When nobody answered, he entered the house, slamming the door behind him. “Evie?”
“Is that him, mom?”
His gaze fell on the young boy in front of Evie. He looked to be about seven or eight years old, his dark hair long enough to cover part of his face. Evie had her hands on his thin shoulders and he was staring at Zane, his dark eyes curious.
“Ty, this is Zane. He’s your … dad.” She looked up and swallowed. “Zane. This is your son … Ty.”
His.
Son.
The words hit him in the gut like a goddamned sledgehammer, knocking the air from his lungs.
“He’s eight years old,” she said in a rush, as if he might not believe her. “His birthday is in June.”
But he had no doubt Evie was telling the truth. He could see the similarities, from Ty’s dark eyes to his lightly tanned skin, and from his overlong brown hair to the sharp planes and angles of the boy’s face.
That night—the one perfect night in his life—had produced this perfect child.
He opened his mouth, but words failed him. Caught in a maelstrom of emotion, he fought an internal battle against his instinct to walk out the door, jump on his bike, and ride until he ran out of road. He needed time to come to terms with what he’d just heard. Who he was looking at now.
He had a son.
With Evie.
And he’d left them.
Regret stabbed him in the gut, a pain so sharp he dropped to his knees. Not only had he left them, but when he’d returned and saw her with Mark … saw his son … he’d jumped to a conclusion that had cost him another five years. Jesus H. Christ. To think another man had looked after his boy, and all it would have taken was a word. A step.
Faith.
“Why isn’t he talking to me?” Ty’s voice wavered and he looked back at Evie. “Doesn’t he like me? Doesn’t he want to be my dad?”
Did he want to be a dad? It would be so easy to turn and run, just like he’d done in Stanton. He could leave all this behind—leave them behind—return to the club. Hell, half the Sinner brothers had kids they didn’t see. He could get back to doing what he’d done before.
Searching. Hiding in the shadows. Longing.
“He…” Her voice wavered with uncertainty. “He’s just so happy to see you, he doesn’t know what to say.”
“Hey.” Zane had no other words. What did a man say to the son he never knew he had?
Ty studied him in silence and then tilted his head to the side? “Are you my real dad?”
“Seems like.”
No wonder Evie never made it to college to pursue her dream of getting a Fine Arts degree. Alone, with a baby to look after, her parents dead, waiting for him to return …
He bowed under the crushing weight of guilt at having doubted her all these years. How long had he expected her to wait for him? She’d been alone.
So goddamned alone.
“So you’re a biker?” Ty asked.
“Yeah.”
“A real biker? Like, is that your job or do you just ride for fun?”
Zane sucked in his lips, considering. He’d never thought about the club in those terms, but he’d always known it was where he was meant to be. “It’s my life.”
“Cool. Can I ride your bike?”
“A biker doesn’t let—” Fuck it. This was his son. And his son wanted to sit on his bike. “Yeah, you can sit on my bike.”
“What kind of bike do you have? I love motorcycles. I have a whole collection. I’ll show you.” Ty ran off before Zane could answer his question, returning only moments later with an ice cream pail filled with toy bikes. He placed them one at a time on the coffee table and Zane bent down to help while Evie perched on the arm of the couch, watching them.
“You got a lot of foreign bikes here.” Zane grimaced as Ty pulled out a miniature Kawasaki Ninja ZX-10R. A real biker only rides American. Harleys.”
“I have Harleys.” Ty fished around in the pail. “I have a silver V-Rod, and a black Springer Heritage, and a red Electra Ultra Glide, and I’ve got the whole Series 28 and 31 Harley Davidson collections, and for my birthday, mom got me the Sons of Anarchy collection, except it only has three bikes in it, not six like the others.”
“You got a Night Rod Special? That’s what I ride.”
Ty shook his head. “Will you buy me one?”
“Ty!” Evie shot him an admonishing glance. “We don’t ask people for presents. It’s not polite.”
“I’m not people,” Zane snapped, surprising even himself at the vehemence in his tone. “I’m his dad. I’m buying him a bike. I’ll take him to the toy store and we’ll buy all the goddam bikes they got.”
He knew he’d spoken too abruptly when Evie startled. But fuck it. He’d missed out on eight years of his son’s life. Eight years of buying him toys and all the shit Zane had wanted growing up but could never have. Eight years of being a dad.
“Why did you leave us?” Ty’s voice broke his train of thought, and Zane’s mouth went dry.
Ah. The kicker. But how could he tell his son he’d left because he thought Evie’s father was right about him? He wasn’t worthy. He was nothing and had come from nothing. He knew the cops wouldn’t believe the truth, and he’d been afraid—so afraid—Evie wouldn’t believe him either. But more than that, he left to spare Evie the heartbreak of discovering her father wasn’t the hero she thought he was.
“I didn’t know about you. If I had, I never would have left.”
Ty brushed his hair back. “But you left Mom.”
Damn. This was worse than an interrogation with Dax. “Hardest thing I ever did in my life.” Biggest regret he ever had.
“Where’s your bike?”
Zane stared at his son, his mind trying to keep up with the abrupt change of track. Here he’d exposed his soul, spoken a truth he had never admitted to anyone, and Ty brushed it off to ask about his bike.
His son. The words rolled around in his mind, fresh and new, words he had never even contemplated being able to say. He’d never considered a future with children because he had never considered a future with any woman except Evie.
“It’s outside. You want to see it?”
Ty looked back at Evie and she shook her head. “I have to get going and Connie’s going to put you to bed. Maybe another time.”
“Zane says it’s okay.” His bottom lip trembled and Zane felt no small amount of pride in the fact his son was already pitting his parents against each other. Did he know eight missed years led to a whole lot of guilt and guilt would buy him pretty much anything he wanted from his old man?
Although the burden of those eight years could have been one week lighter if Evie had told him when they first met again. Or had she not intended to tell him and Jagger forced her hand? He fought back a flare of resentment. Now was not the time.
“Your mom said no, and she’s the person who looks after you.” Zane pushed himself to his feet. “That means you gotta do what she says.”
“But you’re my dad. You have to look after me, too. What do you say?”
Hell. Were all eight-year-olds that smart? He didn’t know. Hell, he knew nothing about kids and he wasn’t leading a family kind of life. He was a bachelor through and through. So how the hell was he supposed to handle this? Pay the occasional visit? Show up on the weekend and take the boy to a game? He had no frame of reference, no skills, no one to guide him or tell him what to do.
“I say you gotta listen to your mother.”
Ty spun around and pushed past Evie, spilling his motorcycles on the floor. “I thought you were cool, but you’re just the same as Mom.” He stormed into his bedroom and slammed the door.
“He just needs some time,” Evie said softly. “He doesn’t deal well with change and this is a lot to handle.”
“I get it.” More than got it. If he hadn’t developed self-restraint over the years, he’d be slamming the door behind him, jumping on his bike and riding until he’d had time to pro
cess everything and clear his head. But, of course, he didn’t have that luxury. Not with Evie and his son to protect.
“Why didn’t you tell me when we first met?” His words came out sharper than he intended, but he couldn’t hide the emotion that burned in his chest.
Evie hugged herself and leaned against the wall. “I just … I didn’t know if you’d want him and I didn’t want him to get hurt and I wasn’t sure about involving him in your biker life. I was going to talk to you about him first, and then I wanted it to be perfect, a meeting in a neutral space—”
“There is no perfect.” He cut her off, his hands curling into fists. “You should have told me right away. I lost even more time—”
“Don’t take out your guilt on me,” she snapped. “You’re the one who left. You’re the one who decided to drop off the face of the earth. You’re the one who came back and assumed Ty was Mark’s son.”
Zane turned and smashed his fist into the wall, making the cheap bungalow shake. “And you were the one who jumped into bed with the first man who crossed your path.” He regretted the words the moment they dropped from his lips and tried to soften the blow. “I get that you were alone, but I have never broken a promise. I came back, Evie.” His voice caught as his emotion spilled over. “Fuck. I came back.”
And then she was pressed up against him, holding him tight, soothing his pain just as she had done the day they met. “I know you did.”
They stood in silence and he buried his face in her hair, breathing in the familiar floral scent, wishing he could turn back the clock and live his life all over again.
“What are you going to do?” she murmured against his chest. “Do you want to … are you going to be around for him?”
“He’s my boy.” Why would she ask that question? Did she honestly think he would walk away again? Did she think he’d leave his son without a father?
“I got lots of money,” he continued. “Anything you need—”
Evie pulled away, frowning. “I don’t want your money. We do okay.”
“You don’t do okay.” Overwhelmed by his feelings, and unable to get it together, he raised his voice and struggled against a tidal wave of guilt. “Living near a trailer park at the edge of town and driving a shit vehicle that’s about to fall apart is not okay. Working in a shop that’s almost all guys, with bikers coming in and out all the time, and a boss who goes missing when the Jacks show up—which should be a warning to you—is not okay.” Everything he’d held inside since the moment he saw Ty erupted in a burst of concerned anger. “I want my boy to have what you had—a nice house with a big yard in some leafy suburb where everyone is decent—”
“Like my mother?” Her face tightened. “You know that’s all an illusion. Good people and bad people are everywhere, Zane. It doesn’t matter whether there are nice cars in the driveways, or trees on the street. Sometimes the worst people can be found in the nicest homes.”
“And worse people can be found in the worst homes,” he responded. “And the fucking scum-of-the-earth, cock-sucking murderous bastards of the world can be found in Red River where you are definitely not going tonight. You and Viper. That’s over.” His body shook as he drowned in a maelstrom of fear, anger and regret. “I’ll buy you and Ty a house somewhere nice where you can meet nice people. And I’ll buy you a decent car. Something safe. And Ty can have all the toy motorcycles he wants.”
She twisted her hair around her finger and glared. “And then what? You’re going to go back to your biker life? How does that work? Gunfight in the morning; baseball in the afternoon? Lock Evie up in the kitchen so she doesn’t date men you don’t like?”
“I gotta figure it out.” He didn’t know what else to say, or what to do, his emotions still trying to play catch-up with his mind. He couldn’t think beyond the next hour, much less the future.
“Figure this out.” She poked him in the chest. “You can’t just walk into our lives and change everything you don’t like. Ty goes to school in this neighborhood. He has friends here. You want to buy him hundreds of toy motorcycles, but where will he put them? What kind of values does that teach him? I totally understand you want to make up for lost time. And I want you to spend time with him. But we need to talk about what’s best for him, and how we go about making this work. And part of that is you not telling me how to live my life. I’m going out tonight. With Viper. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Like fuck there wasn’t.
If that’s how she wanted to play it, he’d let her go.
But no way in hell was she going alone.
NINE
Don’t sweat it if you break something. You can always get another part.
—SINNER’S TRIBE MOTORCYCLE REPAIR MANUAL
Evie pulled open the heavy wooden door to the Riverside Bar and stepped inside, the warm air instantly thawing the chill from her skin. Too bad it couldn’t thaw her all the way through. How could she be here after what happened with Zane? She felt too raw, as if her deepest secrets had been exposed to the light.
And yet, how could she not be here? Zane had to understand that being part of Ty’s life didn’t mean he was part of her life. And there was no better way to drive that message home than to go through with her date as planned.
Still, her enthusiasm for meeting up with Viper had diminished over the course of the drive. Did she really want to keep seeing Viper when all she’d been able to think about over the last week was Zane? Especially since he was the rival of a member club.
She smoothed down her dress, wished she’d worn her jeans. Riverside was so not a dress-up bar. If she’d walked in any other night, she would have turned around and walked right out. Rough didn’t begin to describe the customers—mostly bikers, a few skinheads, shifty looking guys in shiny suit jackets—Zane would have a fit if he saw her here. He’d probably throw her over his shoulder and stalk out the door.
A smile teased the corner of her lips. Now wouldn’t that be hot in a totally primal kind of way.
The bar was bigger than it appeared from the outside, with a small stage in the far corner, and a sea of tables between the front door and the bar. Warm air, scented with yeast and the distinct tang of chicken wings, engulfed her as she made her way through the crowd looking for Viper.
“Nice to see you again, kitten.” He came up behind her, his voice a warm rumble in her ear. “You look lovely as always.” Viper’s warm hand slid around her middle and he pulled her into his chest, his lips brushing over her ear. “Good enough to eat.”
“I didn’t see you hiding in the shadows.” She looked back over her shoulder and Viper laughed.
“I live in the shadows. No one ever sees me coming.” He led her to a table in the back corner, guarded by four of the scariest bikers she’d ever seen. Clearly none of them had ever used a razor or had a haircut, judging from their full beards and long ponytails. But then who was going to complain given their height, the breadth of their shoulders, and their massively muscled chests and arms.
And yet, for all that Viper didn’t have their bulk, he was no less imposing. His arms were thick with ropey muscles and covered in colorful tattoos. His cut, worn and heavy with patches sat on broad shoulders and covered a barrel chest. He had trimmed his salt-and-pepper beard since she had last seen him, and tied his long hair in a ponytail. His broad face, weathered and scarred, was distinguished, rather than handsome, and he wore six rings on his fingers, the largest, a snake’s head with ruby eyes.
“My bodyguards.” Viper answered her silent question as he pulled out Evie’s chair.
“I think just one of them could take out everyone in the bar,” she whispered. “Much less four.”
“Actually there are six.” Viper winked as he sat beside her.
Evie toyed with the handle of her purse. “I didn’t know you were being threatened. You’ve never brought them before.”
“Circumstances have changed.” He covered her hand, drew it away from her purse, and slipped some
thing into her palm.
“What’s this?” Evie stared at the key fob in her hand.
“You can’t ride around in that piece of junk you call a vehicle.” He slid his hand into her purse and fumbled around.
“Hey…”
“Your vehicle isn’t safe.” Viper pulled out her keys and tossed them to the nearest bodyguard who caught them neatly with one hand. “I bought you something new and worthy of a woman associated with the Black Jacks.”
“You bought me a car?” She stared at him in shock.
“Not just a car. A Mazda MX5.”
“I can’t accept this. I want my keys back.” She offered the key back to him, but he shook his head.
“It’s a gift. You can’t return it. But you can thank me for it.” He dropped his hand to her thigh under the table and Evie sucked in a sharp breath. Viper had never been sexually aggressive before, and his sudden change in demeanor disconcerted her even more than the flippant way he dismissed her protest.
“Vip—”
“You can start with a kiss.”
“Here?” She looked around the crowded bar, her gaze flicking to the band only ten feet away, now warming up with a few guitar riffs.
“Here. Now.” He slid his hand beneath her hair to cup her neck, pulling her forward. “I want a taste of those sweet lips, kitten. Show me your gratitude.” His hand slid higher on her thigh, pushing up her dress. Uncertain whether the pounding in her heart was from arousal or fear, she tried to pull away, but Viper tightened his grip.
“One kiss. Is that so much to ask? Or have you been teasing me all this time?”
Teasing? She’d been annoyed he only wanted a kiss. So what had changed? Why did the thought of that bristly beard brushing against her skin set her teeth on edge? Or maybe she was just overthinking. Only one way to find out.
“Okay. Just one kiss. I’m not that comfortable with public displays of affection.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
Before she could ask what he meant, he pulled her toward him and sealed his mouth over hers. A shudder ran through Evie’s body, and she tried not to wrinkle her nose as his beard rasped over her skin. Cold, hard lips forced her mouth open, and when he thrust his thick tongue past her teeth, she almost gagged at his milky taste. When he finally pulled away, she was almost overwhelmed with the desire to brush her teeth.
The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club, Books 1-3 Page 75
