“I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry. I pull her hand up and kiss her stomach, the skin there is smooth. There are two little small scars. One on the edge of her belly-button, and the other underneath it.
“Did they arrest him, sweetheart?” I ask, knowing that they must have, but needing assurance. I’m going to have Freak start hunting this motherfucker down—tonight.
“No, Michael sat on the board of the hospital. It’s amazing what money can do,” she whispers. “Besides he had them convinced I did it, because I didn’t want the baby.”
“Baby?” I ask my heart coming to a stop before painfully starting again. There was so much more than there should have been. Her words come back to me. Shit! She had miscarried and then the fucking son of a bitch…I couldn’t even think of the words. I couldn’t.
“I hated her father, Zander. I did…but I would have wanted my baby. I would have loved her…”
That’s when the silent tears break over into full sobs. I kiss her stomach and then lay beside her, and gather her in my arms letting her cry. Hell I want to join her. I brush her hair over and over with my hand, letting my fingers sift through the dark waves. Each tear she sheds breaks me a little more.
I was going to find this Michael and kill him. Then bring him back just to kill him again, over and over.
Motherfucker, I was going to kill him so many times his corpse will rot before I am finished.
Chapter 23
Dani
I’ve heard of the morning after regrets, but I’ve never allowed myself to have them. I’m having them now—although probably not the same kind that everyone talks about. I can’t believe I told Zander all of that last night. Why? Why would I do that? I’ve never told another person that, not even Nicole.
I wake up alone in bed. I panic at first. Maybe I gave too much away and Zander cut his losses. I’ve kind of been expecting that, so it wouldn’t be a surprise. Then I hear noises coming from downstairs. Happiness and fear swamp me at the same time. I have to fight the urge to pull the covers over my head and pretend nothing happened last night. I’ve run away enough though. So I force myself up and run to brush my teeth and clean up a little.
In the bathroom the strangest sensation hits me. I see Zander’s toothbrush next to mine. It’s silly and shouldn’t mean anything, but as I touch it. I feel warm—happy. I’m still grinning as I finish brushing my teeth and sliding on a clean pair of panties over Zander’s t-shirt. I run a brush through my hair and just pull it up in a ponytail. Then, I make my way downstairs.
Zander is standing at the stove…cooking. He’s wearing his jeans and nothing else. I might be slightly twisted, but the sight of him barefoot in my kitchen I find…sexy.
“I thought the woman was supposed to cook,” I say because I feel awkward staring at him with my tongue hanging out and nothing to say.
“Sweetheart, you’re a hell of a woman, but you can’t cook worth shit.”
I smile, because really he’s not lying. I never had to cook. Michael had personal chefs and Nicole was freaking Betty Crocker. I do have one secret, I wonder what he would say if I told him I could mix any drink known to man and make some that he’s never heard of that would knock his socks off? Probably nothing it’s not a great talent, I suppose.
“Is it manly for a biker to cook?”
“When it’s me? Definitely.”
He has a point because when he turns to the side and winks at me I look down that delicious tatted chest, over those washboard abs, and finally to the ‘v’ indentions on his side and notice the button on his pants is left undone, I’m instantly aroused—weak in the knees even.
“Hellcat, if you don’t get that look off your face we’re not going to be having breakfast anytime soon.”
“What are we having?”
“Bacon and eggs,” he replies turning back around.
“Well, I’d be alright with waiting then…” I answer him.
He turns around and looks at me and his eyes rake over me intently. Then he pushes the skillet he’s working with off the burner and turns it off. He wipes his hand on a dish towel before throwing it on the kitchen table I’m standing beside.
“Are you sure you up for it, Hellcat? You had a bad night last night.”
I feel heat hit my face. I don’t really want to talk about it, but I force myself to not back down.
“I miss you,” I answer honestly.
His rough, callused fingertip brushes along the side of my face. The scratchy feeling, combined with the heated look in his eyes sets my pulse to racing.
“God, you’re beautiful.”
His gruff voice dances over me and when he’s looking at me like that, I believe it—or at least believe he feels that way.
“Does this mean we’re going to have bacon and eggs later?” I ask, dying to have him inside of me again. He’s a drug and I’m completely addicted.