Page 40 of Wild Side
Maybe not tomorrow.
But eventually, Goose will like me, maybe even think of me as a sister one day. What I don’t do is say any of that. I have a feeling Goose wouldn’t appreciate my wants, my desires, or any of that. He doesn’t seem like he’s a very emotional guy.
I start to ask him if he knows where Chase is, but he speaks before I can. “Only people in the world I trust aside from Maverick are my brothers here at the club. Not sure you could earn a fuckin’ thing,” he says, his voice rumbling with each word.
As quietly as he arrived at my side, he turns and walks away, moving toward the hallway where the bedrooms are located. I feel a slight heaviness. Goose is not my number-one fan. He’s probably not even my millionth fan, but maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t completely hate me.
And perhaps one day, he might even tolerate me. I think that’s about as good as it’s going to get between us, and although it would be nice if he liked me, I will take toleration as long as it means he doesn’t hate me, and he and Chase are good. Of course, if he loved the baby and was the best uncle in the world, that would be the cherry on top.
I start thinking about cherries, and then those thoughts turn to cupcakes, and I wonder if that bakery delivers, because I could use one of Dakota’s buttercream heaven cupcakes. But my thoughts are interrupted when the door to the bar opens and there, live and in person, is my father with Sable standing right beside him, like that’s where she belongs.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ZADIE
I’m notsure what to expect when my father walks through the door, but it’s not for him to narrow his eyes at me. Sure, I know he’s pissed at me, but he knows I’m pregnant and trying to do the right thing here.
I’m beginning to think that, because it had something to do with the Reapers, I should have probably gone to him first. Except I didn’t want it to be my father forcing anyone’s hand. I wanted to be the one to tell Maverick.
When my father is close enough to speak to me so that nobody else in the room can hear, he dips his chin, his eyes pierce mine, and I suck in a breath, holding it as I wait for him to speak. I know I’m not going to like it. I’m not going to want to hear it either. I can just tell by the anger that is radiating off him.
“What in the actual fuck do you think you’re doing, Zadie?” He enunciates every single word with a tongue so sharp that it feels as if those words actually pierce my skin.
If I tell him what I’m doing—that I’m taking care of the situation that he claims has ruined my life—he’ll get angrierbecause he’ll think I’m being a smart-ass. So instead, I say nothing. I also don’t in return ask him what the fuck he’s doing with Sable, who is indeed young enough to be his daughter since we’re the same age.
“You didn’t tell me the man who knocked you up was a Reaper,” he hisses.
“I didn’t lie to you,” I state.
His lips press together in the thinnest line I’ve ever seen, and I know if I were brave enough to glance down at his hands, they’d be balled up in fists at his sides as he attempts to dial back his rage. I’m not sure how long that will work before he lashes out at me, though.
“You omitted a fuck of a lot, Zadie,” he growls. “Too goddamn much, and you know it.”
I do know it. I omitted it because I wanted to avoid all of this, every second of it. I didn’t want him to know who the father was because this is what I knew was going to happen. He would come here and do whatever he’s going to do. This isn’t about me and Maverick. This isn’t about our baby.
This isn’t even about me being knocked up by some guy I don’t know and him protecting me as a concerned father.
This is about measuring the size of his dick and nothing else.
“I wanted to talk to him first. It needed to be me.”
He shakes his head once. “No, that’s where you’re fucking wrong. It needed to be me,” he growls. “You fucked up,” he barks.
Every word he speaks begins to grow louder. I stand my ground, though. I’m not going to back down. Like I told him already, I’m a twenty-one-year-old woman. I am not a child, and I did this. Me. Not him.
His fingers curl around the front of my throat before I realize what’s happening. His face is inches from mine, his voice just below a roar as he screams in my face.
“I should have whored you out like I did your mother. You’re just like her.”
My father has never abused me. He’s never been overly affectionate, but he’s never hurt me, although I’ve never stepped a toe out of line, either. To him, I’ve not just stepped a toe out of line, I’ve leaped over the line and run down the hill.
“Better take your hand off her,” a deep voice growls behind me.
I recognize the voice, but only because he growled at me just moments ago, much the same way. Except I think it might have actually been nicer than the way he just talked to my father.
It’s Goose.
My father’s gaze flicks from mine to meet the man standing behind me. He doesn’t blanch, doesn’t even blink. No, he stares at Goose almost as if he’s actually staring him down. I’m not sure what to do, but I can’t go anywhere because although my father’s fingers aren’t squeezing my throat any longer, they are indeed still around my neck.
