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Truth and lies swirled together, and nothing seemed real.
Here he was feeling sorry for her and for all he knew the whole scared act earlier was nothing more than a diversion to keep him away from the club. Some kind of long con she cooked up with Johnny to get back at him for getting her pregnant. She’d try to wiggle her way out of it, but no fuckin’ way would he fall for anything she had to say. Especially since most of the words spilling out of her mouth were lies.
Samson’s words rang in his head. It all came back full circle. Cheryl conned him good. Fuck, when did he become so stupid? Easy answer—Whenever he got in too deep with Cheryl.
17
Nick slept for maybe six minutes that night, then woke with a splitting headache and a desire to throw something through the living room window of his penthouse. Instead he placed a call to Jax who wasn’t happy with the early morning wake up call, but he was the only person for this job. Nobody tracked and trailed someone like Jax, and Nick wanted eyes on Johnny before he made his next move.
The bullshit at the club was nothing compared to the revelation Cheryl’s child might be his. His mind skipped with drastic ways to handle the situation—like storming over to Country Club Hills at two in the morning and demanding the truth. Luckily, his logical brain won out and he waited until Jax reported that Johnny had left the development.
Unfortunately, the information didn’t help the edgy tension coursing through him as he drove up to the gated community. Nick flashed a hundred dollar bill and the guard at the gate gladly welcomed him in. The power of cold, hard cash—so much for security.
The million-dollar neighborhood impressed in the daytime too. Sculpted landscaping and sprawling lush lawns weren’t thenorm in the Vegas heat, and required regular attention and cash to maintain.
She probably liked the big house, and fancy parties, then lied about hating Johnny because it was just another way to lure Nick in and make him believe the unbelievable. He let her work on his sympathies, and he fell for it—again.
He’d hoped the drive here would clear his head and help him organize his thoughts. Or at best, not come off like an out of control asshole, because the shit churning through his gut right now wasn’t pleasant.
Over the last twelve hours, he’d flipped from compassion for Cheryl to outright rage. What was the saying about there being a thin line between love and hate. Whatever the fuck, it explained him and Cheryl perfectly. It seemed they were either tearing each other’s clothes off, or tearing each other’s hearts out.
Not healthy.
He pulled off the street, made the trek up the palm lined circular driveway, and again marveled at the fountain. Johnny sure was enjoying everything Frank’s money could buy.
Nick approached the door, drew in a deep breath and rang the bell. A few seconds went by and he wondered if she had one of those camera doorbells. Maybe watching him right now and deciding not to answer. He was just about to hit the bell again when a latch released and the door eased open.
Cheryl’s startled expression quickly flattened. “What are you doing here?” She looked over her shoulder then back at him.
“We need to talk.”
She flicked another look over her shoulder making him question Jax’s information.
She silently stepped to the side of the door and when he entered she motioned to a hallway off the foyer, then into another room. A quick scan said this was her office. Very sleek. Very modern.
She closed the door behind them then leaned against it, her eyes wide, her expression tight. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“Right, babe.” He didn’t try to mask his anger, but his eyes betrayed him as they wandered to her tanned legs displayed in very short fuckin’ shorts. His heart kicked up along with his dick, then his brain kicked in and told him to shut it down.
“I don’t think?—”
“Is your daughter mine?” Not the way he rehearsed it last night in bed or on the drive over, but fuck, he’d never been known for polite banter.
“What?”
“Simple question, is she my kid?”
“We can’t discuss this now or here.” She eased around him putting her wide glass-top desk between them.
“Sure we can. All you have to do is tell me the truth.”
“It’s not that easy.”
Nick barked out a laugh. “Right, cause every time you open your mouth another fuckin' lie pops out.” He stalked to the edge of her desk, then braced his palms on the glass top and leaned in. “Tell me right fuckin’ now, is she my kid?”
She reared back at the growl in his voice, then sunk into her chair. “Yes.”
The single word reverberated against his brain, then sent shock waves up his spine. The cliche of being punched in the gut became real.
