Wicked Secret Page 5

  Yes, sex has made me sentimental and mushy.

  Foolish as well.

  August doesn’t reply.

  It makes me angry. I start to turn so I can face him, but he merely rises and climbs off the bed. I grab a pillow and cover myself, turning to him as he zips up. When he buckles his belt, I watch silently, but he refuses to meet my eyes.

  “Can you at least say something?” I demand, my anger warring with a sudden urge to cry.

  Arrogantly, August deems to give me his attention, coolly appraising the way I’m now covering my nudity with a pillow. He shakes his head, an almost vindictive expression twisting his features with something like sympathy. “I stopped missing you a long damn time ago.”

  God, that hurts. I don’t know if it’s true, but his words make a direct hit on my heart.

  He waves at me… at the bed. “This was simply the emotion of the moment getting out of hand. Don’t get me wrong… it was great. But it didn’t mean anything. Understand?”

  I nod dumbly. “Okay.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow so we can make arrangements to get Sam here,” he says, pivoting away. He doesn’t even glance back, but merely talks while striding to the door. “I’ve already arranged transportation.”

  And without another word—about what we just shared or how he intends to transport Sam to Vegas for treatment—August walks out the door and shuts it firmly behind himself.

  CHAPTER 7

  August

  We are halfway through the two-hour flight from Vegas to Denver, and Leighton still hasn’t said a word. Didn’t speak to me this morning when I picked her up from her hotel, either. She sits across from me in a sleek captain’s chair on one of Declan Blackwood’s private planes. It’s all brown leather and gold-plated accents. I’ve never flown privately before, and I expect this plane is probably top of the line. It’s all lost on me right now, though, and I can’t drum up any genuine appreciation given the gravity of the situation.

  Leighton won’t meet my eyes, even though our chairs are opposite each other with a table separating us. Her earbuds in, she’s staring blankly out the window at the clouds below us. I wonder if she can feel the weight of my glare. I’ve been in a rotten mood since leaving her hotel room.

  Frankly, I had the best goddamn sex of my life with her last night… and I’m pissed about it. It freaks me out, actually. Shouldn’t Leighton and I have had our best sex when we were young and in love?

  Shouldn’t the fact I want to strangle her mean there is no way in hell I could ever find pleasure within her body?

  There is no getting past the fact she kept my son hidden from me for nine years. I get she had to leave in the dead of the night, without a choice in the matter. She was young and scared, and I understand that. I can’t even imagine the stress of finding out she was pregnant on top of all that. I get why she couldn’t reach out to me at first.

  But her dad testified against the mob over eight years ago. Kynan’s sources in the Department of Justice have confirmed the continuing threat level to him is fairly low, but admittedly still exists. Does Leighton even know that? Did their handler inform her the high potential for danger was over? Did she even bother to ask, particularly after Sam was born, so she could potentially notify me?

  I can’t seem to accept that there’s any reason that could have kept her from reaching out to me at some point, long before now.

  God, I want to kill her as much as I want to fuck her.

  I should have been okay—satisfied—when I walked out of her hotel room. After all, I’d just experienced the most powerful orgasm of my life. I should have been content to go home and fall into a dead sleep. But she had driven me from her bed with the ridiculous comment that she was glad we had reconnected. It had infuriated me—her shallow words. I hadn’t given them a second thought, heading straight for The Wicked Horse.

  As always, there was a tempting buffet of willing female flesh in every room. I found Declan in The Silo, tangled up in a group of men as they all fucked the same woman—who was locked in the club’s stocks. Watching them all take a turn on the willing brunette was erotic as hell, especially since she orgasmed over and over again as the men did all kinds of dirty things to her.

  Declan spotted me through the glass walls. Shooting me a devilish grin, he motioned for me to come in.

  That I had no desire to go in there was even more infuriating. I didn’t want anything the club had to offer. Choosing to blame Leighton for that, too, I stalked out and went home.

  To say I have a lot of issues weighing me down would be an understatement. But it’s not Leighton or my lack of desire to join in the fun at The Wicked Horse that’s pressing on me the most.

  It’s the fact I now have a son.

  A nine-year-old son named Sam whom I don’t even know but already love.

  The enormity of it is something I don’t think I’m prepared for. My life will never be the same. It’s not something I had ever thought I would be dealing with at this point in my life. Sure, there was a time when I was young and probably stupid where I thought I would marry Leighton and have kids. Or, rather, marry Tracey. It was Tracy I wanted to live my life with—not this Leighton woman who kept my son hidden from me.

  But now, I not only have to figure out how to be a dad, but I’m also facing having a kid who could die before I even get to know him. Or perhaps Leighton will decide she’s not going to let him stay in Vegas after the treatment. Will I actually fight her for custody if that happens?

  Too much to think about without a single clear answer in sight.

  My phone vibrates on the table in front of me, and I nab it to see a text.

  Kynan: Checking in.

  I have to admit I love the benefits of flying privately, especially the free and strong Wi-Fi. Quickly, I reply.

  August: On way now.

  His reply is short and simple.

  Kynan: Let me know if you need anything.

  I can’t imagine I’ll be asking Kynan for much. As my boss and the sole owner of Jameson Force Security, he’s already gone above and beyond what an employer should do for an employee. He dug up all the information I needed from the Department of Justice regarding Rich’s situation and how deep he was in with the mob. Most importantly, he found out just how much of a safety issue we’d have if we brought Sam to Vegas. I had to know if it would put him in real danger if I took him out of Denver.

  I blustered a lot by telling Leighton she had no other choice but to bring Sam to Vegas, but truthfully, I would’ve never moved him if it were too dangerous. If it had been safer to leave him in Denver under the government’s watch, I would have gladly had the transplant done there.

  But once Kynan confirmed the threat was low, I felt like Sam would be just as safe with me. This was true mostly because the US Marshals don’t provide twenty-four-seven oversight to families at this point in their tenure in the program.

  It was comforting to know Leighton, Sam, and her dad were relatively safe. It didn’t mean the danger was gone, because it still very much existed. The mob family her father testified against is still pissed. Her dad still has a target on his back according to some chatter over the years saying if he ever surfaces, he’s a dead man. But, in reality, no one knows where he is. The mob family isn’t actively looking for him. There’s a lot of distance between New Jersey—where we grew up—and where they’re currently living in Denver.

  Someone from that mob family would have to literally walk by her dad and recognize him to find him. Not sure they would ever recognize Leighton or Sam.

  In addition, Kynan said DOJ was confident their location and new identities are completely secure. That information is locked down tight on secure servers with only limited people having access to it. There’s been nothing in any of the chatter they’re monitoring among the mob families, or in conversations with confidential informants, to indicate they have any clue where Rich is.

  In essence… it was low risk to bring Sam to Vegas. I’ll adm
it I want him there for purely selfish reasons. My life is there. Why should I have to uproot my world when I’m the one who has been wronged?

  I set my phone down and lean forward, waving my hand in Leighton’s line of sight to get her attention. She blinks in surprise, then pulls the buds out of her ears.

  “Tell me more about Sam,” I demand. I’ve been so focused on whether I was a match, finding the best doctors to treat Sam—again thanks to Kynan and Jerico—then making the travel arrangements to pick him up that I haven’t had the presence of mind to ask about much of anything.

  Wariness creeps into her expression. She’s expecting a fight from me. “What do you want to know?”

  I shrug, giving her a wide smile. “Oh, I don’t know. Whatever one might tell a father who has missed out on nine years of his kid’s life.”

  My jab makes a direct hit, her cheeks flushing red. Still, I give her credit for taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, refusing to be shamed.

  “He looks just like you. Same color hair and eyes. Except my nose… he has that, but you’ll see. He’s smart. Science is his favorite subject. But, oddly, he has a real artistic side and loves to draw. He’s a quiet boy. Introspective. I suspect it’s because of the life we live. Since he was a toddler, he’s known about keeping secrets and having to be careful to never divulge too much. But he’s funny, August. He learned sarcasm early on, and I have no clue where he got it from because I’m so literal about everything. He’ll just snap out these one-liners that’ll make you double over in laughter. He hates most vegetables…”

  She talks for a solid half an hour about Sam without ever having to pause once to come up with something interesting to say about him. If I let her, I bet she’d talk for hours.

  It’s clear she loves him beyond measure and has more pride in him than in anything else in her life. I know she places him first, as she should.

  “…and his favorite team is the Denver Broncos. He’s playing recreational football, but he’s a good baseball player, too.”

  I interrupt her, not because I don’t want to hear more about him. I do. I want to know him inside and out, front and back, upside down and all around.

  But we’re getting close to landing, and we need to have an important conversation. “You said he knows about me… Did you tell him I was coming with you today?”

  She shakes her head. “He still doesn’t know where I’ve been. My dad just told him I was on a girl’s trip or something, which he’ll never buy. He’s too smart for that.”

  “How do you want this to play out? I mean… how should he meet me?”

  She wrings her hands, her gaze dropping as she considers this. When she lifts her eyes to mine, she says, “I think I should talk to him alone first. It’s going to be a shock, but he’s going to be incredibly happy to meet you. Then I think the best thing to do is to just let you have some time together.”

  It feels fucking amazing to know my kid is going to be happy to see me. I don’t know why that makes me feel so good. I’ve never had so much as a dog that was happy to see me when I came home.

  “Have you told your dad that Sam’s coming to Vegas for the transplant?”

  She shakes her head, grimacing at the notion. “He knows you’re a match and you’re coming to Denver with me today. But I haven’t told him we’re returning to Vegas. That’s also a conversation that’s best to have face to face.”

  I give her a warning look. “He’s going to try to talk you out of it. And I’m not budging, Leighton. We have everything set up and ready to go in Vegas.”

  Her lips turn down in disapproval, but also in submission. “I’m giving you this, August. This is me caving because of all you missed out on with Sam. I’m not doing it because you’re ordering me to do so in caveman fashion. It’s my olive branch because I owe you for not letting you in on Sam’s life. But once it’s done, you need to consider us even.”

  I don’t like the fact she’s considering us even. I sure as shit don’t like that she doesn’t seem cowed by my demands to bring Sam to Vegas. But in the back of my mind, I know that’s not true. There’s always been a part of me that has admired her backbone. Regardless, if she thinks this makes us even, she’s sorely mistaken. She has so much to pay for.

  And I’m the one in charge.

  I make another demand. “When we return to Vegas, you and Sam are staying at my house. For safety’s sake.”

  Leighton doesn’t respond. Doesn’t nod or shake her head. She merely puts her earbuds in and gazes out the airplane window, ignoring me.

  CHAPTER 8

  Leighton

  “It’s at the end of the street in the cul-de-sac… Number 5521.” Through the windshield, I point down the street of the neighborhood I’ve been living in for the past ten years.

  August insisted on driving the rental car we picked up at the airport. It’s been a quiet ride, which I’m grateful for. It’s beyond awkward to try to carry on a conversation with a man I just don’t know anymore. It’s hard to find something to talk about with someone who hates me.

  My house comes into view… a small ranch with three bedrooms and two baths on a quarter-acre lot. I never imagined this would be my life—a single mom with a kid who makes my world go round and a dad who lives with us. My plan had always been to marry August where we would one day have our own house and children together… and my dad would come visit us on holidays.

  I didn’t ask for any of what I ended up with, and it’s all from the consequences of my father’s sins.

  But let me make it clear… I love my father to the moon and back. Yes, he was a criminal. Yes, he’s probably done horrible things, which I will never ask him about it and he has never volunteered to tell me. It’s enough that he wanted out of his life of crime. My dad wanted a clean start so he could be a good role model to his daughter. The only way he knew how to do that was to turn on the very mob family he worked for.

  Yes, he put us in danger. Because of his actions, my fate and my future were changed. Yet, I don’t hold a single hostile thought toward him for it. He’s my dad. I love him, and we’ve had a good life here together.

  August pulls into the driveway behind my dad’s car. To my surprise, the front door opens and my dad comes out. He trots down the steps as August and I get out of the vehicle. Tentatively, my dad offers August a welcoming smile.

  I have no clue whether it’s genuine. My father is insanely happy August is a donor match, but he’s still incredibly worried that I left the sanctity and security of our little life here to go find him. Dad’s not sure if this will bring repercussions down on us, so he’s being cautious in his joy.

  As of this moment, my father believes August is only here to make everything better so we can simply return to our normal life after the transplant. I don’t want to burst his bubble.

  August approaches my dad, who offers his hand. As they shake, my dad says, “Thank you for coming.”

  No apologies for what he’s done to disrupt August’s life and no clue he isn’t here to make everything okay for my father. August is only here to help Sam.

  August side-eyes me, and I can read his expression loud and clear. I need to tell my dad what the game plan is so we can get it out of the way.

  I turn to my father. “Where’s Sam?”

  He throws a thumb over his shoulder. “Playing Fortnite.”

  A rare feeling of gratitude washes over me toward the game that completely sucks away my son’s attention. He’ll be occupied for a bit, probably not having even noticed my dad left the house.

  “Listen, Dad,” I drawl uncertainly, not sure how exactly to come out and say this. I figure being blunt is the best. “We’ve decided to do the treatment in Vegas.”

  I brace because my father is a complete hothead.

  “What?” he barks loudly. “No. Absolutely not.”

  “I’m sorry, but—”

  But my dad isn’t paying attention to me anymore. He rounds on August, pointing an accusing finger.
“This is all your fault. You’re pissed at Leighton, so insisting they go to Vegas is your way to get back at us.”

  Even though my dad doesn’t have a clue as to what has happened since I left, has not been privy to anything between August and me, he would not be wrong in that accusation. I think a lot of August insisting on us returning is so he can take back some control of the situation. He’s had no say so on any of Sam’s life because he was denied all those years. I don’t bother trying to disabuse my father. In fact, this argument will stay between my father and August. I’ve already made my decision, but I shouldn’t have to protect August from my dad’s wrath. He kind of deserves it for being a jerk.

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I settle in to listen to what I bet is going to be a knockdown, drag-out fight that could potentially lead to violence if I know these two.

  But the door to the house opens… and my—our—son appears. “Mom,” he exclaims, as pure excitement washes all over his handsome young face.

  He gingerly comes down the steps, fatigue and weakness the most prevalent symptoms of his leukemia. I hurry to greet him, leaving my dad and August behind.

  I squat to catch him as he barrels into me. He buries his face into my chest, his arms wrapping tightly around my waist. Pressing my lips to the crown of his head, I give him a kiss. “Hey, honey… I sure have missed you.”

  “Missed you, too, Mom,” he says easily. One of the things I love most about my kid is he has absolutely no shame in showing me affection. Our bond is incredibly tight.

  I immediately use my arm to steer him toward the house, his slipping easily around my waist to walk with me. “I need to talk to you about something pretty important, Sam.”

  He doesn’t pull away, but he does glance over his shoulder at my dad and August. “Who’s that?”

  “That’s what I want to talk to you about,” I say vaguely, but my kid is no dummy. I can hear it in his voice—the hopefulness—and realize he suspects it might be his dad. While I didn’t tell him that I was going to search for August, he’s heard enough doctor talk about donors that he could easily figure it out.