Page 29 of The Loves We Lost

“Yo, Bates,” Niro says as he walks into the clubhouse and finds me leaning against the bar. “There’s a woman outside, says her name’s Viola.”

I’m half drunk, but the mention of her name cuts straight through it. “She’s here?”

Niro looks around the bar, then leans closer to me. “Erm ... you need to know she’s got a kid with her.”

I blow my breath into my hand. It stinks of all the whiskey Noah’s served up. I’m tugging a piece of gum out of my cut before I realize what he said. “She’s got a kid with her?”

“Yeah. Pretty, like you. Blonde, like you. With blue eyes like yours. And a fucking dimple, just like this one.” He pokes his fingertip into the side of my cheek, and I smack it away.

“Stop fucking with me,” I say on a breath when I realize this is just one of those not-funny stunts Niro plays.

“Not fucking with you,” he says. And he’s serious. I can tell.

“You got five minutes to stop all the brothers currently fucking club girls in the bar and doing shit they shouldn’t be doing so I can get them to my room. Can’t just bring a kid through this.” I jog to the front of the club. There’s a silver sedanbetween the first set of gates and the second. They’re security measures Spark installed. And sure enough, standing next to the car, there’s a little girl holding Viola’s hand.

The air gets sucked out of my lungs.

I simply stop. I don’t give the instruction to open the inner gates. I don’t take a step closer. I don’t greet her at all.

Nothing.

“Is this the man we came to see, Momma?”

Viola runs a hand through hair that’s just like mine. Not quite waves, not quite curls. The kid’s wearing pajama shorts and a T-shirt and holding a stuffed dinosaur.

“Can we talk?” Viola asks.

I still can’t move. “Who’s that?”

“It’s Avery. Avery, this is Miles.” There’s a quaver to her voice.

Shit, there’s one in my voice, because I feel like this is my fucking daughter. One I never knew I had. One who looks just like me, even in the way she tilts her head while waiting for me to say something.

And all I can think is this shouldn’t be the way I meet her, sandwiched between two metal security fences while I stink of booze.

“Open the gate,” I say to the prospect manning it without even looking at him. Because I can’t take my eyes off the two people in front of me. And while I am going to punish the shit out of Viola for whatever clusterfuck this is, I can’t deny an almost-primal beat within my chest that they are both mine.

“Hey,” I say. Utterly uninspiring.

“Hey, Mr. Miles,” she says.

I walk toward the two of them, biting back the urge to stretch my hand between the gate, just to touch her. As I do, a van careens up the street. One of the best things about our clublocation is that a van can’t just appear out of nowhere. So I know before they get to us that it’s trouble.

“Open the gate,” I shout to the prospect. “Open the fucking gate.”

I reach for my weapon and fire off a shot into the air. It’s not unusual to hear gunshots around the clubhouse, but there’s always a couple of nosy fuckers within the clubhouse who take a look at what’s going on. And I’m relieved it’s Halo.

“Vi, get down behind the car,” I yell. “We got trouble.”

For a heartbeat she looks stricken, but then I see her grab Avery in front of her and put Avery between her and the car. She covers Avery’s ears as one of the new prospects fucks around with the keys.

I shove him out of the way and take the keys from him. With sure hands, I force it into the lock, my eyes on the van whose side door is opening.

Please don’t let it be semi-automatics.

“Get Niro,” I shout.

“Miles?” Viola shouts. It’s a plea and a question and a fucking arrow through my racing heart.