Page 20

Chapter 19

White on rice

Big Al

“W ant to talk about it?” Maddie asks, voice like smooth silk.

A morose chuckle gets stuck in the back of my throat. Do I want to talk about it?

Fuck. No.

Unfortunately, I can’t bottle it up. No matter how tempting of an approach that may be.

“Um,” I start, my gaze searching for the words in my morning coffee like a dumbass. In my defense, I’ve barely slept over the last forty-eight hours. If my words are anywhere, they’ll be at the bottom of the mug.

Eying me over her avocado toast, Maddie rapidly loses her patience with my lack of a response. Any second, she’ll start pelting me with leading questions in that unobtrusive way of hers.

A lifetime of being around volatile assholes has taught her tact in touchy situations. And a few years with me has given her what I think of as the ability to stop giving a fuck about everyone’s feelings and put herself first.

Exactly as predicted, my inability to speak brings out her gentle cajoling. “It’s got to be quite a shock.”

“That it is, Maddie.”

Yesterday, I learned I had a daughter. A daughter who was trafficked by the Russian fucking mafia as payback against me. The same mafia that took out a hit on me, shooting Maddie in the process.

Shocking is one way to describe things.

She fights off a grin, reaching out to wrap her hand over mine. “Sorry for saying the most obvious thing. I’ll be quiet since I have nothing of value to add.”

“You don’t need to be quiet or have anything profound for me. Just be with me.”

I thread our fingers together, longing for her comforting touch. The stark contrast of our skin tones never fails to capture my attention. Maddie’s an indoor gal, whereas I’ve spent most of my life outside, often in grueling conditions. My hands are proof of the overly physical life I’ve led. She was never a kept woman in the spoiled princess way, but she hasn’t done hard labor. Our hands reflect those differences in blinding color.

“Even still, I wish I had some words of wisdom for you. But all I can think is...”

I eat up the wistful look on her face for a second before prodding her to continue. “Is what?”

“This is your first daughter. Kri doesn’t count, considering she’s tougher than some of your boys.” She giggles to herself. “It’ll be interesting to see how you handle a girly girl. She seems... soft.”

“She does seem soft. But it isn’t weakness.” I shake my head for emphasis. “She’s got grit inside that pretty, polished package.”

She sets down her coffee, leans close, and whispers, “Did you do the thing?”

I crick my head, my eyes raising in question. “The thing?”

She purses her lips at me, and it hits me instantly what she’s getting at. “The brain probe thing,” she confirms my suspicion in that same hushed tone.

Her stifled volume brings an unexpected lightness to my shitty mood. There’s no one at my house but us, yet she’s whispering like we’ll be overheard.

I hide my grin behind my coffee cup. “Very funny.”

She knows I hate it when they call it that. Her daughter started it. At least, I think she did.

Then again, most people probably see it that way. To be honest, I don’t know what it is or why it works. It just does.

“I did,” I finally admit.

“And?” She leans forward, bracing her forearms on the kitchen table. “Is she fooling everyone with her cute little Southern twang and big, beautiful eyes? Or is she as sweet as she seems?”

Having finished my breakfast, I push my plate toward the side and scoot my chair around the table to get closer to her. “Why do I feel like you’re dancing around something?”

The tiny twitch under one eye gives her away.

I rest my hand on the top of her thigh, pulsing it gingerly. “Maddie, talk to me.”

“I was just um... wondering about her mother.” Her gaze falls to the table as if she’s unable to meet my eyes. “Do you remember her?”

Where is she going with this?

“I do.”

Because she knows I’m going to do the brain probe to see what she’s feeling, she freaking closes them. Damn her.

She finally spits it out. “Did you love her? Do you... still?”

My head kicks back at the unexpected question. “She’s dead.”

With her eyes still sealed shut, she replies, “Yes, you mentioned that. However, you also had a certain look in your eyes when you talked about her.”

“Look at me,” I order, my voice a hair above a whisper.

“Do I have to?” she jests, finally giving me a glimpse of her sparkling eyes.

It doesn’t take long for me to see what I need to see. The truth behind her question.

The fear.

“Have I told you today how much I love you?”

She acts affronted, complete with a scoff and eye roll. “This isn’t about me. I know you love me, and against my better wishes, you also know I love you.”

I can’t quash the shit-eating grin at the memory of how she let those three little words slip after she kicked me out of her bedroom window so Leo wouldn’t find me in her bed a few months ago.

I knew she did.

Hearing it, though, meant... everything.

“Then why are you scared?”

She gives her injured shoulder a rub a few inches under the stitched-up wound. “I’m not scared.”

“Then why are you asking about a woman I barely remember from two and a half decades ago?”

Her eyes dart from side to side. “I suppose I just feel like things are changing a bit too fast, which is no one’s fault. Not only were we outed last night, but now you’re a father. For real this time. All of this must be stirring up memories of this woman.”

“And?”

She rolls her shoulders back, confidence making her spine turn to steel. There’s the grizzly again. However, it’s not doing her bidding for the right reasons. It’s helping her fight the wrong thing.

“I worry how it might affect us, and neither of us has had time to process things. If it weren’t dangerous, I’d ask you to give me a few days to myself.”

With eyes bulging, I hold up my hand, prepared to object.

She barrels on, cutting me off at the pass. “I already know better than to ask. After last night, I expect you’ll be on my ass like white on rice.”

“Damn right.” I nibble at the inside of my cheek. “And thank you for not asking for time apart. I can’t give it to you right now.”

Her expression sags. “I don’t mean to make this about me. This is an especially rough time for you.”

She smooths her palm over the table, wiping away the crumbs from her toast and capturing them in her other hand. As she delicately opens her fist over her plate to shake off the dried toast bits, she sighs so loudly that I wonder if she needs painkillers for her shoulder.

“Alan, you also need time to yourself. I want you to have that. And, obviously, you’ll need to spend time with her. So don’t feel bad if you need me to stay with Leo or Sawyer. I’m fine with that. You do what you need to do. Don’t worry about me.”

“What if I want to worry about you?” I ask, intentionally avoiding responding to her suggestion.

If I react right away, it won’t go well.

My instinct is to tell her in no uncertain terms that I’d rather ride a bull with spurs on its saddle than have time without her. That’s ludicrous.

If anything, I need her now more than ever.

As to her point... do I need to do some thinking? Abso-fucking-lutely. Mainly about how to take Lenkov down. And then what to do about Tomer and his fucking deceit.

Yeah, I’ll figure out what to do about Lettie eventually too. She’s not going anywhere. In fact, given she and Tomer reconciled yesterday afternoon, she’ll be moving in with him and hanging around Redleg while he’s working. Since she’s safe, she’s not at the top of my list. And if that makes me an asshole, then so be it.

A man can only handle so many things at once.

I didn’t get to this point by trying to be everything to everyone at once. While there are many burdens on my shoulders, my ability to handle them can only happen if I prioritize and delegate.

Apparently, Maddie isn’t gonna answer. Instead, she grabs her empty plate, places her coffee cup on it, and rises from the table. “Time to get going, yeah? Gonna be a busy day.”