One, she’s way too young.
Two, she’s Bullseye’s daughter.
Three, she has a daughter of her own.
And I swore to myself a long time ago I’d never get involved with kids again. I’m not made for it. I’m mentally too broken and weak to deal with the heartache of kids.
“What is it? What do you need?” Hope begs her daughter, her voice muted from the barrier between us. Like an idiot, I turn my head and poke my ear out from under the pillow to listen in. “Please, I don’t know,” she begins to cry too. “I don’t know what you want.”
“Shit,” I sigh with annoyance. I throw the blankets off my body and sit up. I’m never going to be able to sleep again with everyone in the clubhouse popping out babies left and right. Maybe it’s time I see about living in one of the cabins. I like my peace and quiet.
I exhale, rubbing my hand down my face, then reach for the room temperature bottle of water on my nightstand. I take off the cap and toss it to the trash can, then guzzle the last half of it down and stretch, listening to both Hope and Faith crying.
So many fucking tears in this house. Jesus, when did the Kings become a bunch of damn babysitters? Back in my day, when I was with Taz, we didn’t do this family-making business. I was done with that.
When I brought Poodle out to Vegas after finding him covered in his wife’s blood and with his daughter Ellie missing, I knew I had to bring him here for a new start. I had to get him out of Oklahoma. And when we got here, I knew I had found my new home. I had to get away too. Not that anyone knew that, but it felt good here. I’ll forever be indebted to Taz and the guys down there, but Vegas truly felt like home. I found myself with a new family here—a family that didn’t involve having fucking kids. We are vicious and we do what it takes, but now everyone is turning into fathers and becoming a bunch of fucking marshmallows.
I stand and stretch, then march out the door, tired and grumpy. I head toward the liquor cabinet and grab a bottle, take a swig, then screw the cap back on before heading to Hope’s door.
I pound my fist against the door with an impatient huff. The door swings open. Hope is standing there puffy-eyed with wet cheeks, and damn it, my hardened soul caves in a little. Her eyes are so fucking big and wide. Almost too big for her face. I can’t tell if they are blue or green, but they are beautiful. Her lashes are wet from tears, long curly spikes framing them. Her cheeks are rosy, but it’s the dark circles that tell me it isn’t just me losing sleep.
“Badge, I’m so sorry,” she starts with exhaustion, pinching the top of her nose. “I’m trying everything. I didn’t mean to wake you. I think it’s time I ask Reaper if we move to a cabin. I keep waking you—”
“—I’m not here to bitch. I’m here to ask if you need help,” I grunt, interrupting her.
God, she’s pretty. All that long blonde hair is piled in a mess on top of her head. Even when she’s completely exhausted, she’s gorgeous. Her body is made for my hands, I just know it.
She’s got thick hips and perfect curves. Her stomach isn’t perfectly flat because she just had a baby, but in my opinion, women need a little meat on their bones.
The baby lets out another wail and Hope closes her eyes, her chin trembling. The front of her shirt becomes wet with two big spots from lactating, a reaction to her daughter’s cry.
“I’m so sorry. How embarrassing.” She covers herself up with her hands. “I’ve changed her, rocked her, she won’t latch. I’ve tried everything. I just… I can’t—” She has to raise her voice as the crying gets louder.
Before Faith can wake up the entire damn house, I welcome myself inside her room and close the door. “It’s milk. It’s okay. It’s natural. I’m not put off by the natural use of breasts.” Even though hers are perfect. Another thought I need to keep to myself.
Ever since Hope came here, I’ve been grumpier. It isn’t her fault, but I don’t want to want her.
I peer down at the little spawn lying in the crib, her face red from screaming her lungs out. Good lord, she’s loud. “I don’t want to insult you, but have you tried bottle feeding? I know you’re only breastfeeding, which is great, but maybe she’s in the mood for something else.”
Hope gasps, then scoffs. “Excuse me? My milk is fine.”
“I’m not saying it isn’t, but babies are fucking weird, okay? Maybe the tit ain’t cutting it for her right now.”
“The tit? Do you have any class?”
I lift a brow at her. “No. Go get a bottle.”
She stands there and stares at me, crossing her arms in defiance. If it were any other day and any other woman, I’d bend her over my damn knees and paint her ass red with my palm.
“Go on. She isn’t going to stop crying by herself.”
“You’re so rude,” Hope grumbles before spinning on her heel and heading out the door.
I slide my arms under Faith and flashbacks hit me hard, nearly taking my breath away.
This baby is alive. She isn’t Amber.
“Hey, little lady,” I grumble, my breath hitching as her tiny body fits in the space I create with my arms.
I’ve missed this.
No. No, I have not. I can’t miss it. I’m not allowed to.
“I need you to stop crying. Yes, I do. I have a big first day to start in about—” I glance at my watch, “—Six hours, and your screams are pissing me off to no end.” I keep my voice soft and gentle, a sound no one else will ever be able to hear. “Yes, it is. So you need to tell me what the deal is.” I sit down in the rocker and press her hot cheek against my chest.
She doesn’t have a fever. She’s hot from getting herself all worked up.
“You don’t like your mom’s milk factories? Why? They are pretty freaking great, if you ask me, but for—different reasons. So never mind.” I begin to rock and close my eyes. “You know, you’d be cuter if it weren’t for the pair of lungs on you. Life ain’t that bad. When you get older, you’ll see. Right now, you can’t do anything for yourself. You’re weak, but you’ll grow up and you’ll be able to wipe your own ass. Hopefully. Good lord, if you can’t, something went wrong.”
She wails, her lips trembling every time she sucks in a breath.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. That wasn’t fair of me.” I lift her higher on my chest and begin to pat her back, taking another breath as that vault inside me threatens to unlock. I haven’t held a baby in so long. Not since I experienced the worst pain of my life. It all seems like it was another life. Sometimes I don’t even think it was me, but a different man somehow.
She lets out a pretty manly burp and l lean her back so I can look at her. “That was impressive, little lady.”
It isn’t enough to stop the path of destruction she’s on.
“I know you have another one in you. Come on,” I yawn, continuing to rock and pat at the same time. “I know this sucks, but your mom is doing the best she can. Not even moms can read minds. Hell, I’m only guessing here.” A second later, a rotten stink fills the room, and a gurgle escapes her, which would probably be equivalent to an adult moan if she could form words. “Oh, you’re a stinker, aren’t you?” Her face is red, and her little fists are bunched up as another little ripple shakes her diaper.