Chapter 5

Lawson

A genuine smile, the first in a very long time, is on my face as I watch Delilah scurry up the stairs. Toying with her is going to be more fun than I ever thought possible. I’d judged her wrong, thinking she’d cower or cry, run to daddy when faced with my teasing. She challenged me. Stood her ground like she was invincible. It’s stupid on her part, but more than a little entertaining for me.

I hear the lock turn on her bedroom door, and my smile grows bigger. If she thinks a simple door lock will keep me out of her room, she’s got another think coming.

Standing still, I listen for the sounds every house makes as it begins to calm from the day’s events. I familiarize myself with each one, the low rumble of the AC, the quiet murmurs coming from the master suite, and the New Mexico wind rustling the trees outside of the dining room window. Feeling sure that no one other than Delilah knows I’m down here, I slink into the kitchen.

The mention of lasagna from my earlier conversation with the blonde bombshell has my mouth watering and the hunger pains from my stomach setting into my bones. As silent as possible, I pull open the door to the fridge, and I’m met with the most organized shelves I’ve ever faced before. This has to be Delilah’s doing. She seems like the OCD, anal-retentive type.

I almost want to cry when I see that even though Drew ate his weight in the meal, there is still lasagna left over on the shelf. Not bothering with the microwave or a plate, I grab a fork and begin shoveling the food into my mouth. The flavors explode on my tongue, but I can’t be bothered to savor the best meal I’ve had in weeks. My only goal, satisfying the hunger in my gut, doesn’t allow me to even pause in between bites much less appreciate the effort that had to have gone into preparing it.

After getting my fill, I replace the lid and place it back on the shelf. It’s only then that I consider the fact that this meal was prepared, time was taken, from the looks of it, to be made from scratch. No store-bought Stouffers for this family. Even as happy as my stomach is, it angers me even further.

Contemplating just leaving the dirty fork in the otherwise spotless sink, I hold it in my hand and look around the kitchen. Sleek stainless steel appliances with every cooking gadget known to man, down to the canisters labeled with flour and sugar take up space on the counter. Perfect little kitchen for a perfect little family.

I shake my head, thinking of ways to knock them down a notch or two and wash the damn fork. After drying it, I place it back in the silverware drawer, upside down and backward of course. This asshole act is the only thing that comes to mind at the moment.

My hand shakes as I push the drawer closed, the urge to destroy this entire house a physical being in my body. I won’t. I can’t bring any more trouble down on me. I won’t do anything to compromise Drew’s future. Jaxon seems like a big enough asshole to get rid of him the second the cops would slap cuffs on my wrists.

No. Fucking with Delilah and making Samson’s life a living hell seem like a much more fitting task. Every day, they live the life I should’ve had. Every day, they wake up in a perfect home not having to worry about their safety, where their next meal is coming from. Those two have no idea just how good they have it, how lucky they are. It’s my job to make them realize what an imperfect world is really like.

With my belly full and a sinister smile on my face, I push off of the counter and make my way back to the stairs. My plans can start first thing in the morning. Right now, I need to catch a few hours of sleep and rejuvenate my body.

The low murmurs I’d heard after Delilah shook her ass all the way up the stairs are louder than before. I creep along, getting closer to the door to what I can only assume is the master bedroom. Keeping my feet over a foot away, I angle my head so I can hear better.

“I can’t fucking believe her,” Jaxon hisses. “She just leaves, pregnant with my son, and doesn’t bother to tell anyone?”

“It’s pretty fucked up,” Rob responds.

“Eighteen years!” Jaxon hisses. “Eighteen fucking years and not so much as a letter? A phone call?”

“She was mad you rejected her,” Rob interjects.

My fists clench, the words my mother whispered in my ear on her deathbed showing up, unwanted, at this moment.

Your father isn’t dead. Find the Cerberus MC when I’m gone. He didn’t want us. You’ll recognize him when you see him.

This asshole has the nerve to pretend he didn’t know about me?

Maybe he knew and never told Rob?

“She was a club girl for Christ’s sake,” Jaxon bellows.

“Keep your voice down.”

I hear him huff but his next words, although coming out on a hiss of breath are quieter. “She was fucking everyone in the club, Itchy.”

Itchy?

“Not just you and me,” he continues. “Ace. Snake. Snapper. She knew where you and I were heading. She pushed us together. She had to have known she didn’t factor into the equation.”

“Feelings are messy,” Rob cajoles. “You know neither one of us had a damn clue this is where we’d end up when we started the whole group sex scene.”

“And Drew? Do you think she told that poor kid’s dad?” Jaxon has no damn clue about Drew’s asshole father. “She probably lied about him also. Hell, knowing Darby she doesn’t have a clue who his father is. She probably didn’t know Lawson was mine until he got older.”

I’m seething, angry enough at the shitty way he’s talking about my mom to reach for the door handle.

I don’t consider that he’s right. I don’t let the memories of all of the men that filtered in and out of our lives figure into the equation of my anger. I won’t concede to his way of thinking, even if it is so fucking close to the truth that it’s eerie.

I pull up short when he starts speaking again.

“He spent his entire life, living God knows what way, no father when he had two perfectly good men here willing to give him everything he could ever want. Who does that to a child? Who is so damned prideful that they stew in their stubbornness and let their son suffer for almost two decades?”

“I’m sure she did what she thought was best at the time,” Jaxon growls, but Rob keeps going. “We told her we didn’t want children. Do you remember the numerous conversations we had, lying in bed after Misty showed up with Griffin? She was only reacting to what we had said.”

I wasn’t the only product of some quick fuck by a biker? This club is more fucked up than I thought.

“What the hell are we going to do now?” Defeat fills Jaxon’s voice.

“He needs us now,” Rob says softly.

“He doesn’t want a fucking thing to do with us,” Jaxon counters.

Damn right I don’t.

“He doesn’t have many other choices. We give them a place to land, provide both boys with what they need.” Rustling of bed covers can be heard before Rob continues. “It’s all we can do. Provide that and hope they're smart enough to take it.”

“That’s doubtful,” Jaxon interrupts. “Did you see the look in Lawson’s eyes? I had that same look in mine. Coming from a shitty home, living the way I had to, the things I had to do just to survive. I was pissed at the world, ready to take any motherfucker on that challenged me. Hell, I was willing to destroy my own life for just the smallest taste of revenge.”

“I remember the angry fucker you were when you showed up at boot camp,” Rob recalls. “I don’t think you spoke a word to anyone until at least Swim Week.”

“Exactly,” Jaxon mutters. “It took the Marine Corps for me to realize that I could have a different life than the one I’d thought I was destined to all my life.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what he needs, too.”

My hands shake, the trembling damn near bone-deep, as I step away from the door.

Marine Corps?

Fuck those two if they think even for a second that I’m going to sign up or participate in that shit. Taking the stairs two at a time, I head to the bedroom they were pitied into giving us. I keep in mind that Drew is sleeping, oblivious to the pain he’s going to feel tomorrow when he wakes up to find me gone. Leaving is the only option. If they ship me off, I won’t be able to help Drew at all.

Silently, the door opens, and I lock us both inside. His soft breathing fills the room, and I envy the peace he’s found in sleep. Sitting down on the desk chair, I give myself a few moments for my nerves to settle.

“The doors have alarms on them.”

Delilah didn’t mention the windows, but is it a risk I should take? This house is out in the middle of nowhere. I don’t have a clue about the terrain, and navigating it in the dark will be almost impossible. I flex my neck, leaning my head over the back of the chair, trying to think of the best course of action.

I’m eighteen. They can’t force me to go into the military, but they can use Drew as a bargaining chip.

I can’t allow that to happen, but leaving right now seems impossible. I close my eyes as the exhaustion from the day, fuck, the last several years, begins to weigh me down. Stomach full of lasagna, I don’t stand a chance. My eyes flutter closed before I have the ability to realize I’m falling asleep.