Undeniable (Undeniable, #1)(3)

I put my hand in his, and his big fingers closed around mine. “Eva,” I whispered. “That’s my name, and it was so, so great to meet you, too.”

He smiled. And his eyes smiled, too. I got lost again in his pretty eyes.

Then Uncle Joe picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. “Isn’t that f*ckin’ expensive-as-hell private school teachin’ you ’bout talkin’ to strangers?” he said. “Gonna have a talk with those prissy f*ckers. Gonna have a talk with my fist.”

“Bye,” I yelled, waving frantically as I was marched away.

Reaper gave me a two-handed handcuffed wave and a big smile.

Deuce got to his feet grinning and gave me a two-finger salute. “Bye, darlin’.”

Darlin’.

It was official. I was head over heels in love.

? ? ?

Deuce watched One-Eyed Joe, Silver Demon lifer, stalk off with Preacher’s kid hanging over his shoulder, grinning and waving like a lunatic. He shook his head and smiled. When he could no longer see her, he lost his smile and turned back to his old man.

His old man had lost his smile, too.

“Cute kid,” Reaper grumbled. “Shoulda had a girl instead of you two f*cks.”

He stared at his old man. He had a moment of longing, watching him smile at that kid and talk to her the way he should have talked to his own kids but never had. He’d been too busy beating on him and his brother.

Good times.

“Preacher’s on the move,” Reaper growled. “Takin’ that f*ckin’ deal with the Russians right out from under you. Why the motherf*ck didn’t you snap that shit down when you had the chance?”

And there it was. He was VP, and that’s all he was to his old man. Someone to pass the f*cking gavel to when he finally—and it couldn’t come fast enough—kicked it.

“Preacher’s road chief beat me to it. Snagged that shit ’fore I even heard about it.”

Reaper’s expression went glacial. “You’re such a f*ckin’ f*ckup. Shoulda made Cas VP. Shoulda had that f*ckin’ cunt of a whore get ridda ya.”

His mother had been a whore—not a streetwalker but a club whore. She was sixteen when his father knocked her up, his old man nearly thirty. After he was born, his old man kicked her to the curb with nothing but the clothes on her back. All he’d ever had of his mother was a gritty picture of a very young girl sitting on his old man’s Harley; Olivia Martin was written on the back. He liked to think that she started a new life somewhere else with someone who was nothing like his old man. Found some peace and a family who loved her.

His younger brother, Cas, was the product of another knocked-up whore. Same story, different day.

For twenty-three years, he’d been putting up with his shit. He’d had enough. Pushing out of his chair he stood up, placed his palms on the table, and leaned forward.

“Nobody—and when I say nobody, I mean f*ckin’ everybody—gives two f*cks about what happens to you, you miserable shit. The club respects their prez, but not one of your boys gives a f*ck whether you live or die. You got life, old man, and I been runnin’ shit in your absence. And seein’ as I been runnin’ shit a f*ck of a lot better than you, I don’t have to come here. But I do outta f*ckin’ respect, and I just lost the last shred of respect I had left.”

“You little shit,” Reaper hissed. “You’re gonna pay—”

“No. You’re gonna pay. Puttin’ the cash up for bids the minute I walk outta here.”

Fear flashed through his old man’s eyes. He’d never seen anything sweeter.

“Remember, you piece-of-shit f*ck, when you’re bleedin’ out, that it was me who f*ckin’ ordered it.”

He turned away before his old man could say another word and strode through Rikers’ visiting room breathing hard, his heart pounding in his chest, determined to end that man.

“Deuce!” a little voice squealed. He turned.

Eva was gunning for him. Just before she reached him, she came skidding to a stop, breathing heavy, and thrust her hand out. “Didn’t get to share with you,” she said breathlessly.

He bent down and closed his hand around a small bag of peanuts.

His throat closed up.

This kid, this little f*cking kid who didn’t know him at all, had just given him his first gift with nothing expected in return, no favors, no stipulations, no nothing. He’d been wrong. There was something sweeter than seeing fear in his old man’s eyes. Eva was far sweeter. If he ever had a kid, he wanted a kid like this one.

“Thanks, darlin’,” he said hoarsely.

“Will I ever see you again?” She cocked her head to the side, wide-eyed, waiting for his response.

He stared into her eyes, her phenomenal eyes that were too big for her face. Big and smoky gray like a thunderstorm. Fucking beautiful.

He smiled. “Hope so, sweetheart.”

She gave him a killer cute grin and bounced back to her old man and uncle—who were staring daggers at him—shaking those pigtails.

After shoving the peanuts in his pocket, he left. First street pay phone he saw, he posted the hit. It took all of an hour, and he had a buyer. Three days later, his old man bled out in the showers.





CHAPTER TWO