Dagger pushes through the s.p.a.ce, each growl louder than the last. If I had a kid, no way in h.e.l.l would I want them living like this.

"Brother," he says to me with a lost look in his eyes.

I slap his shoulder. "We'll get it figured out."

"f.u.c.k!" he booms. "I didn't even know I had a f.u.c.king kid, and she's living like this?" As he begins to pace, I look at the other guys, hoping this s.h.i.t doesn't go south, and Dagger can control his s.h.i.t. "How could Mearna let her live like this?" His fists clench. He is about two seconds from punching a f.u.c.king wall.

I move up into his s.p.a.ce, getting in his face. Dagger and I have been friends for two decades, and if anyone can handle him, it's me. "One thing at a time, brother. Let's get this s.h.i.t cleaned up." Even though I see no blood, which surprises the f.u.c.k out of me, we still need to douse it in hydrogen peroxide just in case. "Then we get back and find out. No sense in losing your s.h.i.t when you don't have all the facts. Got me?"

His nostrils flair, and I prepare myself for the bull that is Dagger. I might as well be wearing a f.u.c.king red shirt by the way he's looking at me.

"Snap out of it," I roar, and his eyes blink. f.u.c.king h.e.l.l. "Let's get this s.h.i.t done," I order, seeming to be only one who still has a brain at the moment. The longer we're here, the more likely it is that someone will see us.

"f.u.c.k me. Let's do this s.h.i.t."

I look over to GT, who is Pops' kid and Princess's brother. He carried in the bags of peroxide from his saddlebags.

"Bathroom, kitchen," he says, heading off to wipe s.h.i.t down. They say bleach kills everything, but that's not the case when it comes to blood. The only s.h.i.t that makes blood untraceable is the good, old hydrogen peroxide you get in the drug store. Works every f.u.c.king time.

I move around the s.p.a.ce. Tanner has pictures hanging on the cracked walls and a whole dresser lined with them. There are a few of just her and others of her and her mother. I see none with any friends, which seems a bit odd.

"Done yet?" I call out as Becs pulls his handy-dandy light out of his pocket. It's one of those the cops use to find traces of blood at crime scenes. He's always been excellent at it. We used to joke all the time that he would go cop on us. He's got a knack, and for us, it works like magic.

"Yep, we're good," GT calls out of the small bedroom.

"Let's go," Becs says, putting the things back in his pocket. Thank Christ.

"She kept it pretty well contained to the bathroom, and GT doused it. There was a spot on the bedroom floor, but nowhere else, not even the kitchen," Becs reports.

Tanner is smarter than I gave her credit for, or she's just a serious neat freak. Whatever. I'm ready to go home.

When we pull back up to the park, Pops sits there with a s.h.i.t-eating grin on his face and Cruz and Breaker at his side.

"Done. Let's go."

I look over in the direction of the a.s.shole's house and see smoke billowing up to the sky. Then I turn over my bike, and we head out.

At least that's one less f.u.c.king thing I have to deal with.

MY PHONE BUZZES, and I pull it out of my jeans, seeing Sandra's name on the screen. f.u.c.king h.e.l.l. A while back, this b.i.t.c.h went to the cops, saying she saw drugs being sold inside the clubhouse. The cops came out with a warrant on her word and completely trashed the place, destroying almost everything inside, looking for the drugs. They found nothing, but they left us with a torn up mess. I went to Sandra and persuaded her to recant her story. Yeah, I f.u.c.ked her to do so, but whatever. She went back to the police station and did just that, recanted. When she did, the cops were so p.i.s.sed they nailed her and threw her a.s.s in jail for lying. She called me to bail her f.u.c.king a.s.s out, but that s.h.i.t wasn't happening. I've avoided her like the f.u.c.king plague since.

She must be out now since she's calling from her cell. I hit ignore on the screen and stuff it back in my pocket. She's called a half dozen times from jail, and if she keeps this s.h.i.t up, I'll go over to her place and take her out tonight. It's on the to-do list, just not top priority. She's a f.u.c.king liability, and we can't afford to have those around here.

I GRAB THE wrench before adjusting the carburetor on my bike. I went to my place after getting back last night, but noticed my bike wasn't sounding right. The first thing I did upon getting to the clubhouse was park my baby in the garage and start working. I thought about coming directly here after the trip, but with as much as Tanner crossed my mind on the drive back, I thought I would go home and get her off my mind. Too bad it didn't f.u.c.king work.

"Hey," is said softly above me, and I look up to see the most angelic face staring back down at me. Sure, there are bruises and cuts, but none of that s.h.i.t diminishes her beauty.

"Hey, yourself." I toss down the wrench and rise to my feet, wiping the grease on a nearby rag.

Tanner stands with her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and flip flops on her feet. Her tight shirt has a huge mouth with a tongue sticking out, and it hugs every one of her curves to perfection. She's a small, little thing, reminding me of a little sprite. I shake my head at my thoughts.

"Dagger won't tell me anything," she says as her eyes connect to mine, almost pleading with me.

"I'm not saying s.h.i.t, either. It's taken care of, and that's all you need to know." I swear I hear her growl low in her throat, and I have to admit it's pretty f.u.c.king s.e.xy. "What are you out doing?"

She shrugs, her right shoulder hitting her ear. "I had to get out of there for a bit. I needed air." I wouldn't doubt that she does.

A phone rings, and Tanner pulls a cell from her back pocket then looks at the display. She doesn't answer, only hits ignore.

I raise my brow.

"I think it's the cops," she explains. "I'm waiting for them to leave a message so I know for sure. It's my mom's phone, actually. I've been carrying it around."

"Come on." I leave the garage, making my way over to the picnic table near the huge playset that was built for the kids. I hop up onto the table, and Tanner's hot a.s.s follows. She sits not even a foot from me, her elbows resting on her knees. The smell of sweet flowers invades my nostrils, and I suck in deeply.

"Do you know what you're gonna say to them?" I ask.

"Yeah. Dagger won't tell me anything, but he told me to tell the cops Mom brought me down here to meet him, and we got in a car accident. I've got it; I just don't want to deal with it."

"Better sooner than later."

She nods. "It's nice here," she says softly.

"It's not bad. I grew up here, so I'm used to it."

Her head turns to me. "You have family around here?"

I stare across the compound. "The only family I've got are the brothers you see."

"I've only got my mom." She pauses, and I look at her. "She's always been my rock. It's kind of strange being hers."

"I bet, but from what I can tell, you did the right thing by coming here."

Her emerald eyes connect with mine. "I think so, but I'm s.h.i.tty at this running from the law thing." She chuckles. I really like the sound.

"Yeah, you aren't good in that arena. Need to teach you a thing or two."

She shakes her head emphatically. "Nope. I don't want to know. I'm never going through this again." I wish I could tell her that it won't, but s.h.i.t happens. That's life. I won't lie to her.

Her phone buzzes. "I'd better check it." She starts pushing b.u.t.tons, and then her gaze goes off in the distance like she's deep in thought. She pushes the phone off and turns to me. "Yep, cops need to talk to my mother as soon as possible. I guess I should call them back."

"Might as well do it now and get it over with." I wouldn't mind listening to the conversation, either.

She shakily dials the number. "Officer Mayer?" She pauses. "This is Tanner O'Ryan, Mearna O'Ryan's daughter. You called?" She remains sitting next to me, her eyes averted.

"We were in a car accident, and Mom hasn't been feeling well; that's why I'm calling you instead of her."

"She's okay. Sore, but healing."

"Me, I'm fine. Can you tell me why you're calling?" I have to admit she's d.a.m.n convincing, much better at this than her murder clean up skills.

"I understand you'd like to speak with her, but she's sleeping. I'll be more than happy to speak to you on her behalf ... Okay ... Mom brought me to Georgia to meet my father for the first time," she tells the cop, and I suck in everything on this one-sided conversation. "No, we left right after I got off work for my vacation on Thursday ... Right ... I believe she told him."

Tanner's eyes turn to me, her face white as a ghost. Guess she's finding out what happened to the house. Her jaw goes slack as she listens to the phone, her eyes searching me, but I give nothing away.

"Oh, my G.o.d. Is James all right?" That sounds pretty believable even to me. "Oh no!" she says a little bit over the top, but somehow reels herself in. "You mean he's gone? ... There's nothing left?" Her eyes grow to the size of saucers as she stares at me, silently begging me for answers. "I see ... I'll be sure to tell my mother right away ... His parents did?" I'm definitely curious about that. "Okay. I'll tell my mom. Thank you," she says then turns off her phone.

"You guys blew up the house?" she practically squeals.

I wrap my arm around her, pulling her to my body. She's got some serious fight in her. "We did what had to be done to take care of the problem," I say in a low voice. "Do you think the cops bought the story?"

She huffs. "Seemed like it."

"Good. What's going on with his parents?"

She stills in my arms, so I release her. She wraps her hands around her body. "They claimed James's body. They are setting up the arrangements for him." She shakes her head. "We'll have to go back for that."

"It'll all work out, Sprite," I tell her, half believing it. She's the one who's got to believe it so she can keep her s.h.i.t together.

She jumps off the table, brushing her a.s.s with her hands. "I need to go and talk to my mom." She skirts away before I can say another word.

GIRLISH LAUGHTER COMES from the bar of the club, and my eyes swing to it like magnets. Tanner and Princess. From the looks of things, it's more Princess than Tanner. Her expression is kind of glum, but she's putting on a brave face. It's fake as h.e.l.l, yet she's trying.

I have been away for the past day and a half on club business and haven't had the opportunity to see her since our small chat outside the garage. After hearing her conversation with the cops, I told Pops and Dagger, and all seemed well.

Looking at her now, I see exactly what I've been missing.

She's wearing these s.e.xy as f.u.c.k jeans that curve her a.s.s as she sits on the barstool and a navy blue shirt that hugs her just as tightly. No doubt, under those clothes is one h.e.l.l of a body.

"Don't f.u.c.king think about it." Dagger comes up to the table I parked my a.s.s at and falls in the seat beside me. "I don't have a d.a.m.n clue if she's my kid or not, but if she is, stay away."

"Since when do I listen the f.u.c.k to you?" I bite back. I f.u.c.king hate people trying to control me. I'm the one in control. I keep it that way for a f.u.c.king reason. This s.h.i.t isn't club-related. If I want to f.u.c.k her, I will. He may be my best friend, but even he won't tell me what to do.

"I know, but f.u.c.k." He rubs his hand over his face in frustration. "I can't believe I could have a kid. I cover that s.h.i.t up religiously, but back then ..." His head shakes like he's remembering some fond memory. "f.u.c.k, I don't know, brother."

"Don't know what to tell ya." Mearna's been knocked out on pain meds for the past couple of days while her body heals, so Dagger went with me on the run. It was good because Tanner doesn't know s.h.i.t, and Dagger walking around like a caged animal is not fun.

"Why the f.u.c.k wouldn't she tell me about Tanner? My f.u.c.king kid? I've missed her whole f.u.c.king life," he drones on.

I've got to say I feel for the brother. I don't know what I would do if the tables were turned.

She's turned my way several times, our eyes connecting like some live wire between us, but neither of us have moved.

Breaker catches my eye at the bar, talking to Tanner. He's leaning against it, beer in hand, and whatever in the f.u.c.k he's saying is making her laugh. This time, it's not the fake s.h.i.t I noticed a few minutes ago. No, this s.h.i.t is real.

As she flips her s.e.xy as f.u.c.k reddish-blonde hair, which I initially thought was fire red when I first saw her, but realized it was the party lights, over her shoulder, anger bubbles inside of me like hot lava. I don't know where it comes from, and I don't know why, but it's there, and it's steady. I don't like the fact that someone is making her laugh, and I don't like the fact that she's going to be leaving to go to that f.u.c.k-wad's funeral. f.u.c.k!

The grip on my bottle gets tighter, and my breathing picks up without caution. When her head falls back from another laugh, the grip tightens, and the bottle shatters in my hand, beer spilling all over the table and shards of gla.s.s entering my hand. I know I'm cut, probably pretty badly, but my eyes don't leave Tanner. I can't even force the f.u.c.kers to.

"Brother!" Dagger yells beside me, standing swiftly and his chair sc.r.a.ping against the floor. "What the f.u.c.k?"

Tanner, Princess, and Breaker all look our way. Princess's eyes grow wide as she hops off the stool, grabbing a towel and darting over. Tanner quickly follows after her.

"What the h.e.l.l, you big lug?" Princess says as I feel her wrapping my hand.

I need to get a f.u.c.king grip. This s.h.i.t ain't right. No, I don't do this s.h.i.t. I don't care. I share all the f.u.c.king time. This has to end.

I abruptly stand, clutching the towel in my hand. "I don't need your f.u.c.king help," I bark at Princess then storm to my room.

Tanner's eyes stay on me, and I can't get the f.u.c.k out there fast enough.

WHAT IN THE h.e.l.l was that look he gave me when he stormed out of here? It was a mix of contentment and disgust. I know I look bad with the bruises, but I was never expecting that kind of reaction.

Before we left, I thought he may have felt whatever it is that eats at me every time he's around. Sure, it was brief, but I couldn't stay by him another minute longer since I was so d.a.m.n nervous. As a result, I made the excuse that my mom needed me. Then he left with Dagger for a day or so, and now this.

"What the f.u.c.k is his problem?" Princess asks Dagger.

I realize that my mother says he's my father, but I just have issues with calling him daddy dearest right now. I don't even know the man. I don't know any of them, and they act so differently than I do.

I cornered Dagger, telling him what the cops told me, but he refused to tell me anything except what I told them was good. I didn't think it would work for s.h.i.t, though. Sure, I had no one at home who was pining for me, and with my vacation, no one would be expecting me. I'm pretty much a loner, and I like it that way. However, if the house blew up, I figured there would be some investigation or something.

I tried to ask more questions, but Dagger only shook his head.

I've never had a father before, but I don't think you're supposed to be scared of him, are you? Because I'm scared as s.h.i.t of Dagger. Only one person scares me more, and that's Rhys.

"f.u.c.k if I know. a.s.shole got beer all over my f.u.c.king jeans," Dagger bites out. "One minute, we're talking, and the next minute, he's crushing f.u.c.king bottles with his hand."

I am probably not supposed to be totally, utterly impressed by this, but I am and also intrigued. I can't believe he's strong enough to do that. I've never met anyone who could, not that I have a lot to pick from. I have been to bars where fights break out, though. Bottles get slammed and broken on the table, but never by a fist.

"Who the h.e.l.l knows with Rhys?" Princess says, shaking her head. "I swear that man is going to combust one day."

"Why do you think that?" I question. I mean, there has to be a reason one would think that way.

"He's not one to mess with, Tanner. He's hard. Biker hard."

I stare at her, stunned. "What in the h.e.l.l is biker hard?"

Princess motions for me to come back over to the bar. I follow and jump up on the stool. "Biker hard ..." She sits there in seriously deep contemplation.

"Is it that hard to describe?"

"For me, kinda. I've grown up in this life; it's all I know. Someone from the outside more than likely won't see things the way we do. It's hard to explain." Princess grabs her beer and takes a long pull from it.

I say nothing, because what can I say? I have no idea, and if she can't explain it when she's lived it, how in the h.e.l.l am I going to figure it out?

"Let's do an easy one." Princess points to the corner of the room, my eyes following her finger. "What do you see?"

"Uh ... Three women sitting on the couch with practically no clothes on." Well, really, no clothes. What they have are small sc.r.a.ps of fabric that cover their nipples and other lady parts. d.a.m.n, I would never wear something like that out in public and around all these guys.