Page 29 of Brandishing Betrayals

Teresa sighed heavily, jerking her head once. “Ok. I will talk to Leonardo this weekend.”

“Thank you.” I got up and hugged my mother fiercely. “Thank you.”

“Nicolai, I cannot guarantee anything. You offended your uncle and the family years ago. You will have to issue a formal apology to the family and accept whatever penance they deal out.” Her breathing grew shaky. She knew how cruel and hard the family could be. While I wasn’t a traitor, they might treat me like one. My punishment could mean my life.

“I understand, momma.” I pressed a kiss to her cheek as I got to my knees before her. Resting my forehead against hers, I spoke softly. “I need to protect Maya though. Luke may not be my blood, but he’s my son nonetheless.”

A sob shook my mother’s tiny frame and I hugged her tightly.

“It’ll be ok, momma. I promise.”

Maya

Theweekwaslongand slow, but uneventful. My nerves were shot and I had perfected my make-up skills by the end of the week, even when I opted to wear a thin turtleneck under my scrubs in the office. Thankfully the women’s clinic was always kept cold and I usually wore a sweater over my scrubs, so the switch to turtleneck underneath wasn’t a stretch and barely a blip to my coworkers.

By Saturday, the coloring on my neck was looking a little better, but I knew it would be a while before I would be able to stop with the make-up.

Since Monday’s encounter with Marcos, he’d made himself scarce throughout the week. It wasn’t until Friday that he had finally texted and asked if he could see Luke over the weekend. I had agreed and told him he could pick up Luke from the local pool on Saturday after he was done hanging out with his friends.

They were going to attempt their first sleep over at Marco’s apartment.

My nerves were shot at the idea of Luke spending the night away from me, so I opted to distract myself with some retail therapy on Saturday afternoon. Not that I had much money to spend, but Friday had been payday, and I could walk around the outdoor mall and window shop a bit. It was beautiful, if not a scorchingly hot summer day.

I was browsing a window display of a black lacy dress, wondering if I’d ever live the kind of life that would allow me wear something so spectacular, when I was broken out of my thoughts by someone speaking to me.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” a nasally male voice crooned from behind me.

I halted in my tracks. Ice slid down my spine. I knew that voice—that fucking voice—it was the voice of my nightmares. Dillion “Dax” Hillcrest.

I turned my head slowly and met the mismatched gaze over my shoulder, the pale light blue eye and the deep dark one a night and day opposite. The thick jagged scar that ripped his face in half, was as raised and puffy as it was ten years ago.

Dax towered over me, still as intimidating as he was back then. Fear coiled in my belly, as my heart raced rapidly. This wasn’t happening, I couldn’t handle this again. It nearly killed me last time.

“Hillcrest,” I responded coolly, forcing myself to appear as aloof as possible, as I slowly turned to face him. I might beterrified, but I was no longer the scared little girl he ran off ten years ago. I would not show him fear.

A sneer pulled at his scared face. “You think you’re tough now? Now that you’re back with your motorcycle club, being their whore? I’ve seen them sniffing around you again.” His voice was as nasally as it was before, and its rasp sent shivers down my spine.

I couldn’t afford to piss him off, I knew that. He wasn’t above hurting me, or my loved ones. He had demonstrated that before, but I couldn’t roll over either. I was not the same naïve little girl anymore. I rolled my eyes, “I’m not with them.”

“No? Just share blood with them?”

A chill broke out across my skin, pebbling my flesh despite the summer heat. He knew Lucas was theirs. Fuck. I hadn’t even known if he was still alive until he dropped that flower on my car last Saturday.

I knew it was only a matter of time before he found out. He had been watching me for weeks, or longer, even if he'd only been dropping flowers for the last week.

Dax chuckled darkly. “Yeah, puta, I know all about your baby daddy problems…And Candela sure has been coming over to your parents’ place a lot lately. How does he feel that you left because of me? Wonder if that son of yours knows he could have had his daddy if you had told them all those years ago.”

My breath caught in my throat. I’d wondered that very same thing, every damn day of my life, for the last ten years. Every time I looked at Luke, I wondered if I should call Marcos and tell him the truth.

“Maybe I should tell Candella the child is mine,” Dax drawled, crossing his arms and cupping his chin with his thumb and forefinger in a thoughtful expression.

“You’re an asshole,” I snapped, done with his shit.

He lashed out before I could react. His hand wrapped around my throat and he shoved me back against the window of the store hard and fast, before I could stop him. My hands came up and gripped around his wrist, trying to pull him off me. He crowded into my space, using his body to keep me against the glass.

He smelled of stale cigarettes and cheap cologne. The leather jacket he wore was torn and shredded in places. His teeth were yellowed and his breath stank as he breathed hot air in my face. “I think you’re forgetting your place, whore.”

I struggled against him. I dug my fingernails into the hand around my throat as I gasped for breath.

---