Marked as His (10 page)

Somehow he knew Santana would be option number two. Would he be able to keep her?

After the Hell’s Sons patrolled the condo, they knew he’d spent the night with Santana. They probably also guessed a “midnight organ fight” was involved. How would Tommy react?

She shifted closer to him, and he covered one of her hands with his. After she’d run, he’d thought all bets were off. In the past few hours, she’d softened toward him even more, but who knew what she’d do once he got her on Hell’s Sons turf.

He smiled. She was so damn unpredictable.

As they rolled through the gates of the club, he felt her tense. He guided the bike into his usual spot.

He cut the engine but Santana didn’t make a move to get off. With a touch on her leg, he urged her to stand. Then he grabbed her hand and led her across the parking lot to the door.

She walked woodenly, but he admired that once she made up her mind to do something, she didn’t back down. Running from him, bullets, handcuffs, and other threats had all shown him what a strong person she was. She stood up for herself.

At the door, he felt as though he were dragging her. He looked down to see her sexy-as-fuck black leather boots digging into the gravel. He stopped and ran a hand down her spine, over the hair she’d left loose.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Is he…here?”

Paxton glanced at the line of bikes. Funny that Tommy wouldn’t be here, knowing Paxton was bringing his daughter in. Maybe Tommy knew something about his daughter Paxton hadn’t at first—giving her time and space was best.

“His bike’s not here. Come on.” He took her arm and opened the door. Blinking to make the adjustment between bright sun and shadows, he drew Santana inside and let the door close behind them.

The club was relatively empty. Ace was behind the bar with his dog, talking to Jamison, who had what looked like tomato juice mixed with a beer shot in front of him.

“That looks like a hangover cure if I ever saw one,” Paxton said, moving around furniture to reach the bar and towing Santana in his wake. “Long night without me?”

“We held a party in your honor. Thank-Christ-Paxton-isn’t-here-with-his-damn-buzzing-needles party,” Ace said.

Paxton held out a fist and Ace bumped his knuckles with his own. “Nice, bro. I’ll remember how much you hate my needles next time you want ink.”

Jamison pivoted on his stool to face Santana. She inched close to Paxton, and his heart did an odd thump.

Fuck, he wasn’t ready to end this mission. And he was far from finished with her in bed.

“Hi,” Santana said in a choked way.

Jamison gave a nod. “Santana?”

“Yes.”

“Good to have you back. I was just a smartass kid last time I saw you. You probably don’t remember me.”

Paxton hadn’t considered how many people would remember her, but this had been her family.

She shook her head. “I don’t remember you.”

“Coffee?” Ace set a mug on the bar top and she nodded.

Paxton gestured to a stool next to Jamison and she hitched her round ass into the seat while he stood sentry over her.

Ace poured her a steaming mug of coffee and then held up a jug of cream in question. Paxton shook his head. “Just black,” he answered for her, remembering how she’d taken her coffee earlier.

She shot him a look and Ace turned away with a hidden smile.

“Where is everyone?” Paxton asked.

“Told you—long night of partying,” Ace said.

“Your brother was here.” Jamison’s revelation sent Paxton reeling.

“What? My kid brother?”

“Yeah, when are you gonna put him up for prospect?” Ace asked. “Kid’s a hell of a tattoo artist.”

“The fuck… Are you shitting me?” Paxton was half mad, half amused. Perry had come to the club and actually used his skills?

“Not joking at all. He came looking for you and we brought him into our midst.” Jamison tapped a cigarette to pack the tobacco before lighting it. He blew smoke off to the side, away from Santana. “He’s a good kid. Old enough to prospect.”

Paxton shook his head. Wait till he got his hands on that little shit. He was going to—

What? He loved the club. He had only pride for his brothers and what they did here. Why not bring his family into the heart of the bigger one?

Santana was watching him. Maybe she felt his conflict or maybe she read it on his face. Either way, she was waiting to see his reaction. Would he try to keep his brother away from the club? She wanted to know if she should have another reason to run.

He nodded. “You’re right. I’ll ask Perry what he thinks. But I have one real reservation.”

“What’s that?” Jamison’s brow creased.

“I have objections to seeing my little bro having public sex with a sweet butt.”

The guys laughed and Santana smiled into her mug as she took a sip.

People began to filter into the main space. They came forward to meet Santana. Some had stories about her as a kid. Paxton hung on the tales, wanting a better look into her past to see if she had a future here.

She didn’t seem as uncomfortable as he’d expected. She talked to everyone with equal respect, though she kept an eagle eye on the door.

When everyone scattered to jobs and duties, Paxton wrapped his fingers around her elbow and led her to the corner table where he always set up shop.

A guy named Rocket fired up the jukebox with his favorite Led Zeppelin and Santana settled back in her chair, eyes hazy as she stared into space.

“Okay?” Paxton asked her in a low voice.

“This music brings it all back. Funny how tunes do that.”

“I know what you mean.” He opened his kit and started piecing together his tattoo machine. She watched him but didn’t speak until he set it aside and grabbed a skin marker. Holding her gaze, he drew her hand gently across the table so her forearm was extended.

“Is it time?” she asked.

Funny how they didn’t need many words to understand each other. “It’s time. Do you trust me?”

“I…I don’t know.” She didn’t pull her hand away but she bit her lip. The patch of skin he wanted to ink on the underside of her wrist was already fixed in his mind, along with the lines he’d lay down there.

He stared at her beautiful face. “You can leave the club but you can’t deny your heritage. I think you feel good here. At home.”

Her gaze flashed to his. Several heartbeats passed as Zeppelin reverberated, and Ace banged around behind the bar. Sweet butts moved between tables cleaning up, but they avoided Paxton and Santana.

He skimmed a fingertip down her open palm, and her fingers curled up around his touch. “Trust me. I trusted you.”

She nodded and he took up the marker.

•●•

Paxton’s fingers and needles moving over her skin were almost erotic. Santana stared at the fierce concentration on his rugged features and felt the vibrations deep into her soul.

Something was happening between them. He’d come after her to get his blood patch, and instead she ended up bleeding. They’d spent so little time together, yet it would wrench her heart to leave.

Paxton wiped her wrist and sat back to look at it, holding his big fingers in the way so she couldn’t see.

“What the hell are you inking on me?”

He arched a dark brow. Quickly she was learning that when it tipped up, so did his mouth. The two were married. “You’ll see soon enough, love.”

A blonde sweet butt who was clearing away trash nearby looked up at his words. She kept her face turned aside, but Santana knew she was listening hard. Did she have something going on with Paxton? It was likely he’d fucked her.

Santana sighed. “I’ll be calling for laser tattoo removal later today—I know it.”

He chuckled and did that thing with his lip that made his soul patch bristle. The sweet butt moved away.

Santana twitched her head that direction. “One of yours?”

He pinned her in his gaze. “Meaning do I fuck her?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve thought about it.”

“So you haven’t. She seems interested in you.”

He stroked a finger down the center of her palm, raising tingles of awareness. “I’ve got something better in front of me.”

Before she could formulate a response he turned the needles back on. He added a few more touches then wiped her wrist. Setting aside his machine, he said, “You ready?”

“If I see your name on my skin, I’m gonna be pissed I trusted you.”

“What would you have inked on me?”

She laughed. “That’s easy—lopsided stick figure.”

He lifted her wrist to his mouth and kissed the outer part, away from the fresh tattoo. His eyes gleamed and the sweet butt hurled some beer bottles into the garbage can with a
smash
.

Then with a flourish, he held Santana’s wrist in front of her eyes. She sucked in a sharp breath and held it closer to see. A tiny arched bridge spanned her wrist, the detail in the stonework amazing. Beneath the bridge a waterfall dropped into oblivion. But the real thing that seized her attention was the figure on the bridge.

A girl with a tumble of dark hair, the face so small she marveled at his skill because it had an uncanny resemblance to her.

“The bridge is between—”

“My world and this one.”

He nodded. “The past and the future.”

She bowed her head. For years she’d battled this very thing in her heart—how to be who she was and forget the people lost. Now Paxton had given her a way to have both.

He ducked his head to catch her eyes. “You like it?”

Tears weren’t her thing, but she felt a little weepy. “I love it. Thank you.”

“Better than my single-needle and Styrofoam experience.” The teasing note fell from his voice as the door opened. Before she turned around, she knew her father stood there.

Santana focused on Paxton’s face. Some look was exchanged with her father and triumph stood in Paxton’s eyes.

“Did you mark my daughter?” The voice, rough from cigarettes and whiskey, raised the hairs on Santana’s body with its familiarity.

Her hand grew unsteady in the air, and Paxton grabbed it and crushed it gently in his big paw. Santana didn’t turn but felt Tommy’s footsteps as he approached the table. The room was silent, and Tommy scattered everyone with a wave.

He dragged up a chair and placed it adjacent to Santana. She couldn’t raise her gaze but felt his moving over her, drinking her in.

That little girl who’d missed her daddy so much ached to make this right. But how could he ever explain away the hurt he’d inflicted on her family?

“It’s so good to see you, daughter.” The choked sound of Tommy’s voice made her look up. Her heart jumped into her throat and pounded heavily. Her father’s eyes welled up, and he gestured to her hand Paxton was holding. “Can I see the ink?”

Paxton looked in askance, and Santana nodded. He released her hand and she turned her wrist up for her father to examine.

It was so good to lay eyes on him again. He was much like she remembered him. A few more lines but he was straight and strong. He gave a nod as he stared at the marking.

“It’s a good likeness, Pax.”

She studied Paxton’s face.
Pax. Yeah, it fits him.

Tommy released her hand, and Paxton enveloped her fingers once more. Tommy cocked his head. “Can I have a moment with my daughter?”

Paxton shook his head. “I promised I wouldn’t leave her.”

When her father’s gaze locked on hers, he asked, “Is this true? Do you want Pax present?”

“I…yes.”

“Okay. I don’t have anything to hide.” Tommy rubbed a hand over his patches and sat back. “Can I get you a drink?”

“No thanks,” she said quietly.

The little girl in her wanted to pour out her hopes and fears from all the years lost. But the smarter, stronger part of her didn’t say a word.

“I understand why you refused to see me, Santana.”

“Do you?” She’d found her voice and it rang with hurt and anger.

“I do.”

“Then why not leave well enough alone? We’ve lived without each other all these years.”

“Because…you’ve been haunting me.”

“Why now?” Was he going to say he was dying or he needed an alibi for some crime he’d committed?

He shocked her. “Because you’re my blood. And I’ve never stopped caring about you. I followed you as you grew up. I know you were a straight A student and you played on the school basketball team. I know you took some awards for track in high school. I was in the back of the auditorium when you accepted your high school diploma. And again for your bachelor’s degree.”

Her throat burned with tears. Was he telling the truth? How could she take the word of a man like him?

“You’re a good girl, Santana. You took care of your mother when she needed you—”

“Why didn’t you? It was your job,” she bit off. Paxton lightly squeezed her fingers.

“I wanted to but…I couldn’t.” Her father stared into her eyes. “I hated my decisions but I had no choice. She needed a chance at beating the cancer. We didn’t have health care. I couldn’t claim my income from the club to get her assistance. My hands were tied.”

“Are you telling me you kicked us out so she could get insurance?”

He spread his hands and stared at the chunky rings on several knuckles.
Hope
and
love
were tattooed across his knuckles with small skulls on the thumbs. “I’m not proud of it. What man can’t provide for his family? But it worked in the end—she got the help she needed and survived.”

Santana’s head spun. As a kid, she never could have understood this. Hell, she still couldn’t wrap her mind around it. “Did Mom know this?”

“No. She needed to believe it was severed. It was best for both of you. Look at the life you had because I let you go, honey.”

She bit her lower lip and worried it between her teeth to keep from wanting to bawl. She’d forgotten he’d called her that—honey.

“But…why did you send me away too? You could have kept me here with you.”

Paxton’s grip on her fingers tightened. Was he seeing her unraveling?

“I wanted to. I wished I could have. But your mom would have shriveled into nothing without you. You kept her going and gave her a reason to live. Honey…I know I caused so much hurt but I can’t go on letting you believe I didn’t love you. Nothing could be further from the truth.”