Page 6 of Brandishing Betrayals

Stone huffed, “No. She doesn’t deserve it. Ignore her, Marc. She’s not keeping Luke from you. She wouldn’t dare, not now. Hang out with your son and ignore the baby mama drama.”

Once again, the silent one, knew just what to say to cut through the bullshit. “Not sure I can do that, brother,” I sighed. “I’m not sure you can either.” I finally looked away from the wall, to turn to Stone.

The man in question, sat on the couch before him, utterly fucking still, like his namesake. His face an expressionless mask that grated on my nerves. I loved the dude, but sometimes he was little too unfeeling.

“Funny, not what you were doing when we walked up on you and that Devil chaser the other day,” Dagger smirked, taunting Stone.

Stone shrugged a shoulder. “Just called her out for watching me fuck the chaser. She always did like to watch.”

I frowned. “When was this?”

“When I was taking her home from the party. We ran into him on the side of the house, balls deep in Vivian,” Dagger explained.

“What’d Maya say?” I asked.

“Said it wasn’t much of a show and that she’d seen better,” Dagger replied.

I chuckled softly and ran a hand over my buzzed head. A headache was starting to form between my eyes, the pressure a dull ache at the moment. I knew if we continued with this conversation, I’d be down with a full-blown migraine. “Then what?” I questioned, regardless.

“Then we left,” Dagger shrugged. “I dropped her at home. She walked inside before I could ask her anything.”

“Of course, she did,” Stone deadpanned.

I rolled my eyes and stood up. I couldn’t listen to them bicker anymore. “I’m heading out,” I said, and walked away.

It was early evening still, if I played my cards right, Luke would still be up. I checked the time on my phone, nodded to myself, and headed for the door.

Maya

IheardtheHarleyfroma block away. Luke was laying on the couch, head in my lap, and completely zonked out. The TV played softly, some Marvel movie or something. I had been reading on my Kindle since he turned the movie on.

The Harley engine grew louder, until it cut off down the driveway. Marcos knew my parents went to bed early, so he parked his bike at the end. It was a few a minutes before he walked up to the door. He paused in the picture window, looking into the living room.

I waved him in, unable to get up and answer the door for him. He was quiet as he entered, pulling the screen door shut softly, not letting it slam. He was equally quiet as he closed the heavy wooden door and turned to face me.

I watched him carefully. There was something different about him tonight—something softer. “When did he pass out?” he asked softly, his voice deep.

“About an hour ago.”

Marcos nodded and bent over to untie his boots.

I watched him warily; I didn’t want him to stay. I needed him to leave in fact and soon. “What are you doing?” I asked, when I couldn’t take it any longer.

“I’ll put him to bed for you, so you don’t have to wake him,” Marcos said, not looking up from his laces.

I went to say something, but stopped, and closed my mouth. It would be nice for him to move Luke to bed without waking him up. God knew it had been years since I had been able to carry him to bed.

I set down my Kindle as Marcos walked toward me. When he slid his hands under Luke’s body and carefully lifted Luke into his arms. My heart fluttered as I watched the careful concentration on Marcos’s handsome face. He was thinner than I remembered, his cheeks no longer as full as they had been ten years ago.

At forty-one, Marcos was only getting more attractive with age: the hard edge of his jaw and sharp lines of his goatee, his dark chocolate eyes that were dark as night. He was broad-shouldered and corded with muscle, his leather cut hung to his frame, and the muscles in his back rolled as he lifted Lucas effortlessly from the couch.

I stood up and walked in front of him, leading the way down the hall. I pulled the blankets down on Luke’s bed and stepped out of the way, giving Marcos room to lay Luke into bed.

Once Marcos pulled the covers up around his son, he pressed a soft kiss to his forehead before he stood up. He didn’t leave turn to leave though. He hovered over Luke a moment, just watching him, before he slowly stepped back.

I waited in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching him. It broke my heart seeing how tender and careful Marcos was with Lucas. He was a great father already, in such a short period of time. I hated that he missed out on the first nine years, hated that he wasn’t able to be with Luke full-time.

Before Marcos turned for the door, I turned around first and headed back to the living room. I took a seat on the couch again and picked up my Kindle. Marcos didn’t stay once Luke was down, so I opened my book and started reading while Marcos took his time in the bedroom.

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