Unattainable Read online

  Cage opened his mouth and Deuce’s hand lifted, then crashed back down on the desk.

  “You got any idea how fucked-up D is? She barely sees her daughter as it is and what do you do? YOU GO AND FUCK HER!

  “It was real fuckin’ simple,” he continued. “I told you to leave the girl alone, but stickin’ your shit in anything that’s walkin’ by you is more important than followin’ orders, isn’t it?”

  Cage didn’t respond. He’d heard this speech enough times that he knew it by heart. He also knew that interrupting his father would only make the man angrier.

  “You’re pushin’ thirty fuckin’ years old and still ain’t listenin’,” he continued, looking at Cage with unmasked disgust. “You’re never goin’ to amount to jack-fuckin’-shit, are you?”

  It wasn’t a question. It was an answer. He knew it, his old man knew it, and Blue, who was in the front room asleep at the bar, knew it too.

  “Here,” Cage muttered, pulling the pictures from his cut as he walked toward his father. He tossed the envelope on the desk.

  Deuce’s gaze dropped. “What the fuck is that?”

  Cage shrugged. “Found it at the Demons MC, in Eva’s old room.”

  Deuce glanced down and picked up the envelope. As he looked over the first photo in the stack, Eva seated next to Blue at the bar, Cage watched his father’s expression shift from indifferent to downright sappy.

  “Where the fuck did you find these?”

  “Hidden,” Cage said, knowing better than to bring up anything to do with Frankie, or Frankie with Eva, to his father. Shit might be happy-go-lucky between them now, but it wasn’t always that way and Frankie had been the reason.

  “Behind a photo,” he finished.

  “Fuck,” Deuce muttered, slowly going through the stack, his eyes growing more and more unfocused with every picture. “Look at her…just fuckin’…look at her.”

  “She still looks pretty damn good,” Cage said and Deuce’s eyes shot to him and narrowed.

  “That’s not what I was talkin’ about,” he growled. “I was talkin’ about how fuckin’ stupid I was. I had that.” Deuce held up the photo he was looking at.

  Eva, grinning, wearing a baggy cropped tee and saggy jeans, sandwiched in between Kami and Dorothy, was giving Dorothy rabbit ears while her other hand made the sign of the devil over Kami’s shoulder.

  “I had that,” Deuce repeated. “And I fucked it all up.”

  Cage didn’t say anything, unable to believe his father was done fucking up, and Deuce went back to looking through the pictures.

  Jumping to his feet, his father glared at him. “Did you look at all these?”

  Father and son stared at each other.

  “Little fuckin’ asshole,” Deuce growled. “Get the fuck out.”

  “I’ll be around if you need me,” he said tonelessly, already turning on his boot heel.

  “Don’t hold your breath,” he heard Deuce mutter.

  He wasn’t going to.

  When it came to his old man, he’d stopped holding his breath a long fucking time ago.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Stupid,” I muttered as I yanked a frying pan out from underneath a stack of pots and pans, wincing as the following loud clatter echoed throughout the kitchen. My mom didn’t get a lot of sleep; when she did sleep she dreamt of the memories she couldn’t quite access and usually woke up in a cold sweat, shaking and crying. Between that and Christopher, she needed her rest.

  After placing the pan on top of the stove, I headed for the refrigerator.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I said under my breath as I surveyed the chilled contents. A carton of eggs, a package of cheese, a loaf of bread, and a tub of butter later I was sitting down with a cheese omelet and a side of toast, not eating.

  I felt too sick to eat.

  I was a first-class fucking idiot. And not just because I’d fucked Cage. Again. I mean, yeah, that was seriously idiotic, but worse, I’d fucked him not once, but three times, and not once did we use a condom. Not once did I even remember to use a condom. Why oh why did I always lose my head around that man?

  Goddammit, I probably had AIDS now or at the least some sort of wonky biker venereal disease. Or even worse, I was going to end up like motherfucking Danny and pregnant with a little biker baby that, knowing my luck, would be a boy who’d look just like his father, become a biker just like his father, and break a million hearts…just like his father.

  It was official. I was my mother’s daughter. I could bed the man but never wed him. I could suck his cock, make him dinner, do his laundry, and have his children, but I could never actually have him.

  Jesus, I’d actually prefer to have explosive diarrhea while wearing a miniskirt, performing a jig onstage in front of half a million people.

  My one saving grace was that I had absolutely no reason to see Cage for the rest of the weekend. I closed my eyes and let out an irritated sigh. Why did I absolutely hate the sound of that?

  My eyes flew open and I stared down at my omelet. “FUCK!” I yelled. “You look really yummy and I don’t even want to eat you!”

  “Tegen?”

  Glancing up from my breakfast, I found my mother hovering near the kitchen entrance, dressed in only a knee-length black robe and fuzzy slippers.

  “Shit,” I said, immediately pushing my chair back and getting to my feet. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  She gave me a small smile. “Is it okay to come in? Or am I going to get an omelet to the face?”

  My shoulders sagged. My mother had never been a shy woman and she’d never skirted around sensitive subjects. Unless it had something to do with her relationship with Jase, she’d never had a problem speaking her mind. I took after her in that way, although I was infinitely more vulgar than she would ever be.

  Other than that, we were polar opposites. Our hair wasn’t even the same shade of red.

  Even at forty-one she was still beautiful; at forty I was pretty sure I was going to look like skin sagging off a stick. But not my mother. She was several inches shorter than I was, petite but not without curves, her breasts were full and her stomach flat.

  Her deep red hair hung halfway down her back in soft waves, her pretty green eyes still sparkled with a youthful vitality, and her skin, although freckled, was a shimmering sort of pale, not the sickly sort. Like me.

  “I’m sorry I woke you,” I said quietly.

  “No, baby, I was already up and about to get in the shower when I heard you yell. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” I said quickly. “I’m fine.”

  She took a step inside the kitchen and folded her arms under her breasts. “Tegen, I may not remember everything, but I still know when my own daughter is lying to me. I already knew something was up when it was Eva and Kami bringing me back my car last night. And then I get a phone call from you from Cage’s phone telling me you’re at Cage’s house and you need to get picked up. Not only that, I am well aware of what a woman looks like after she’s had sex, which is exactly how you looked when I picked you up from Cage’s house. Now, you have one of two choices; you can tell me what’s wrong or you can keep lying to your mother.”

  Oh. Well. Now that sounded exactly like my mother. My mother who, memory problems or not, I absolutely did not want to discuss my sex life with. Hell to the no.

  “You seem good,” I said, hoping to build a bridge over last night’s ocean full of confusion and regret, and head immediately for dry land. “No more nightmares?”

  “Have it your way,” she said, sighing. “I’m going to shower then, I guess.”

  As she began to turn, she paused. “You know, baby, I might be older than you, but I still know what pain is. I only wanted to help.”

  I swallowed hard. Of course she knew what pain was. She’d had nothing but pain, and why would I want to contribute more to the ungodly amounts already weighing her down?

  “Mom, I—”

  The sharp chime of the doorbell cut me off.

/>   Glancing to her right, my mother pursed her lips. “It’s too early for—”

  “D! ANSWER THIS MOTHERFUCKING DOOR!”

  At the sound of Jase’s voice, my mother turned an unhealthy shade of pale.

  The doorbell chimed again, one, two, three times. This was followed by a demanding series of what sounded like someone trying to beat a door down with their fists.

  I closed my eyes. Without fail, Jase loved making my visits home even more miserable.

  “DOROTHY!”

  “He sounds drunk again,” she whispered, staring down the hallway, her expression one of sheer terror. “Last time he showed up here drunk, he tried to kiss me.”

  WHAT? Oh, hell no.

  “Go in the back,” I said firmly, quickly crossing the kitchen, grabbing her car keys off the counter as I passed by her. “I’ll get rid of him.”

  “Tegen!” she cried, grabbing my arm. “You know he gets violent when he drinks!”

  “Fuck that,” I said, shaking her off. “He’s gonna get a foot to the dick if he tries anything.”

  Shoving her car keys in the front pocket of my jeans, I grabbed the doorknob and waited for it. The second Jase started pounding again, I quickly flipped the lock and threw open the door. I ducked Jase’s fist and went barreling into his midsection. Caught off guard, he stumbled backward.

  “Fuck!” he bellowed, grabbing for the railing before he went tumbling down the stairs.

  “Lock this!” I shouted as I turned to pull the front door closed.

  “D!” Jase yelled, having pulled himself back to standing and lunging for the door. I jumped in front of him and grabbed a handful of his shirt. “Stop!” I yelled. “Stop it right now!”

  Jase blinked down at me through bloodshot brown eyes ringed in dark circles.

  “Tegen?”

  Duh.

  “Yes, Jason,” I bit out. “Now, turn your drunk ass around and let’s get in the car.”

  “What?” He blinked again, looking confused.

  “The car!” I yelled, pointing to my mother’s four-door sedan in the driveway. “Get in the damn car! I’m taking you home!”

  “I need to see D first,” he slurred, slapping at my arm, trying to pull free.

  “Jason!” I screamed. “You will either get in the car or I will go inside, get a baseball bat, and use it to beat the shit out of your motherfucking Harley!”

  “Tegen,” he said hoarsely, and his eyes began to fill. “Please, please let me see her.”

  Shit.

  It was one thing to see a grown man cry, but it was another thing to watch a six-foot-plus, two-hundred-and-thirty-pound man covered head to toe in leather break down in front of you.

  Still holding his shirt, with my free hand I reached up and slapped him across the face.

  “How many bikers am I going to have to slap this weekend?” I yelled. “Get your shit together! Do you really think she wants to see you like this? No! She doesn’t. You look like fucking shit, you smell like fucking shit, and you’re a babbling, crying mess! Nobody wants to see you like this! Now, get in the car before I call Deuce and he makes you sit in the corner for acting like a douchebag!”

  Jase’s mouth flattened. “Don’t call him.”

  “I will,” I said, releasing him with a small shove. “If you don’t walk your ass off this porch and get IN THE MOTHERFUCKING CAR!”

  Jase lost his balance and his boot slid backward off the top step. Any other time, under any other circumstances, I would have found humor in watching Jase fall off a three-step porch and land on his ass. But this was just sad.

  “I’m fine,” he said, struggling to get to his feet.

  “Great,” I muttered, grabbing his arm. “I can rest easy tonight.”

  Once I had him buckled into the passenger seat, I glanced back at the condo and found my mother standing at the window, staring at Jase, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  What a fucking mess.

  • • •

  “Where the fuck is the Patrón?” Cage demanded from behind the bar.

  Cox, who was seated opposite him, jerked his thumb over at Blue. “Wake the fuck up, you old drunk!” he yelled. “You’re sleepin’ on top of the Patrón!”

  Blue cracked an eyelid and gave Cox a toothless grin. “Get outta my face, ya fuckin’ crazy little spic,” he slurred. “This baby’s mine.” Then the old bastard fell promptly back to sleep.

  Cage remembered his father saying once, a long time ago, that Blue had been around seventy-five, but that he wasn’t really sure and could very well have been eighty-five or ninety-five, for all he knew. Which, if that were true, Blue could be well over a hundred now and looked it. Still drank like a damn fish, though.

  “Fuck,” Cage muttered as he headed back around the bar and took a seat on the stool beside Cox. Pulling a pack of smokes out of his cut, he shook several out and offered one to Cox.

  Accepting, the man nodded his thanks and lit it up.

  “So, you gonna spill?” Cox asked after blowing out a ring of smoke.

  Cage glanced at him. “Spill what?”

  “Brother, you took off gunnin’ after the hippie bitch last night and ain’t never came back. I ain’t stupid, so fuckin’ spill. I ain’t gotten ass in almost two months. Gotta live vicariously through my brothers.”

  Cage made a face. “You and Kami? Fuckin’ seriously, dude? Since when aren’t you two maulin’ each other like pit bulls in heat?”

  “She wants another kid,” Cox muttered and Cage raised his eyebrows.

  What was with all these old fuckers wanting more kids lately? Eva and Kami were nearing forty. But seeing as Eva was pregnant, it made sense that Kami would want to be pregnant too. Whatever those two did, they always did it together.

  “I got three damn kids already,” Cox continued, “and I ain’t wantin’ no more. So she cut me off. Says I ain’t gettin’ pussy until I agree to shoot her up. And my little dudes ain’t gettin’ near that hungry-ass pussy of hers, not until she stops actin’ crazy. So, motherfuckin’ spill.”

  Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, Cage stubbed out his smoke on the counter ashtray. “I fucked her. The end.”

  Cox gaped at him. “The fuckin’ end? Seriously, brother? No fuckin’ details?”

  Cage glared at him. “What the fuck kinda details you lookin’ for? Dude, you’re old enough to be her fuckin’ dad, you’ve been knowin’ her since she was just a little kid, and you really want to be hearin’ about her pussy?”

  Cox stared at him, unfazed.

  “This is Tegen we’re talkin’ about,” Cage continued, starting to feel his temper rise. “Tegen? D’s little girl? Am I hittin’ a nerve yet, fucker?”

  Cox lifted his shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “I get what you’re sayin’, brother, but look at it from my point of view. True, I watched that crazy-haired, shit-talkin’ little fucker grow up, then she took off for college and when she showed back up, she looked nothin’ like she used to. So from where I’m standin’, that ain’t Tegen, not our Tegen, that’s a hot piece of ass.”

  Cage’s already rising temper flared to life and his arm shot out. Gripping Cox’s shirt collar, he pulled them nose to nose. “My hot piece of ass,” he growled. “Which you do not fuckin’ talk about.”

  Cage froze. What?

  What the fuck?

  Why the fuck…

  Where in motherfucking-shit-fucking-hell-fucking bullshit had that come from?

  Cox started laughing and Cage abruptly released him.

  Forget that he’d called her “his,” he’d actually gotten upset to the point he’d just nearly knocked Cox out for talking about her like she was a club whore when in reality she’d treated him like the whore.

  Suddenly, Cage was feeling things he wasn’t used to feeling. He was pissed, yeah. He felt kind of slighted too, and most definitely annoyed. But…

  Disappointment. Yeah, when it came to women that was a new one.

  Inadequacy. Fuck him. Had he been
horrible? Had she not been as into him as he’d been to her?

  And…jealousy.

  Did she have someone else in Cali? Had she taken off because she’d felt guilty?

  Suddenly he was hoping like hell she had someone back home. Because that meant it hadn’t been him that ran her off and…

  FUCK.

  No, no, he was getting pissed off again thinking about her going home to…who? Her boyfriend? He wracked his brain, trying to think if he’d heard Eva or Danny mention a boyfriend and, shit, he didn’t know, he didn’t pay attention to that shit.

  The sound of Cox’s hysterical laughter brought him up short.

  “Dude,” Cox choked out, clutching his stomach. “Ripper said once you were hard up for that little shit and I didn’t fuckin’ believe him, but holy Mary, Mother of God, you are! Straight up! You should see the look on your face!”

  Cage was considering knocking him out when out of nowhere a hand slammed down on the counter between them and they both glanced up to find Deuce glaring down at them.

  “That little shit you’re talkin’ about,” Deuce growled, “is at the fuckin’ gate.”

  Both Cage and Cox glanced over at the security monitor and sure enough, there was Tegen’s angry face on the screen. It was obvious she was yelling but since the sound button wasn’t being pressed, nobody could hear what she was saying.

  “Jase is with her,” Deuce continued, pointing. He sure was. Slumped face forward into the dashboard and all.

  “I ain’t gettin’ him,” Cox said. “That motherfucker is heavy.”

  “What fuckin’ good are you,” Deuce demanded. “You sit around, drink my fuckin’ booze, eat my fuckin’ food, you’re always talkin’ about Kami this and Kami that, and makin’ my fuckin’ head hurt.”

  Cage didn’t hear the rest, he was already out the front door, headed for the gate.

  The moment she saw him, Tegen jumped out of Dorothy’s car. “Get this motherfucker out of my mom’s car!” she screamed. “He’s already puked twice and I can’t be certain but he might have shit himself too!”

  “Calm the fuck down!” he shouted back as he punched in the sequence of numbers that would open the gate.