Riding Blind

by J. L. Sheppard

  The cop didn’t react, so Ripper had no idea if he knew, if Emelia told him about him, about the fact she left without telling him. Not that it mattered, Rip didn’t care. All he cared about was Bree, and no matter how much the cop pleaded, no matter how good the cop gave it to Emelia, how good of a father figure Emelia thought the cop was to his Bree, she wouldn’t leave. Rip was sure of this. She left men on the drop of a dime, but she wouldn’t leave Bree. She loved Bree more than anything in this world. It was clear from just the look in her eyes when she looked Bree’s way.

  “I gotta say I wanna feel bad for you for getting involved with her. I know what that shit’s like. The thing is I can’t. Piece of advice, make sure she isn’t pregnant with your kid too before you take off ’cause you’ll miss years you’ll never get back, and nothing, not even what you’re feeling now, compares to the loss of that.”

  With those final words, Ripper strode away.

  Chapter Five

  Emelia bit the side of her lip. She’d done it so often since that morning, it had swelled. Waking to find Bree gone, she had a full-blown panic attack. She dashed out of her bedroom wearing an old Harley tee reaching her mid-thighs, screaming Bree’s name at the top of her lungs. Everyone she asked answered with the same lame response, “Don’t know.” It only made her worry more. Who could blame her? Her daughter was gone. No note, no call, and no one seemed to know where she was.

  About to call the police and report her daughter missing, one of the members of Hell Ryders, the same one who treated her like shit the first day, who she since learned everyone called Hash, told her Bree was with Bryce. Even so, after the scare she had, she wanted to speak to Bree. She hadn’t spoken to her daughter since the morning before, so she asked for Bryce’s cell number. Hash had not only refused to give it to her but informed her no one else would give it to her either.

  The minute she saw Ripper stride into the kitchen, alone, where she’d been putting her nervous energy to use by cleaning, she rushed him. As she did this, she took in the angry look on his face, and even so, she treaded forward, her mind on Bree. “You could have left me a note. Where’s Bree?”

  His jaw clenched, he snapped, “Shut the fuck up before I take my kid and leave.”

  She stilled and waited minutes while he seemed to fight fury. Fisting his palms, eyes hard, looking like he wanted to rip her head off. She took in his messy, dirty-blond hair, which he hadn’t bothered combing that morning. Then avoiding his strange, beautiful eyes narrowed on her, she scanned the stubble marring his chin and cheeks and the rest of him, the muscles lining his shoulders that stretched the black tee he wore, and his large thighs encased in a pair of faded jeans, fitting too well.

  “Before you go outside and deal with the fuckin’ mess you left and didn’t bother to clean up, again, get this one thing straight. I don’t care what promises you made him or what promises he makes you, you aren’t taking Bree. She’s staying with me. You wanna go, fuckin’ go. See if I care, but you won’t take my kid. I missed out on a lot ’cause of you, and I’m done with missing shit.”

  Having no clue what he was talking about, she began, “I don’t know—”

  His eyes flared. “I’m done with your shit, and I’ve been done with your shit for five years. Stop trying to play me. You need to get that you’re just wasting your time ’cause I’m not falling for your shit. Do me a favor and stop trying. Do me and your cop another and go outside and deal with him. I want him off this property in five minutes.”

  Her cop? She shook her head. “My what?”

  Taking a step in her direction, he leaned into her. “Your fucking cop! Your man! Don’t care what his name is. Don’t care he’s a cop either. I want him off club property now.”

  Watching Bryce turn and storm away, what he implied hit her. The only cop she knew, Shawn Martin, an all-around good guy, sweet, friendly, and handsome. Tall, dark-haired with piercing green eyes, any woman would be lucky to have him, any woman except her. Since he moved across the street from her and Bree back in Santa Rosa, he asked her out several times. She declined every time. Even so, often he swung by her house to chat. A friendship evolved though he made it clear he wanted something more, something she made clear she didn’t have it in her to give. They’d never been on a date. Even as friends, they’d never been to lunch or dinner alone, so she didn’t know why Bryce thought he was her anything.

  Jolting to action, she quickly strode out of the kitchen, down the narrow hallway, and past the door leading into the garage. She scanned it until she found Shawn. He stood at the other end, near the office surrounded by four bikers. As if sensing her, his stare glided around the garage and stopped dead on her. Then his face softened.

  She realized, belatedly, she hadn’t bothered to call him, tell him despite the shooting, she and Bree were unharmed, and especially, that they wouldn’t return. She should’ve, knowing he’d worry. He was a cop, and his job was to protect and serve, and most importantly, they were friends, and he adored Bree.

  She swallowed the guilt choking her and quickened her pace until she stood feet away. Before she spoke, he did.

  “Em.”

  “Shawn.” She spared a glance at the bikers surrounding him. Three, she knew. From their stances, they had no plans to give them privacy. She met Shawn’s eyes again. “Maybe we can talk outside.”

  “Office.”

  She turned and met Bud’s gaze. Surprising, he hadn’t been there a moment before.

  Bud lifted his chin in the direction of the office. “Want privacy, talk in the office.”

  She nodded, mumbling, “Thanks,” then led Shawn up a series of steps, opened the door, and walked into the office.

  Hearing the door shut behind him, she faced him. “I should’ve called—”

  The softness in his eyes gone, he shook his head. “Are you here because you want to be?”

  Not what she expected him to say. “W-what?”

  “Are you here of your own free will or did one or several of those bikers kidnap you and Bree?”

  No, they hadn’t, but they hadn’t given her much choice. She released a breath. “It’s complicated.”

  He took a step in her direction, his face hardening. “It’s not complicated, Em. It’s a yes or no question.”

  “They didn’t kidnap Bree or me.”

  He scanned her face as if by doing it he could read her expression. He probably could. As a cop, that was an innate talent they seemed to share. One of his annoying cop things he did often. She should be used to it by now but wasn’t. Besides, she didn’t want or need anyone reading her, not now, not before, and not ever.

  “Care to explain who shot up your house and why?” he said, using his hard cop tone, another one of his irritating cop things. He never spoke to her like that, but several times, when he answered his phone, he used that tone.

  She didn’t need or want to put up with his annoying cop crap. She had enough to deal with, so she snapped, “Are you here on official police business?”

  His eyes widened.

  Just as he’d never used that tone, she hadn’t either. He asked her questions. She avoided them, but even when he pushed, she never lost her cool. Still, it didn’t change the fact he’d backed her into a corner. She had no choice but to put a stop to this line of questioning.

  She’d been in the biker world for six years before she left and knew the rules. Though she knew the danger she and Bree were in, they were now in the biker world, and in the biker world, cops weren’t involved. A club matter would be handled by the club, only. Besides, there wasn’t much Shawn, a detective from New Mexico, could do anyway.

  “I already spoke to the cops. I doubt they flew you here to question me.”

  He held her gaze not saying a word until the silence became uncomfortable. Another cop thing, also frustrating even though it was something new she’d never seen him do.

  Sighing heavily, he finally spoke. When he did, his voice softened. “No, Em, the department didn’
t send me here to question you about the drive-by. I took time off work, flew my ass here because I was worried about you and Bree.”

  What he left unsaid, she understood. He’d made an effort to find out where she’d gone, took time off work, and got on a flight to get to them because she hadn’t bothered to call and tell him she moved and had no plans to return. For caring and worrying about her and Bree, she snapped at him.

  “I’m sorry. I-I should’ve called. I—”

  “What’s going on, Em?”

  She shut her eyes tightly. When she parted them, she didn’t meet his stare. “It’s complicated.”

  “Kinda figured that. Your house is shot up. You move to another state, take little, tell Naomi to sell all your stuff. You don’t even bother to call anyone else. You’re gone. Just like that. Like you’re running. I traced the number you called her from, flew here, and find out you’re living at a garage owned by a motorcycle gang. So I’m left with more questions than answers.”

  She lifted her head to meet his gaze.

  “Want me to take a wild guess?” As if knowing she wouldn’t respond, he didn’t give her time to. “You’re running from the people who shot up your house. I’m thinking it has something to do with this motorcycle gang. And though I want to believe this isn’t you, I don’t know because as it turns out, Bree’s father isn’t exactly what I thought he’d be like. When I say that, I don’t mean the fact he’s part of a motorcycle gang.”

  He shook his head. “You never shared, no matter how many times I asked or how subtly or bluntly I asked. But I’ve seen you with Bree plenty, heard the stories you tell her, and I’ve seen the pictures because she’s shown them to me in that box she treasures like any girl her age treasures a damn Barbie. I thought it was great you told her about her father and made her think he was a good man. The thing is a woman who does that, does it because she still loves that man and isn’t willing to let him go. Knowing he’s a biker, I figured the guy was into his biker gang and doing illegal shit, and I figured you didn’t want Bree around that, but I was sure that wasn’t the full reason he wasn’t around because of the way you talked about him.”

  He paused. Then he hit home with what he said. “You idolized him, so Bree did too. Especially because of that, I figured the real reason he wasn’t around was because he didn’t want a kid. That’s why you were raising her alone.”

  He shook his head. “But I was wrong, so fucking wrong because the man I met, Em, wants his kid. So something here isn’t adding up.”

  She held his stare but didn’t speak.

  “Tell me it isn’t true, Em.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  His eyes and expression changed in a way she knew the answer she gave hurt him. He further proved it.

  “After all this time, don’t I deserve an explanation?”

  He did. She’d known him for four years. He’d been a great friend and deserved more than an explanation. He deserved the full truth, but she couldn’t give him that. A part of that truth wasn’t hers to tell, and the other part of it hurt too much to say aloud. Still, because of that, she tried to give him something.

  “It’s a motorcycle club, not a gang. Hell Ryders is clean. As far as Bryce is concerned, like I said, it’s complicated.”

  “Complicated as in you got pregnant at twenty and took off with his kid without telling him?”

  Her eyes filled with so much water she couldn’t see through the tears.

  Dropping his head, he cursed under his breath.

  Blinking, tears slipped out of her eyes. She quickly wiped them away. “I know it’s horrible, but…”

  He lifted his head. “Go on.”

  “I’m not going to give you an excuse. Looking back, I know I made a horrible mistake, but at the time, I didn’t think I had another option.”

  He exhaled. “You were young and scared.”

  “I was young. I was terrified.” She paused then for some reason, knowing Shawn wouldn’t tell anyone, she admitted, “There were…issues between my cousin and him, issues that had been going on for a while. He… I thought he…”

  She shook her head trying to gather her thoughts. “He told me he didn’t want kids, that he wouldn’t make a good father because he didn’t have a father or a mother.” She stopped abruptly, knowing no way she’d admit the rest aloud.

  “And…”

  Eyes trailing away, her mind drifted, went there, taking her back to that day. Thinking of it still hurt as much as it hurt to live it. Her eyes welled, and tears fell.

  “Did he hit you, Em?”

  Her stare pierced his. “No.” She said it firmly, holding his gaze the entire time.

  “He cheated.”

  She knew how wrong she’d been when he said it. As it turned out, she didn’t need to be the one to say it for it to wound her. Whether she said it or someone else did, she relived it and reliving it hurt her as deeply as it had years ago.

  Tears streaming steadily down her face, he grabbed her hand and hauled her to him. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her, resting his chin on the top of her head.

  After a long while where he attempted to comfort her in silence, he whispered, “I’m not going to pretend I know why men do stupid shit, Em. What I know is that he cares about you and Bree. I know because he’s pissed. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t be.”

  She shook her head. “You’re usually right, Shawn, but you’re wrong about that. He hates me and has every right to. Obviously, if I’d known then what I know now, I wouldn’t have left, and I say that knowing every time I saw him, I’d see…”

  Drawing away from her slightly, he met her gaze. She angled her head to him.

  “Even after all this time, you can’t say it, so I’m going to say this. Then I’m going to go. You need to get past it, Em, because you deserve to be happy. Stop living in the past.” He pressed his lips against her forehead. “I’ll miss you and Bree. Goodbye.” Then he released her, turned, and walked away.

  She stayed frozen, gazing at the floor yet not seeing it, thinking her friend and former neighbor had a point.

  She needed to move on.

  It was about damned time.

  ****

  Bud, eyes glued to the monitor, watched her stare aimlessly at the ground and tried to assimilate what he heard with what he knew to be true. He couldn’t understand it, rationalize it, or come to terms with it.

  He’d known Ripper a long time. They’d been brothers before they joined the club. They grew up together, went to school together, got into too much trouble together. Then right out of high school, they joined the club together. After that, they worked, partied, and played together. Nothing changed until Em came into Ripper’s life.

  Things changed then, but not for the bad. Bud and Ripper still worked and partied together although Rip partied with an arm draped over Em’s shoulders. Rip and Em spent every second together, except while either was at work and while Em was at school. After just four months, Rip moved her in. At the time, Em was the only old lady at the compound and in the club.

  Things changed again when she left him and took his daughter with her. That time, everything changed for the worse. His best friend fell apart, and it’d been like watching Achilles fall.

  Rip had a fucked upbringing. Because of it, Rip conditioned himself to withstand those hard knocks life threw his way until nothing fazed him. He became the kind of man who, from a look in his eyes, a man grew to fear. Bud thought nothing would break him. But something did.

  He fell.

  He broke.

  Because of a woman.

  After she left, Ripper stayed locked in his room for three days. Bud noticed after the second day since even when Ripper was knee deep in a fight with Em, he came out for air. That second day, Bud knocked on his door. Ripper didn’t answer. A day and a half later, Bud saw him in the front lot of the garage sprawled on the floor. Chip hovering over him, slamming his fists into Rip’s face. Bud and several others hauled Chip away,
and they learned why they hadn’t seen Rip for days. Em had left him and left Chip. Chip, thinking Ripper was keeping Em away from him, showed at the compound, found Rip, and beat the living daylights out of him. Chip did this even though the clubs were not on good terms. Rip, so broken, hadn’t bothered fighting back.

  Ripper spent the next week drunk off his ass. After that, he went back to work at the garage, but he wasn’t the same. No denying the defeat in his expression and mannerisms, he was better than before, in the sense that Rip was walking, barely talking, but those eyes were dead. She’d done that, made him a living, breathing zombie.

  Bud did what any man would do. He gave it time, thinking it’s what Rip needed. Months passed, but nothing changed. Rip was a different man. No, not a man, he was a shell. After six months, Bud did what he had to do. He attempted to talk to him. Nothing he said, nothing he did made Ripper forget her, nothing soothed him. Relentlessly, Bud kept at it until Ripper got tired of it and flew off the handle. They fought, dirty. Both ended up with cracked ribs, broken noses, and swollen eyes.

  After that, things changed again. Ripper walked, barely talked, and picked fights. His eyes still dead and pissed the fuck off. He was a living, breathing, livid zombie.

  All of it—her fault.

  Bud knew this. He saw it happen. It’s the reason Bud stood there, unmoving, staring at her through the monitor, the reason he couldn’t assimilate what he heard. It didn’t make any damned sense. The man had broken when she left, and a man didn’t break like that knowing the fuck-up was his. A man broke like that when the bitch up and left for no reason, leading Bud to conclude either she was one hell of an actress, or she really believed the shit she’d just spewed.

  ****

  “What the fuck?”

  Startled, Em jolted, slamming the back of her head under the sink.

  Shit, she cursed silently, a habit she grew accustomed to once she had Bree. Cupping the back of her head, she pulled herself out from under the bathroom vanity and turned, meeting Bryce’s livid, narrowed, dead gaze.