I make my way down into the shelter part of the club. I should have stayed topside in my room up there as far away from Jan as I could. I need to see Annabelle just once. Her and Jan’s room is separate from mine, and Jan stays in there sometimes. I doubt it’s out of any motherly feelings; she’s a piss-poor mom. It’s probably to get away from me, and I’m okay with that.
Luckily, the bitch isn’t here tonight.
I clean the loose money out of my pockets. I’m not sure how much is there, four or five hundred dollars. Hell, I think I tipped the bartender two hundred. I lay it down, as well as the keys to the Durango that Torch threw me when we parked up. They drove me home, but it was my cage. I guess he trusted me not to take off again tonight. Softly, I lie down on the bed beside Annabelle. She’s truly beautiful: dark-brown hair that glistened, a cute little button nose, and the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen. You can’t see them right now because her eyes are closed, but when they’re open, her irises are a mixture of browns, golds, and greens, and they sparkle. I have blue eyes. My baby’s eyes are totally different and always makes me smile.
I find myself thinking how Terry’s were the same color.
The knowledge is burning a hole in my gut. It’s tearing me up inside and mostly because I think Jan’s words might be the truest thing she’s ever said. Terry is probably Annabelle’s dad, not me. The one thing I’ve ever done in life that I was proud of, and…
My hand comes up to hold my daughter’s. It’s so small and delicate, so pale and white compared to the sunbaked, inked-up dark complexion of my own. We’re so different, especially in ways that a father and daughter ought to be at least a little similar.
That hole in my gut burns brighter, harder.
“Daddy loves you, Belle,” I tell her, letting the tears run free. They’re silent, but they’re torn from me because I’m broken. It won’t matter. Terry’s rotting in the ground and that fucking bitch Jan is one line away from snorting her last. She’ll overdose without me watching over her and I don’t fucking care anymore.
Nothing matters but my daughter. And she is mine.
I may not have fathered her with my seed, but I’ve been there. I held her when she had high fevers and Jan was out partying. I read her bedtime stories, rub her stomach when it hurts, chase off the monsters that she insists hide under her bed… I’ve done all of that and I’ll continue to do it. She’s mine. “Daddy loves you, Belle,” I whisper again, dried tears on my face as my eyes close and I finally let alcohol and sleep claim me. “Daddy, loves you…”
I really fucked up tonight.
Spending an hour sucking some damn prospect’s dick didn’t help shit. The asshole told me he could get me a key to one of the vehicles outside. After I got him off, he told me Skull and Torch had taken all the keys during lockdown. Bastard could’ve told me that shit before I swallowed his pencil dick.
I need to lay low until I can find a way out. There’s no way I can face Beast until I have a plan. He’s an idiot, but I doubt he’ll even buy that I was lying about it all. Now that I’ve ripped the blinders off, he has to know that Terry is Annabelle’s dad. Shit, I never even fucked Beast that night. I knew I was knocked up, and Terry and I drugged his ass so that when he woke up, he’d think he could be the father when I told him.
Terry was the love of my life, but he didn’t have a dime to his name. Beast was loaded, and Terry was already facing ten to fifteen in jail for attempted manslaughter. We needed Beast, so we used him, plain and simple.
And I still can’t believe I fucked it all up last night.
I freeze when I get to Annabelle’s room and find the bastard lying on her bed. He’s huge, way over seven-foot and he looks like the side of a house, he’s so fucking big. His dark hair is long and he constantly wears a beard—entirely too much hair. He can’t even carry on a conversation unless you count grunting. I hate him. He could’ve kept Terry out of jail.
I look at him lying beside my daughter and figure there’s a way I can make him pay. Finding the money and keys on the nightstand just makes it that much easier. I quickly pack the whelp’s overnight bag. She annoys me almost as much as Beast, but she’s the last piece of Terry I have. I grab the money and the keys and stuff them in my pockets. Beast is snoring loudly. Fucker always did—another reason to hate him.
I pick up Annabelle. “Mommy?” she asks sleepily.
“Quiet, Belle. You’ll wake your daddy,” I tell her, choking on the words. “We’re going to run out and get a surprise for daddy.”