by Emma Slate
I unscrewed the cap on the bourbon and took a sip before handing it to him. The liquor burned, but then warmed my insides, melting the ball of ice that had lodged itself in my throat since the moment Knight had shown me the photo of him and my mother.
He took a long drink and then sauntered over to the couch and sat down. He leaned back, stretching his long legs out in front of him.
“I don’t know what to do here,” Knight said suddenly. “I want to hear it all. I want you to tell me all about you and how you grew up and if you were happy. I can’t believe this shit—that you somehow wound up in this life when all your mother wanted was to keep you out of it.” He frowned. “It’s why she left me. It’s why she didn’t tell me she got pregnant. It’s why she left Coeur d’Alene.”
“Did you know she went back to Waco?”
“Yeah.”
Thoughts swirled through my head. “How did you two meet?”
“She was waiting tables at a diner just outside town. I was newly patched in, looking to throw some swagger around.” He smiled in fond remembrance. “Your mother wasn’t impressed, but I wore her down enough and after a time she gave me a shot.”
“How?”
“I found out she liked boats. My buddy had a small speed boat and let me borrow it. I took her to a picnic on the other side of the lake and she started to fall for me. I was exciting to her. Something more than just waitressing and making ends meet. We were inseparable that summer. Except when I had club business. It was fine at first, but after a while, and a few times I came home with black eyes and blood on my shirt, she started to lose her cool. Said she wanted more out of life and a relationship than what I was giving her. We were both really young. Your mom had dreams, and that didn’t include being a biker’s woman. Her being left in the dark, wondering, waiting if shit was gonna go down, or if a brother would come to the door with bad news about me was too much for her.”
My breath hitched. I’d had the same thoughts when I realized what it meant to be with Colt.
“The night she left,” Knight said, his voice soft in the still air, “we had the worst fight of our entire relationship. She was pissed and hurt that I chose my brothers over her and what she considered a respectable life. She’d talked about her parents, not a lot, but a bit. I knew their background, the families they were a part of. But I didn’t really understand where Scarlett was coming from. This life—the club life—was all I’d ever known. Scarlett’s parents left Chicago, right? Neither one of them wanted to be involved with either of their families’ legacies. It was easy for Scarlett to choose something better because she’d had that example, you know? Her parents wanted her out of a life of crime. Me?” He shook his head. “My dad was club president. Mom was a club whore who didn’t care that my dad dicked around on her. I was twenty years old when I was patched in. Your mother was nineteen. We had no idea what life was gonna look like.”
He shrugged, like he was trying to shrug off the past and his regrets.
“So I let her go. That night, she asked me if I really loved her. Asked me if I loved her enough to let her go and be happy with someone who could give her what she wanted.” He dropped his head in sudden exhaustion. “I let her go. She took my heart with her—I never got it back. Made the two women after your mother miserable for it. Made the mistake of marrying one.”
“Are you married now?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nah. Divorced. Your mother was the love of my life.”
“Any,” I licked my suddenly dry lips, “any kids?”
“No. Just…you.”
Just me.
Knight talked of legacies. Was this mine? Born from criminals? My mother’s family on both sides belonged to notorious gangster families. And my father—Knight—was president of a biker club.
And now I’d taken up with Colt.
Mom had wanted something different for me. Something different for herself. So she’d left Knight and I’d grown up without a father. I’d grown up without a mother, too, and in some strange twist of fate that upbringing led me right back to a life with Colt.
“I came to Waco once,” he said quietly. “A few years after she left. Walked right into your grandparent’s store and there she was behind the counter. She looked the same as the last time I had seen her.” He shook his head. “No, that’s not really true. She looked…settled into her body. Lived in, you know? Like the few years apart from me had made her an adult or some shit. Though now I realize it might have been because she had become a mother. I don’t know.”
I nodded in understanding. “There’s something that happens in your twenties. Like you become sure of yourself in your body. I know what you mean.”
He smiled slightly. “Yeah, exactly.”
“What did she do? When she saw you?”
“Nothing. She just watched and waited.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say to her. I knew begging her to come back wouldn’t do anything. I’d ridden over eighteen hundred miles on my bike just so I could see her and then turn around and leave again.”
I swallowed the emotion brewing in my throat. “Do you think—do you think it would’ve been different for all of us if you’d said something? Do you think she would’ve told you about me?”
“I don’t know, Mia. I’ve spent twenty-five years trying not to think about the past. All my fuck ups and great regrets, you know? Shit like that can kill a man.”
We fell silent and took a few minutes passing the bottle of bourbon back and forth.
“Did she ever get married? Do you have any siblings?” he asked suddenly.
“You didn’t keep tabs on her? Well, I guess that makes sense since you knew nothing about me.” My tone wasn’t bitter, just honest. “No, she never married and I don’t have any siblings. She died when I was five.”
“Scarlett died,” he stated.
I could hear the tension in his voice, the shock of learning that the woman he’d loved most of his life had passed.
“She drowned. Off the coast of Catalina. She was swimming, and a riptide…” I didn’t need to finish.
He made a slight noise, almost like a stifled wail, but it caught in the back of his throat.
I forced myself to finish the rest of the story. Only Shelly and Grammie knew it. I hadn’t even been able to bring myself to tell Colt. We had enough horrors to contend with. But I owed this to Knight.
“I saw it,” I murmured.
Knight’s eyes snapped to mine.
“I didn’t speak for two years.”
He leaned forward, his face earnest. “Tell me about your life. Tell me everything.”
I talked to my father long into the night. Not once was there a knock on the door interrupting us. Questions turned into stories. Stories that made my childhood vivid.
He winced when I recounted when I was eight and fell out of a tree, breaking my arm. He laughed when I told him when I was ten I tackled a schoolyard bully.
“What about you?” I asked finally sometime around two in the morning. “I’ve told you about me. What about you?”
“Not much to tell,” he said quietly. “I have a small house on the lake. Spend my time working on my bike when I’m not dealing with club business.”
It sounded like a lonely existence to me, but who was I to judge? I couldn’t tell his age since his face was hiding behind his beard and the sun had weathered his skin.
“How old are you?” I asked suddenly.
“Forty-six.”
“Forty-six,” I repeated. “You were twenty-one when I was born. That’s so young.”
Mom had been twenty. I couldn’t imagine having a baby that young. I couldn’t imagine having to scrape it all together. Thank God for Grammie who’d been there through it all.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder what my life would’ve looked like if Knight had been in it. Would we have lived on the lake? Would we have spent Saturday mornings on a boat? Would my mother still be alive?
The questions were exhausting and the bourbon was causing my eyelids to droop.
“You should hit the sack,” Knight said. “You look exhausted.”
“It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah.” He nodded but made no move to stand up.
I forced myself to rise and then I went for the door.
“Does he make you happy?” he asked suddenly. “I know I’ve got no right to ask. I’m your father, but I’m not your dad. But I still want to know…”
I smiled and turned my head to look at him over my shoulder. “Yeah. He makes me happy.”
I left him sitting alone, pondering everything we’d discussed.
He was right, though. He wasn’t my dad. A dad picked you up when you scraped your knees. A dad checked in your closet for monsters. A dad threatened to kill any boy who broke your heart.
I might’ve shared DNA with Knight, but that didn’t make him family.
Colt was propped up in bed, shirtless, the lamp on the bedside table casting a warm glow across his golden skin. Seeing my name in ink settled me in a way I couldn’t explain. It was like Colt’s arms were around me, giving me silent, solid comfort.
He looked up from his phone. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I shut the door and then padded my way over to the bed, falling face first on top of the comforter.
“Long night?”
“Long night with bourbon.”
He chuckled.
“I have a father,” I murmured.
He paused and then said, “Yeah.”
“Still trying to wrap my mind around that.”
Colt lifted his arm so I could scoot closer to him. I pressed my nose into his side and took a moment to breathe him in, needing the solid assurance that he was there.
“What happened with your call to Sanchez?” I asked, my eyes drifting shut.
“He’s agreed to help us. Not without a steep price though. His shit is already being distributed through the Southwest. He hasn’t claimed Waco, but he is now. He also wants his product in the Heartland of the United States.”
“So we’re trading one cartel for another?”
“Yes, but there’s one major difference,” Colt said, his hand finding a way under my shirt. “Sanchez is on our side.”
“The devil you know, I guess.”
I wanted to ask more questions but with the comfort of the man I loved next to me in bed and the flow of potent bourbon in my veins, I fell asleep.
By the following morning, news that Knight was my father had already rippled through the clubhouse. Boxer publicly apologized for punching Knight in the face. Knight graciously accepted Boxer’s apology and slapped him on the back.
The Blue Angels—Waco and Coeur d’Alene—had all gone to the shed for church, no doubt to discuss the Sanchez situation and what do about the product sitting unguarded in the storage unit.
The kids were still asleep downstairs in the theater room, but I knew it would only be a matter of time before they were awake and demanding food like angry baby birds.
The remains of last night’s party were minimal. The bonfire had burned out hours ago, and all the beer bottles and plastic cups had been tossed into two huge garbage cans.
The girls and I were out back at one of the picnic tables, enjoying the morning air. Rachel sat across from me and was on her second cup of coffee. Darcy perched next to her, staring into the distance. Joni was by my side, close enough that I had to pretend not to see the whisker burns on her neck. Allison had returned from throwing up her guts due to morning sickness. She stood at the edge of the table, nibbling on a cracker.
“This is just so weird,” Rachel said. “I can’t believe Knight is your dad.”
“I know,” I said with a nod.
“How are you feeling about it?” Darcy asked.
“I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “He’s young. Which is blowing my mind. He’s not who I pictured when I thought of who my dad might be.”
“He’s also kind of hot,” Rachel said. “Sorry, but it’s true.”
“You would go there, wouldn’t you?” Joni said with a laugh. “What did you guys talk about?”
“Everything. My mom. How they met.” I frowned.
“What’s that face for?” Darcy asked.
“I just—I feel like he knows me, a little bit anyway. I told him about my childhood and growing up with Grammie. But I don’t feel like, I don’t—know him. He wasn’t really forthcoming about his life and what it looks like.”
“Do you want to know all those things?” Joni’s gaze was curious. “I mean, it’s one thing for your long lost dad to show up. Here, of all places. And a Blue Angel, too. Which, wow, coincidence much? But it’s another thing for you to actually want to get to know him.”
“And you won’t get to know him in one night, you know?” Darcy added. “That takes time.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “That’s true.”
“He’s still a stranger,” Allison said, swallowing the rest of her cracker. “Just because you share blood doesn’t mean you automatically have trust and a relationship.”
“And this adds a whole new layer of family ties to the Blue Angels,” Darcy remarked. “Think about it. The Coeur d’Alene chapter was willing to help the Waco chapter because they consider each other family. But now Knight’s daughter is the Old Lady of the president of the Waco Blue Angels. It’s all meshed and intertwined.”
“Blood allies,” Rachel added with a nod. “Yeah.”
The shed door opened and the Blue Angels poured out. They all looked alert and ready for the unknown despite the fact that we’d all gone to bed late and woken up early.
Darcy immediately hopped up from her seat and went to Gray, wrapping her arms around him. I loved seeing them show each other affection. Torque came to Allison’s side immediately and whispered something in her ear. She sidled up to him and pressed her head to his chest and closed her eyes.
Reap sauntered up behind Rachel, set a hand on her shoulder, and stole her coffee. She didn’t even bother fighting him over it.
I pretended not to see Zip giving Joni a long, lingering look.
“What’s for breakfast?” Boxer asked, breaking the tension filled silence.
“Whatever you’re cooking,” Darcy said.
“Ah, come on,” Boxer whined. “I’m hungry.”
The back door to the clubhouse opened and Lily ran out, clutching her blanket, her eyes sleepy. She encircled Darcy’s legs with her spindly arms before looking to her father. Gray scooped her up, causing her to giggle.
A gesture so simple it reminded me that I’d never had that growing up. I caught Knight looking at me, his face schooled into a blank expression.
I placed my hands on the table and stood up. “I’ll make pancakes. But I need help.” I looked at Lily. “You want to help?”
She nodded eagerly, scrambling to get down from Gray’s arms.
By day three of the lockdown, everyone in the clubhouse was at each other’s throats. Kids squabbled, couples bickered, and I had to pretend that I didn’t see Joni and Zip sneaking off to be with one another. The inactivity had everyone on edge.
Colt and I hadn’t spent a lot of time together since he was constantly talking to Knight, Mateo Sanchez, or Flynn Campbell.
The fourth morning of the lockdown, I finally broke my silence. “You have to let everyone out of here.” I pulled on a pair of jeans and went to the dresser and grabbed a Blue Angels tank top they sold in the garage. It was soft, faded cotton and it felt like wearing pajamas.
Colt lounged from his spot in the bed, one arm underneath his head, eyes heavy-lidded as he watched me get dressed. “Why?”
“I don’t know if you’re aware of this,” I said with a wry grin, “but I’m pretty sure there’s going to be a death or two—gladiator style—and soon. The tension in this place is at an all-time high.”
“Huh. I haven’t noticed.”
“Liar. What’s been happening with the Iron Horsemen?�
�� I asked, changing the subject.
“Nothing. Dev has been silent. No blood on the streets. That doesn’t mean it won’t happen,” he said.
“You’re being overly cautious.”
“That’s my job. I have to look out for you and the club. Until I know for sure when Sanchez will send men to move the product, I don’t want our people on the streets.”
“And when do you think Sanchez will be sending men?”
“Soon.”
“That’s not good enough,” I snapped.
“What’s this really about?”
“I’m stuck in here unable to live my life. That’s what this is about.”
“You don’t think this has something to do with Knight?”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please.”
He shrugged.
“It has nothing to do with Knight.”
“So you say. Have you talked to him since the night you found out he’s your father?”
“Been kinda hard to.” I wasn’t actively avoiding the man, nor was I really seeking him out. There were always people around, and furthermore, what was I supposed to say to him?
A shouting match started up just outside our closed bedroom door, followed by a thump and another thump. The sound of yelling migrated down the hallway. A door slammed shut and then nothing.
I looked at Colt and raised an eyebrow. “Who do you think that was?”
“Reap and Rachel, if I had to guess.”
A rapid succession of knocks sounded on our bedroom door and then, “You two better be decent!”
“He’s talking to you,” I said. “I’m fully clothed.”
“Not by my choice,” Colt muttered as he quickly reached for a pair of jeans. He didn’t bother with a shirt, but headed for the bedroom door after he’d gotten his jeans buttoned.
Zip strode in. “Call the lockdown off.”
“Oh good, maybe you can talk some sense into him,” I said to Zip. “He won’t listen to me.”
I left the two of them to duke it out and went into the living room, wondering if I could pick at some of the breakfast leftovers. Meals had been on a rotation schedule, but we were all tired of cooking for the masses.
