Page 4 of Danger Close
His jaw set in a stubborn line. He smoldered his wickedly lethal blue eyes at me as he said, “I don’t like women my own age. I never have.”
My God, this boy was dangerous in and out of the octagon.
“You just haven’t met the right one,” I whispered, gently coming to my feet and handing him back the bag of ice. “If my daughter comes to visit, I should introduce you. I think you two would get along.”
“Oh yeah?” he said skeptically, already dismissing the idea of my offspring because of her age.
“Yeah.” I tried to look encouraging, even as a dull pain squeezed my heart.
Trinity would never visit, and I could not blame her.
Chapter 2
We’re Getting Married
Cobra
Seven Days Before the Wedding
“A week?” My daughter looked down at me as I worked to open the drain plug on my Vulcan.
She’d caught me as I drove the bike back in from a joy ride. I was supposed to just ride long enough to lower the viscosity of the oil so that I could change it, but a ten minute ride turned into an hour. It was October in Upstate New York, and I’d have to put her away for the winter soon. I just… resisted.
Trinity must have had the same thought, because she came on her Ducati, pulled up next to me, and dumped the news like a steaming pile of shit.
Nothing could have prepared me for the nonsense that was retirement life. I spent decades undercover with the worst mafiosos, criminals and traffickers in the world. I worked in the world’s most dangerous places.
And fatherhood? I don’t know how anyone gets through it without going nuts.
I stared at Trinity, or “Taz” as she called herself, as I let the oil spill into the drain pain. At least that was something we had in common. We both liked bikes. We could bond over it. She also had a hint of pyromania, which gave me an amazing sense of pride. Nurture? Meet nature. The kid was a chip off the old block. I was almost disappointed that she didn’t take on more of her mother’s traits. Teresa had been a model; frail thin but luminescent. Her straight, black hair and pale, gold skin had been all the rage at the time. Paired with her startling blue eyes, she’d been unforgettable.
But Taz? She was like me. Made of motor oil and grit. She got my darker skin, thick lips, and thick, brown, wavy hair, and square face. Poor kid.
“Getting married in aweek?”I was still shocked by that fact.
What was I supposed to buy for a wedding gift? She already had a motorcycle that functioned smooth as silk, because she knew her way around a garage. I wasn’t going to get her jewelry. Maybe I’d set up a trust fund? But she was marrying Kai Griffith of the North Virginia Griffiths. They wouldn’t hurt for money.
A week was like no time at all. Sure, she and her fiancé had known each other for some time – years, in fact. But a week?Engaged and married in aweek? Then again, Teresa and I had been married even faster. Maybe this was genetics at work.
“What are you trying to do, put your Ma and I to shame?” I almost laughed, despite the pit growing in my stomach. It was that sinking feeling I always got when I thought about the wife who’d left me. Then, it was safer for me to stay far, far away. Keep them out of my orbit so that the bad guys I went after didn’t go after them.
I’d just gotten my kid back and now, I’d be giving her away in seven days. This was going to be a significant emotional event. I could already tell.
“How long were you and Mom engaged for?” Taz looked confused.
Had Teri not told her anything about me? About us?
“Oh, I don’t remember,” I lied. “However long it took for the piss stick to turn pink, and for me to get her to a church?”
“So, you two got married in less than a week?” She tilted her head in surprise. “She was with my stepdad for almost ten years and kept sayingthatwas too soon.”
“Stepdad, huh?” I felt the pang of something in my chest. Something akin to jealousy. Someone else had my Princess for ten fucking years—which was eight years longer than our marriage! But this feeling wasn’t jealousy. Definitely not.Definitelynot.
What did I care if she laid her head down beside someone else at night?
No, I resented that someone else was being the man of the house while I was sleeping with my head in the dirt, surrounded by scumbags. While they were playing house, I was smiling at the faces of people I despised, waiting for the day I could stab them in the back, or put them in handcuffs.
“Was he a good guy?” I asked, swallowing down my resentment. “Your stepdad?”
