TEN
Manuel was aware that his life was in danger, though not immediate. Luciana thought she had him over a barrel, but he was playing her for pennies. And he was taking advantage of her hospitality while he was at it.
She thought she was playing him? Nah, baby, he was playing her.
He fucked her in every way possible, whenever possible. Money, power, loyalty—she was bleeding all of it. And he was the mastermind behind the lacerations.
Little cuts, all of them, designed to make her fail in the worst possible way. There would come a day where it would all come to a head, and they would turn on each other like rabid dogs…but today was not that day.
Manuel bent Luciana’s knees all the way back to her head, folding the bitch in half. Her nice, round, fat ass was soaked with her juices, her pussy open and glistening for him. She was a whore—his whore—and he didn’t care how much she hated him; she loved him too. Loved what he did for her and to her. And he loved giving it to her. There was nothing more arousing than seeing a woman like her on her back, submitting to him.
Together they blazed like fire, and that wasn’t something anyone would willingly give up, not unless they were crazy. But maybe Manuel was crazy for playing this game in the first place. He’d been told that all his life. He had never been known for taking the easy road. In fact, he tended to carve out his own road, through blood, sweat, and tears, none of which were his own.
Pounding vigorously into her, Manuel made sure that each thrust took her breath away. He wanted her to be completely dependent on him, on what he was willing to give her. If she wanted to breathe, then it would be on his terms. If she wanted to speak, then he would decide when she could and how.
Right now, the only thing he wanted to see from her was that red, straining face, the look of pain in her eyes as he bottomed out every time, and all the while knowing that there wasn’t a damn thing she could say about it. She couldn’t stop him even if she wanted to.
If Manuel was so moved, he’d take her life right here in this bed…just as she planned to do every night when she thought he was asleep.
She thought he was stupid, complacent, but what Luciana failed to realize was that Manuel had his finger on the pulse of her entire operation. He knew every move she made and when, and she was the one who put him in the position to do so. The only stupid one was her, and by the time he was through fucking her every way from Sunday, it would be too late for her to recover anything.
All he had to do was continue biding his time, setting up his chess pieces, and then he’d turn the tables and show her who the boss around here really was.
For now, though, he’d settle for her impassioned cries in his ear.
***
Usually, she would say there was no use crying over spilled milk, but this was a whole other can of worms.
Bambi caught the odd look in Curtis’s eyes a second before she felt the milk in her breasts let down. Glancing down, sure enough, she’d soaked through the nursing pads. Both at the same time? Someone upstairs truly hated her.
Once again, karma was punishing her for her secrecy.
Snatching a dishtowel off the counter, clean bottles that had been drying scattered all over the floor, but Bambi was more concerned with covering the evidence. Good lot that would do, though, since he’d already witnessed the truth.
Unbidden, her eyes welled up worse than they already had been, and Bambi couldn’t do a thing to stop the frustrated tears from rolling freely down her cheeks. Dammit, she hated it when she cried. Ever since she had Beau, though, it was her normal reaction to damn near everything in life.
And she hated it!
Curtis shifted Beau around in his arms, suspicion filling his eyes. “I’m just going to assume that’s not from the sink splashing up on you.”
Bambi cringed, unable to come up with a believable explanation. She was busted. That’s all there was to it. “Curtis, I can explain.”
“He’s not your friend’s kid, is he,” he deadpanned.
Yep, he was as smart as she’d given him credit for and the jig was up. Realizing there was no use even trying to come up with another lie, Bambi admitted, “No, he’s not.”
“So…” Curtis looked down at Beau, inspecting the fussy little boy closely. “Does that guy who was here earlier have anything to do with this?”
Bambi’s brows pulled together. “Steve? You…wait, you were here earlier?” Had he seen him leaving?
“He took you to lunch. You looked pretty cozy together. Is he the father?” Curtis asked, not holding back any punches.
Bambi saw the opportunity presented to her and even though it was wrong, she took it. Sort of. “He’s a good man.”
“Is that why he doesn’t live here with you?”
Bambi was once again finding herself in defense mode. “Look, you don’t have any right to question me about my relationships. Steve is a good man, and that’s all I’m going to say about it.”
“So he is the father.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“So he isn’t then?”
“I didn’t say that either.”
Curtis smirked humorlessly. “So you’re going to play that game then. Fine. Maybe I’ll just hang out and ask him myself. When is he coming over next? Tonight?”
“What?” Bambi nearly shouted. “You can’t be serious.” She crossed the room, giving up any pretenses of trying to hide her ruined shirt, and took Beau from his arms. It was his feeding time. She wasn’t even going to bother with the bottle anymore either. She reserved her stock for when Tina was babysitting normally anyway, and this wasn’t one of those times. Since Curtis knew Beau belonged to her, she didn’t see the point hiding anymore.
“Oh, I’m completely serious.”
Bambi glared at him, shook her head, and proceeded into the living room. “Why are you doing this?” she asked as she seated herself at the end of the couch and lifted her shirt.
“I told you I came here for answers, and I’m not leaving until I get them. What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing,” she replied snarkily as she placed Beau at her breast and he latched on.
“I thought you were using a bottle…”
“That was before I stopped caring what you think.”
Curtis appeared confused and a little out of sorts as he stood at the opposite end of the couch staring.
“If you’re going to insist on hanging out, then I have to insist you don’t stare at me like that,” Bambi told him.
“Sorry— I…sorry.” He sat down in the arm chair, and she almost had to laugh at how uncomfortable he suddenly appeared. If she didn’t already know better, she’d think he was seeing boobs for the first time.
“So you wanted answers,” Bambi said, refusing to make eye contact with him. She focused on nursing her son instead.
“I do.” Some of the wind seemed to have come out of his sails, but Curtis pressed on, determination renewing in his stony expression. “Why did you leave?”
Here we go, Bambi thought with resignation. She knew she couldn’t outrun this conversation forever, but she’d hoped… “There were extenuating circumstances.”
“Explain that.”
She rolled her eyes. “I saw where things were heading with the club and I wanted to get away from all that.”
“What do you mean, where thing were heading?”
This time she lifted her gaze and met his. “The violence. It’s everywhere now, and it’s all centered on the club.”
“And how do you know that?” he asked with suspicion.
“I have my sources,” she replied cryptically. Frank Kellerman, to be exact. Just before he went missing he’d contacted her, asking for her help. He didn’t divulge much, but what he did deign to share was enough to make up her mind. And the rest was history.
“Oh yeah, right, FBI stuff,” Curtis said with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
They both knew that wasn’t the case. She hadn’t been part of the FBI for some time, but thankfully he didn’t call her on it.
“So if you felt so threatened that you had to run off into the sunset, why couldn’t you tell me about it first?”
Meeting his gaze once again, Bambi laid out some truths. “Because you wouldn’t have let me leave. You would have tried to make me stay, and I would have. I couldn’t risk that.”
His stare was unscrupulous, searching her eyes as his mind worked out the details she wasn’t sharing. Bambi knew it was just a matter of time before he figured it out. So she waited, holding his stare.
“Why? What couldn’t you risk?” he asked finally, but she knew he already had his answer. He just wanted her to confirm it.
“You know why,” she murmured, her voice gone weak. She looked down at Beau, her perfect little boy, and stroked his peach-fuz hair.
“Are you fucking serious,” Curtis said, his tone lethal.
Bambi’s heartrate increased in response to the threat. She had to remind herself that Curtis wasn’t violent like that. At least not with women, not with her.
“Were you pregnant when you left? Bambi, answer me right fucking now,” he demanded when she didn’t immediately answer him. “Were you?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
He flew up out of the chair, and every muscle in Bambi’s body clenched up tight, waiting for the explosion that never came. Instead, Curtis stood over her, a foot away, fists clenched at his side, his face red as a beet, unspeaking, unmoving.
Fear lancing through her like knives, Bambi looked up at him, terrified of what that still silence meant.
Through clenched teeth, Curtis asked, “Did you know you were pregnant before you left?”
This was the bit of truth that would cut the deepest. Bambi wanted so badly to lie, to save herself the additional fallout of such an admission, but they’d come this far. She couldn’t stand the idea of lying to him any longer. He deserved to know the truth.
“Yes.”
From the look in his eyes, that one word had set his soul on fire. Bambi wasn’t sure how he’d react, but he still managed to catch her off guard.
Without a word spoken between them, Curtis turned around, yanked the front door open, and slammed it closed behind him.
In a daze, Bambi sat still as a statue on her couch, listening as first a car door banged shut followed by the growl of an engine, and finally rubbed peeling against pavement.
And all the while, Beau quietly fed, unaware that his father had just walked out of his life without so much as a goodbye.