Chapter Nine Wildcard

CHAPTER NINE: WILDCARD

I feel a twinge of guilt at the horror on Brigit's face. I probably shouldn't have dropped that bombshell on Brigit the way I did, but I have to get her to stop fighting me about going to the clubhouse.

"He thought you sold me? Why would he think that?"

"Like I said, he was working off some bad information. Someone visited him in prison and told him I was involved in human trafficking."

"But he knew you. He trusted you? Why would he believe such a lie?"

I shrug. "Prison changes people. I can't imagine the toll it takes on those inside. He was alone and probably scared. I know I would be. He knows the truth now, and I know he wants to see you."

"He's okay? He isn't hurt?"

I try hard not to wince. I don't know for certain if he's okay or not. Fuck. I should have thought this through before I mentioned him. "He's fine and feels guilty for shooting me. Why don't you take a shower and get dressed? I can order room service for breakfast. How does that sound?"

Brigit bites her bottom lip, but then nods. "On one condition. If I don't feel safe at the clubhouse, I'm coming back here."

"Agreed."

I use the in-room phone to call in our order. French Toast for Brigit and me. Chocolate chip pancakes for Colt. When I know Brigit is in the shower, I pull out my cell phone. Stepping into the living area, I call Puma.

"I hear congratulations are in order," Puma says instead of a greeting. "It's a boy!"

"You fucker, how did you find out?"

"Trouble told me when he called earlier. He was in the hotel when Brigit checked in. Said the little boy with her was the spitting image of you."

I chuckle. "He's not wrong. It was like looking at photographs of me at his age."

"Did she say why she didn't tell you that you had a kid?" I can hear the concern in Puma's voice. He'd only recently discovered that he had a son, Mal. Mal's mother had tried to contact Puma about his impending fatherhood, but Puma's former agent kept that from happening.

"She did. I'm not happy, but I understand her point of view. When I left her in Boston, I told her not to call me unless it was an emergency. She knew she was in danger from Squiggy and didn't want to expose our son to danger. I should have reached out to her after Squiggy died. So I'll take the blame for not making it easy for her to tell me."

Puma's silent for several minutes before he grunts in agreement. "I can understand that. Squiggy was a piece of shit. He ruined fuck too many lives. So, do we get to meet your son? What's his name?"

"Colt," I reply with a smile. "I've talked Brigit into going back with me to the clubhouse, but she has concerns. Not surprising since she saw Preacher shoot me. Speaking of which, I told her that Preacher was at the clubhouse. He's still in one piece, right?"

"Yeah. Chill wanted to work him over, but I told her to wait. He's still in the cell waiting for me to decide what to do with him."

"Any thoughts?"

"He's earned the brand."

"Would he survive it? He's kind of old."

"I could have lost my VP and my best friend. The brand is non-negotiable."

I swallow at the intensity in Puma's words. I may have been the one to bring Puma into the clubhouse, but he's the one who turned the club around. He's my President, and I'd die for him. So, I won't question his decision. Somehow, I'll have to make Brigit understand. "I promised Brigit she'd see him."

"I can make that happen. He'll be under house arrest. When are you coming back?"

"We're having breakfast first. So, probably in an hour." I end the call and breathe out a sigh of relief.

A sound behind me catches my attention. I turn to see Colt standing behind me. He's wearing Spiderman pajamas. His intense stare has me worried.

"Good morning, Colt."

"Good morning. Did you spend the night?"

"I did. Is that a problem?"

"Where did you sleep?"

"Umm…" I say, trying desperately to hide my panic. What the fuck do I tell him? I guess I could lie and tell him I slept on the couch, but do I really want to start our relationship with me lying to him? So instead, I chicken out and avoid the question. "Do you like pancakes?"

He nods enthusiastically. "They're my favorite. Especially chocolate chip pancakes."

"Good! Because I ordered you some. How about you get dressed and by the time you finish, they should be here?"

"Okay!" Colt runs back into his room. Now I just have to hope that they deliver breakfast before he returns. I don't want him to lose trust in my word. Fuck, this parenting thing is hard. I've watched Puma take to it like a pro, but I'm definitely out of my depth.

The sound of little feet pounding in my direction makes my heart sink. Luckily, a knock on the door saves me. Opening, I find a server waiting with a cart carrying three covered plates and three carafes. Swinging the door wide, I let her inside and plan out the massive tip I'll give her.

"Hi, Wildcard, didn't expect to see you here. Is everything okay?"

I'd been so focused on the delivery that I hadn't been paying attention to who was behind the cart. "Morgan! Sorry, I have a little boy who is hungry for pancakes."

"Pancakes!" Colt squeals as he runs into the room, making Morgan and I laugh.

She grins at him, frowns, and then looks at me. "Wildcard…"

"I'll take it from here," I say, cutting her off and sending her a meaningful look.

She nods and switches her attention to Colt as she helps him locate the plate with his pancakes. Brigit enters as Colt slides into his chair. "Morning, momma! Look at this! Wildcard got me pancakes. With chocolate chips!"

"I see that. Did you say thank you?" Brigit says, giving me a grin.

"Thank you, Wildcard," Colt says just before he shoves a huge forkful of pancakes into his mouth.

"Will that be all?" Morgan asks as I pull out a chair for Brigit.

"Yes, thanks Morgan. Morgan, this is Brigit, Colt's mom."

The two women smile at each other before Morgan takes the check from me and leaves the suite.

"Can we go swimming after breakfast?" Colt asks.

Although I need to say no, I struggle to do so. I don't want to disappoint him. Brigit must see me struggle, because she takes control.

"Maybe later. We need to go with Wildcard back to his home and meet with some of his friends."

"Okay, but later?"

"You bet," I chime in. "We could come back here or you could go swimming at a friend's house with the other kids."

This catches Colt's attention. "What other kids?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" I tease him. "I live in a place with four other kids. They're all about your age. We have a jungle gym outside and a huge entertainment center inside. We're building a pool, too, but in the meantime, we know someone who loves having all the kids over to swim."

"Why do you live with kids? Are they yours?"

I chuckle. "No. They aren't mine. I live in the clubhouse. They live there, too. With their parents."

"Wildcard is the Vice President of a motorcycle club," Brigit explains. "Their club owns this hotel."

"You ride a motorcycle?"

"I do."

"Could you take me for a ride?"

"That'll be up to your mom. She'll want to make sure you're safe. So we'll have to follow her instructions."

Colt looks at his mom and then back at me. "We'll need helmets and pads for our knees and elbows. Can't go too fast. We'll need to look both ways and be on the lookout for cars."

"That's right," Brigit says. "However, a motorcycle is a little more dangerous than a bicycle. Maybe Wildcard can give you a ride around the clubhouse parking lot at first instead of out in the street?"

"I think we can arrange that," I agree, giving Brigit a grin. My heart swells at the thought of taking Colt on a ride on my bike. Being able to share that experience with my son sounds amazing. "You're a pretty smart kid. How did you get to be so smart? School?"

"Mom says I'm smart like my daddy," Colt replies.

That statement puts me on my ass. It may have been a simple comment, but the emotions ravaging through me are, in no means, simple. They're more powerful than a freight train hurtling down the tracks at top speed. I have to blink to keep the tears at bay. When I glance at Brigit, I see that she's watching me.

"Colt? Remember when I told you that your daddy couldn't be with us in Boston because he had other commitments?"

"And that we couldn't live with him because of ‘reasons?'" I chuckle when he includes the air quotes. "Grown-up reasons you would explain to me later. Which is totally unfair, by the way, I'm almost six."

I chuckle at his indignation while Brigit grins.

"You are almost six, which is why I think it is time you met your father." She gestures toward me. Colt frowns at her, but I watch as he figures out her meaning. His eyes widen as his bottom lip trembles.

"You're my dad?"

"I am. Is that okay with you?"

Colt slides out of his chair and rushes to my side. Lifting him up, he wraps his arms around my neck and squeezes tight. The feel of my son in my arms makes it impossible for me to fight back the tears.