My life has been fucked up for over four years. I got between that bitch’s legs one night without using a condom, and I’ve been paying for it ever since. The men bitched at me all the time. They thought I was being pussy-whipped, but that wasn’t it. I wasn’t like them; talking to women didn’t come easy for me.

Shit. Talking to people in general fucked me up.

I doubt I would’ve ever been a member if I hadn’t grown up with Skull. He’s a brother, the closest I’ve ever had to one. The only constant in my life was Skull’s madre, Maria. None of the others know that. That secret is mine and Skull’s and, as far as I’m concerned, not one fucker will ever know it. My old man was loaded. He had more money than God. What he didn’t have was time for me or my mother. Then again, my mother was a miserable drunk who only had time for her tennis instructor—and she didn’t know how to play tennis, not even a little bit.

Skull’s mother Maria lived in the adjoining coach house with Skull and, though she cooked and cleaned in our home, it was that small coach house I remember as the only home I’ve ever had. When my father died of an unexpected heart attack, I didn’t grieve for him. My mother and her lover ran off together leaving me with Maria, and I fucking rejoiced. When I turned twenty-one, the only contact I had with my mother was when I got my trust. She had burned through her money and wanted mine. I had no use for the money. She dropped my half-brother Terry in my lap saying she had to have a way to support him. I took Terry in, but I spat on her and walked away. I never liked Terry, but I tried. He was a miserable son of a bitch, and if what Jan said was true, I should have given up on him way before I did.

The only smart thing I’ve apparently done in my life was give my money to Maria and Skull. We used it to fight the cancer and make sure Maria was comfortable. When Skull’s uncle came into the picture and Skull decided to become a prospect to Devil’s Blaze, I followed him. It wasn’t because I wanted to be part of the club so much; rather, I couldn’t imagine not having Skull beside me. He was all I had left. Maybe it’s my fucked-up past, but if you don’t get close to people, they can’t fucking hurt you. They don’t get the chance to. Women were too much effort. So besides the occasional fuck, I didn’t bother with them.

Fucking Jan without a condom trapped me. I got drunk off my ass one night and woke up in bed with her the next morning, damage done. I panicked the whole fucking time, terrified she’d be knocked up. I prayed even. Not that I knew much about praying, but it seemed like the thing to do. When she turned out that way, I stepped up. Made her my old lady, even though Skull did his damnedest to talk me out of it. I didn’t listen. I didn’t want to put much effort into having a woman. This made that easier. The only fucking time I had to talk much to Jan was when she wanted something and that got me sex. It was easy and it protected my child. I may not have wanted Jan pregnant, but I did want Annabelle.

It’s four in the morning and I’ve drunk so much that I’ve come full circle—I’m practically sober again. My head is foggy and it hurts to breathe, but I don’t think that has shit to do with the hangover. Torch and a couple of the boys grabbed a cage and insisted I ride with them to the Boot. The Boot is an old honky tonk. It doesn’t get much business, and that’s what I wanted. I didn’t want to be bothered; I wanted to sit at a bar and drink my ass off, and that’s exactly what I got. The men know me, so they didn’t talk to me either. They just watched my back. Still, I didn’t want them around me. They saw that fucking shit with Jan and I didn’t want anyone to realize what a sad fuck I was or how stupid I’d been.

I make my way down into the shelter part of the club. I should have stayed topside in my room up there as far away from Jan as I could. I need to see Annabelle just once. Her and Jan’s room is separate from mine, and Jan stays in there sometimes. I doubt it’s out of any motherly feelings; she’s a piss-poor mom. It’s probably to get away from me, and I’m okay with that.

Luckily, the bitch isn’t here tonight.

I clean the loose money out of my pockets. I’m not sure how much is there, four or five hundred dollars. Hell, I think I tipped the bartender two hundred. I lay it down, as well as the keys to the Durango that Torch threw me when we parked up. They drove me home, but it was my cage. I guess he trusted me not to take off again tonight. Softly, I lie down on the bed beside Annabelle. She’s truly beautiful: dark-brown hair that glistened, a cute little button nose, and the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen. You can’t see them right now because her eyes are closed, but when they’re open, her irises are a mixture of browns, golds, and greens, and they sparkle. I have blue eyes. My baby’s eyes are totally different and always makes me smile.

I find myself thinking how Terry’s were the same color.

The knowledge is burning a hole in my gut. It’s tearing me up inside and mostly because I think Jan’s words might be the truest thing she’s ever said. Terry is probably Annabelle’s dad, not me. The one thing I’ve ever done in life that I was proud of, and…

My hand comes up to hold my daughter’s. It’s so small and delicate, so pale and white compared to the sunbaked, inked-up dark complexion of my own. We’re so different, especially in ways that a father and daughter ought to be at least a little similar.

That hole in my gut burns brighter, harder.

“Daddy loves you, Belle,” I tell her, letting the tears run free. They’re silent, but they’re torn from me because I’m broken. It won’t matter. Terry’s rotting in the ground and that fucking bitch Jan is one line away from snorting her last. She’ll overdose without me watching over her and I don’t fucking care anymore.

Nothing matters but my daughter. And she is mine.

I may not have fathered her with my seed, but I’ve been there. I held her when she had high fevers and Jan was out partying. I read her bedtime stories, rub her stomach when it hurts, chase off the monsters that she insists hide under her bed… I’ve done all of that and I’ll continue to do it. She’s mine. “Daddy loves you, Belle,” I whisper again, dried tears on my face as my eyes close and I finally let alcohol and sleep claim me. “Daddy, loves you…”