It was impossible to be perfect—no parent was perfect all the time. But, Rhee came pretty damn close. She treated Sirena like she was a junior member of a club, not a grunt who had to conform to someone else’s expectations. She accepted that Sirena might not have the same experience, but she also considered Sirena’s three-year-old perceptions of what was happening in their world, and she allowed those perceptions to guide their decisions and experiences.

Sirena was sweet, innocent, and loving. She was also stubborn, messy, and prone to throwing shit when she didn’t get her way.

Just the way a three-year old should be.

Dax glanced in the rearview mirror. Rhiannon dozed in the back of the Suburban, her head resting lightly on Sirena’s car seat.

A pink fuckin’ car seat.
Man, the guys are never going to let me live this down.

Dax wiggled his toes in his rubber flip-flops.

Or these.
Man, I can’t believe I forgot my goddamn boots.

***

“You still have the house here?”

Dax glanced sidelong at her. “Yup. Having fond memories?”

“It will be weird to be back there.”

Rhee didn’t have to explain further. He knew what she referred to—the nightmares. Dax nodded, his eyes turning flinty. Rhee wasn’t sure what it was about her comment that made him angry. She reached out and placed her small hand on his bulging forearm, noting the tension that he carried there.

“Hey. It’s okay.
I’m
okay.”

The tension in his face lessened. “Yes, you are.”

“We all are.”

They pulled into the driveway and the memories came flooding back. There was no anxiety…no pounding heart, no nothing as she recalled that fateful night and what had happened to her the night she met Dax. What had
almost
happened.

Shit, I have a knack for getting into fucking trouble, don’t I?

It was interesting how the events of that time in her life played out in her mind’s eye with no emotional reaction. Until she remembered the driving force behind her little foray into biker bars. Looking for Mickey.

Mouse.

Rhee had gone stock-still, frozen on the porch. Dax nudged her, Sirena sleeping hard on his shoulder.

“Sure you’re okay, darlin’?”

“Yeah. Um…yeah.” Rhee shook herself mentally. Being back here re-ignited her intense desire to find Mickey. She studied Dax as he held Sirena in his arms. Her little girl wasn’t so little anymore. She was in preschool. She wore her big girl panties.

Now, it’s time for me to put mine on.
I can’t be afraid of what I might find anymore.
I won’t fall apart.
No matter what…I can’t.

“This house…reminds me of my sister. Of how I ended up here. I need to find her, Dax. Even though it’s been years and she’s more than likely….” Rhee cut herself off, unwilling to the say words aloud.

“I need to know what happened to her. And the longer I’m in this house—this town—the more it’s going to drive me fucking batshit crazy
not
to know.”

Dax managed to get his key in the door and Sirena mumbled against his shoulder, reminding Rhee that they were all standing on the porch instead of inside the warm house.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Rhee turned the knob and let him walk in ahead of her. They rounded the corner to the guest room—the room she had woken up in four years ago to find sexy as sin Dax Jamison standing in the next room.

She smiled to herself, remembering her initial confusion followed by the almost immediate attraction to the man. Her first thoughts, if she recalled correctly, were:

“Where am I?”
and “
What the hell is Charlie Hunnam doing here?!”

Dax flicked on the lights but kept them dim. As her eyes adjusted, Rhee couldn’t gasped softly, with surprise and delight. Her memory of the guest room was fuzzy at best but the space had been transformed. The walls were…pink?

Rhee took a closer look. Actually, they were pink with chocolate brown trim. Pink gingham curtains adorned the windows. A white, wooden toddler bed graced one wall. Rhee scanned the rest of the room in disbelief. There was a dark brown rocker, a bookshelf filled with books, and a basket of toys and dolls on the floor.

She was speechless.

Dax grinned and placed Sirena carefully in the small bed. He pulled the pink and brown covers over their daughter and then placed his fingers to his lips in that universal gesture that meant, “Be quiet.”

He ushered her from the room. “We can look more in the morning.”

“Who?”

“Wince, mostly. I think Gray helped too.”

Rhee burst into giggles at the thought of grizzled old Gray making a bed with pink and brown sheets. “I can’t believe this!”

Dax pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly, the feel of his lips on her own igniting a sweet hot fire that thrummed through her blood and centered between her legs.

“Believe it, baby. Not sure how long we’ll be stateside, but I wanted Sirena to feel at home here.”

“That’s so…sweet.” And it was a fucking turn on.

“I think that might be the first time anyone ever called me that.”

His voice was gruff but she could hear the male pride lacing his tone.

“Thank you.”

“Actions speak louder than words, little girl.”

With that, Dax picked her up bodily and carried her into the bedroom, where he proceeded to remove her clothing piece by piece, kissing the sensitized flesh he uncovered with agonizing, deliberate slowness. He had her begging in five minutes flat. Afterwards, as Rhee stretched, her hand on her belly—on that maybe baby—she wondered if his intent was to wear her out so that she could sleep.

Well, it worked. Sated and exhausted, they both slept like the dead until until Sirena came wandering into their room, confused but curious as well.

“New house?”

“Yeah, baby. Climb in here.”

“Where Manali?” her chubby little chin quavered.

“We’ll see her soon, baby. Promise. We’re just on a little vacation.”

Dax nestled Sirena between them. Ah, morning snuggles. They had a special way of making problems seem far away. But as it turned out, problems were dancing closer and closer, on the horizon of their happily ever after—threatening to take it all away in a big tidal wave of shit.

***

It had been a few days and they were all still adjusting to being back in Darling. Dax was tense and irritated to the point that Rhee was afraid to make demands, but she wanted to see the guys—Hawk and Gray, especially. She wanted them to meet Sirena. But, there was excuse after excuse about why the clubhouse was off-limits right now. Rhee sighed. If he wasn’t fucking her or trying to fuck her morning, noon, and night, she’d be worried.

Goddamn it, they have to make these pee sticks easier to use.

Rhee was sick to death of peeing on her hand. After remembering that hormone levels were typically higher in the morning, she was trying to test right when she woke up, but Sirena usually had other plans. She had to go potty, she wanted her milk, she was starving...it was all part of the typical mom routine and Rhee loved it, but it was damn near impossible to pee on a stick the second she got up, let alone hide what she was doing from her very perceptive three-year old.

Oh, she could hear it now. The questions could come at any time, to anybody. Most of the time, Sirena’s random comments were to complete strangers.

At the grocery store. The gas station. The local burger joint
.

“Do ya know?
My mommy pees on sticks!”

Rhee was not yet used to this stage—when her daughter blurted out things related to bodily functions and other embarrassing things in the most inappropriate places. Dax thought it was hilarious. Rhee was still trying to decide how to respond to her comments and questions.

Fuck, still negative.
So why do I feel bloated and hormonal?

Her boobs hurt. She was tired. Moody. All of that equaled pregnant, didn’t it? Rhee didn’t recall having many pregnancy symptoms early on with Sirena, but the end of her pregnancy was hell, pure and simple.

Dax needs to hook me up with a doctor.

Later, Rhee would remember that thought and wonder about it. Because that innocent little mental comment turned out to be a premonition of something that was going to shake things up even more. That something—or some
one
—rang Dax’s doorbell a few moments later.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Bingo!
This has got to be what we’re looking for.

Around two in the morning, Wince was finally into the federal database. He bypassed a bunch of firewalls and gained access to some very high-level emails. One of the exchanges had a file attached to it. It was encrypted, but it only took him a few more hours to crack the code and open a spreadsheet that detailed safe houses, occupants, and agents.