Rev It Up (Black Knights Inc. #3)(69)
Taking a deep breath, he pushed away from the sink and exited the bathroom. Still avoiding Shell’s searching gaze, he strode to Franklin’s bedside and pushed up the sleeve on the boy’s hospital gown.
“What are you doing?” Shell asked, and her sultry voice affected him the same way it always did. Cutting straight to his heart.
“I’m giving him a press-on tattoo,” he mumbled as he placed the small sheet of paper on Franklin’s bicep, gently wetting the back with the washcloth in order to transfer the ink.
“I can see that,” she said, and her sweet tone made him want to glance up at her. But he couldn’t. Not yet. “But why?”
“Because he admired mine all day today, and I want him to see that he has his own the minute he wakes up. It’s the only thing I could think to do for him.” Since he couldn’t comfort the boy like Shell could, with only a word or a touch, with only his simple presence. After all, who was he to Franklin? Nothing but a big stranger who’d played games all day and who was good at doing funny voices.
The hurt began to thrum inside him again, close to the surface like a bad tooth, and he struggled to beat it back.
“That’s nice of you,” she whispered as he softly peeled away the paper backing, smiling at the coiled green and black snake that decorated Franklin’s sturdy little arm. “He’ll like that.”
“Yeah.” He threw the wet paper backing from the tattoo into the wastebasket and resumed his seat in the torture device that passed as a chair. “At least now we have something in common.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…” He stared at the boy’s face. “At least now we have matching tattoos. One physical characteristic to tie us together.”
“What are you talking about?” There was genuine confusion in her voice.
He glanced up into her beautiful face, trying not to let the concern written there affect him. But it did. Because accompanying that concern were the heartfelt emotional twins otherwise known as sorrow and regret.
Which made his anger toward her begin to mellow. And he certainly wasn’t ready for that.
Reminding himself of the years he’d lost, the years she’d stolen, he hardened his resolve and blurted, “I’m talking about the fact that the kid has half of my DNA, but you couldn’t tell it by looking at him.”
Her face instantly softened, and he glanced away.
“You’re wrong,” she whispered.
“Yeah?” He grimaced when his stupid voice cracked like a pubescent boy’s. “How so?”
She was silent for a long time, and he knew she was waiting for him to look over at her, but he couldn’t. Finally, she sighed. “You asked me why I had that look on my face in the courtyard yesterday evening when you introduced yourself to Franklin. You said you thought it was because I blamed you for Steven’s death?”
Now he couldn’t help himself. He glanced across the bed to find tears standing in her eyes.
Her lying eyes, he reminded himself.
“Yeah? And you said it was because you thought it was unfair that I was able to waltz back into your life like nothing ever happened.”
She shook her head. “The real reason I wore that expression was because with you two standing together, especially with those identical smiles and those identical dimples, I figured everyone would immediately deduce the truth. That you were father and son. In that instant, you looked so much alike it made my heart stop.”
He glanced back at Franklin, at the boy’s round cheeks that, even relaxed in sleep, still showed faint, shadowed divots—just like he knew his own did.
For the third time that day, tears clogged his throat.
Yep, there goes my “man card.”
“Thank you for that,” he managed to whisper.
Chapter Fourteen
“You try to scream one more time,” Johnny sneered, smiling evilly at the stark terror contorting Lisa Brown’s face as she sat strapped to one of her kitchen chairs, “and I’ll cut out your pretty brown eyes.”
He’d never cared much for black women. Not that many of them weren’t gorgeous in a darkly exotic way that got his blood pumping. But they were generally too mouthy for his tastes. And Lisa was proving to be no exception.
“However, if you answer all my questions,” he continued, “I’ll walk out that door, and you’ll never see me again.”
Right. And I’ll also give you my ocean-front property in Arizona.
He watched hope spring up in her dark eyes and had trouble maintaining his poker face. Removing her gag, he grabbed her jaw just to make sure she didn’t do something stupid like open her mouth to let loose with another one of those banshee wails she’d managed earlier.
The woman had a set of pipes, no doubt. And that could get him in trouble if he wasn’t very, very careful.
“Where are Michelle Carter and her son?”
“Wh-why do you wanna—” she started, and that just wouldn’t do.
“Bitch,” he squeezed her jaw until her eyes rolled back in her head, and she began to struggle ineffectually against her restraints. “I’m the one asking the questions here. Where…is…Michelle?”
She shook her head, and he slapped her. Hard. Her head snapped to the side on her thin, fragile neck, and her soft, milk-chocolate-colored cheek instantly burned bright red. He grabbed her jaw again, digging his fingers between her top and bottom teeth.