Bibi turned. "Mornin', honey. That's Tucker. Tuck, say hi to Miss Faith."

Tucker just stared, his tongue still out, balancing a Cheerio.

"Tuck. Are you a good boy?"

He turned to Bibi, pulling his tongue in. The Cheerio stuck to his chin. He nodded.

"Then be polite. Say hi to Miss Faith."

"Hi," he whispered, and covered his face with his hands. She did the same, covering her own face. She didn't know why; it just felt like a thing to do.

And it was a right thing. Tucker threw his hands wide and grinned, his eyes squinching up. "PEE-BOO!" he yelled and then giggled like a little maniac.

d.a.m.n, he really was adorable. Faith's heart ached, and she blinked before the burning behind her eyes could become something more.

Bibi came over then with a scrambled egg, a wedge of toast, and a half a piece of bacon on a little plate shaped like an airplane. She set it down on the tray, right on top of the Cheerio installation Tucker had been working on. "You want milk or juice, Tuck?"

"Mook, peez."

"That's Granny's good boy. Milk it is." Bibi turned to Faith. "You want some breakfast, honey? Coffee's fresh, bacon's fried, and I got plenty of eggs."

Faith picked up a piece of bacon from a plate near the range and started to pick at it. She didn't think she could face sitting at the table with this little family and having a cozy breakfast. "No, thanks. I'll just have this and coffee. I want to get to the hospital when visiting hours start." Then she asked the question that was burning itself into her brain. "Is Michael up?"

Bibi had been pouring Faith a cup of coffee. She stopped and let the pot hover for a second before she answered. "No, honey. He was up and out early this mornin'."

"Avoiding me."

"It's a lot to spring on him, Faith. You know what he's like." She put the carafe back in its spot and handed Faith the mug.

"I know what he was like."

"He's the same as he was-if anythin', he's worse. There's a lot of darkness in that boy. He fights it, and there's sweetness in him, too, almost a purity. But he doesn't always win. And now he really knows what kind of damage he can do when he loses control. We all know. So he runs before he loses it. You can't push Demon. Let him come to you. And then we'll see what we see."

"Does he know?"

For a few seconds, Bibi simply looked her over, giving her an evaluative consideration that Faith remembered well. "He doesn't know anythin' you said you didn't want him to know. That was a good instinct. It still is. I think knowin' more is more than he can handle. So when you do talk to him, you think about that before you start diggin' into old wounds."

Faith hated Bibi's tone. The secret they had wasn't her fault. It was an injury done to her-and to Michael-and Bibi was talking like Faith was to blame somehow. Well, f.u.c.k that.

She shoved the nearly-full mug across the counter toward Bibi and dropped the remains of the piece of bacon she'd been taking apart. "I'm going to wash up and go to the hospital. Can I use one of your bathrooms?"

Bibi barely hesitated before she answered, "Sure, baby. The bathroom across from the room you slept in. In the closet, there's new toothbrushes, deodorant, shampoo, everythin'. We're practically a hotel. Will you be comin' back and stayin' here?"

When she'd woken, she'd thought that she wanted to stay. To be here, with family, with Michael so close. But now, feeling raw and defensive-and abandoned, too, though that was dumb-she wasn't sure. She guessed that she'd have to drive back to her loft soon and pack up some things. It looked like she might have to stay in Madrone for at least a few days. She'd wait until she knew what was going on with her mother before she made that decision.

"Um, I don't know. I guess I'll work all that out after I know what's going on with Mom. And if she even wants me around."

"She does, baby. Trust me." Bibi squeezed her hand. "Let me know when you know anythin'. I'll come by the hospital this afternoon, while Tuck's at speech therapy."

"Speech therapy?" She looked at the pretty, happy little boy who was putting Cheerios on top of his eggs, placing each one carefully. "How old is he?"

"Two and a half, and he's just startin' to talk. He was slow to walk, too, but he figured that out. He didn't get a great start in life, so we're givin' him some help up the curve."

Faith had a lot of questions about this little boy and the circ.u.mstances that had Michael and Tucker living here with Bibi and Hoosier, but they were questions she wanted to ask Michael, no one else.

She hoped he'd give her the chance. He didn't need to run. He didn't have to back away, not anymore. Maybe those ten years felt like nothing, but they meant everything-or they could, if he now wanted what she wanted the way he'd once wanted what she'd wanted.

Her mother was awake and alert-and lucid-when Faith arrived a few minutes after visiting hours began. She was still restrained to the bed, though, and it was almost more painful to see her in restraints when her eyes were clear and looked at her with recognition.

At first, she stood in the doorway and simply looked. Her mother was turned to the window. The wild frenzy she'd been in last night was gone, and she no longer looked insane. Now, she was simply a small, aging but still pretty woman who'd been in an accident. Her broken leg was in traction. A nurse must have taken the time to brush out her blonde hair.

"Mom?"

Her mother turned at the sound of her voice, and Faith knew for sure that she was fully present and recognized her. But she didn't smile. Or have any expression at all.

"Where's Sera?"

It had been nearly ten years since Faith and her mother had spoken, and still, the first thing her mother thought about was Faith's sister. She shouldn't care. She'd left for a reason. For many reasons. She didn't even like her mother. But that still stung. "In j.a.pan, Mom. She got transferred. Remember?"

"Of course I remember. I'm not an idiot. Why isn't she here now?"

Because Sera's career was the most important thing in her life, and she didn't like their mother all that much more than Faith did. Sera had been Margot's clear favorite, and Faith had always fallen short of her sister's mark, but being the favorite had come with its own special brand of baggage, and Sera had been happy to cast it away. There was a reason she'd gone to college on the other side of the country, and there was a reason she'd taken a job with an international company. Faith didn't even know if Sera planned to come home at all. "j.a.pan's a long way away. I don't know if she can get here."

Margot nodded and looked back out the window.

Faith was still standing in the doorway. She didn't feel welcome enough to go farther into the room, but she didn't feel like she could leave, either. "Is there anything I can do?"

"They won't let me leave until they do a bunch of tests. They won't let me have my arms free. I don't know what happened."

"You got hit by a car."

"I know that. They told me, and that's exactly what I feel like. I don't know why I don't remember. I don't know why they've got me tied up. Did you give them permission for all this s.h.i.t?"

Faith nodded. "I think that's why they want to do the tests-to figure out what happened last night." Part of her wanted to tell her mother how she'd been last night, raving and naked, but that part of her was a spiteful and hurting child, and Faith shut it down.

"Well, that's just great. You show up here out of the blue and get me practically committed. Thanks for that." She sighed. "I need some stuff from home, then. Call Bibi and ask her to put me a bag together. I know you talk to her."

She heard the way her mother hit the word 'her,' but she ignored it. "Bibi was here with me last night. She's coming by again today. She's taking care of Tucker, so it'll be later."

Finally, Margot looked at her daughter with something like interest. Her blue eyes had an avid sheen. "You saw that little boy? You know whose he is?"

In that moment, Faith remembered the kind of hatred she'd once felt for this woman. The way she'd felt when she'd clutched her claws into Faith's shoulders and snarled into her ear to Watch. You watch, little s.l.u.t, and see what you've done. You watch it all. The way she'd felt a few weeks after that night, on the day her parents had done something even worse, and she'd known for a certainty that she'd leave at the first chance she had to be free of her mother, and of her father, and of that whole life.

"Yes. I know he's Michael's."

Then her mother smiled a little. It wasn't a cruel smile, but it was satisfied, and that was a cruelty of its own.

And still Faith couldn't make herself turn and get the f.u.c.k away. "I could put your bag together for you. Do you still use that little frog for the spare key?" She could get the address from Bibi; she didn't want to ask her mother for that information.

Margot shook her head. "I don't want you in my house. Call Bibi."

"Mom-"

"Go away, Faith. Go call Bibi and then just leave me alone. You know how to do that."

With nothing else she could do, Faith backed out of the room and closed the door. Bibi had been wrong. Her mother hadn't been missing her at all.

She left the room, but she couldn't leave the hospital. It was stupid. She should just go back to Venice Beach. She wasn't wanted here. But they were doing tests today, and those tests might explain what had happened and why the unG.o.dly f.u.c.k Faith's life had been turned upside down and shaken vigorously.

So she sat in the waiting room near the nurse's station and waited. She read some old magazines. She played on her phone. She read and returned some emails, stray reminders of the pretty good life she'd had. And she stewed. She spent a lot of time stewing. When the stew got too thick, she pinched her arms.

She called Bibi and told her what Margot wanted. Bibi's answer was, "f.u.c.k that. I'll pick you up and we'll go over to that house together. I will not be a party to this bulls.h.i.t a moment longer."

Faith had agreed, if for no other reason than that she enjoyed the idea of going into her mother's private s.p.a.ce knowing she wasn't welcome there. She might even rifle through her drawers. Maybe move some knickknacks around. Just for spite.

She'd told the nurses at the desk who she was and asked them to let her know if there was any news. Twice, she'd seen orderlies roll her mother out on her bed and down the hall toward the elevators, and twice she'd seen them roll her back. But n.o.body came to tell her anything. After a while, she stopped paying attention to what was happening around her. She crossed her arms and stretched out her legs and let her mind turn in on itself.

So she was surprised to hear a familiar male voice.

"Is that my girl?"

She looked up and saw Hoosier-a lot greyer, his beard a lot longer, his belly a little bigger, but still her Uncle Hooj, standing there smiling down at her.

"It is my girl. Oh, you are beautiful as ever. Get up here and gimme a hug." He stretched his arms out. Faith stood and let herself fall into them. Those arms were still strong and solid. She turned her face against his neck and felt his beard on her cheek. That was like home.

"You okay, baby girl?"

She shook her head.

"I know, baby, I know. It will be okay, though. I promise. Any news?"

Another shake. She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to say that her mother had thrown her out of her room. She just wanted to be right where she was. Wanted.

"You waitin' for news?"

She nodded.

"I got some time. Beebs'll be here, and then I'm on Tuck duty. You mind if I sit with you a while and wait, too?"

And then, again, Faith had to cry.

CHAPTER FOUR.

"Michael, did you hear me? Michael? Demon?"

Demon blinked and brought his attention back to the man in front of him. Findley Bennett-even the guy's name reeked of rich a.s.shole. Demon couldn't stand him, even though he was a hoity-toity lawyer helping him try to get custody of Tucker, and he was doing it for free.

He was doing it for free so he could turn it into some kind of dog and pony show. The guy had already been on the L.A. morning news shows talking about fathers' rights and using Demon and Tucker as an example. He wanted to bring them onto these shows with him, but he wanted to have some other a.s.shole do some kind of 'media training' on him first, and that was really and truly not going to happen.

He knew he should be grateful, and he actually was. Sid had helped him get this guy to take his case, and he was getting a famously successful lawyer to fight for him and his boy. That was good. That was lucky, and Demon normally had the world's s.h.i.ttiest luck. But he could see the distrust and contempt when the guy talked to him, and he hated it.

It was worth it. Getting Tucker would be worth just about anything, but he hated it nevertheless.

That wasn't what had his attention wandering today, though. Today, all he could think about was Faith.

He'd been walking around like the undead all morning, and not just because he'd been up at first light and out of the house before anyone else was moving, hours earlier than he'd needed to be at the shop.

If he hadn't left first thing, he would probably have ended up in the room Faith had taken. And he had to get his head straight before he did anything that had to do with her. He didn't trust himself. Last night, he'd been hit by an old wave of want and need that had been overpowering long ago and had spent ten years only getting stronger, without him even realizing it. If he lost control of himself, he could hurt her. Even if she felt like he did, even if she wanted, too, he could still hurt her.

Besides, did it even matter what they wanted? He'd been no good then, and the past ten years hadn't made him better. He had seen things, done things that should never touch her. The darkness in him was darker, the wrongness more wrong.

He needed to stay away. Far away. And he needed to stop thinking about her. If he couldn't find even that much control inside himself, not even enough to focus his thoughts on what was right in front of him, then there was no way he could get near her.

Seeking control in a deep breath, Demon exhaled and made himself focus on his lawyer.

Usually, he had to ride to Findley-call-me-Finn's sw.a.n.ky office in downtown L.A. for meetings, but today the guy had shown up unannounced at the shop, so now they were sitting in the showroom office, Finn in his custom suit and Demon in a greasy coverall.

"Sorry. Didn't catch it, no."

Finn sighed. "It's big news, Michael." Yep, only lawyers and a.s.sholes called him Michael.

And Faith. He shook her name out of his head. Tried to, anyway.

"My investigator has a solid lead on Dakota's location," Finn went on.

That got his attention. Dakota. Tucker's mom. Demon never wanted to see her again. "I told you I don't want her found. I will kill her if I see her again. That'll probably screw up the case, don't you think?"

"And I've told you that finding her could help us. It fast-tracks your case. And if she's still the disaster she was when Tucker was removed, with all the evidence in his file of how often the first caseworker let her slide, and with your solid record for the past four or five years, that's a strong visual for your case." He smiled an oily, lawyer smile. "If you think you can hold off killing her until we win." The smile disappeared. "That's a joke, by the way."

Demon leaned forward and held out his arm. It was covered in ink, but if you looked close enough, you could still see it. So he put his arm up in Finn's face. "Do you see that, right on the inside of my elbow?"

Finn looked. "A scar, right? Yeah, I see it. Did Dakota do that?"

"No. I've had those since I was nine. Burns from the lit end of a cigar. Three of 'em, all in a neat little row." He dropped his arm. "Tucker has one like it on the bottom of his foot."

"I know. They noted it in his file when he was removed." 'They,' in that instance, was Sid. She'd gotten Tucker's case when the first caseworker, a piece of s.h.i.t who'd been trading Demon's kid's safety for trips to Kota's cooze, retired. Sid had removed Tucker on her first home visit. It was how Demon and Muse-and the whole club, really-had met her.

"He didn't get that with me. Kota doesn't smoke cigars. So she let some b.a.s.t.a.r.d she was boning do that to my kid. You have any idea how a burn like that feels? Who the f.u.c.k knows what else my boy saw or felt with her. He wakes up screaming four or five nights a week. He's not even three. So I'm going to kill her if I ever see her again. I'm not looking to go back inside, and that sure as f.u.c.k won't help Tucker, so we're all better off if she stays the f.u.c.k away."