Blind Date with a Billionaire Biker (Blind Date Disasters Book 3)

by Evangeline Kelly

  “Tirzah, so nice to see you today.” Despite the pleasant greeting, the tone was sarcastic, and he smelled like he’d just finished smoking an entire pack of cigarettes.

  I turned to face him, tilting my head to the side. “Do I know you?”

  “No, but I know you.” He held my gaze with a menacing glint in his eyes and then scanned me up and down as if measuring me in some way.

  A sense of uneasiness swept over me, and I stepped back. “Do you know my dad?” He didn’t look like someone my parents would associate with.

  A muscle in his jaw pulsed as he took two steps forward, crowding my space. “You might say that. He owes me money, and I’m starting to grow impatient.”

  He was too close, and something about this was terribly wrong. Moving back, I nearly stumbled over my own feet in my haste to get away from him. “I can’t help you.”

  He glanced around and then swiftly reached for my wrist, gripping it so tight I cried out. “Give this to your father and tell him the threat is real. We will tie up loose ends if we have to.” He handed the manila envelope to me and made his exit. My knees felt weak all of a sudden, and I had to hold on to one of the produce stands to remain steady. What was that about? I stared at the envelope and wanted to rip it open right there, but I restrained myself since it belonged to my father.

  When Mom found me a few minutes later, I was shaking, still standing where the man had left me.

  “Tirzah, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

  I held up the envelope. “This man said he knew dad…said something about how the threat is real, and he’ll tie up loose ends if he has to.”

  Mom’s eyes widened and then she snatched the envelope from my hands, ripping it open with the same vigor a dog might use when tearing apart his meal. She pulled out several photographs and rustled through them. Covering her mouth with a hand, she let out a noise that sounded like a cross between a moan and a cry of fear.

  “Mom, what is it?” I lifted the photographs from her hands. She seemed too overcome with worry to put up a fight, and I was too determined to let her hold on to them. What I saw made my stomach turn. The photographs were of me. There was a close-up, almost like I’d taken a selfie or was looking into a camera. There were also a few of me sitting on the couch, working on my cross stitch. I was wearing the exact same clothes I had on today which meant…

  I looked at my mother in horror. “How is…how is this possible?”

  ***

  Fifteen minutes later, we were home, and Dad was tearing the house apart in search of a hidden camera. “Someone planted something, but how did they get in?”

  “Wait a second,” I said, picking up the delivery I’d received earlier. “This teddy bear arrived in a box today. It was addressed to me, but there was no note to go with it.”

  Dad headed towards the kitchen and returned with a knife. He ripped open the teddy and found what he was looking for. “There’s a camera equipped with a Wi-Fi chip in here, which means someone can access it outside the house.”

  Mom gasped. “We have to get rid of it right now.”

  Dad ran to the kitchen and put it in a bag to take out to the trash.

  I followed close behind, goosebumps breaking out on the back of my neck. “Hold on. Don’t we need this as evidence to show the police?”

  Dad pressed his lips together and shook his head ever so slightly. “I don’t think you understand, Tirzah. We can’t go to the police with this.” He and Mom exchanged a glance, and they looked at me regretfully.

  “We’d better sit down,” Mom said.

  Once Dad disposed of the teddy bear in the trash outside, and we were sitting on the couch, he cleared his throat and stared at the floor, his shoulders slumping forward like they were too weak to hold the weight of this burden. He’d never appeared more tired and weary than he did at that moment. Dad reached over and patted my knee. “Tirzah, there’s something we haven’t told you.”

  Obviously. “What is happening? Why did this man have pictures of me? What is the threat he was talking about?” A sick feeling settled in my stomach and rose through my lungs making it hard to breathe. I wanted to vomit, but I needed answers, and I needed them now.

  “I…I have a problem.” Dad flushed and hung his head in shame. “A few years ago, I started dabbling with some online gambling sites. I knew it wasn’t a good idea but…” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I just…wanted some extra money for your wedding. I know that’s not a good excuse and what I did was a sin, but we’ve been financially strapped for some time.”

  “Gambling?” My eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. It couldn’t be true. The father that I knew would never do something like that.

  “The online sites weren’t cutting it, so I took a trip to Atlantic City and got myself into some trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?” I asked.

  When he didn’t respond, Mom grimaced and looked away. “He lost thirty thousand dollars.”

  I straightened. “Are you serious?”

  Dad shook his head reluctantly. “I’m ashamed to admit it, but it’s true. I emptied out our savings, and I thought I could cover it up by getting a loan to replace the cash, but that was a mistake. A man named Harry loaned me the money. He seemed like a nice guy when he offered to help, but now I realize he wasn’t helping out of the kindness of his heart. He’s a dangerous man. I get the sense he has connections, and he said that if we go to the police, he’ll know.”

  “Was it the same man who gave me the envelope?”

  Dad shook his head. “No, I think that guy worked for him, though. The man who initially helped me had reddish hair and a thick middle. The one you described doesn’t sound like the same guy I spoke with.”

  “But what is the threat?” I repeated.

  Dad let out a long breath, looking as though it pained him to share this with me. “I paid back fifteen thousand dollars, but I haven’t been able to pay the rest. About a week ago, he threatened to hurt you if I didn’t come up with twenty-five thousand dollars by next month, which includes the interest he tacked on.”

  I broke out into a sweat, and a tingling sensation spread across my skin. My heart pounded so hard against my ribs I felt dizzy. “Hurt me? But why? I don’t have anything to do with this.”

  “Because he knows there’s nothing more precious to me than my only daughter.”

  Mom began to cry, and I turned to comfort her, but Dad put a hand on my arm. “I’m doing everything in my power to come up with the money, but in the meantime, we have to get you out of here.”

  “But where would I go?” I stood and paced in front of the brick fireplace Mom painted a soft cream color last summer. “I have no money, no savings, and you obviously can’t support me since you need to come up with twenty-five thousand dollars.” The leaders of Faithful Servants discouraged single women from working outside of the home so they would be prepared for a husband and children. I’d always gone along with that, but, now, I regretted not having any job experience.

  “Tirzah, we have a plan,” Dad said.

  Mom stopped crying, and she looked at me with guilt on her face. “There’s something I’ve never told you.”

  My forehead creased as I joined them back on the couch. “More secrets?” My stomach clenched, and it felt like my world was imploding from within. Everything they’d taught me about honesty, integrity, and financial stability was all a lie. “What?”

  Mom’s eyes watered. “I was adopted.”

  That was not what I had expected her to say at all. I reached over and took her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I didn’t think it was necessary. My dad will always be Frank Miller, the man who raised me and who you knew as your grandfather.”

  And then it came to me—the statement she had made earlier. We can’t send her to my father. “You’ve been in contact with your biological father, haven’t you? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I had a right to know to about him.�
�

  Mom bit down on her bottom lip. “Tirzah, I held back for a reason. He’s not the kind of man I wanted you to become acquainted with, to consider family.”

  “Is he a criminal or something?”

  “Actually, yes. He served some time for car theft, but that was long ago. He says he’s a changed man, says he gave his life to the Lord. But honestly, I don’t want you living with him. He’s the leader of a motorcycle club.”

  “Honey, we talked about this,” Dad said, frowning. “We are literally out of options here, and she won’t have to stay long. I’ll come up with the money somehow, even if I have to sell this house.”

  The entire situation was disturbing, but I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face at Mom’s earlier description. “Wait a second… Your father is the leader of a motorcycle club?” I’d endured years of Mom’s strict rules—her prim and proper nature was such that I often felt I would never measure up. And yet…her biological father was the leader of a motorcycle club. The information must have horrified her when she found out. Did it make me bad that I was delighted at the notion? “This is hilarious.” A snicker escaped my lips despite Mom’s eyes warning me not to react. “And you want me to live with him.”

  “That’s your father’s plan. I’d like to talk to Pastor Dale and see if he can find you a nice home with a proper Christian family.”

  Dad shook his head. “We can’t afford to bring Pastor Dale into this without explaining the situation, and the last thing I want to do is tell him about my gambling problem.”

  That was no surprise. The culture at church was such that everyone held themselves apart from the rest of the world. We had an image to uphold…we were examples and could by no means show weakness of any kind. That kind of faltering would shock Pastor Dale, and he would probably call Dad out during one of his sermons.

  Mom’s eyes narrowed. “So, you’d rather send her to live with the leader of a motorcycle club?”

  “How do we know he’ll even agree to let me live with him?”

  “We spoke to him yesterday,” Dad said. “We posed it as a potential option but said we were looking into other things as well. He agreed wholeheartedly. He wants to meet you.”

  “What’s his name?” I asked.

  “Carl.” Mom wiped a tear from one eye. “Carl Bailey.”

  “Is he nice?”

  Mom sniffed and stared at the floor for a long time. “I have no idea. He was friendly enough on the phone, but he could have been faking it.”

  “I spoke to him twice,” Dad said, “and he seemed like a reasonable man.”

  “You don’t know that,” Mom said, clearly frustrated.

  They argued for a while before I interrupted. “I want to meet my grandfather.”

  They both stopped talking and looked at me in shock. Mom licked her lips and shook her head ever so slightly. “We will find another way. We have to.”

  “There is no other way. Dad’s right. If we bring Pastor Dale into this, there’s a chance this Harry guy will figure it out. He probably follows everything we do, who we see, etc. etc.” I leaned forward and looked Mom in the eye. “Have you even met Carl in person?”

  She closed her eyes and was quiet for several moments. “No. He lives in Los Angeles. He has wanted to meet me for a very long time, but I’ve always refused. I’ve only spoken to him a few times, and no one knows about him. Your father didn’t until just recently.”

  My mouth dropped open. “You never even told Dad?”

  Tears dripped down Mom’s face, and she quickly wiped them away. “I was afraid he would think less of me if he knew the kind of genes I came from.”

  “I can’t believe you’re saying that,” I said. “Of all people, you should understand it’s not about genes. We’re all sinners. That’s what the Bible says, right?”

  She dropped her head and didn’t respond. Dad put his arm around her and kissed the side of her face. “Your mother is worn out from all of this. Let’s give her a pass, okay? She didn’t ask for this problem. It’s my fault, not hers.”

  I nodded. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so hard on you, Mom.”

  She glanced up at me and smiled through her tears. “I know, honey, and don’t worry, we’ll find another place for you to stay.”

  I shook my head. “No, if my life is in danger, I want to move as far away as possible. Los Angeles is sounding pretty good right now. That’s the best plan.”

  “You don’t get a say in this,” Mom said, her eyes going wild all of a sudden.

  “I’m not a child anymore. I’m twenty-two years old. It’s time to let me make my own decisions.”

  Mom ducked her head and began to weep again. “I can’t… I can’t let you go with him.”

  Dad looked at me and winked. “Go on. Pack up some things and get ready. We need to move on this right away.”

  Chapter 3

  Dex

  I slid from underneath the nineteen sixty-seven Ford Mustang and stood to my feet, wiping my forehead with a rag. It was my last car of the day, and since it was Friday and we’d all put in a lot of overtime, Carl, a.k.a. “Tank,” told us to close the shop early and head over to his place to hang out. I glanced at Jester, who’d just come over to get a second look at the car. “It’s a beauty, ain’t it?”

  “That it is,” Jester said, eyeing the polished, cherry red exterior and chrome tires like they were diamonds in a jewelry store. “Wish this baby was mine.”

  “Me too. The owner saw me drooling and offered to sell.”

  “No way. What he ask for it?”

  I smirked. “A lot more than I have in my bank account.”

  Jester let out a cackle. “You and me both.”

  I headed to the office to let Delia, the office manager, know I was finished with the car so she could inform the owner. “One day I’ll own a car like that.” I glanced back at Jester and pumped a fist on my chest. “That’s a promise.”

  Jester ran a hand through his rust-color hair and grinned. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  “Never.” I laughed. “Come on, we’d better get cleaned up before heading over. Tank said to shut down at two and it’s two fifty-five. Everyone else is probably there already.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Jester and I hopped on our bikes and were on the road, headed to Acton where our boss and club leader owned a home. Jester and I were both part of Riders for Christ, a Christian motorcycle club that first came together in the nineteen eighties. “Christian” and “motorcycle club” might sound countercultural to some in the church, considering MC clubs had a reputation for illegal activity and intimidating behavior, but we were far from that. Most MC clubs were about brotherhood and riding, anyway. It was only the one-percenters, as we liked to call them, who engaged in drugs and unlawful enterprise. Tank founded Riders for Christ as a way to reach out to the one-percenters, the wayward, those in trouble with the law—anyone who would never set foot in a church but might be willing to have a conversation with a fellow biker. The club did other sorts of outreach as well, and that was our main mission—to help those who were down and out.

  The ride to Acton took about sixty minutes, but heading up the fourteen freeway was one of my favorite ways to pass the time. If you went before all the commuters headed home, there was very little traffic and the mountain scenery was amazing. It was windy as all get-out with gusts reaching up to twenty-five miles per hour or higher, but that was part of the fun.

  L.A. was known for being one of the biggest cities in the country, but Tank, wanting to escape urban life, moved forty-seven miles or so to the small community of Acton, California. He had to commute to the shop every day, but he said he didn’t mind at all. Acton was still part of L.A. County, but it had a rural feel with many homeowners having huge lots with room for horses and chickens and such. It wasn’t farming territory…but it gave people space. And that was all some wanted or even needed.

  When Jester and I arrived at Tank’s house, we wen
t to the back where we knew everyone would be. The western-style home sat on several acres of land and the backyard had a firepit we liked to sit around when we visited on the weekends.

  “Rev and Jester are here,” someone yelled loudly.

  I acquired the nickname “Rev” when I was just a prospect. We went on a ride up the grapevine, and I got a little too excited, weaving in and out of traffic. A few of the guys dubbed me “Speedy Gonzales” after the cartoon, and when we finally made it to our destination, Tank called me Rev. The moniker had stuck ever since.

  Everyone looked our way as we sauntered over. I spread my arms out wide. “Yo, whassup? Rev and Jester in the house.”

  “Wassup, brother,” Moose said. “Bout time you showed up.” Moose was a large, tall man who had a striking resemblance to Grizzly Adams, or so I’d been told. I was a youngin’ and hadn’t seen the TV series, but one day, Tank pulled up an online picture to show me the similarity when they were razzing Moose about his unkempt appearance.

  I cracked my knuckles and joined the others around the fire pit. There were at least ten of us here though the club was a lot bigger than that. “Had work to do, boys. Someone’s got to do it.”

  Moose swung his head to Jester who was plopping down on one of the beach chairs. “What’s your excuse?”

  “Had to watch out for the youngster here. Couldn’t leave em’ on his own.” He grinned, and he and Moose bumped knuckles.

  Jester had just turned thirty, so he seemed to think he had a lot more experience than me since I was four years younger. What he didn’t know was that I had several lifetimes worth of experience in my sorry life—but we’d never spoken of it. Tank was the only one who knew my history. I wasn’t one to open up much.

  “I don’t need no babysitter,” I said with a wry smile, “though it’s good to know I had some backup, even if that back-up has some ‘issues.’” I turned my gaze to Jester, and with a straight face said, “Were the lights off when you put your pants on this morning? Cause it looks like you slipped your wife’s skinny jeans on by accident.”