Read Online Haunt (Bayonet Scars #6) by JC Emery - Free Book Online

hopeful, desperate plea. The only thing I can compare the pain and want in his voice to is my own when Rig had our son. I’d have given anything, hurt anyone, and made mountains fucking move to get my boy back in my arms. And it’s in this moment that I know we can make this work. He loves our boy—despite all the time that’s passed, he still loves Baby Z.
    I nod, unable to speak, and watch as all six feet and six inches of my man falls to the ground. He hits the cement with his knees and holds his torso up with his bruised and bloody fists pushed into the top of his legs. I throw myself at my old man and wrap him in my arms as he tucks his face in my neck. His body jerks in my hold. It’s not until my neck is wet and my hair is sticking to my skin that I realize this is another first for us.
    He’s crying.
    My own tears fall, dampening the top of his head, but I don’t move.
    I just hold him and don’t ask him to talk or look at me. I’ve never seen this before and as cathartic as it is, it scares me how badly I’ve hurt him. Wyatt doesn’t just get upset. He tortures himself with every drug he can find, knowing it’s going to send me away. I won’t let him fall apart again. If he’s this torn up about our son, I can’t help but freak out about how he’s going to react when he finds out we also have a daughter.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 5
     
    “Come on, Gramps. Just one shot?”
    I shake my head at Zander begging my dad to let him shoot his rifle. The kid is actually fucking bouncing. All six feet of him is buzzing with excitement over getting to play with Dad’s toys. I don’t tell him that the rifle in question actually belonged to my mother and was passed down to my sister, Michele, when she died. I also don’t tell him I’m the reason Dad keeps shooting him down. No pun intended.
    “Boy, do you really think my answer is going to change just because you won’t stop fucking asking?” Dad asks him.
    Zander’s eyes roll into the back of his head, and he blows out a frustrated breath. His big-ass sneaker kicks at the wall behind him in frustration. I taught Zander how to shoot a damn long time ago, but I have my rules. He doesn’t get to touch a gun if he’s being a little asshole and just generally pissing me off. This morning it was his snapping at his sister and sending her into an hour-long meltdown that pissed me off. An hour later it was his asking Dad to take him to the clubhouse after I’d made it clear that he was staying in this way-too-small-for-four-people house until further notice. Now it’s the constant asking that’s making me want to run away. Not that my dad would let me. Don’t get me wrong. He loves me and my kids—Piper has him wrapped around her little finger—but he’s not a patient man.
    It’s been three days since I’ve seen Wyatt, and I haven’t heard from him once. Our moment had been interrupted by Grady—who, last I checked, was Jim’s sergeant-at-arms back when he was president, but is now Wyatt’s VP. Club business takes precedent. Always has, always will. I wasn’t expecting some grand declaration of love and for him to make love to me on the floor next to a thousand splinters from the furniture he broke, but I also didn’t expect him to stand up and leave me without even looking back. To be honest, I don’t know what I expected.
    “Hey, Dad?” I can’t believe I’m about to ask my dad to watch the kids again. I’ve been relying on him too much lately, but I find myself asking even though I know I shouldn’t. My dad—Elmore “Thumper” Wallace—is a serious badass. He likes his bike, his booze, and his women, and he’s not shy about any of it. I love him, even though he’s never really been a hands-on dad, and admire the man greatly. But he’s the world’s worst babysitter. If it weren’t important to me that I see Wyatt tonight, I wouldn’t even leave the kids.
    The night Diesel dragged me off to the clubhouse, I came home