Three Kinds of Trouble (Sons of Templar MC 9)

My hand protectively cradled my stomach as he rounded the desk, undoing the buttons on his Stuart Hughes suit. I’d seen him on a handful of occasions, and he’d never worn anything else. Never a hair out of place. The same was true now while committing a federal crime.

His lips curled into a sneer when his eyes landed on my belly. It was a look so ugly that it made me take a step back. I’d never been scared of this man before. Intimidated, yes. Scared, no.

But in that moment, I was scared.

“Is that my son’s bastard?”

I flinched. Then I remembered the way he’d looked down on me every time Derek had brought me home. Every time he’d talked down to me. How clear he’d made it that he thought I was trash. The only true trash were people who thought they had the right to judge others because they were a little bit different than them.

As he stepped toward me, I lifted my chin in defiance and steeled myself against his approach, refusing to take a step back. Luckily, he didn’t come any closer than a few feet. as if he thought trailer trash was contagious.

“Your son hasn’t done anything to me that would result in a child in years,” I sneered. “Thank God.”

My words did nothing to brighten his disposition. “You always were a stupid slut,” he scoffed, his eyes full of derision. “I bet you have no idea who the father is.”

“Ah, calling the stripper a slut. Very original. I thought you were supposed to be some intelligent, rich guy,” I replied, putting my hand on my hip.

“You’re trash,” he snapped.

“And you’re a narcissistic, entitled, misogynistic asshole,” I replied sweetly.

I hadn’t expected the backhand because as much of an asshole as he was, I hadn’t thought he was a violent one. Then again, he was a very small man who thought that hitting women—pregnant women at that—made him bigger, more important.

He hadn’t hit me hard enough to make me fall to the ground. He’d done it to demean me. It hadn’t been a soft hit, though, so my cheek burned as I straightened, one hand on my stomach, the other on my face.

“Like father like son,” I tsked, voice low and stable. He would not hear the fear in my voice. I felt like that would’ve made my situation even more precarious.

His eyes darkened at the mention of Derek. “Well, a woman like you deserves to be taught a lesson.”

“A woman never deserves to be hit,” I rebuked. “Never. It’s men like you who really deserve to be hit. But I’m not petty or insecure enough to do that.” That was a lie. I would’ve clawed his face off right then if I’d thought I could manage it. If doing so wouldn’t have put my baby in danger.

“Derek is missing,” he gritted out, folding his arms in front of him. Obviously, he’d decided not to continue with our back and forth. Hopefully we were also done with the violence portion of the evening.

Once Hades had told me the truth about what happened to Derek, I’d combed through the articles covering his disappearance. His family had offered rewards of all kinds. But there hadn’t been any evidence. He’d just vanished. Without a trace. The Sons of Templar did not leave traces. No matter how much money he spent, he would never find anything, I knew that. He must’ve known that too because he’d had me dragged all the way up here, thinking he’d get answers.

I was not a good liar. Not in the slightest. This was not a good man, but I would hazard a guess that he was an experienced liar and that he knew how to spot one.

But my life, my baby’s life, might depend on me being believable, so I was going to lie my fucking ass off.

“I saw that online,” I replied truthfully.

“You’re not surprised?”

I raised a brow at him. “Your son was an entitled asshole who thought that his name would get him everywhere, that he was untouchable and that he could treat people however he wanted. Including beating up women who told him no. So no, I’m not at all surprised.”

His face turned hard, eyes full of contempt and hatred. I didn’t know whether that meant he believed me or not.

“Tell me where my son is,” he demanded, obviously not believing me.

“I have no idea where your son is,” I said honestly. “We broke up, remember? You probably had some kind of party to celebrate.”

A frown crumpled his brows. “You broke something in him. Made him weak. Pitiful. I know he followed you around. I know he followed you to New Mexico.”

I pursed my lips. Derek’s family had money, a lot of it. Not enough to make the police cross state lines and look for someone who was not of this world anymore, but enough to pay someone to do that.