Part 20 (1/2)

They let Margot stay with her for the procedure, too. On the evidence of the reactions of the nurse and a couple of other staff, it seemed like that was maybe unusual. Faith didn't care. Margot could have gone out to the waiting room and read a back issue of People. She had won.

With no other choice but to let it happen, Faith let it happen.

That night, while Faith lay in bed curled up against the cramps, Sly purring on her pillow, Margot brought her a hot water bottle and a big bowl of chocolate marshmallow ice cream with chocolate syrup and whipped cream. She left the ice cream on the desk and came over to the bed. Gently setting the hot water bottle against Faith's belly, she pulled up the comforter and then brushed her hand over Faith's head.

Sly growled quietly at her, as he always did, but she ignored him. ”We fixed it, Faithy. This is better. I know you don't believe me, but it is.” She left.

And Faith started to form her plan to get away.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

”Do I need to come to you?” Demon closed his eyes and hoped the answer was 'no.' He hated going into downtown L.A.

”I don't see why at this point,” Finn Bennett's reedy voice filled his ear. ”I'm going to guess you won't mind me saying that this is a great stroke of luck. With Tucker's mother dead, and all of the evaluations and reports done for you and Tucker, there's nothing holding this up anymore except the court schedule. I'm going to do what I can to get us on the docket soon.”

”You think I can win?”

”I don't want to get your hopes up too high. Your record is a big strike against you. But the observation evals are strong, and Tucker's caseworker and the family counselor's report both recommend reunification. I'm optimistic.”

Demon grinned. Things were looking up. Everywhere he looked, things were getting good. ”Okay. Thanks, Finn. Keep me posted.”

”I will. Take care, Michael.”

Demon put his phone in his pocket and smiled at his worktable. The cops had found and identified Dakota's body. It had taken them a couple of weeks, but her death had been ruled an accidental overdose. Case closed. Now he was Tucker's only surviving kin, and people were starting to believe he was a good father. He might actually finally catch a break.

He pulled his phone back out and dialed Faith. When she answered, his c.o.c.k twitched. There was a way she sounded, answering the phone, knowing it was him, that was so...pleased that his chest ached with love. And maybe hope. Demon didn't really know what hope felt like, but maybe this was it.

”Hey, you,” her voice smiled, ”what's up?”

”Hey, babe. Talked to Finn. He thinks it's all gonna be over soon. He thinks I could get Tucker.”

”Oh, my G.o.d! That's great!”

”It's not done yet, but it's the first time I really think we might be okay.”

”I'm so happy for you, Michael. I love you. I love you both.”

”We love you right back.” He looked at the bike he was working on. He had about an hour left to finish it. ”Hey-can you get away? I'll pick you up. Take a ride with me.” When they'd been together before, hiding in the shadows, he'd never had her on his bike. Now, they'd had a few rides, and he couldn't get enough of it. Two of his most favorite things-the road, and Faith wrapped around him. They didn't get many chances, though, between Tucker and Margot. But it should be good now-the middle of the day. Bibi had Tucker, and Leo, he knew, was on s.h.i.+ft with Margot.

But Faith hesitated. ”Um...okay. But I'll come to you.”

Okay, something was going on. She'd told him that Margot was having trouble settling in, and she thought it was better if Tucker wasn't around for a while, because he got her too excited. That made sense. He'd planned to make her a studio, but she'd put him off, saying the noise would get to her mom. That could make some sense, too. But today, Tucker wasn't a factor, and he wasn't coming over to bang around in the garage. It dawned on Michael that it had been days since he'd actually been at that house.

”What's goin' on, Faith?”

”Nothing. It's just easier if I come to you.” There was a tiny, sharp edge to her answer. Defensiveness. Evasion.

”How's it easier? You make a trip here and then we ride? It's easier if I just pick you up on the bike.”

A pause. ”Actually, I forgot. Leo has a personal errand she needs to run today. I need to stick around. I'll just see you at the clubhouse later.”

It was St. Patrick's Day, and the club was closing the shop early and having a midweek party. The heritage of the Night Horde was supposedly Norse, but that was the mother charter. Hoosier's personal heritage was half Scottish, half Irish. The charter he led, whatever its patch, partied on St. Pat's.

Demon, not much of a drinker, could have found more interesting things to do. Like ride into the desert with his old lady. But he wasn't going to fight about it with her on the phone. He wasn't going to dig into whatever had her skittish, either. Not on the phone.

He decided it wasn't worth making anything tense between them. Things were good, finally good. Her hesitation was probably just about Margot being a b.i.t.c.h, anyway. No point getting bunched up about that, though it would be a problem to work out when they were ready to live together.

”Okay, babe. I'll just see you later.”

”Okay. I'm sorry, hon. I love you.”

”Love you, too.” He ended the call and put his phone away. Disappointment and a faint, lingering shade of suspicion dimmed the sheen of his good mood, but it couldn't dull it completely.

He might get his son.

Most of his brothers were well on their way to drunk and neck deep in p.u.s.s.y when Faith got to the clubhouse. The place reeked of corned beef and cabbage-not, in Demon's opinion, one of the world's best smells. But that was what Hoosier wanted: beer and corned beef. And soda bread. And Jameson.

Though Demon didn't think he'd ever actually been to Ireland, Hoosier went all out for the Irish traditions on this night of the year. He had Irish folk music blaring from the sound system, a big Irish flag over the bar, and the girls had strung plastic shamrock lights all over the Hall.

Demon thought all that was wasted on this crowd. With the exception of a greater number of hangarounds and some off-key singing along, it was just a club party. He sat at the bar and nursed a beer.

Seeing the attached Horde in the Hall with their old ladies was making him impatient for Faith. He was tired of being lonely.

Though Bibi was in club mama mode, managing the girls who hadn't gotten pulled away by patches, making sure that people were served and the food was on schedule, Hoosier, full to his eyeb.a.l.l.s with Jameson, was on her every chance he got. She complained loudly, but she was laughing, too.

Muse and Sid were sitting in a chair in the far corner of the room, making out like teenagers. Demon laughed to himself. Sid must have gotten pretty d.a.m.n drunk already. She didn't usually like to make a display like that. Muse didn't seem to be minding at all, but he wasn't getting more than R-rated. Demon figured them for the dorm soon.

Diaz had his wife, Ingrid, on one of the pinball machines. Ingrid was Finnish or Dutch or something, and her English wasn't great. She and Diaz spoke Spanish together. She didn't show up at the clubhouse often, because she worked a lot-and, anyway, she had trouble keeping up with everything going on. But she was a model and pretty comfortable being on display. She was the only old lady Demon had ever known who was perfectly happy to go to town right in the middle of everything-and didn't need tequila to get there.

Tucker was with Bart and Riley and their kids. Riley was, like, eight months pregnant or something-she looked like a tiny Goodyear blimp-so they were taking a pa.s.s on St. Pat's and had invited Tucker for a sleepover. They lived in a mansion and had every conceivable toy and game. They also had a Great Dane named Odin, and Tuck thought that dog was probably G.o.d.

Demon thought he'd like to get his son a dog of his own someday.

The most sober man in the room by a wide margin, Demon sat at the bar and watched the door, waiting, so he saw her when she walked in. Forgetting the strange roadblock in their phone call, he smiled when their eyes met. f.u.c.k, what it did inside his chest to love her and be able to feel good about it. To love her and to have her. Years of longing and guilt were all worth it because they'd brought them here: Faith Fordham walking through a packed clubhouse, her light eyes sparkling, her smile wide with love.

It was all worth it.

She was wearing faded jeans tucked into tall, black boots. The jeans were really holes surrounded by strips of denim, with bright green lace...stockings? Tights?...underneath. He didn't know what they were called, but they were hot. Her top was just a plain white, low-cut t-s.h.i.+rt, and she had a black denim jacket over that.

”Hi, babe.”

He held her face in his hands and kissed her. When he pulled her in for a hug, metal poked at his arms, so he looked over her shoulder at the back of her jacket. Then, curious, he turned her around.

”What's this?”