Disclaimer: Burn notice is not mine, this all for fun.
Sam's Surprise.
Chapter one,
BANG. BANG. BANG. Sam Axe rolled out of his bed, his thick dark hair standing on end, his chin covered in two days worth of stubble. Growling he staggered towards his front door. Who the hell would be calling round at this time of day. He glanced at his wall clock and saw it was eleven o clock. He rubbed his face, vigorously trying to wake himself up. BANG. BANG. BANG. Whoever it was they were damn persistent. Finally he made it, BANG, went his door knocker one more time just as he was unlocking the door.
"Ok. Ok I'm here hold on a damn minute would ya." He called out. He was never at his best when he was woken up after a mojito fuelled night. He swung the door open, took a look at who stood on his door step, and slammed the door shut before they could speak.
"Are you Samuel Axe?" The speaker was a woman, in her early twenties.
Not who Sam was expecting when he answered the door in just his boxers and a vest. "Hold on let me get something on." He shouted through the door.
Quickly grabbing some pants and a shirt, he dragged a brush through his hair, then once he was decent, he turned back to the door.
When he returned, she was still there, tall, very slender, dressed in a black tank top, and skin tight black jeans. Long black hair hung down her back nearly reaching her waist a thick fringe hid her eyebrows, and framed her dark brown eyes. She looked vaguely familiar, he had probably spoken to her in one of the bars he frequented, though she was too young for his tastes.
"Are you Samuel Axe?" She asked again.
"Who wants to know sweetheart?" He replied, leaning against the door frame. He looked her up and down, his eyes drawn to where her thumbs were hooked into the front pockets of her jeans, long fingers tipped with bright red nails the only relief from the black of her clothing.
"My names Marti Whittaker, my Mama is Trudy Whittaker she used to live near the Norfolk Naval Base back in the late eighties. I need to talk to you about something."
Trudy Whittaker, a name he hadn't heard in years. Why on earth would a young woman most likely - born in the late eighties - be doing - on his, damn. His mind came to the obvious conclusion and he rocked back on his heels.
His mouth was suddenly very dry. "You better come inside then." Standing aside to let her into his house.
She walked passed him, her head turning to look at the pictures, and photographs he had on the walls. Her fingers skimmed along his wall paper.
"Take a seat Marti." He pointed to his rather worn sofa. He didn't care how it looked, he went to his fridge, he needed a beer.
She sat down and continued to look around, absently stroking the worn material of the cushion next to her. Sam took a seat facing her, taking a large swig from his bottle, he asked. "Er, so your Trudy's daughter? What brings you down to Miami?"
She had dropped her head, as she searched through her rather large, tatty looking hand bag. Finally she looked up and handed him a several of photos. There he was, a lot slimmer and muscular, smart in his uniform, his arm around the woman he knew as Trudy Whittaker. He had dated her for six months, before he was deployed abroad. He didn't return to Norfolk for two years and by that time he had forgotten about her completely. Another photo showed Trudy holding a baby. The following one showed Trudy and a teenage Marti.
He watched as she produced a birth certificate, he looked down at the document and then back at her, a smile on his face.
"You were named Martini?" He raised an eyebrow.
She nodded, "Mama's favourite drink, or so she used to say." She pulled a face.
"How is she?" Sam asked, his eyes scanning the date of birth as he tried desperately to work out the date of conception.
"Let's just say her favourite drink is whatever's the cheapest these days."
"Sorry to hear that, she was a lovely lady." He sat up straight now, his expression serious. "Are you here to say what I think you are?"
"I've was brought up being told you were my Father. But I'm only here now, cos I'm in trouble and I've got no where else to go." She spoke bluntly.
"How did you find me?" He asked, she seemed so calm and he was shaking right down to his toes.
"I've been in Miami for three years, I recognized you in a bar over on South Beach last year. You were with some old lady. Then I saw you again when I worked at Carlitos for a few weeks. I was curious so I followed you for a couple of days, found out where you lived. I never planned on bothering you, but now I need help." She glanced out of the window behind the sofa.
Sam shook his head, not quite believing what was happening. "So you were working at Carlitos, serving me drinks and you didn't think to say something?" He was shocked, he could remember all the flirty comments he made, he took another drink from his bottle. This was bad on so many levels, no wonder she was looking out the window, she was probably checking out the exits.
"I thought, you know, you hadn't been around when I was growing up. You wouldn't be interested." She looked towards the door. "I need to get something from my car." She suddenly got to her feet. "Cos if we're gonna do this I think it should be done properly."
He followed her to the door and watched her walk over to a beat up old car. He continued to watch as she opened the back door and then went pale as she stepped back holding the hand of a little boy. She shut the car door and picked him up, supporting him with an arm around his back, as his legs dangled down on each side of her left hip.
"What's this?" He asked, his voice a little shaky. He wasn't sure how much more he could take.
"His name is Brady, his two years old and his my son." She answered. "You still want to talk?" Her eyes flashed, challenging him. Sam felt the first stirrings of pride, christ she has attitude. He thought.
Sam gestured for her to come back inside. His mind was in a whirl, as he tried to remember about his time at Norfolk and particularly with Trudy Whittaker. They were hot and heavy for six months before he got sent back out. The date of birth fitted in with him being there at conception, it appeared he had gained a daughter and a grandson in the space of ten minutes.
Back in his lounge, Marti sat down on the sofa, Brady was on her lap, sucking his thumb. She sat for a moment biting her bottom lip, then she carefully pulled Brady's t-shirt up showing Sam a mass of hand shaped bruises on his back and the sides of his ribs.
"This is why I'm here." She told him, the first hint of emotion in her voice.
"Jeez." Sam breathed the words out as he studied the little boy's injuries. His grandson, that was going to take some getting use to. "Who did it?"
"My now ex- boyfriend, his daddy." It's the first time he took his temper out on him. I left there and then."
Sam took a closer look at Marti. " 'Cuse me Marti." He leant forward and moved her fringe off her face, exposing bruising unsuccessfully hidden under concealer. "He beat you as well?"
"When his drunk, which is nearly every night." Her tone very matter of fact, she had seen a lot in her twenty two years.
"Ah huh, and what's this scumbags name, and where can I find him?"
"Darryl, his name is Darryl. We have a place in Homestead, but you can't just go there. He's a member of a bike club, he'll be at the club house, or maybe out looking for me."
Sam sat back in his chair, he was going to help this young woman whether she was his daughter or not. He was pretty sure she was, the dates tallied but a DNA test would confirm it.
"How do you feel about a visit to Carlitos to meet some friends of mine?" He asked, as he picked up his phone.
