Page 31 of Paladin's Hell

Man’s just heard probably the most devastating news anyone could have the bad luck to absorb through their ears.

“Prez?” Cad’s waving his hand toward the bar.

Not being in the mood for conversation, I indicate my office, and walk across the room, unwilling to be dragged into anybody else’s problems, mine would trump any of theirs. Once in my sanctuary, I pull out my not-so-secret stash of whisky, and pour a glass of pure malt. Then sink into my chair, resting my head back.

What the fuck’s going to happen? Will I lose my son? Will the club lose its VP? Will Demon want to throw down against me? Fuck, I worry about him so much. I might not have provided the sperm, but I was there every minute of her pregnancy, held back her hair while she was vomiting, went to every fucking doctor’s appointment. Saw my son first on a sonographic screen. He was mine from the minute I heard about him. Never let anyone think anything else. I loved him before he was born—not that we knew it was a him before then—didn’t matter to either of us whether the baby would be a boy or girl.

Christ, those first months with Moira were difficult. She’d wake with nightmares in the dead of the night. Took me weeks to get her to trust me fully, even though, by then, she was my wife. Blackie had caused so many issues, it had taken me a very long time to teach her what making love was all about.

Once I’d eventually been able to introduce her to my kind of love making though, she couldn’t get enough. We fucked like rabbits, anytime, anywhere. But once Demon was born, we both agreed, she was still young. One baby was enough. I wrapped my shit for the next few years until we were ready for our family to grow. Kennedy was the one we did right. Planned for, prepared for. I never treated Demon any differently, even when his sister, my true daughter was born. Not for one fucking moment. He was mine, in all the ways that mattered.

Mo wanted a big family, so I threw the condoms away. As the years passed we didn’t think it would happen. Didn’t bother us too much, we already had a boy and a girl. When she fell pregnant with Samuel after a big gap, neither of us could have been happier. But hell, if I expected trouble from anyone, my youngest boy would have been the one. He hadn’t gone off the rails, but a few times it had come close. He’s doing well now, and I’ve got to the point where I thought I could start to relax.

Demon. Well, he’d been the one to want to follow in my footsteps, and he’s doing one hell of a job. He’d become VP on his own merits, a good man to have at my side and at my back.

Or he had been. What the fuck is going to happen now?

I can’t go home. It’s not that I can’t face Moira, not that my heart isn’t breaking for her. I’m convinced Demon will eventually seek me out, and am determined it would be here he’d find me. Any harsh words spoken between us wouldn’t be in front of his mother. She doesn’t deserve that.

Knowing Jeannie was there and wouldn’t leave her alone however long it takes, I stay at the club. Checking in with my wife the next morning.

“Any news?” She answers the phone without a greeting.

“No, no sign. I’ve got the boys out lookin’ for him. He’s not been found drownin’ his sorrows anywhere.”

“Did, did you tell them?”

“Nah. Give me some fuckin’ credit. I told them we’d had a father/son argument, and I was worried. You doing okay, darlin’?”

A pause, then, a whispered, “I just want him to be alright.”

Me too. Me fucking too. “I’ll keep in touch. Call you as soon as I hear something.”

She promises to do the same, then I end the call. Placing my phone back in my cut, it hits me how long it’s been since we finished conversations with declarations of love. Too long. Probably time I should remind her. Probably a lot of things I should be doing and haven’t done.

The day passes, and there’s no sign of him. The next night is the second sleepless one I have. The following morning, I hear a commotion from the clubroom.

“Hey, VP! Prez has been looking for you.” Mace’s loud voice booms.

I take a deep breath, sit back in my chair, and place my hands palms down on the desk. I wait. I don’t have to be patient long.

The door opens, and I feast my eyes on my boy, noticing he looks ragged and drawn, as if he too hadn’t slept. I hate that it’s down to me he’s going through this pain. Should have burned that fucking record book, then he’d have never found out.

“VP.” I greet him, not wanting to trigger him by using the word, son.

“Prez.” He’s equally polite as he throws my title back. His expression is guarded; he’s giving nothing away.

He closes the gap between the door and my desk, then skirts around the edge. “Stand up,” he instructs.

I do. Knowing he’s going to take a swing at me. I killed his father after all. I deserve it. I let him live a lie all his life.

I tense, waiting for it, trying not to brace myself. I deserve the pain.

Time ticks on. Nothing happens. I glance up, my gaze at last meeting his eyes. Like the rest of him, they’re inscrutable. Then they close. When they reopen, he lets out a weighted sigh. His hands start to rise; I prepare for the blow. Which never arrives. Instead his arms go around me, hugging me too him, the extra inch of height he has over me giving him an advantage.

Stunned, surprised, I return his embrace, holding him tightly, having never expected to hold him again.

When his grip relaxes, now I can see emotion in his eyes, and moisture forming.

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