"Eva!" Deuce bellowed.  "Don't you fuckin' dare!

I stopped and glanced over my shoulder.  Deuce was storming towards me, while both his kids looked on curiously.

So I did what any victim of being forced to live with your man’s grown children would do.  I turned tail and ran like hell.  True, I had no idea where I was going but there was a road and a road had to lead somewhere, if it didn't how would people get anywhere?

Deuce's boots pounded heavy on the pavement behind me, growing closer and closer until he was close enough to grab me.  I screamed and made a hard right off the road, jumped over a small ditch and headed straight for the woods.

I didn't make it.

"Bitch, I know I wasn’t fuckin’ hallucinatin’ when you said you were sick of runnin’," He growled.

"Fuck you," I hissed.  "FUCK YOU!"

“That what you need Eva?  You need me to fuck you to remind you where you fuckin’ belong?”

“Daddy?”

“Fuck,” He muttered.  “Go back to the house Danny.”

“I want to talk to Eva.”

“House.  Danny.  Now.”

“No daddy, I want to talk to her.”

Sighing, Deuce set me down.  I scrambled away from him, glaring.  He glared right back.

“Hi,” Danny said cheerfully.  “Daddy told me all about you!”

Danny grinned at me.  Sheesh, she was gorgeous.  She had Deuce's eyes.  Icy blue and hypnotizing.  But her face was her mother's, sweetheart features, delicate and utterly beautiful.

"I thought you would be older," She said and giggled.  "Daddy’s age or maybe my mom's age.  But you're so young."

"Fuck," Deuce muttered.  “She’s not that young.”

I glared at him.  "I'm thirty."

Danny burst out laughing.  “She’s like closer to my age then yours daddy!  You’re like fifty!”

Deuce looked to the sky and closed his eyes.  “I’ll be on the porch,” He growled.  “She runs again,” He pointed at me.  “You fuckin’ yell.”

He stalked off.

☼☼☼

Deuce sat on his porch steps, his elbows on his knees, his face in his palms.  He was destined for a life of crazy.

"She's hot, dad.  Really fuckin' hot."

He turned his head towards his son.  "Yeah," He muttered.

"Great fuckin' legs," Cage continued.  "And her tits, jesus, no fuckin' bra with tits that big…fuck me."

He glared.  Cage didn't shut the fuck up he was going to knock him out.

"You get done with her, pass her the fuck to me."

"Reel it in," He growled.  "Or I’m gonna knock you the fuck out."

Cage stared at him.  "Are you serious?"

"As tequila."

"Since when do you give a fuck if I tap club ass?"

"Since right fuckin' now.  And she's not a club whore.  Call her that again and you're gonna be pissin' blood for a fuckin' minute."

Cage burst out laughing.  "Oh shit," He gasped, holding his stomach, still laughing.  "You fuckin' like this one."

Like?  That didn't even begin to cover how he felt about that crazy bitch.

He grabbed his whore of a son by the front of his tee shirt and yanked him across the step until they were nose to nose.  "You're fuckin' young, you think ridin' and pussy are all that fuckin' matters, I get it, I've been there, but you're gonna learn real fuckin' quick to respect women, whores, good girls, old fuckin' ladies, all of ‘em, or I'm gonna bury you.  You feel me?"

"Yeah, dad," He said quietly.  "Sorry."

He shoved him back and looked towards the woods.  Still no sign of Eva or his daughter.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"She the reason you’re pissed off all the time?"

"Yeah."

"She the reason you left mom?"

"Yeah."

"You love her?"

"Yeah."

There was a long pause.

"Cool."

"…yeah."

"Dad?"

"Jesus, Cage.  What?"

"Does this mean I can have at Miranda?"

Christ.

"Yeah, you fuckin' hornball.  Have at it."

"Cool."

☼☼☼

Danny and I walked back to the house, me silent with my arms wrapped around my middle and her, a bouncing blonde ball of teenage girl, telling me all about her summer break from school.  She was sixteen, the same age I was when I’d first kissed her father, fell hard for him, and it all felt supremely awkward.

As we reached the end of the driveway, I could see Deuce and Cage sitting on the porch steps.  Cage was leaning back on the railing smoking a cigarette; Deuce was doing a face plant in his palms.  My heart clenched; he was upset.

When he spotted us, Cage kicked Deuce in the calf.  Deuce’s head jerked left, his face tight with anger and Cage reared back, pointing at me.  Our eyes locked.

"Danny," Cage yelled, getting to his feet.  "Help me make dinner!"

Danny touched my arm.  "You good?"

"Yeah," I muttered.

"He would never hurt you," She whispered.

I looked down at her.  "Yeah baby, I know."

She grinned and I cringed.  The girl didn't just have his eyes she had his heart stopping grin.

"Daddy calls me baby," She said and ran off.  Her and Cage disappeared inside the house leaving Deuce and I staring at each other.

Oh, lord, help me.  I couldn't do this.  And yet, I was walking straight towards him.

I stopped in front of him.  "Look, I can’t do - Hey! What the hell!"

Deuce grabbed my waist and pulled me on his lap.  "Fuckin' hell, bitch," He said hoarsely.  "You make me fuckin’ insane."

I let out a long shuddering sigh and sunk into his body.  His arms tightened around me.

“You’re not leavin’ Eva.”

I was.  But I didn’t tell him that.  Instead, I told him how unbelievably bad he smelled.

"Yeah babe.  So do you."

☼☼☼

Deuce's home was incredible.  An honest to god log cabin dream home.  The inside had been decorated rustic chic.  When you first walk in you are greeted with a two story foyer complete with a handmade wooden chandelier.  The entire first floor is an open plan.  The only divider is the sprawling staircase that leads to the second floor balcony.

To the left of the foyer is a living area, separated from the family area only by furniture.  The furniture was top of line, not at all lived in and reminded me of Chase.  The family area was more my thing, beat up wide seated couches, a thick furry throw rug, an enormous flat screen and every video game console a teenage boy could dream up.  Photos of Deuce and his boys, of his kids, of his different motorcycles over the years covered the width of two walls.  To the right of the foyer was an enormous kitchen and dining area.  The kitchen was nearly identical to the one at his clubhouse.  Black and chrome appliances, black and white marble counters.  The dining set was exquisite.  Solid cherry stained oak, high back ladder chairs fitted with forest green cushioning.

Up the sprawling staircase and across from the balcony were five bedrooms, three bathrooms not including the master bedroom’s all inclusive bathroom with a Jacuzzi for a bathtub and a shower big enough to fit a family of ten, complete with benches and multiple showerheads.  Deuce's bedroom was just as ridiculous.  Although sparsely decorated, what was there was not at all how I pictured Deuce’s bedroom.  A long horizontal dresser with a large vanity mirror and a matching stool lined one wall.  A tiffany lamp hung off to the side.  On the opposite wall were two vertically tall dressers.  The bed was a four poster California King with black silk bedding and too many pillows to count.  And there were mirrors everywhere.  Even on the ceiling.

I stared at Deuce who shrugged and muttered.  "Christine."

Cage's bedroom was typical of a teenage boy.  Dark sheets, dark curtains, posters of motorcycles and naked women posing with motorcycles and stolen street signs lined the walls.  The floor was carpeted with clothing and sneakers, his bed was a mess, and dirty dishes were piled high on his dresser.

Danny's was of the utmost girly girl variety.  Everything was either pink or purple or pink, purple and fuzzy.  The second I stepped inside I felt like I'd walked into candy land and instantly retreated to safety.

When my tour was complete, Deuce brought me back to his bedroom, pointed me towards the dresser with the vanity and ordered me to unpack. I scowled at him.  “I’m not staying,” I told him.  “Therefore I am not unpacking.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” He muttered.  Grabbing my arm, he dragged me into the adjoining bathroom and started the shower.  Then he stripped.

When he was standing butt naked in front of me, I stared at the tattoo of his wife, a half sleeve of her face.  I had seen it before but never given it much thought.  Until now, until I was here in her home, with her husband and her two children.

“Don’t fuckin’ go there Eva,” He growled.  I narrowed my eyes.  How did he always know what I was thinking?

Muttering something about crazy women, Deuce crossed the bathroom and pushed me up against the ceramic tiled wall.  He yanked my tee shirt over my head and tossed it in the garbage can.  Had his wife picked out the garbage can?  Was her toothbrush in here somewhere?

I was momentarily distracted from my musings when I felt Deuce's hands on me.  Deuce’s mouth on me.

"There it is," He murmured around a mouthful of nipple.  "There you fuckin' are Eva.  Gotta keep fuckin' you to remind you where you belong, I got no problem with it."

Deuce carried me into the shower, his hands gripping my backside, his mouth feasting on my neck.

"Fuck," He kept muttering, over and over again like a mantra.  “So fuckin’ sweet,” He murmured, nuzzling against my neck.  “Fuckin’ beautiful and sweet and crazy and fuckin’ mine.”