Free Unbeloved by Madeline Sheehan Page A

-laden parking lot, battling both the biting cold and whipping wind until I reached the front door, a mass of quivering skin and chattering teeth.
    Deuce took my suitcase from me. As if it weighed next to nothing, he easily hefted it up and over his shoulder and quickly ushered me inside. Once the door was closed behind us, he pulled me into an awkward one-armed hug. I stood there, momentarily frozen in shock by the uncommonly kind gesture. Deuce didn’t hug people, at least not if he could help it; hugs were reserved for his wife and children.
    “ Welcome home, Dorothy,” he said gruffly, giving me a hearty pat on the back that if it hadn’t been for his large body in the way, would have sent me flying across the room.
    Through the snowflakes still clinging to my eyelashes , I looked up his leather-clad body, taking it all in—the tattooed dragons on his bare forearms, the president patch on his cut, the scent of cigarettes and liquor that always seemed to cling to him, before stopping at his icy blue eyes.
    His smile wasn ’t friendly; it never had been. Deuce had always snarled more than he’d smiled. But his eyes were soft and kind. Inviting, even. He’d aged a little more since I’d last seen him; he had to be around sixty now and it was starting to show. His long blond hair and beard had heavily grayed, the lines on his forehead and bracketing his eyes had grown longer, were etched in a little deeper.
    Pulling off my knit ski hat, I shook out my damp hair and smiled. “I see my daughter has given you a few more gray hairs.”
    His smile grew , causing several dimples to appear, and just like that, the changes in his appearance seemed to vanish. He stood before me the same fearfully handsome young man I remembered from my youth. Elusive and frightening, yet intriguing, he’d taken over his father’s motorcycle club and in turn changed the lives of so many.
    “ Your daughter and that mouth of hers is gonna give me another fuckin’ heart attack,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Her and my own fuckin’ daughters, my sons, my granddaughter, and . . . Jesus Christ, Cox, that motherfucker . . .” He trailed off, grimacing.
    “ Mm-hmm,” I murmured, glancing around the quiet club. Aside from Worm, who was standing behind the bar pouring himself a liquid snack, there was no one else in sight. As I brought my gaze back to Deuce, I found him watching me, all traces of humor gone, and my smile fell away.
    “ This shit with Hawk, it ain’t good, D,” he said. “And usually I wouldn’t be tellin’ any of my boys’ old ladies this kinda shit until I had more information, but I’m makin’ an exception here. One, ’cause it’s Hawk and there’s some shit you need to fuckin’ know, and two, ’cause it’s you and you’re family now.
    “ Let’s go to my office,” he continued, turning away, “and I’ll tell you what I know.”
    For a moment I only stood there , watching as he walked off, still holding up my suitcase with those pillars of strength he called shoulders.
    Family. He ’d called me family. True, our children had married each other, would probably someday have children of their own, but still I’d never thought of myself as part of Deuce’s family.
    Not only that, but he ’d referred to me as an old lady.
    Hawk ’s old lady. It made sense, being that I was the mother of his child, and resided in the only other place aside from this clubhouse that he’d put down any sort of roots.
    But still . . . I’d never realized . . .
    A warm tear slipped out from the corner of my eye and slid down my cold cheek.
    Home.

Chapter Six
    Jase was glad he was drunk. If he wasn’t drunk and had to listen to Deuce explain that Hawk wasn’t actually Hawk, but instead Luca Fuckachev or some such shit, the son of the head of one of the most dangerous drug and weapons cartels in the history of cartels, he might have actually been pissed off that Deuce had kept this a secret for so goddamn long, like