Charlotte
“I won’t be gone much longer, Sunshine. Promise.”
I stare at the calendar on my desk and slash lines through the days Marcel’s been gone. How many more?
“Sunshine, you there?” he asks.
His warm voice doesn’t soothe me the way it usually would. “Just be careful, okay?”
“I will,” he assures me.
My emotions are so tangled, it’s hard to concentrate on the file in front of me after we hang up. The day’s already off to a rough start. After the bombshell news Marcel received, and his abrupt trip out of town to cope with the life-altering revelation, work has seemed impossible.
I should’ve gone with him.
Except, he didn’t ask me to.
And I didn’t push.
At least Marcel isn’t the father of Inga’s baby. I might have had to skip town if that test had come back positive. If I don’t try to find the silver lining in this whole mess, I’m going to lose my marbles. Marcel didn’t father a stripper’s baby—that’s the upside.
Rock and Marcel are father and son. It’s too complicated to put it in the good news or bad news column.
Quickly, I sort through a stack of mail, a chore I hate. My struggling solo law practice doesn’t have the funds to hire even a part-time secretary. Not for the first time, I consider the offer from one of my law school classmates to join his high-end firm. At least then someone else would open my mail.
Bills, bills, advertisements, and a notice from the Johnsonville family court that I stop to add to my calendar. A shady company offering to add me to their directory of “distinguished” lawyers for the measly sum of five-thousand dollars. Next, a reminder that I need to fulfill my continuing legal education requirements. I set that one aside. Maybe I can talk Hope into taking a class with me after she has the baby. Who am I kidding? She checked out of anything legal-related the second she found out she was pregnant. I brush my hand over my stomach. Maybe I’ll get to do the same soon. Hope’s friend Mara will probably go with me, and I scribble a note on the letter to remind myself to ask her.
The familiar thump-creak of someone prying open the front door to the building reaches me. The sticky lock always catches and makes it hard to open the door. It finally groans whooshes open. I tip my head up and concentrate on any familiar sounds. Postman delivering a package? Nope, he’d call out to get my attention.
Potential client?
Uncle Chuck stopping by to deliver some inane threat?
Silence.
It can’t be Uncle Chuck. He’s on the road and out of my business. He and Marcel seem to have come to some sort of biker understanding that I’m under the protection of the Lost Kings MC and no longer the concern of the Wolf Knights MC.
The door thumps closed and heavy footsteps clomp over the thin hallway carpet.
A chill slithers along my neck.
Quick and silent, I slide out of my chair, grab my heavy red stapler, and hurry to my open office door. I peer around the corner.
Rock’s in the small waiting area, staring at the box of toys I keep in the corner to entertain my younger clients. My gaze slides over the back of his leather cut. The blue and gray Lost Kings MC patch. Discolored, faded, and well-worn from years of life in the club.
Why would he come to my office? He’s never been here before. That I know of. His vice president did place surveillance cameras in my apartment, though. Maybe Z and Rock bugged my office at some point.
Fear edges down my spine. Is the secret of Rock and Marcel’s true relationship one Rock wants to keep hidden for good? In some weird, twisted biker way, it could be used against Rock by rival clubs. Maybe he still doesn’t trust me.
Stop it.
I’ve spent plenty of time around Rock and the rest of the MC. Rock isn’t a threat.
“Mr. North—uh, Rock. My, uh, what are you doing here? I thought you were headed out of town. Is everything okay?” Damn, why I can’t I get my voice under control?
He turns away from the toy box, the hard lines of his face softening. As if he’s trying to coax a frightened kitten out of hiding, he holds up his hands. “Have you heard from Marcel?”
Really. Marcel hasn’t touched base with Rock yet?
I drop my gaze and nod.
“Can we talk for a minute?” Rock’s voice drops to a low, hypnotic rumble. “If you have the time.”
“Oh. Of course.” Finally, I wrestle my fear into submission and force a quick smile. He’s worried about Marcel, not here to murder me. “Come on back into my office.”
His bulky size emphasizes how small the hallway is, and he shoots a glare at the ceiling that hangs low enough to tickle his scalp. I turn but hear the whisper of his leather cut against my bright yellow walls as he follows me.
“Have a seat.” I gesture toward one of the chairs in front of the desk and take the other one, turning it so we’re facing each other. “What’s on your mind?”
What a stupid question. He’s not here for legal advice.
“So, you heard from him? He’s okay?”
Damn you, Marcel. “Yes. He didn’t call you?”
He pulls out his phone and checks the screen but his expression remains impossible to read. “Teller talk to you before he took off?” he asks, tucking his phone into his pocket.
“About the paternity test?” Duh, why else would he be here? “About you and him? Yes. He told me.”
“I thought he was okay. But then he just left.”
I may not know Rock all that well but the note of hurt in his voice rings true. “I think he felt bad… He was worried he caused Hope to have problems.” Hope had gone to the hospital with Braxton Hicks contractions shortly after telling Marcel and Rock about their true relationship. No matter how much Hope had tried to assure Marcel the two events weren’t related, he didn’t buy it. It was the final push Marcel needed to take to the highway.
“Charlotte, I’m worried about him. Nothing more. I want to make sure he’s okay.”
Get a grip, Charlotte. “He’s okay. Honestly, Rock, as long as I’ve known him, he’s always”—I hesitate, trying to find the most honest and least offensive way to phrase this—“looked up to you. Thought of you as a father.”
“Obviously, I don’t deserve that.”
This is a far different conversation than I ever expected to have with Rock. Feeling more confident, I give him my honest opinion. Thoughts I’ve already shared with Marcel. “From the stories he’s told me, I think you do. He’s always said you’re the only person he’s been able to count on. You’re the one who steered him in the right direction. Made sure he finished school. Kept him out of trouble. Gave him the ability to take care of his sister. Nurtured his business sense. Those are all things he’s told me were because of you.”
Rock’s jaw twitches as he seems to digest my words.
“If it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t have been able to take care of Heidi,” I repeat.
Finally, his lips twist into a wry smile. “He ever tell you how we met?”
Something about trying to steal from the club. It’s a miracle Marcel’s even alive to tell that story. “Just bits and pieces.”
“He was a brave kid. Risking his life to take care of his sister and his buddy.”