Page 60 of Restless
Over the past months, the status of the Donovans steadily grew in the community. Her daddy’s MC was gaining power and popularity.
Christopher screamed again. The sound of the hit echoed through the festively decorated house. The warmth from several blazing fireplaces circulated the potpourri and filled the air with the scent of cinnamon and apples.
From the opposite end of the hall, Fred Sterling hurried toward the living room. He paused and frowned at her. “She’s asleep,” he said, referring to Bev, their thirteen-month-old daughter.
Patricia nodded.
“Mommie,prease!” Christopher hollered.
Fred stiffened, threw her a dark look, and continued to the living room. He adored Christopher.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Fred’s roar boomed.
Of average height with unremarkable features, he was a good, kind man. Cee Cee had chosen the perfect protector for her and Christopher. Unfortunately, Fred didn’t like drinking or rough sex.
But she’d been faithful to him until he knocked her up a second time. Now, at least once a day, she fucked Rack or Sharper when he was in town.
She was a lady who knew how to be a slut. It was why they returned to her bed over and over again.Shewas classy and respectable, unlike those filthy club whores.
She also enjoyed the pity of the entire town as the unwilling victim of Cee Cee Caldwell’s brutality. Their marriage was hush-hush. He refused to claim her? She saw to it that his reputation suffered.
A body thudded to the floor. A second child’s wail rose into the chaos.
“Stop it this instant!” Mama yelled. “Fred, take that demon out of this house now. And if you ever hit my husband again, I’ll kill you.”
Fred stormed into the hallway, holding Christopher tight against him. Her boy was wailing, his little arm hanging limply.
“Logan broke Christopher’s arm, Patricia!” Fred said, his face flushed in anger. He thundered past her, heading outside. “I’m telling Cee Cee,” he threw over his shoulder.
“What?” She rushed after him, catching up as he hurried down the porch steps. “You can’t do that! He’ll kill Daddy.”
Ignoring her, Fred went to their Toyota Camry, opened the back door, and strapped Christopher into his car seat. Her boy continued to wail.
Fred slammed the door closed, then got behind the wheel.
“Fred—”
“Shut up, Pattie,” he ordered. “How can you stand by and let Logan harm our son? Are you going to do the same for the baby you carry if it’s a boy?”
“Mommie!” Christopher sobbed, holding his little arm. “Hurt, Mommie.”
Patricia ignored him and placed a hand on her belly. “Of course I won’t allow Daddy to hurt this baby, Fred. I haven’t allowed him to touch Bev, have I?”
“Mommie!”
She leaned in, glimpsing her son’s flushed little face and dark hair.
“See, boy, he’s in the car.”
Simon’s voice traveled to her as he carried John down the steps and to the car. Unlike Christopher’s thick, unkempt black hair, John’s golden strands were pin neat. His three-piece suit contrasted with her son’s jeans and T-shirt. John wore expensive baby shoes; Christopher went without.
“Kwistoffer!” John called, wiggling in Simon’s arms and bawling as much as Christopher.
“Bring my grandson back to me!” Daddy ordered, standing just inside the door. “All of you get back inside. Dinner’s about to be served. Except to that stupid dog.”
Fred glared at Patricia as ifshemade her father say those words.
“Shut that demon up!”
