Sweet Dreams
Page 85

“I got shit goin’ down in my life. I needed to be in my truck, on the trail of a murderer at the same time not seein’ to that shit and hemorrhaging more money seein’ as I was workin’ that on my own time and my own f**kin’ dime like I needed a f**kin’ hole in my head. You were a distraction.”
Here it was.
This was the shit going down in his life. This had something to do with why that night in the hotel, that night the day before he met me, was the night it finally ended between these two.
Jonas. Tate’s ten year old boy. A son he never, not once, mentioned.
A son, it was likely Neeta was right, no judge would give to a bounty hunter who was home two days a month.
Unless he had someone in his home to help out. Say, a high-class, good girl who was smart, worked hard and grew up on a farm. A woman he ran into the day after whatever happened, happened.
I took a step back and noticed Wood make a slight movement. My eyes slid to him and I saw he wasn’t watching Tate and Neeta. He was watching me and he was doing it closely.
“Right,” Tate bit out and my gaze went back to him. “And do you think any judge is gonna think that what I can give him here isn’t better than stayin’ with you, a woman with a record and a husband with no f**kin’ job who drinks himself sick every night? You promised you’d leave that f**kwad and get my boy outta that mess you call a home. You didn’t. I told you, you didn’t, I’d get him out. And, make no mistake, Neeta,” he got closer to her face, “I’ll stop at f**kin’ nothin’ to get Jonas out.”
“I’ll fight you ‘til I’m dead, Tate,” she retorted then her eyes slid to me as her arm lifted and she pointed at me. “No way I’m gonna let your whore raise my kid.”
Tate’s hand shot out and his fingers wrapped around her wrist, twisting it behind her back as she emitted a small cry. I did too just because I was surprised at the vicious way he handled her. But Tate didn’t hesitate. He stepped back, turned, moving her with him and pushed her off. She went back two feet and righted herself.
“Perfect, Tate, thanks,” she snapped acidly. “Got witnesses to that tender act from my kid’s Dad.”
“Get in your car and go,” Tate clipped, holding his body completely still.
“You carry on like this, with her, we’ll be free and clear for Blake to adopt the kid and you’ll never see him again,” she threatened.
“Get in your car and go,” Tate repeated.
She ignored him. “I’ll parade all your trash for the court.” Her eyes came to me. “You aren’t the first, darlin’, and, trust me, you won’t be the last.”
“Go,” Tate growled, “now.”
She looked at Tate and hissed, “Trash.”
“Yeah,” he replied, still growling. “I’ve f**ked trash. Gotta tell you, Neet, after all those years f**kin’ you, you cannot imagine how good it feels to thrust my c**k into somethin’ sweet and clean.”
I pulled in both my lips and bit them, my eyes going to Wood. His eyes were fastened to the show that was happening not three feet in front of him.
Neeta glared at Tate and Tate’s back was to me but I suspected he held her glare. Then her eyes went to Wood.
“He’s talkin’ to your sister, you got nothin’ to say?” she snapped.
“Kills me,” Wood whispered and I felt my heart stutter because the tone of those two words elegantly underlined that what he was going to say next did, in a way, kill him. “But I know, I’ve known for a long time but with this f**kin’ mess you orchestrated tonight, Neet, I know nothin’s changed.”
“What?” she hissed.
“You,” Wood replied then he was whispering again, “Jonas? Neeta, seriously?”
“I’ll not –” she started.
“Keep custody, you keep actin’ like a goddamned lunatic,” Wood cut in. “And, I gotta say, Neet, I f**kin’ hope you don’t. I just hope you and Blake haven’t f**ked that kid up so much he ends up like one of you.”
“You ass**le,” she whispered.
Wood looked at Tate.
Then he stated firmly, “Anything you need, man. Anything you f**kin’ need.”
Then he turned, walked right to me, lifted a hand and curled it around the side of my neck. His fingers squeezed while his eyes searched mine in a way I thought he was communicating something but I was too stunned by what had happened, what I’d learned, to understand what it might mean. He gave my neck another squeeze, released me and walked down the deck, right by Neeta and Tate and right to his bike. He got on, started it up and roared down the drive.
When he turned into the road, I heard Neeta warn, “You just bought the fight of your life.”
My eyes went back to her to see she was glaring up at Tate. He didn’t move but I heard him sigh. It was deep and it was heavy and I knew exactly what it communicated. He was done. He was angry. He was over this. And he was going to take her on, no matter what she brought.
Not getting a reaction, she tore her eyes from Tate and they cut to me.
“Watch your back, bitch,” she snapped, turned and ran gracefully on her flip flops to her convertible. She started it up with an alarming rev of her engine, backed out and sped down the drive so fast, gravel flew.
My body had turned to watch her go. I was so intent on doing this, I jumped when I felt Tate’s hand settle on the space where my neck hit my shoulder.
“Baby,” he whispered and my eyes moved to him.
God, he was beautiful.
He was also a liar, a playing, hideous liar.
I swallowed then jerked away from his hold, turned and ran to the sliding glass door. I tugged it open, ran inside and down the hall, straight to his room. I flipped on the light switch then ran to the closet and flipped on the light switch there. I was on my knees, zipping one of my suitcases closed when Tate was there.
“What are you doing?” he asked and I looked up briefly to see him standing at the doorway, then I looked back down at my case.
“Leaving,” I whispered.
“Laurie,” he said quietly and my head jerked back and I glared at him.
“Fuck you!” I shouted, surged up and took two wide steps toward him, planted my hands in his chest and shoved. He went back on a foot, his fingers wrapped around both of my wrists and held strong. “Fuck you!” I repeated.
“Ace, calm down.” He was still talking quietly.