Page 44 of Bounty
“It’s fine. I promise. They’ll get her back.”
Ophelia’s constant reassurance grated on my nerves.
“It isn’t!” My snarl surprised me. Life was to be enjoyed and problems solved. I looked for the positives as much as possible, considering my life of heartache and betrayal. “My baby is gone.” I jumped to my feet and pointed at Slice. “Because ofhim.”
If they’d senthimthat horrendous photo and those awful messages, itwashis fault.
“Who are you?” I screamed, unhinged. “Who, goddamn it!”
“Lady, sit the fuck down,” Cash ordered. “In the fucking future, I suggest you background check the men you hire.”
“He’s a model. I checked his portfolio.”
“Joke’s on you,” Cash spat. “Slice is a fucking biker. Anoutlawbiker with a bounty on his head.”
I staggered back and my stomach heaved. Words formed in my brain but refused to come out of my mouth. It seemed as if my house of cards collapsed in one fell swoop.
“Why take her and not me?” I pushed out. But then I remembered. She and Slice had a situation that someone found out about. I raised my hands. “Never mind. I already know. They think she’s your old lady.”
“Something that has you green with jealousy,” Slice sniped.
Narrowing my eyes, I stiffened. “I beg your pardon?”
“I read your fucking book, Daria. The one about Darcy and Moose of the Red Reapers. The question is did Effie read that? Does she know you’re a jealous bitch? Did Lennon read it? I still can’t imagine what you hoped to gain by setting me up with your older daughter. A mother-daughter threesome?”
His words twisted my guilt a little deeper, but that last shot took the cake.
“You’re a disgusting asshole. Effie’smine, Slice. She has a bright future ahead of her. I don’t want her with a model who’s too pretty for words and has women falling all over themselves.” I sat heavily on the sofa. “I don’t want to sleep with you, by the way. It happened on paper. That’s my agreement with Lennon. Affairs with my book boyfriends.”
“You’re sick,” Slice said, disgusted. “Affairs with book boyfriends? Claiming your daughter all for yourself? Lennon’s more pathetic and long-suffering than I thought.”
My nostrils flared. “Long-suffering? I beg to differ. In the early years of our marriage, he cheated on me more times than I care to remember. I had nowhere to go and two young children to think about. My mother didn’t want me. I only had a high school diploma. Nothing and no one else. Until I met Ezekial. He rented the house next door.”
I tried my best not to think about him. Many times I succeeded. Even when I looked at our daughter, I saw myself and not him. When my children were born, I swore I’d be a much better mother to them than mine was to me.
“When I turned up pregnant, Lennon knew the baby wasn’t his. He hadn’t touched me. He hadn’t wanted me…” However I phrased it, the memory was painful. “It had been months. Ezekial was killed before I told him about our baby. I expected Lennon to throw me out and sue for full custody. Instead, he asked me to give him another chance and we went into marriage counseling. Once I started writing, Lenny toldme he preferred me having affairs with my book boyfriends than giving myself to another man.” I shrugged, defeated and devastated. “He said until he realized another man wanted me, he didn’t think he’d ever lose me.”
I tipped my head back and blinked, though my tears continued falling. The truth was spilling out of me, a momentary distraction as images of my sweet baby flashed through my mind. I couldn’t imagine what my Effie was suffering. I couldn’t imagine losing her in the aftermath of our bitter last exchange. As I listened to my story, spoken beyond the walls of a professional’s office, I realized I’d morphed into the woman I’d been determined not to become—my mean, bitter, controlling, hateful mother.
I swallowed and stared at a wall, but saw nothing. I weaved tales of passion, love, and happiness because I’d found it in my husband after traveling a long, painful path filled with heartache and mistakes.
“I’m so sorry, Slice. Find Effie for me. Please. I just want her safe and happy and if you make her happy, I don’t care.”
“She doesn’t know Lennon isn’t her father, does she?” Slice asked, his tone unreadable.
I shook my head. “Please don’t tell her. Lennon adopted her. His name is on her birth certificate.”
“She has a right to know. This isn’t one of your goddamn books where you can write happily ever afters. This is real fucking life!”
My guilt worsened. Not only had my last words to her—my actions—been so cruel, but I had never admitted the truth to her. I told myself it was to protect her, but it was only to protect my flawed marriage.
Stretch walked back into the room from what I assumed was the bedroom. I hadn’t realized he’d left. A cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth and he carried an iPad.
He held the tablet out to me. “Give me details. Effie’s cell phone number and the carrier. Slice’s club isn’t equipped with the technology I need, so I have to get to a Dweller chapter in Houston. I’m sending this to our private investigator. Hopefully, by the time I arrive at my destination, I’ll have a location.”
I felt like a limp dishrag. Accusation burned in Slice’s eyes. He’d never look at me the same way again. Lennon blamed himself for my transgressions. If he discovered I’d admitted the truth, I didn’t know what would happen.
“I’m so sorry, Ophelia,” I said quietly. “I guess you’ve never been subjected to anything so sordid.”
