Page 37

Reaper

It had been three days since I kissed her and I was still sleeping on the fucking couch. The bed she ordered arrived, just like she said it would, but like I promised, I refused to sleep on the damn thing.

No matter how inviting it looked.

Neither one of us talked about what we said that day. There really wasn’t much to say. She was right and she knew I was, too. It was a stalemate and neither one of us was willing to give in.

Walking toward the clubhouse, Matrix shouted from the backdoor, “Reaper, Axel’s arrived.”

Nodding, I headed around the side of the clubhouse to find Massacre, Player, and Catarina greeting Axel and his mother, Maria. Along with someone else that I didn’t know.

“Reaper.” Massacre smiled happily as he waved me over. “Come meet my aunt Maria.”

Extending my hand, I smiled at the woman. “Welcome to the Golden Skulls. I’m Reaper. It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

The older woman smiled.

“Please call me Maria. I want to thank you for inviting me to live here with you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” I stated as Axel reached for me, pulling me into a big hug.

“Fuck, man, I thought I’d never see you again.”

Slapping my brother on his back, I replied, “Gonna take a lot more to kill me. So, who else did you bring?”

Axel groaned. “My little brother, Romeo.”

“He doesn’t look little to me,” I said, eying the six foot five wall of muscle as Massacre and Player stood next to the man, talking animatedly.

“Don’t let his size fool you. Little shit is barely seventeen.”

“That’s seventeen?!” I shouted, pointing at the kid.

“Mom fed him well,” Axel snarked as his kid brother grinned like a loon. “Stop smiling and go get Mom’s bags.”

I stood there while the kid happily walked off, doing as he was told.

“Axel,” his mother said, getting his attention. “Where is the kitchen? I want to get started on dinner.”

“Mom, you just got here. You can see the kitchen later.”

The small woman snarled as she craned her neck to look up at her son. Axel gulped, quickly taking a step back while Catarina laughed, before walking over and linking her arm with Maria’s. “Let me show you, Aunt Maria. It’s beautiful. The boys made sure we had all the bells and whistles. I got everything you asked for and then some. I thought we could spend the day together like we used to. Just you and me in the kitchen.”

“I would love that.” The woman grinned as they both walked off.

“She just got here,” I muttered. “She knows she doesn’t have to cook, right?”

“I ain’t telling her that,” Axel whispered.

“Me either,” Massacre murmured.

“Mom loves being in the kitchen. It’s her favorite place. The more people to feed, the happier she is. So, where can I put her things?” Romeo asked.

“Follow me, Rome,” Player groaned. “And when you’re done unloading the U-Haul, you and I are going to talk about school.”

“But I want to join the club like George.”

“His name is Axel, and no prospecting for the club until I see a fucking college diploma.”

“College diploma!” Axel shouted then groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fucking idiot is dumber than a box of rocks. Who am I kidding? Rome will barely graduate high school.”

Smirking, I side-eyed Mass and said, “So he’s Massacre, then.”

“HEY!” the big goof protested while Axel and I both laughed.

Leaving Massacre and Player to get their family settled, I headed back to the house to let Remi know that Maria had arrived, so she could go introduce herself. As my wife, she should have been there beside me to greet her, but considering everything going on, I didn’t bring it up.

I was already in enough hot water.

No sense in adding another boiling pot.

Walking inside, I shouted, “Remi?”

“What?” my woman snarked as she walked down the stairs with a full laundry basket in her arms. Looking around, I didn’t spot the kids. Shouldn’t they be here helping their mother?

“Maria Simmonetti arrived along with her son, Romeo.”

“I’ll head over in a minute,” she said, walking past me toward the laundry room.

“Where are the brats?”

“Emma and Jesse are out getting school supplies with Daphne.”

Shit, that’s right. School was starting up again soon.

Rubbing the back of my neck, I asked, “Do you need help?”

She stopped and faced me. “Excuse me?”

“Do you need help?”

“You want to help me do laundry?”

Well, now that she said it that way, I wasn’t so sure anymore, but since I offered, I nodded. “Yeah.”

My woman walked over to me and thrust the full basket into my arms. “Have at it.”

Looking at the basket in my hands then back at her as she headed for the door, I asked, “You’re just gonna leave me with this shit?”

“You said you wanted to help.”

“But...”

“No buts, Max, and don’t forget to separate the colors. Your daughter is very picky about her clothes.”

“Wait a damn minute,” I shouted. “This is Emma’s basket?!”

“Welcome to fatherhood!” My wife laughed as she marched her ass out of the house.

“Dude, she is going to kill you.”

“How much detergent did you put in the washer?” Phantom asked, shaking her head.

“I don’t fucking know. I just poured until I saw bubbles,” I explained, standing in three feet of soapy bubbles.

I was a dead man.

“There.” Massacre grinned. “Machine’s unplugged. However, I think you’re gonna need a new one. The motor is toast.”

“Great,” I moaned, looking at the mess.

How in the hell was I going to explain this to Remi?

Bullseye walked over and opened the lid and looked inside the washer. “Yo, dumbass, I think you have bigger problems than a new washer.”

“What? Why?”

“Whose clothes are these?”

“Emma’s.”

Bullseye carefully closed the lid and said, “Didn’t Remi tell you to separate the clothes?”

“I did. The whites are over there,” I pointed to another basket that hadn’t been washed yet.

“He didn’t,” Phantom gasped, rushing over to the washing machine, before throwing the lid open to look for herself.

Bullseye grinned. “He did.”

“He did what?” Her voice echoed all around as I slowly turned to find my wife glaring at me while she took in the sight of her once clean house. Next to her was our daughter, Emma, pale as she gaped at the sight before her.

Yeah, I never claimed to be Suzie Homemaker. Hell, I did good most days to put on a clean shirt, but the other stuff like cooking, cleaning, and laundry, I could admit I had no clue.

Instead of yelling, my wife walked right over to me and held out her hand, wiggling her fingers as she stared blankly at me.

Reaching for my wallet, I didn’t think as I handed over my black Amex card, then asked, “How much is this gonna cost me?”

My wife smiled up at me and sweetly said, “Oh, I’m not going to be spending your money. Your teenage daughter is when she learns what you’ve done. She’s gonna have so much fun at the mall when you take her shopping.”

“NO!” Emma screamed bloody murder as she ran to the washing machine, opening the lid. Her wails damn near piercing my ears while her cries of anguish turned to molten lava and she furiously glared at me.

“You washed my clothes!”

Blinking, I backed up as I looked at Remi. “What the hell do you mean when I take her shopping?”

Ignoring me, Remi laughed as she walked over and handed Emma my black Amex card before heading up stairs saying nothing more. Looking around at my brothers and sister, I asked, “What did she mean by that?”

My daughter marched over, grabbed my hand and damn near dragged me out of the house. “Let’s go. I’ve got some shopping to do!”

Two hours later, I sat at the food court in Purgatory Mall, and Emma still hadn’t said two fucking words to me while she thumbed through her phone, sipping a cold coffee. I’d already called the club and told Massacre I needed a few brothers to help with the bags. Fucker only sent the prospect, Specs, who stumbled all over himself, eager to help my daughter.

“Emma, how much longer are we going to be here?”

“I’m not done.”

“What more do you need?”

“Bras, panties—”

Holding up my hand, I stopped her there. “Got it. Do you really need me here for that? Wouldn’t you rather have your mom?”

“She’s not my mom.” Emma huffed as she snapped a picture of herself before typing away on her phone.

Snagging her phone out of her hands, I growled. “What the fuck did you just say?”

My daughter crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. “I said she’s not my fucking mom.”

“Little girl,” I seethed, barely hanging on to my temper. “My woman has given you everything you ever wanted and more. She’s been your champion, your friend, the one person you could count on to be there when I wasn’t around, and you have the fucking nerve to say that shit to me.”

“She should have stayed gone. We were doing fine without her. Because of her, I had to leave my friends and move around all the fucking time. She doesn’t care about us, Dad. She only cares about herself.”

Balling my fist, I took a deep breath.

“Listen very carefully, Emma, because I’m only going to say this shit once. I fucking love you. There ain’t shit I won’t do for you, but if I ever hear you spew that fucking shit again, you won’t like what I do next. And for your fucking information, none of the shit over the last year or so was your mother’s fault. It was all mine. I was the one who fucked up. Not her. She was only trying to protect you and your brother. I get you’re fucking mad, and maybe you have the right to be, but not at her. Never her. I put your mother in an impossible situation, and she did the only thing she knew to do. That’s on me. Not her. You want to be pissed at someone, blame someone, then fucking blame me, because if I ever hear you say that shit to my fucking wife, then I will have your spoiled ass enrolled in the best fucking boarding school abroad before you can fucking blink. Fucking get me?”

Emma gulped and nodded.

“Good. Fucking shopping trip is over. You can make do with what you fucking have. Let’s go.”

Not waiting to see if she followed, I marched my ass out of the fucking mall and prayed I never had to step into this place again.