Page 25 of Starting Over

Bullshit! You want to get her alone because you want to feel her body under yours again.

“No, you won’t. You are going to go see Patch, so he can look at your hand,” Beck demanded, cutting off the argument I was about to have with myself.

I refused to acknowledge the way she felt under me last night when I had her bent over her car, or the way I had her bent over the table this morning. It was simply a move to contain her.

Bullshit!

“I told you, I’m fine,” I growled.

I looked at my daughter, my expression immediately softening. I wasn’t angry with her. I just wasn’t comfortable getting hard while I was talking to my daughter. Fuck, I needed to stop thinking about Maureen.

“Cash, call Patch and see where he is. Dec, get your hand checked out.” King held his hand up when I opened my mouth to argue. “You’re pregnant daughter doesn’t need the stress.”

“Asshole,” I muttered.

He was always using Beck against me. He knew I would do anything for her. Just like I would do anything for him. Whichwas why Maureen had to go. She couldn’t stay, even if I wanted her to.

There! I said it. Happy? I wanted her to stay. Wanted to get to know the woman standing in front of me. I wanted to hold her in my arms. I wanted to kiss her full lips. I wanted to sink my dick into her.

“Maureen, let’s go.”

Instead, I watched my baby brother lead Maureen through the door and out the front. I watched her ass sway as her thick legs carried her away from me.

“What is going on with you?” Beck asked, pulling me from my lewd thoughts.

“What do you mean?” I turned and looked down at her.

“You’re acting weird.” She grabbed my arm and led me to the kitchen. Grabbing ice from the freezer, she filled a towel and placed it on my hand while we waited for Patch.

“I’m worried about you. Your old man is connected to the Mob. I don’t want them coming here.”

That wasn’t the only thing I was worried about. I was worried about the past crashing down on our sleepy little town, where there were only a handful of cops and less than two dozen bikers.

“Dad, he isn’t connected. His parents were. He was a baby when they left. You can’t hold this against him.”

“I can when his connection puts you and my grandson at risk.”

“How am I at risk? It’s been years since his dad died. They let him go. And you don’t know it’s a boy.”

“He talks to them every six months,” I told her, choosing not to have the same argument about the baby’s gender that we’d been having since she told me she was pregnant.

“Son of a bitch! You couldn’t let me tell her, could you?” Blade barked, walking into the kitchen.

“What the hell, Micah? You are talking with the Mob? The Mob that killed your parents? And you kept it from me?” Beck balled up her fist and punched Blade in the arm.

“Baby, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you worried. With Maureen here now, I was going to tell you tonight.”

Beck stared at Blade, then turned to me.

“I am sick of this shit. I am sick of you both treating me like a child,” she hissed and stormed out.

“Becca!” Blade called after her.

My daughter was pissed, and it was my fault. I wanted to feel bad, but pissed was better than scared. I never wanted to see her scared again.

The day I walked in and found her curled into the couch in her grandmother’s home, her mother standing over her with a knife, was a day that will be forever etched in my memory. It was what I saw whenever I felt like there was a risk to her life. I would do anything to not see that fear on her face again.

“Thanks, I’ll be sleeping on the fucking couch tonight. If she even lets me in the house.”

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