“Why the fuck not?”
“Did your father go after her?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow.
“He tried. He was only seventeen, and it was the eighties. Despite being in the Mob, teenagers didn’t have many resources.”
“I was eighteen. Same shit, different father.”
I’d just taken a sip of my coffee when Morpheus said what could almost pass for a fucking joke. I coughed and sputtered, trying to catch my breath.
“Why did you take off? Who pissed you off?”
I blew out a breath as I debated whether sharing any information with Morpheus, personal or otherwise, was a good idea. “Grace is pregnant.”
“Fuck,” he cursed. “She gonna get an abortion?”
“I asked her to wait a few weeks.”
“What the fuck for?” he snarled. He pulled his phone out and quickly sent a text.
“Because that baby could be mine. And unlike you and fucking Sal, I want my kid.”
Morpheus slammed his hand on the table and clenched his jaw. “I wanted my fucking son.”
“Just not enough to fight for him.”
“You little cocksucker,” he hissed.
I leaned forward, glaring at the bastard in front of me. “You could have taken him. When Moonshine found him in those woods, you could have manned the fuck up and claimed your son. Instead, you fucking hid him.”
“I had no fucking choice!” He slammed his fist on the table again just as the bell over the door jingled, and a deputy walked in. He was big, but he was young. He looked to be around thirty, and his biceps were bursting out of his uniform.
“Good evening, gentlemen.”
I snorted as Morpheus growled. We weren’t gentlemen, and the fucking cop knew it. He looked at my cut and then Morpheus’ and asked, “Where you men from?”
I rolled my eyes, and Morpheus continued to glare at the man.
“Just passing through on our ride, Deputy. Grabbing a bite to eat, and we’ll be on our way.”
The waitress took the opportunity to drop off our plates while the deputy stood at the end of our table. Before she left, she pulled the check out of her pocket, dropping it on the table.
Message fucking received.
“Today’s special looks mighty good. Think I’ll sit over at the counter and have one myself.”
“You do that,” Morpheus snapped.
“Play nice,brother.”
“Fuck you, King.”
I looked up at the deputy. I watched out of the corner of my eye for Morpheus to take a bite of his meatloaf and then said, “You’ll have to excuse my stepfather. My mom pissed him off again.”
Morpheus choked on his food and started coughing as he croaked out, “Asshole.” I grinned at the motherfucker and tore into my plate. We ate our meal in silence, and when I finished, I dropped some money on the table as I stood. Adding a generous tip for scaring the waitress.
Ignoring the deputy, who hadn’t taken his eyes off us, I walked outside, followed by Morpheus. I swung my leg over my bike, and before I had a chance to start it up, Morpheus spoke.
“There is no greater pain than losing a child, King. Whether you give them up willingly, or someone takes them from you. It’s not something you ever recover from. Sometimes letting them go is the only way to save their mother.”
