“Sandy Rucker is here to see you regarding an important matter.”
“Were my instructions not clear to you?” I ask between clenched teeth.
“Ms. Rucker refuses to leave without personally delivering,” Peggy clears her throat, “a package she says belongs to you.”
I rub my temples, quickly losing my patience. “Send her in.”
The woman trudges into my office, lugging a fussy baby in a car seat. The overwhelming stench of cheap perfume and alcohol assail my nostrils. Bloodshot eyes regard me from a haggard face caked in heavy makeup. Her black hair resembles a bird’s nest, and she’s dressed like she spent the night on a street corner bartering her carnal services.
“Can I help you?”
“This is Hunter, your son,” she says in a voice raspy from years of smoking cigarettes.
“Excuse me?”
“My daughter, the fucking tart, disappeared yesterday.” She drops the car seat on my desk. “I didn’t raise my own damn brat, so I sure as hell ain’t taking care of this one. That’s your job, Daddy.”
“You have the wrong man.”
“Does the name Lauren Halstead ring a bell?”
“She told me her mother died.”
“That’s no surprise. The selfish bitch and me never got along.”
I study the wiggling infant. He has my tawny blond hair and amber eye color. Doesn’t mean I’m his father, but there’s a small chance I could be. Recanalization can happen years after a vasectomy, though it’s rare.
“Lauren’s ploy was to use Hunter as her meal ticket, but she found some old rich fart to swindle and jumped ship.”
“Any idea where she is?”
“Nope. I have to get going, so adios.”
“Who’s the man she ran off with?”
“Not a clue. Have a nice life.” She rushes from the room.
Peggy steps in the doorway, an apprehensive expression mars her features. “Pepper Bryant is here.”
“Goddamn it!” I shout, startling Hunter, who begins to cry. “Shit. Stay here and watch the baby.”
I stalk from my office and round the corner. Pepper waits by Peggy’s station. Eyes, puffy from crying, stare at me. Unruly curls frame her angelic face. An oversized T-shirt covered in stains and sweatpants hide her lush curves. Dirty white house slippers don her feet. It’s plain to see she hasn’t showered, but fuck, she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
“I need to talk to you.”
I pull her into the nearest empty room. “You have two minutes.”
“Do I mean anything to you?”
“No. Your novelty is gone.”
“You’re lying.” Tears stream down her smooth face.
“You were a challenge,” I say snidely. “A gullible church girl with daddy issues to corrupt.”
“No!” Pepper wails. “You don’t mean that!”
