Page 17 of Mistaken Identity
But after she’d died, I’d realized a few really harsh realities.
One, I knew one of the club brothers was Lottie’s father.
And two, I had no clue what to do about it because one of them would feel really fuckin’ bad about sleeping with my dead wife, and knocking her up, forcing me to raise a kid that wasn’t mine.
Not that I hated Lottie or anything.
I loved her.
But it was more like an uncle kind of love.
I knew that she wasn’t mine, and never would be.
One of these days, she would either be taken by the Combs, or I’d have to find her real father and make him fight.
Either way, this wasn’t going to end great.
How did I even bring this up with them?
Hey, at a party two years and nine months ago, one of you slept with my wife, and knocked her up. Would you all mind taking DNA tests so you can help me fight to keep Lottie away from the uber-rich Combs?
Yeah, it wouldn’t go over well.
I did, however, have it narrowed down to four men.
Cakes, however, was now in the lead.
“Please stow your tray tables and make sure your seats are upright,” Creole’s sweet, honeyed voice broke into my thoughts.
Everyone did as she asked, but something in me made me hesitate to right my seat.
Which, of course, prompted her to come right over to me and bend down so only Cakes and I could hear. “Are you hard of hearing? Or do you expect me to right your seat for you?”
Cakes coughed uncomfortably.
My brows rose. “I actually had planned to, but you should probably give us more than ten seconds from the moment that you announce what we need to do.”
God, this woman sure knew how to get under my skin.
“How about now?” she whisper-hissed. “Has it been long enough?”
“Cakes,” I said as I righted my chair. “You should probably make sure your tray table is stowed before she loses her…”
I saw the moment the man’s name registered, and she all but jerked back.
Her eyes went wide, and she stared at Cakes for so long that I felt my belly start to get a little uncomfortable.
Was she looking at him for the reason I thought she was?
Or was I just overthinking it?
But if there was one woman on this planet that would know who Lottie’s father was, it would definitely be her…
Determined now to know the answer that was burning on the tip of my tongue, I said, “Creole, have you ever met Cakes?”
Panicked eyes met mine. “No. Why would I?”
“Because the sound of his name made you get all weird,” I said. “Just thought you two might know each other.”
