Page 18 of Starting Over

“Hey, baby. Yea, can you come over to the clubhouse? We need your help with a situation.”

I stomped over and grabbed the phone out of his hands. The bastard laughed at me as I talked to my daughter.

“Baby girl, you don’t need to come over here.”

“Dad, what is going on?”

“Nothing. Just a difference of opinion that we will work out.”

“Will my child still have a father when you’re done?” she asked.

“Yes, baby, he will.”

“You don’t know it will be a he.” She sighed.

We didn’t know yet, but I could feel it. I was positive I was getting a grandson, and I couldn’t fucking wait.

“Call it a grandfather’s intuition. Go back to whatever you were doing. We’re fine here.”

“If I get another call, you’re in trouble.”

“Oh yea, what are you gonna do?” I asked with a grin.

She couldn’t see me, but I knew she could hear it in my voice. We had gotten close since we met. We talked every day, either on the phone or in person. She was my greatest achievement, despite not having been in her life for the first twenty-five years.

“I’ll think of something,” she said and hung up on me.

I turned and glared at my brother. “Don’t pull that shit again.”

“Then get a fucking grip.”

I turned to look at Maureen, and I struggled to read the expression on her face. It was a mix of anger and curiosity. But the way her eyes glittered told me she was more angry than curious.

“Maureen, I am sorry for my brother’s behavior. He usually has more decorum and manners around women.”

“He’s your brother?” she asked.

Her gaze was still on me, and I watched as her eyes narrowed for just a second. Something passed over her face, but it was gone too quickly. She suddenly looked away, settling on King.

“Yea, he is. Anyway, I needed to talk to you for just a moment.”

He led her over to sit in a chair next to him. Seeing his hands on her pissed me off. She wasn’t mine, and she never would be. But I damn sure wouldn’t let him have her either.

She was older than him.

A decade stood between them.

“Yesterday, when you met Blade. You said he reminded you of someone you knew. I need you to tell me who that was.”

I watched her as her eyes widened a fraction, and then trailed from King, across the table to Blade. She took a deep breath and asked, “Why?”

“Darlin’, my brother ran your plates this morning. We know where you moved from, and who you’re affiliated with. We need to know if there is a threat coming.”

“Why would you assume a threat was coming?” she asked, looking back at Blade.

Maureen studied Blade. Her face paled, and she shook her head. “No, you can’t be.”

“My father was Eduardo Cimorelli.”

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