Military Romance Collection: Contemporary Soldier Alpha Male Romance (157 page)

Chapter Eleven

              Samantha's face contorted; Carrie could read emotions crossing the girl's face in rapid succession. Confusion, anger, anguish, fear, disgust…then back to confusion. And mistrust.

              “Wha—what do you mean?”

              “I mean…Jack isn't really your father. He just married your mother to save her from…” Being mortified? Accused of being a liar and a gold-digging tramp? “Unwed motherhood.”

              Samantha shook her head. “No. No! He married my mom because he is my dad. He and Mom met in high school. I was—they got married three months after they graduated. He loved her.”

              “He did, Samantha. He did love her.” Very much. Even though he said he hadn't loved her the same way he loved me. Carrie let a shaky breath escape from her lungs. “But he wasn't your father.”

              “But that's stupid. Why would he do that, then? You have to be wrong, Carrie. Nobody gets married because someone else got their girlfriend pregnant.” The girl shook her head. Her face, flushed a pretty rosy pink only moments ago, was now red with tears and anguish. “That's crazy.”

              “Eighteen years ago, Samantha, people thought differently than they do now. Being a single mom wasn't as accepted. And for Michelle—for your mom—it would have been horrible. Her parents would have thrown her out…”

              “No. I don't believe you. You're just telling me that because—because—” Samantha swung around. “You're leaving and you're mad at my dad. That's why he hasn't been humming the past couple of days. You broke up.”

              “We did, Samantha. But I'm not making this story up to hurt you. It's true.”

              “Why didn't Mom and Dad tell me themselves, then?” Samantha stamped her foot.

              “Because they didn't want to hurt you.”

              “But you do?”

              “No.” Carrie shook her head. “No, I just—Samantha. You have to believe me. Mike is your biological father.”

              “Well, then, how? You're saying my mom cheated on my dad?” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Carrie.

              Ellie, sitting between them, whined. She lifted her paw at the girl, as if saying, Stop. Or maybe, I'm sorry. But it didn't matter, because Samantha wasn't paying attention. Instead, she stared at Carrie with the same angry expression that Mike himself had displayed when Jack had told him to leave her alone in the movie theater.

              Carrie swallowed. “Samantha. Think. You've been asking about me. Why your dad seems to know me, to have acted so weird after we met up again. He was my boyfriend in high school. Your mom was my best friend. When I left for college, and she found out she was pregnant because of Mike, he did for her what he does for everyone. He took responsibility for her problems. He rescued her. He rescued you.”

              “But…if that’s true, then why didn't Mike…?”

              “Because he didn't love your mom.”

              “But you’re saying Dad didn’t either. So then, why…?”

              Carrie closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and told Samantha the truth.

* * * * *

              Jack tied the ends of the apron strings around his waist and opened the refrigerator door. Samantha would be home soon from her internship, and she'd be hungry. She hadn't told him where she was working yet. She'd promised she would and that it would be a big surprise.

              To be honest, nothing Samantha did surprised him anymore. She was a ray of sunshine, a burst of energy, ying, yang and a bit of controlled crazy all wrapped up into one delightful package of young woman he was proud to call his daughter. He knew that she'd go far, that she'd achieve anything she set her mind to, and he’d known it from the moment he’d held her, red and squalling, in his arms.

A swift, sharp stab of sadness pierced his heart at the thought that now Carrie would never share his joy in the accomplishments of Michelle's daughter. But he put it aside; he was her father and he always had been. Michelle would have loved to have Carrie be Sammy’s step-mom, but it hadn’t ever been part of their plans, because who knew she’d show up and almost become a part of his life again?

              So he decided to focus on the joy he had instead of the heartbreak, starting by making Sammy’s favorite tacos and burritos for dinner so they could celebrate her success. He pulled the package of ground hamburger out of the fridge, and then, as he turned back for the lettuce, the front door pounded open, slamming against the hallway wall.

Samantha stumbled into the kitchen with her face red and tear-streaked. She raced at him. The head of lettuce flew out of his hand, landing with a leafy whump on the kitchen floor, scattering bits everywhere. She pushed him, then pounded her fists against his chest, shrieking in a sound so pained, it took his breath away. “Is it true? Is it true?!”

              He hadn't seen her in such a rage since she was a toddler. Jack reached out to pull her into his arms, but she pushed him away with such ferocity, it hurt. “It is, isn’t it? I hate you!” She screamed. “How could you? Why didn't you tell me? You lied to me! You let me think everything was fine—and you're not even my real father!”

              A sucker punch wouldn't have hurt as much. He reared his head back as his own anger flared. “Who told you?” But even as he asked, he knew the answer. There was only one other living person who knew the truth. Carrie.

              He was going to kill her. How dare she tell Samantha the truth when she knew both he and Michelle had worked so hard to keep it from her? There was only one reason he could think of why anyone would do something so awful, and that was spite.

              The thought that Carrie would never be that spiteful crossed his mind. She might not ever talk to him again, but he couldn't imagine she'd drag this beautiful young woman into an emotional hell just because he'd broken her heart.

              Still. He reached out and pulled Samantha into his embrace. She fell into him, her hands clutching at him even as she tried to push him away. After a moment's struggle, she gave up and just hung in his arms, sobbing. He pressed his cheek to her sweet-smelling hair and rocked her, just as he had when she was a baby. “Oh, my girl. Don't you know that I love you? Don't you know that I only did what I thought was best for you?” He stroked her head. “We didn't want to hurt you with the truth.”

              “Mommy,” Samantha sobbed. “Mike. I hate him! I hate him.”

              “I know,” Jack soothed.

“I feel so stupid. I didn’t know. But I thought he was great. And he kissed me and I was going to be with him. But Mike—Mike’s my real father!” She sobbed even harder.

              Wait a minute. Jack’s stomach flip flopped as he realized what she’d said. He lifted Samantha's chin to peer into her tear-streaked face. “What do you mean, he kissed you? How do you know Mike O’Hare?”

              “He's—he's my new boss,” Samantha choked. “He—he told me I was beautiful, and sexy, like my mo-mo-mother. He was going to take me for dinner tonight, going to…” She trailed off and began sobbing again.

              “Shh…” Jack soothed. “Shhh…” Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Jack couldn't imagine hating anyone more than he hated Mike O'Hare at that moment. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the man—the pervert—had had Samantha in his sights. If he wasn't a cop, if Mike wasn't his boss, if he was less of a man, Jack knew, he wouldn't hesitate to castrate him and hang him and his balls out to dry. Or something.

              But right now, he was a father, and his first desire was to stop his little girl's anguish. So he rocked, and he shushed.

              “I went to Carrie's to tell her that I worked for Mike and how I thought I might really like him,” Samantha said, her voice muffled. “And she told me.” She lifted her head. “She didn't want to, Daddy. But…” She sniffled. “Don't let her leave. Please don't let her leave, Daddy. You love her. Mommy loved her. I love her, too. Please go get her. Don't let her leave. I know she loves you, too. You belong together.”

              “I'll go, later.” He held her close.

But Samantha pushed her way out of his arms and wiped at her eyes. “You have to go now.” She took a deep breath. In that moment, he saw the little girl he'd known become the woman she was meant to be, as a new maturity settled onto her shoulders. “You sacrificed your life for Mom and for me, Daddy. Now it's your turn. Yours and Carrie's. You have to go.” She lifted her chin, looking stubborn. Looking like Becks. “Now.”

“But—”

“Dad. Now. And you better make her stay in Rhode Island. Or I'll never talk to you again.”

Three times is the charm. Jack pulled her close for a kiss on the forehead. “Sammy, no matter who your biological father is, you know you'll always be my baby girl. I love you.”

“And you'll always be my dad.” She kissed his cheek. “Even if you do wear that apron.”

“Because I wear this apron.” Jack grinned, untied it and handed it to her.

“Whatever. I'm going to hide it before someone sees you in it. Now go. Quick!” She kissed his cheek, then pushed his shoulder.

He grinned and ran out the door.

* * * * *

Carrie drew the brush along the outside of the cupboard, painting away all vestiges of life with Nana in one fell swoop. So easy to clean up and cover up. Sort of like what Jack and Michelle had done about Mike. And, right now, as she was doing to Nana, as if the woman who'd spent sixty-some-odd years of her life in the house had never been there at all.

It was as if she, herself, had never been there either. It would have been better for all of them if she hadn’t. She’d never forget the look in Samantha’s eyes when she’d learned about her father, and Carrie knew she’d never feel as horrible.

Ellie, lying in the corner by the fridge, suddenly lifted her head and growled. Then she stood, hackles rising. Carrie put her brush down into the paint pan. “What's the matter, El Beast?” The only time she'd seen her growl this way was when Mike approached her on the beach.

The dog's lips curled, showing sharp teeth. She lowered her head, eyes shining weirdly as she glared at the foyer. What the heck? Carrie stared at the dog. She looked like something from a horror movie. A werewolf, or a hellhound. Her growling grew louder, a fierce, gravelly sound.

Carrie jumped as the front door thudded. Someone began pounding on it, shouting. A man. A very strong, very angry man.

Jack? she thought, even as she realized that the man whose silhouette loomed in the door glass was Mike O'Hare. She bit her lip and stepped back into the kitchen, her heart thumping. Maybe, if he didn't see her, he'd go away. Maybe—

The window in the door shattered and she heard an oath as Mike's foot tangled in the curtain covering the glass; she could see the dark shadow of his sole outlined in the sheer fabric. Then the door crashed open, the frame splintered and the top hinge broken. The door hung at an angle and Mike stood in the doorway. He glared at her with wild eyes, his face as dark and enraged as a madman's.

“Carrie!” he called. “Carrie effin' Waters. Where the fuck are you?”

Ellie moved forward; Carrie grabbed the dog's collar and muscled the dog away from the foyer, through the kitchen to the back door. She knew if Ellie lunged, her fingers would get sprained if not broken. But she didn't want to think of the consequences if the animal bit the mayor. “Come on,” she hissed at Ellie, pulling as hard as she could. “We’ll go out the back door—”

“Where are you, cunt? I know you’re in here, somewhere!” Mike’s footsteps echoed loudly as he began walking through the house.

“Ellie! Please!” Carrie used both hands then, tugging at the dog’s collar. But Ellie lunged, and the plastic snap holding it closed broke. The dog leaped away from her to stand in the kitchen doorway and growl.

Carrie held her breath and tried to shrink into herself, but it was too late. Mike stepped to the side and from his vantage point could see her in the kitchen. His face split into a sadistic grin.

“There you are, you bitch,” he said. “You told Samantha that I raped her mother. And you told her she was my daughter?”

“You raped Michelle, Mike. You know it and I know it. Just admit it.” Carrie lifted her chin, refusing to be cowed no matter how weak her knees felt or how much her heart raced. “You were her prom date. You raped her. She got pregnant.”

“Yeah? Maybe I didn’t rape her. Maybe she wanted it. Maybe she was pregnant anyway, because she was doing Jack behind your back. How about that?” He took another step toward her. Carrie could see the veins standing out on his forehead and the sweat blanketing his brow. “She came to my office, the little cunt, screaming and shouting this bullshit for everyone to hear. How I raped her mother. How I was her father. Everyone heard. Everyone.”

“Good. I'll have plenty of witnesses to interview,” Carrie said, taking a step back as Mike stepped forward. Ellie stiffened. “Eighteen years ago, Mike, paternity was a lot harder to prove. Now they do it all the time. Samantha will take the test. You'll have to take the test. And when it's over, you won't be able to cover this up with your bullshit. Everyone will know—just like Jack and Michelle and I have always known—what a slime you really are. And then, your career will be ruined—”