The Absolution of Aidan (The Syndicate Series Book 3) (7 page)

My brain has shut down. I’m trying to suck in air. My body is starving for it. It all seems to have left this apartment. Fucking hell, a father?

“Aidan.” My name falls softly from her mouth. Jesus. It’s been a year since I’ve seen her beauty, smelled her sweet scent. Heard her tart mouth. And fuck me if the sound of my name coming from her doesn’t sound like the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard
. Focus, you asshole. She just told you you’re a father.

I scratch my head, deep in thought. What the hell do I even say? We study each other for the longest time. Me wondering what to do, how to hold on to what she told me; her more likely freaking the hell out, wondering the very same damn thing.

“I’m not sure what to say to this, Deidre. I don’t want to sound like a jerk, but woman, you have some explaining to do before I can even comprehend this,” I state truthfully. She has to tell me everything.

Her mouth curves into a tight-lipped smile. One I don’t like at all. I’m about to ask her what is wrong when her question sears through my heart.

“I’m surprised you’re not denying he’s yours.” What in the ever-loving fuck?

“I’m not denying shit. I’m confused as fuck. I won’t lie to you about that. We used a condom, every time.” Obviously, she knows we did. She was there. Hot and incredibly perfect.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, big boy.” She looks down at my dick, then back to my face. “Condoms do break, especially when a man has sexy as hell piercings.” Her perfect brows lift as if she’s challenging me to say something smartass right back to her. If this feisty little minx wants to go at it, then game on.

“Are you saying you loved my piercings, Deidre?” Her tanned skin turns a light shade of pink, starting from that sensual neck of hers all the way up to those rosy, little cheeks.

“I…” She pauses.

“You’re what? Tongue-tied? Thinking about my cock? How good it felt brushing up against your tight, little pussy? How my piercings made you come over and over? Is that what you’re trying to say?” I’m trying like hell to keep my voice steady. My dick is straining like a motherfucker to get out, to have her wrap that pouty little mouth around him. Fuck me. How in the hell did we go from us discussing having a son to talking about sex?

“You have got to be the biggest asshole I have ever met.” Ah… here we go. Here comes the spitfire woman I missed. I need to change the subject before I bend her over my couch and remind her exactly what my cock and my piercings can do to her. On top of that, I want to know where she’s been this entire time, and if she knew she was pregnant, why the hell she kept it from me.

“I may be an asshole, Deidre. I’ve said terrible, hurtful, and unforgiveable things to you in the past. One thing I’m not is a man who will accuse a woman like you. Accuse a woman I know to be loyal, confident, and as honest as they come to walk into my home and lie to me.” I’m serious and she knows it. I incline my body toward her. “Now, talk.” I grin at her. She looks so goddamn tense and worried. That pretty little shade of pink is gone. When this conversation is over, I’ll be doing everything I can to make her blush again.

“Thank you,” she says shyly. This woman went from almost killing my mother and fuckhead of a brother to sitting on my couch like a good girl. Which I know firsthand she is not. I don’t mean that in a bad way, either. I mean it in a very good way. She is or was a naughty little thing. I’m glad she still has her mouth and feistiness in her. God, her mouth. My gaze drops down to it, and she sucks in a sharp breath. Yeah, the sexual pull is still very much present between the two of us. Even after all this time. We can talk about her being under me later, because by god, she will be under me. On top of me. Filled with me. And most undeniably begging for me.

“I didn’t know I was pregnant when I left here,” she says quietly. I train my attention to listening to her speak. I don’t understand. Then why? Why would she take off? Was this her way of punishing me for the way I treated her? No fucking way. She’s not the type of woman to run away. She’s tough, controlling, and a pain in my ass. Never would she take off, leaving those she cares about behind. There’s more to this story. A hell of a lot more.

“Why did you leave?” May as well get right to the point. I want to know about our son. I’m still spinning that we have a baby. This is one hell of a day already and it’s not even half over.

“I had a nervous breakdown when I woke up in the hospital.” I can hear the trepidation in her voice. Every word that she speaks next soaks up my aching gut like a dry sponge soaking up water. They strip me. Wreck me and consume me.

Fuck. It hurts when you listen to someone tell you a heartbreaking story. One of strength and determination to fight. To gain control of the shit life throws at you unexpectedly. My chest is splitting in half, hearing Deidre tell me how she broke down. Freaked out and spent months dealing with her attack by a man who is burning in an inferno. I pray to god he burns to ashes every day, the process repeating itself continuously. That man deserves nothing more or nothing less than to suffer eternally. Jesus, if only I could have stopped him from destroying her. From breaking her. God, I will never forgive myself.

As I listen more intently, the darkness pulls me under even further when she brings up how she woke up disoriented, not knowing where she was, her surroundings unfamiliar to her. How the first thing she thought about when she found out she was pregnant was the health of our child.

“Stop.” My one word command makes her jump. I’m so full of fucking guilt, unworthiness, and shame. This woman suffered so much.

“Aidan. What the hell?” I scrub my hands down my face, the overwhelming urge to fucking explode crawling into my skin like fucking poison. I know the situation she’s been through isn’t my fault. But the way I feel can’t be helped.

Contempt. That’s a better word to describe how I feel. For god’s sake.

“I’m so damn sorry, Deidre.” I lean forward even more, hoisting my ass out of the chair. What I need to say to her has to be said where she can see me. I mean really see me up close. It’s the only way I can move forward.

I drop to my knees in front of her. Her hazel eyes go wide. “What on earth?” she says questionably. This knee-jerk reaction to what she told me has me questioning my own sanity at the moment. We study each other. Her most likely freaking out as to why I’m kneeling on the floor in front of her; me, lost in her natural beauty. Her bravery.

Damn, there are no words to define how beautiful she is. Christ. I cannot take my eyes off of her. Deidre La Russo has brought me to my goddamn knees. Her power to possess me with the most prestigious word known to man has rendered me speechless. Beautiful. She is fucking beautiful.

“My god, you are stunning.” I lay my hands on her legs. She tenses underneath my touch. “Are you trying to seduce me?” Well, shit. She sure didn’t lose her snarly, little attitude.

“No,” I shake my head. I carry on with what I now remember I wanted to say. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you that night. I’ve kept it here the entire time.” I lift a hand and point to the center of my chest. “I’ve dreamt about it. Destroyed my self-worth over it. Tried to think what I could have done differently to protect you. I failed and I’m sorry. And the things I said to you the last time we spoke…I have no excuse for it.”

Bringing her hand up to the one on my chest, she places it over the top of mine, our hands now connected over my heart. Her face is within an inch of mine. She throws me one hell of a perfect curled-up smile with those light pink lips of hers.

“I’ve never blamed you. Not once. I felt you. As silly as this may sound, I felt you that night, and I heard you telling me to hang on. To be strong. If you hadn’t been there, I would have given up. I wanted to give up so many times, but I kept repeating the words I heard you say. “Don’t give up, Deidre. Stay strong, baby.” Don’t apologize anymore to me, you’ve done nothing for me to have to forgive you for.”

“God, you’re just as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside,” I stress. She is so undoubtedly unselfish. Never in my lifetime would I have guessed there could possibly be a woman out there for me. Not with how my own mother ran my self-esteem into the ground. This lively, mouthy woman and mother of my son could be that woman. Who the hell knows? A son. We have a son. It hits me finally. Rocks my world in a good way. I have a child.

I sit back on my legs. Her hand falls from my chest. “We have a son?” I speak like I’m finally catching on and I am. Deidre has more to tell me. I sense it. I see it in the way she looks at me. She’s frightened, nervous. I swallow hard. Our internal battles match. Those same sensations are surging through my veins. Hitting every live cell like a wake-up call. I don’t know if there’s more to the past year of her life she wants to tell me. As long as she’s healed, freed from the chains that tore her apart in the first place, I don’t need to know more. If in time she wants to share more factors that took her away, generated her mind to collapse, she can, but right now, my heart is full. I want to know about this little boy. I need to meet him. Be a good parent. Give him love and support. Something I never had and always wanted. Just to be loved. I love him already and I don’t even know him, yet.

This day reminds me of trying to dodge a storm and then fuck out of nowhere, the winds pick up, sending you head first into the side of a brick building, knocking you unconscious. And when you wake, the sky is clear, there are no dark clouds lurking around like my mother and Junior, full of darkness and hatred, ready to strike you like a damn rod of lightning. No worries twisting your insides into a goddamn knot because the woman you saw hurting vanished. Fuck no. I just woke up at the end of the rainbow.

“We do. He’s three months old. His name is Diesel.”

“Diesel?” I let the name roll off of my tongue.

“Yeah,” she replies shyly. “Do you like it?” she requests softly.

“I do. It’s kind of manly and shit. Like my badass Harley or a kick ass engine.” It’s hard for this to sink in. Me being a dad. I vow right then and there before even knowing anything about this young man I helped create, before I even know what he looks like or what kind of man he will grow up to be, I promise him I will always protect him, love him, and make damn sure he is one, if not the greatest accomplishment of my life. I will never walk out on him; not like my mother claims my biological father did once he found out she was pregnant. I will never call him a name, other than the name his beautiful mother gave him. He’s mine to protect. Mine to cherish and mine to make damn sure he grows up to know he was and always will be loved.

“When was he born?” I straighten my body up from the floor and move to sit next to her on the couch. Her floral smell inebriates my senses. She has no idea what kind of gift she has given me. For the first time in my life, I feel needed and wanted. And Christ, he’s too small to know a damn thing, but hell, I even feel loved.

Gliding her dainty hand over the top of her wallet lying next to her, she stills then unzips the small leather compartment, pulling out several pictures.

“He was born on April 3rd. Nine pounds even. He’s a big boy.” Her face softens. She then places a few pictures of him in the palm of my hand. I glimpse down quickly, then close my eyes. These tiny photos are a part of me. A part of her.

When I open them, my hands are shaking. My eyes tear up. I’m staring at the most precious little man with dark hair. At eyes that twinkle. He has his thumb in his mouth in one photo, is propped up on Deidre’s lap; he is naked and on his belly in another, rolls of baby fat or whatever the hell it’s called on display. He looks to be trying as hard as he can to hold his head up. I want to jump in this photo and urge him on. Tell him he can do it. He can do anything if he puts his heart and mind to it.

“I’ve never been a godly man. My childhood was so messed up, but Deidre,” I look up into her wet eyes and see a woman who has given me a blessing, and I speak the god’s honest truth to her. If I sound like a pussy or a man whose raw emotions have surfaced, then so be it. “I believe there is a god up there somewhere. Someone brought this boy into our lives for a reason.” She sniffles, finally giving in to those tears that have glassed over her beautiful eyes, making them look greener than the mixture of multiple colors.

“We created this little guy. He’s perfect,” I say happily. Then she surprises me by reaching up and wiping the single tear that has fallen from my eye with her thumb.

“He’s everything, Aidan. Who knows, maybe someday we’ll know why he was gifted to us. Maybe we’ll never know. All I know is I’m going to be the best mother I can be. Diesel deserves to be loved, by both his parents. I don’t know much about the way you were raised. What I do know is I’ve seen firsthand how you stepped right into the role of protector when you came here to guard me. To me that shows what kind of man you truly are. You’re loyal, faithful, and even though you’re a pain in my ass, you’re going to be a wonderful father.” Her words are full of intense passion. She now has my emotions bouncing all over the place. I’m happy, nervous, excited, scared, and proud all rolled into one chunky little bundle of a baby boy.

“Would you like to meet him?” My eyes widen. My heart leaps somewhere between my chest and my throat. My breathing increases. With eyes misting with water, I train my gaze back down to my son and run my finger across his face in the picture. “I would love to meet him,” I whisper.

DEIDRE

For the first few months of this past year, I lived in a world of depression, overcome by reoccurring nightmares that tormented my mind. The shadows of nightfall would cocoon me in my own little surroundings of the small room I lived in. The walls always caving in, squeezing tightly to the point I could hardly breathe.

All of that changed the very first time I felt my son move inside of me. Even though my doctors tried to reassure me I was getting better every day, proven by the fact that I was no longer afraid to go outside for fear I would be taken, that my mood was no longer somber, my panic and anxiety were no longer overtaking me. All of that may have been true. However, I owe my healing to my son and to this man sitting next to me, trying so hard not to burst out of his skin with the same excitement I did when I first held my newborn son.