She tensed then swallowed. “I have some money in a savings account. Not much, but it’s something until I find a job here. I’d need…”
He took a step in her direction and leaned into her, looking so feral she had no choice but to trail off. “You’ve lost common sense over the last five years?”
She wanted to say no but instead mumbled, “I…”
“What don’t you get about the fact a street gang is trying to kill you?”
She thought he couldn’t possibly get more furious. Wrong. His posture stiff, eyes savage yet lifeless, and that wild look on his face proved it. Still, she went on. She had a daughter to support, couldn’t depend on him for everything.
“I have to find a job. I can’t just—”
Looking away from her, he muttered, “Fuckin’ deaf, too.” He then met her eyes. “Shut it, and listen. Chip hired a PI to find you, not the first he’s hired over the years but the best ’cause the PI found you and Bree, and it just so happens the PI sent Chip all that info to his phone an hour before the Falcons found him and shot him. They took his phone. That’s how they found you. That’s why they shot up your house. That means not only do they know about you, but they know about Bree. Any way they can find to track you and Bree, they will. That means no cell phone, and especially no leaving this place. I’m not gonna let you get killed ’cause you wanna be stubborn. I gave my word, and most importantly, ’cause my girl needs her mom.”
The muscle in his jaw twitched. “That means you aren’t working ’cause you aren’t leaving this place until this shit with Chained and the Falcons is done, so you’re not gonna work ’cause you can’t leave this place ’cause I’m not letting you. Get me now?”
“Okay.”
His brows rose, and then, he took a step away and stared, waiting, knowing she wasn’t done.
“Maybe there’s something I can do around here. Not that I expect to be paid since I’m living here and the club’s protecting me and especially Bree, but maybe there’s some way I can help out. Cleaning or cooking or whatever… Just talk to the guys and let me know.”
The tension leaving his shoulders, he crossed his arms over his chest, making the muscles along his arms bulge.
“And also…Bree needs a booster seat.”
Quirking a brow, for the first time in two days, he didn’t look angry but confused. It wasn’t the way she wanted him to look at her either, but it was way better than livid.
“A what?”
“A car seat.”
He leaned in. His face went feral, eyes dead and narrowed, jaw clenched, brows furrowed. “You mean to tell me I’ve been driving around with Bree when I shouldn’t’ve been ’cause I don’t got a car seat for her?”
Yeah. She would’ve told him this but hadn’t had the chance before now considering they’d arrived just yesterday. She also had no idea he planned on taking Bree anywhere that day, but Em didn’t bother explaining. Pointless and stupid, considering he was irate again, and Bryce furious didn’t listen to explanations. All it’d do was cause an argument, and the fight she’d had vanished five years ago when she forced herself to walk away from him.
“Are you getting a kick outta making me look like a bad father?”
“No…” she whispered the word. “I know you’ll be a great—”
One minute he was feet away, the next in her face. She didn’t know how she did it, but she held still, without flinching.
“Don’t fuckin’ say it. Don’t you dare say it ’cause I can read through that fucked lie, and I’ll lose my shit. Trust me when I tell you, you don’t want to see that. You don’t want me to do it ’cause swear to God, I don’t know what the fuck I’ll do to you.”
She hadn’t lied. She always knew he’d be a great father because of how he’d been with her. She didn’t try to tell him this though, and she wouldn’t.
Then and there, it hit her like a sucker punch to the gut what she already knew to be true—he wasn’t the man she thought him to be all those years ago. The man she thought he was wouldn’t treat her this way, despite the fact she left with his kid because he knew why she left and why she had reason to. She wouldn’t tell him or remind him of this either. She’d let him take out his anger on her, believing she deserved it. Because the woman he’d known was long gone. With that went what made her her, feisty and fearless, a woman who didn’t put up with shit, a woman who fought back and dirty. And so, holding his eyes, she forced herself to remain still.
“Anything else?”
“Yes, we should discuss getting Bree in school. She’s four, but I had her in Pre-K—”
“Haven’t had her with me since she was born, so school can wait ’till next week.”
She nodded then bracing to feel that vile anger emanating from him again, she blurted, “Her birthday’s coming up. It’s the Sunday after next.”
He didn’t say a word. Then again, he didn’t have to. The look in his eyes went from dead to deadly. He held so still, hands in fists at his sides, close to losing it and doing everything in his power not to.
“I usually have a small party for her, invite her friends, but we can do whatever you want. I’ve always made her cake. I’d like to do that again, and if you want to have a small party for her, I can help with the decorations. We can do something simple, or if you want to spend time with her alone, that’s fine too. I’d still like to make her a cake. I know she loves them—”
Through gritted teeth, he said, “I’ll think ‘bout it.”
She nodded, tore her gaze from his, and strode into her room.
****
Ripper needed sleep and bad. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get more than a couple of hours. He tried, but his mind wouldn’t stop working, thinking about Bree and all he’d missed.
His baby girl would turn five soon, and just two days ago, he hadn’t known she existed. He missed everything those five years, and that made the rage inside him so strong it became an ache.
After the conversation with Emelia, he hopped on his bike and rode for hours. He then changed and went for a long run, close to six miles. Even after, he still felt that ache acutely, so he headed to the gym and attempted to further exhaust it out of him by slamming his fists against a punching bag repeatedly. He didn’t know how long he’d done that, but it was long enough his legs and arms gave out.
Still, that ache didn’t fade.
Still, his mind wouldn’t give it a rest.
He showered and trimmed his beard then lay on his bed, eyes wide open, for hours. Finally, he nodded off, only to wake with a start a few hours later when he dreamed a memory he tried hard to forget—the day he came home and found her gone.
Pulling himself out of bed, he headed to the bathroom. Showered and dressed, he walked out of his bedroom and headed to Bree. He didn’t bother to knock. Instead, he parted the door slowly and poked his head inside. The moment he did, his gaze locked with a pair of eyes the same color as his.
Bree sat up in bed. Smiling wide, she jumped off, dashed to him, and slammed into his legs. Reaching down, he picked her up and kissed her forehead. “Mornin’, baby.”
Her cheek pressed against his chest, her arms tightened around him. “Good morning, Daddy.”
He couldn’t help it. Before he strode away, he spared a glance at the bed where Emelia lay. Seeing that blonde hair of hers sprawled around her, he remembered something he’d forgotten. How often he woke with her thick mass of hair on him, smelling the flowery scent of her shampoo, how often he accidentally pulled on it when he put an elbow on the bed, and how often he threaded his fingers through it mindlessly. He hated the memory came to him, hated remembering.
Clenching his jaw, holding Bree tight, he reminded himself he got something wonderful out of it. He looked to Bree, moved away from the door, closed it, and set Bree on her feet. “What do you want for breakfast, baby?”
She put a finger to her chin. “Um…Pancakes.”
He smiled thinking they’d have to go out for breakfa
st. He didn’t know how to make pancakes and wasn’t even sure they were stocked for it. The only time he remembered having food at the compound consistently was when Allie, one of his brothers’ sister, lived there. She shopped, stocked the kitchen, and cooked for her brother. She always made plenty for the rest of them. Besides that, except once a month when they had the club cookouts, it was hard to find anything but beer and liquor. Allie, who the brothers called Classy, was now married to Trig. Though she often hung out at the compound, she never cooked for them anymore because Trig was selfish and kept her to himself most of the time.
Knowing this added another trip to his list, grocery shopping. Not that he’d cook, he didn’t even know how, and he wouldn’t test his skills or lack thereof on Bree. But Emelia cooked. If she cooked for Bree and him, maybe it’d keep her busy enough she’d get off his back about working.
“I’m gonna take you out to eat breakfast today. Then we need to get you a booster seat and buy some groceries. You cool hanging out with me all morning?”
She giggled, the sound of it lessening the deep ache that hadn’t yet abated.
In between those giggles, she said, “But Daddy, I have to get dressed first.”
He quirked a brow, scanned her clothes, noticing the Minnie Mouse PJ’s she had on, and smirked. “Thought you were dressed.”
She giggled some more. “I am, but Daddy, I can’t go out in my PJ’s.”
He hid a smile and cocked his head. “Why can’t you?”
“Because PJ’s are only to sleep.”
“My girl’s too smart for me.” He grinned. “You need help picking out an outfit, getting dressed?”
She shook her head.
Another bitter reminder of how much he missed. It hurt. No, it killed. Maybe if he’d had her all those years he missed, by now he’d know the rules about girls’ clothes, matching shoes, and all of that.
“Right. Then, I’ll wait for you here.”
He watched her go knowing hearing her giggle sounded better than anything had in his fucked life.
****
Ripper pulled into the front lot at the garage and parked. His mind on Bree who’d so sweetly announced she wanted to go to work with him and learn about cars and motorcycles. Sparing a glance at his seatbelt and unbuckling it, he did something he hadn’t done for ages but had done so often since Bree came into his life, something he couldn’t help but do when Bree was around. He grinned. The next minute, he hopped out of the car, opened Bree’s door, unbuckled her, and helped her out.
“You’ll teach me, right, Daddy?”
Her hand in his, he smiled and looked down at her as he led her toward the garage. “Yeah. I’ll teach you ‘bout whatever you wanna know.”
She stopped mid-stride. “What about the groceries?”
As planned, he took her to eat breakfast first. While they ate, he researched on his phone where to buy a booster seat for a four-year-old and found a store. After breakfast, of which she ate very little, they headed to the store. He didn’t say anything about her leaving more than half her food since it was a big breakfast. Honest, he didn’t know how much she should eat, something else he needed to find out and soon. Still, it worried him she hadn’t eaten as much as he thought she should. After purchasing a booster seat with excellent safety ratings, they went to the grocery store where he let Bree tell him what to buy. He, quite frankly, hadn’t been to a grocery store in years.
“Don’t worry about those. Boys’ll get them.”
The garage was busy as expected on a Tuesday morning. All five large, metal garage doors open, cars and bikes lined inside, worked on by his brothers. Walking through one of the metal doors, he scanned the area looking for the prospects. Spotting Beef striding out the door leading into the compound, he whistled loud. When Beef eyed him, he shouted, “Unload.” He nodded in the direction of his SUV and threw his keys at him.
He didn’t see if Beef caught them since Bree released his hand. His stare shot down, watching as she ran toward a group of his brothers, Blaze, Cuss, and Army, along with another man he didn’t recognize. They stood at the other end of the garage near the office. The man he didn’t know looked a lot like a cop. Dark-brown hair styled in a crew cut, clean-shaven, dressed like a detective in a pair of dark-blue Dockers, white button-down shirt, and a sports coat.
Ripper didn’t know what it was about cops, though it probably had a lot to do with the fact he spent his life avoiding them, but he could practically smell them. His assumption confirmed a second later when the man pulled his blue sports coat back to set his hand on his hip, giving Ripper view of the badge on his belt.
The cop wasn’t local. He knew all the local cops. He didn’t care what the cop had come for, and he didn’t need to either. His brothers seemed to be handling it just fine. The only reason he strode that way was because Bree was still running in that direction. He made a note to talk to her about running away, about running in the garage at all. He’d been a father for three days, but it didn’t take a genius to realize the garage, with so much heavy machinery and tools, wasn’t a safe place for her.
When Bree reached for the cop’s hand and tugged down, he quickened his pace.
Looking up at the cop as he looked down, his Bree said, “Shawn!” in her childlike exuberance. “Did you come to visit me and Mommy?”
Feet from them, Ripper froze because in that moment, three things became clear. His daughter and Emelia knew the cop. The cop wasn’t there by accident, and the cop wasn’t just a cop but a staple in their lives.
Rip figured this since a police department wouldn’t make a detective travel on their dime to ask a woman some questions about a shooting. They weren’t missing or in danger since the cop knew where they were. And so, the cop wasn’t just a cop. The cop knew Emelia and Bree well enough he noticed they were gone. He cared enough to find out where they went and paid for a flight to get to them. A man who did this did it because he wasn’t just a friend. The man was involved with Emelia and knew his kid better than he did.
Realizing this tore the ache that had begun to fade after spending the morning with Bree wide open. Ripper didn’t know how he managed it, but he held still fighting with everything in him not to do what he wanted to—haul his daughter away from the cop and beat the living daylights out of him then find Emelia and lock her in a room for five years. Only then, she’d know what it felt like not to be a part of her daughter’s life.
As those thoughts ran through his mind, the cop smiled at his daughter and lightly cupped her face. “Yeah, Bree, I came to visit.”
The cop smiled at his daughter. He cupped her face, looking at her with familiarity and called her “Bree.”
So fucked. It made another thing very clear. Emelia thought Ripper wouldn’t make a good father, so she’d left him without so much as a goodbye, without telling him why, without telling him about his daughter and found herself the complete opposite of him—a cop, a cop she fucked and helped her raise his kid.
Just then, Bree turned to him. Releasing the cop’s hand, she took three steps his way, grabbed hold of his hand, and said with that same enthusiasm, “Daddy, Shawn came to visit me and Mommy.” She faced the cop. “This is my daddy. Mommy and me are going to live with him.”
She sounded so excited even as the smile on the cop’s face faded. To Ripper, that only further proved what he thought to be true.
Cops were experts with poker faces. They had to be to get people to confess to shit, so his smile fading meant that what Bree said rocked his world. It proved the cop wasn’t just a cop, but a cop who was fucking his kid’s mother. With that look, the cop confirmed he’d fallen for Emelia. Rip should feel bad for the guy knowing she was stone cold, knowing the cop, like him, was just another man she up and left without so much as a goodbye, but Rip couldn’t summon even a little bit of sympathy while his chest burned with envy. The bastard had her as little as three days ago. The taste of her was probably still in his mouth whereas all Rip had were pieces of fading m
emories. The only lasting ones—the ones that killed to remember.
The cop’s green gaze sliced to him.
Ripper saw it then, the pain. It was such a blow the cop didn’t have it in him to hide. That was the thing with matters of the heart. No matter how badass or tough you were, that shit got to you. You couldn’t hide it, couldn’t fight it. It fucking hurt, so no matter how good at poker you were, people read it in your actions and movements and especially, in your eyes.
His brothers, Cuss, Blaze, and Army, closed in around him, probably figuring he was close to flipping his lid. If it hadn’t been for Bree being there, he would’ve already done something stupid like assault a cop.
His gaze still locked on the cop’s, he said to Bree, “Baby, go inside with your Uncle Cuss. I need a moment, ‘kay?”
Not sensing her move or release his hand, he tilted his head to her. Eyes rounded, a pensive look on her pretty face, she was too smart. Already he knew this, so he lied though he hated to do it. “Everything’s fine, baby. Go play. Then we’ll get lunch.”
Even then, she looked unsure, brows drawn, lips parted slightly, but she was a good kid, proved it when she nodded, released his hand, and took Cuss’s, who had his held out to her. Ripper watched them until they were out of ear shot and out of sight.
Turning his attention to the cop, he held his glare.
“Name’s Shawn Martin. I came to see Em.”
“I know why you’re here and what it means ’cause the fact you’re here tells me why you’re here. What you gotta get is I don’t give a fuck you spent your cop salary on a flight here, you ain’t seeing my kid again. When you leave, you ain’t taking my kid. Her mom wants to go with you, that’s her choice, but no one is taking my kid. No one. I don’t care that you’re a cop. Don’t give a fuck that’s her mom. You or her get any bright ideas ‘bout involving the law in this shit, I don’t give a shit ‘bout that either ’cause at the end of the day, my kid’s staying with me until she’s out on her own.”
He further narrowed his eyes. “I lived the past five years without her, not even knowing she existed, so I’ll repeat no one is taking Bree from me.”
Riding Blind Page 7
