Chapter Eight

The motorcycle roared up the driveway and screeched to a halt. It seemed the large man on the bike was off it before the engine had completely shut down. Long strides took him up the five steps in two.

His pull on the screen door was so forceful one of the hinges gave under his yank. It didn’t stop the thirty-six year old man, however. He didn’t care about the damn door.

“Where is everyone?” he hollered as his steps took him farther into the living area of his youth.

Maverick was beyond pissed. Five weeks before I left, you got me pregnant. Tempest’s words wouldn’t leave his subconscious. Could it be true? He thought back to the slip up that Talli had said about him having a child. And how his own mother had been quick, desperate almost, to change the subject when he’d broached what Talli had told him.

Receiving no answer, he began to search the entire house. It was empty, no one. Frustrated and filled with the need to do something, Maverick ran out of his parents’ house and climbed back on his bike.

He drove across town to the small house he remembered Sarah Whitehall living in. The driveway was full of vehicles and so he parked his bike along the street. Carrying his helmet with him, Maverick strode up the front steps and knocked on the door.

“Yes?” An older woman asked as she opened the door.

“Mrs. Whitehall?” he questioned. She looked a bit familiar, but he’d never really known them that well.

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, that’s me. Something I can do for you?”

He could hear the sounds of a party going on behind her. “Yes, actually there is.”

She waited a moment and said, “And that would be?”

“I think it would be best if I could talk to you and your husband in private,” he tried.

She shook her head and snorted. “I don’t think so. I’m having a party.”

“I know that, ma’am; I just need a minute of your time.” God, I want to smack that damn smirk off her face.

“I don’t want to give you anymore time,” she snapped.

And I’ve had enough of your rudeness. In a voice loud enough to carry to the others, he demanded, “Tell me why you never told me your daughter was carrying my child. And why you tossed her out.”

Carol Whitehall formed a perfect “O” with her mouth as her dark skin lost some color. Inside, the party fell totally silent as her husband, Mitchell, appeared beside her. He was much older and frail looking, “Did someone say something about my daughter?” he asked as his rheumy eyes looked over the tall man in his doorway.

“No,” Carol hissed. “No one said anything about anyone. This man was just leaving.” She tried to shove the door shut, but Maverick wedged his foot in there. The woman didn’t stand a chance against his strength.

“I know you disowned her; just tell me if it was true. Was she pregnant?” he pled, desperate to know the truth.

Brown eyes narrowed in anger, “Yes, the bitch was pregnant when we tossed her out. I don’t know why you would think it was yours. She was such a slut.” The venom in her voice was enough to almost make Maverick wince.

“I know because I took her virginity. And thanks to you and your callous attitude I lost out on twenty-one years of my son’s life.” Black flames raged in his eyes. “Twenty-one years!”

Mitchell stepped a bit closer. “I have a grandson?”

“Shut up and get back inside, Mitchell. We have guests,” Carol ordered. Pinning her evil glare back on the man before her, she snarled, “Go away and don’t ever come back here. I don’t have but one daughter and she is inside this house right now.” She slammed the door in his face.

Standing alone on the porch, Maverick wanted to hurt something, someone, hell, anything. A rage began to burn deep within his gut. Could his parents really be that callous too?

With a military spin, he was headed back to his motorcycle and his parents’ house. This time when he pulled into the drive, he remained seated, trying to control his anger.

Turning off his bike, he moved towards the door. Like the previous time he’d been here, he didn’t bother knocking, just went right on in. He knew they were home, for he could hear his mother singing as she cooked.

His father was carving a statue out of wood and looked up when the door opened. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped as Maverick roared, “Ina, I need to talk to both you and Ate.”

“Why are you yelling in my house, James?” Dawn Lonetree asked as she came into the living room.

“Tell me,” he ground out, his teeth clenched as he tried valiantly to control his temper. “Tell me you didn’t keep the fact I possibly had a child from me? Well? Amayupta yo! Answer me!”

The looks that flickered between the two of them answered his question. Overwhelming anger flooded him only to be replaced by sadness. “Why? Why would you do that? How could you do that?”

His father, Rodney, stood. “It was for your own good; she was a liar and we didn’t want her to hook you into her schemes just because you had been nice to her a few times in town.”

“Besides, you deserve so much more than someone like her,” his mother added. “We were thinking of your future.” She crossed her arms over her bosom and asked, “How did you find about her ruse?”

“Ruse? It wasn’t a ruse. I know that because I was in New Mexico and I ran into my son and his mother.” His black gaze pierced their bodies, stripping away their skin and seeing the dark hearts that lay beneath. “My own son, who is twenty-one and thinks I didn’t want him or his mother!” he shouted. “Imagine my shock when I’m in a bar and I find a woman who hates me; and then, much to my surprise when I find out why, I can’t say I blame her. What gives you the right to do something like that?”

“We were thinking of your future in the tribe—” his father began.

“Enough!” Maverick slashed his hand through the air. “I want nothing to do with you or your schemes. I’m not quitting what I’m doing to come live here and be with the tribe. I am proud of my heritage but I’m not going to be your pawn. I have to find a way to become a part of my son’s life.”

Rodney sneered. “She probably slept with someone and blamed you for it.”

“We were just trying to protect you from her,” his mother insisted. “She is a liar. Is she demanding money? Take a paternity test.”

“Shut up, Ina,” Maverick groaned. “Just shut up. She doesn’t want a damn thing from me; she hates me. And I know he is mine. I’m not even going to ask what you mean by her.”

“Don’t talk to your mother that way!” The deep voice of Rodney Lonetree filled the room.

“Jesus, I can just imagine how scared she was coming over here. All you two did was yell and scream at people. And yet, you never told me she was here.” Maverick ignored his father.

“It was a lie!” Maverick’s mom hollered at him.

“No!” he shouted right back. “I took her virginity, Mother. Me. No one else. I did. And I would have taken responsibility for the results if I had known. You took my son from me. Your own grandson.”

He began wearing a hole in the floor as his body digested the information he’d received. “You took everything from me, his first step, word, everything. I never got to hold my own baby. You know what I got from him? A fist to the jaw because I was an ass who made his mother cry.”

Maverick rolled his head on his shoulders as he tried to calm down. “You two are despicable. I can’t forgive this. Goodbye.”

A perfect about-face and Maverick was out the door with both his parents hollering after him to stop.

“We did it for you, James!”

“Don’t you walk away from us—get back here!”

Nothing deterred him. When his father grabbed his shoulder in a bruising grip, he reacted. Within seconds, his father was kneeling on the hard ground before him. “Don’t you ever think you can lay a hand on me in anger again,” Maverick told him in a deadly calm voice. His eyes were unreadable as they stared down his father. “I’m not a scared little boy and I don’t like to be grabbed.”

Just as quickly as it happened, it was over, and Maverick was straddling his bike as the powerful engine roared to life. Without stopping, he backed up his ride and took off down the road.

At the outskirts of town, Maverick slowed down when he saw someone along the road. With a wave of acknowledgment, he pulled off the road and rolled his bike to a stop beside the old truck that sat there.

Shutting off the engine, he remained sitting on his cycle. His eyes were cold and calculating as he watched the roadside individual approach.

“Thank you,” the voice was raspy with age and deteriorating health. “For stopping.”

“What do you want, Mr. Whitehall?”

“Did you really see her?”

Bracing his powerful legs on either side to keep his bike steady, Maverick crossed his arms in front of his massive chest. “I saw her.” And she was beautiful from the second my eyes landed on her.

“Is she…is she well?”