Misappropriate by Kathryn Kelly, Crystal Cuffley Page A

sending you.”
                  “He didn’t send me,” Meggie said on a whisper-yell, well aware of the little boy laying with such contentment in his mother’s arms. Her own breasts tingled. “I came on my own when I saw him with CJ.”
                  Zoann blinked and turned her head. “CJ? Your son?”
                  “Yes. Christopher Joseph Foy Caldwell.”
                  When Zoann fell into silence, Meggie turned to leave. There would be no happy ending here and time was fast slipping by. This had been a wasted trip, but she’d given it a shot. Over the months, she’d caught snippets of conversations between Val, Christopher, and the others about Val’s son, so she’d already guessed he’d been after Zoann to visit the baby and she’d turned him down again. And again. And again.
                  “Christopher married you.”
                  The dull statement once again halted Meggie. “At City Hall. We’re having a church wedding in a month.”
                  Tears returned to Zoann’s eyes and she blinked them away—again. “He loves you.”
                  “And I love him.”
                  Her jaw tautened and bitterness turned down her mouth. “He’s a lying, murdering, cheating, stinking biker,” she spat. “Just like Val.”
                  “I’m here to appeal to you to allow Val to see his son,” Meggie began, just as tight and fierce as Zoann. “I’m not here to listen to you disparage my husband. Your brother.”
                  She glared at Meggie and eased the baby’s mouth away from her nipple. “Here, then. Take a photo of him and, then, please get out.”
                  Yanking her cell phone from her jacket pocket, Meggie found the switch to the overhead light, pushed the button for the camera, and then leaned in to take shots. “Unless you’re trying to give Val a thrill, cover your nipple.”
                  Zoann shot her a nasty look, then fastened her nursing bra and shoved her shirt down.
                  “He’s beautiful,” Meggie said in an off-handed manner, snapping shots of the little boy from different angles.
                  “He looks like his daddy,” Zoann whispered and bent down to kiss his forehead.
                  Kinda. But if that’s what Zoann saw, then Meggie wouldn’t argue.
                  “His name is Ryan,” she went on quietly. “Ryan Matthew Taylor.”
                  “So Val’s last name is Taylor?” Satisfied with the number of photos she’d taken, Meggie pocketed her cell phone again. “Valentine Taylor. That’s an interesting name.”
                  Zoann glanced away. “His road name is Valentine. His name is Matthew. Matthew Ryan Taylor.”
                  Typical Zoann. She’d denied Val the pleasure of allowing his son to have his first name.
                  “I’ll see you around,” Meggie said with a sigh. She wished Zoann didn’t have such a chip on her shoulder. Obviously, something had happened with the MC—besides the issues with Christopher—for Zoann to carry such enmity.
                  “D-does V-val have an old lady?”
                  So it did matter to her. Of course, it did. She wouldn’t be so bitter and angry if it didn’t. “Not that I know. He’s too busy being a murdering, whoring, stinking biker,” she added dryly.
                  The doorbell sounded again and, since Meggie stood right in front of the door, she pulled it open, surprised when she found Ophelia on the other side. Ophelia was Christopher’s youngest sister, twenty-three, the closest in age to Meggie.
                  Her eyes, a darker brown than Zoann’s, widened. When Meggie had spent time with everyone two