Roxie

I considered cancelling the visit at least five times, but at six forty-five PM, I'm standing by my car on a gravel shoulder next to a sign that reads Resolution Hill NO TRESPASSING. The message has an ominous ring to it, and I'm very aware of the fact that I am trespassing in a place that truly allows no trespassing. A motorcycle club headquarters. A place where they kill trespassers.

But I have a plan for that. However much I don't want to talk about my past, I will tell Cross that I understand the kind of secrets he's trying to keep from outsiders, and that I will not pry or make an issue of what he does for a living, as long as he makes it possible for Lily to get an education.

I can hear the roar of a chopper coming down the hill long before the rider appears. I love the sound of bikes, always have. It’s Cross, and the butterflies I've kept at bay all day by ignoring them erupt to life in my stomach violently enough to make me sway.

He stops his bike and dismounts by the side of the road, and even the birds chirping in the forest all around us, and the gravel crunching under his boots fade to complete silence, as he approaches. He's wearing a pair of washed-out black jeans, and a green and black checkered shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His wavy dark hair is wet, and combed back off his face. His eyes are boring into me like he means to ravage me right here and now, and I would let him.

“You found the place alright?” he asks, but it’s more of a statement, so I nod and focus on his cut in an effort to get the image of me falling into his embrace out of my head. President is spelled out in bold black letters on a faded white patch over his heart. On the other side, "One-percenters" is written in orange letters against black. All that is almost exactly like the cut my dad wore. I want him to turn his back, so I can see his club colors. But with the way he's looking at me, the desire in his eyes washing over my skin like a waterfall by moonlight, I don't want that to happen any time soon.

"Are you listening, Roxanne?" he asks loudly and I can finally hear again.

"Yes," I mutter, but he just chuckles, the left side of his lips curling up higher than the right.

"Didn't look that way," he says. "I was saying that I'll take you up now, but you're not to go anywhere on your own, and there are parts of Lily's home I can't show you."

I nod, finally succeeding in tearing my eyes off his. "I understand."

"Do you, Roxanne?" he asks, his grin again part curiosity and part mocking disbelief.

This is as good a time as any to tell him exactly why I do understand perfectly. And I'm just about to, when I remember that telling him could cost me my life, if he's friends with Lizard of Hell's Spawn MC.

"I understand that your daughter needs to stay in school, and I will do everything in my power to ensure she does," I say instead.

He frowns at me like he knows I wanted to say something else at first, but changed my mind.

"Lily will be just fine, every which way. I'll make sure of that," he says then walks back to his bike. "Follow me."

I get back in my car, then spend much of the ride up the hill staring at the back of his cut, at his club colors. It's a horned human skull, adorned with roses and flanked by black angel wings. The words Devil's Nightmare MC encircle the image, which I suppose must be the representation of a fallen angel. And I'm sure I've seen those club colors before, around the Wolf Den—the HQ of my father's MC—but I can't remember when or whether fighting was involved. I don't think so, but that could just be my wishful thinking.

As we round the last curve in the road, the sloping dark brown roof of a huge white mansion-type house comes into view. It's enclosed by a thick stone wall, which is carved with leaves, flowers and vines, I notice as we draw closer. Cross passes through a wide-open metal gate, hardly even slowing as he enters, so I just follow him, ignoring the rather questioning look the biker on the gate is giving me.

Cross stops at the end of a long gravel driveway, in front of the huge house. It looks like a palace from up close, the kind they have in Europe from the old days, but I didn't know any such buildings even existed here in the US. And the thing that's most surprising is that the area surrounding the building is neat, with no sign that anything untoward is going on inside it. There are neatly trimmed bushes adorning the patches of freshly mowed lawn on either side of the wide driveway, some flowering, others just displaying glorious fall colors. The gravel driveway itself looks like it was recently swept, and given it's sheer size and the fact that I only announced my visit around noon, I doubt they had time to clean everything up just for my benefit. They must keep it this neat all the time.

The parking lot in front of the Wolf Den was never this clean. You couldn't take a step without glass crunching under your feet, or your toes catching on an empty beer can. But here, the gravel is barely disturbed by tire tracks, though they are visible. The wall comes up almost to the house on the right side, but stretches out on the left to encompass what I assume is a gorgeous garden, judging from what I've already seen of it.

"Not what you were expecting?" Cross asks, eyeing me seriously.

I smile at him, watch his face soften in surprise, making me wish I'd smiled at him before now. Even his hard, piercing look isn’t as cutting anymore, seems like melted steel—soft, but still dangerous.

"Without having seen the inside, I have to say this looks like a very nice place to grow up in," I tell him.

"Then just wait 'til you actually see the inside," he says sarcastically and opens one wing of the heavy oak front door.

It was muggy and hot in the driveway, but inside the huge, marble-tiled foyer it’s cool and pleasant. A young man, wearing a cut with no club colors is washing the windows that lead outside to a garden that looks fit for a castle, just as I pictured it would be. Another man is sweeping the wide, winding staircase that leads upstairs. I don't have to see their patches to know they're prospects. And I have a strong feeling they were set these cleaning tasks, because I was coming. They keep giving Cross furtive glances, but he ignores them.

"The dining room and kitchen are through here," Cross says, opening a door to our left. "It's where we feed Lily."

He grins at me, as I pass him to step inside, not giving me very much room to do so, though I do manage not to touch him.

The huge, bald man who came to pick up Lily after she was suspended is eating a sandwich in the middle of one of the long dining tables with his back to us. Whoever is cooking in the kitchen just beyond the dining room knows what they're doing, because it smells delicious and my stomach rumbles quite audibly.

"This is Rook, one of my men," Cross says loudly, causing the man to turn in his seat. "And this is Ms. Connor, Lily's guidance counselor. She's here to see how Lily's living."

Rook seems on the verge of bursting into laughter, but Cross gives him a pointed look. I figure the two don't normally speak so formally, since the friendship between them is practically palpable.

I like that Cross is trying to make a good impression on me, because that tells me he truly cares about Lily's well-being. He could just as easily threaten to cut my life short, if I don't make a favorable report regarding my visit.

"Right," Rook says as he gets up, extending his hand to me. "We've met before, but weren't properly introduced. It's nice to meet you, Ms. Connor."

He's still trying not to smile.

"Nice to meet you too," I say, grasping hard for the last shreds of professionalism I have left.

This place reminds me of home, Cross reminds me of home and Rook reminds me of my brother. And all those reminders are making vivid memories of what I've lost rush through my mind.

"Dinner's in half an hour, Cross," a man yells from inside the kitchen. "Ask her to eat with us. It's gonna be good tonight. I went all out. "

Rook bursts out laughing, but stops abruptly at Cross' murderous look.

"That's Tank making dinner, and he has a few things to learn about manners, but he cooks well," Cross says to me, but loud enough to carry. "And you are more than welcome to stay for dinner, of course."

"Sorry," echoes from the kitchen, but Tank doesn't sound it, and now I'm missing my father and my brother, and my father's closest men more than I have in the last couple of years combined. I'd love to stay for dinner, laugh and have a good time with these guys. It would be just like old times, I know it would. Exactly the way it used to be.

But the thing is, it will never be like it used to be. Because my family and all the members of Wolves of Hell MC are dead.

"I'd like to see where Lily sleeps," I manage to choke out past the lump in my throat.

Cross gives me another one of his piercing looks, and I can clearly see he's still trying to figure me out, but he'll never get to. I shouldn't have come here today. I should've known it would stir up all those memories, which I've managed to keep so still in the back of my mind for so long now that I hoped they'd never surface again. But I was naïve.

Just seeing Cross on the morning of my first day of work made them surface. Now here’s Rook reminding me more and more painfully of my brother with every second I spend in his presence. And this place has the same vibe as my childhood, and reeks of leather and gas and brotherhood, so much so that I have to get away or I'll…I'll…I’ll just go crazy with grief.

"It's up on the first floor," Cross says and leaves the room, not waiting for me in the open doorway this time.

I follow him up the wooden stairs, taking long breaths to compose myself. He waits for me at the top, then leads me down a wide hallway with a hardwood floor. The wood creaking under our feet is the only sound breaking the silence now, and I can feel Cross' tension even though I'm walking several feet behind him. What's he so scared of? That I'll take his daughter away? Or that I'll see something I'm not supposed to.

He knocks on the third door on the left. "Lily, it's me. Ms. Connor is here to see you."

"Where have you been all day, and who's Ms. Connor?" Lily asks through the closed door.

Cross curses under his breath, but it's not in anger, more like in exasperation. He opens the door and walks in.

"Your guidance counselor is here to see where you live," he says.

I walk into her room too, and for a moment the grief still gripping my throat gives way to awe. Lily's bedroom is about the size of mine, my brother's and my father's rooms combined. It's decorated in shiny, rich mahogany furniture, and her four poster bed could sleep four easily, five at a stretch. She's sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bed, cradling a tablet in her lap. The room's neat too and nothing about the defiant way she's locking eyes with her father says that she's the least bit intimidated by him.

"You didn't answer my first question," she says to him.

"I was working," he tells her, then turns to me. "Do you want me to stay or leave?"

"I'd like to speak with Lily alone," I say and he leaves the room without a second glance at either of us.

Lily's eyes follow him out of the room and stay glued to the door after he shuts it.

"Are you happy here, Lily?" I ask, getting right to the point, since I want to go back home and not think of anything for the rest of the night. "You can speak to me freely."

Her hard gaze fixes on me. "And if I say I'm not, will you take me away?"

"If you'd like to leave, I can arrange that. You just have to tell me," I say.

I should've started with easier questions, I realize that now. Stuff about her everyday life here, what she does in her free time, if there are lots of parties and adults getting loud in the evenings here, but I don't think there's much of that going on in this house, and I just want to get the bare facts, so I can close this case as quickly as I can.

"Where would I go?" she asks. I don’t think she’s asking, because she’s weighing her options. It sounds like she’s just curious. But my emotions are so messed up right now, I don’t trust myself to read unsaid things correctly.

"There are homes—"

"No," she interrupts. "Cross is alright. I'd prefer it if my grandfather and grandmother were still alive, so I could live with them on the reservation, but they're not. And I like having a real father, not just a grandfather. I'd like it if my mom called me once in a while, but on the whole, I'm just fine here. Perfectly OK. Cross wants me to stay, and I want to stay too."

I think I scared her by mentioning the "home" because her eyes are very wide now, no trace of the harsh defiance left in them.

"Would you like me to find your mother and tell her to come visit you?" I ask, sitting down on the chair by Lily's huge writing desk because my legs are growing unsteady. I shouldn’t have come here.

I knew Lily was in no trouble at home the first time I saw her and Cross together. I visited her home because it's part of the investigative procedure with social services cases, but that wasn’t the only reason. I also came because I wanted to get a taste of MC life again. And I got that. A much bigger taste than I bargained for and I'm having trouble swallowing it now.

"Cross has already offered a bunch of times to find my mom and bring her here. But I said no. If she doesn't want me anymore then I don't want her either," Lily says, her voice still defiant, but fainter and her lip is starting to shake like she's about to start crying. "The thing is, my mom wasn't around much before I came to live here. She'd go off for years sometimes. Gran and grandpa raised me. And I already know where she is. I found her on Facebook. She's in Miami with some man. She can stay there if she wants. I like living here. It's peaceful and pretty and there's a huge forest out back, just like there was in the old days, when all this land still belonged to my forefathers. It's a lot like it was on the reservation only bigger and cleaner. And mine. Well, my dad's…"

She gazes out the window at the trees and the violet tinged sky as the sun sets behind them. Then her face lights up like she just thought of something.

"But you can make sure Cross quits doing his dangerous work, can't you?" she asks.

I shake my head. "I have no power over what your father does. I can only help you."

"I'm sure you're lying right now," she says, her eyes narrowing. "He does bad things. And now you know. I can say more."

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask sharply, my old persona of Roxie the Wolfman's daughter overshadowing that of Roxanne the guidance counselor for a second. A daughter of an MC president is not allowed to say things like this to anyone outside the club, and I'm certain Lily knows this.

Her bottom lip starts shaking harder, as she stares at me with wide eyes again. "I don't want anything to happen to him. He's the only family I really have now. And he's my father. I love him."

Her words slash through the last barrier holding my own grief over losing my entire family in check, and now an infinite, nauseating sadness is all I feel. It covers everything else, suffocates it. I'm not Roxie, an MC president’s daughter, and I'm not Roxanne, the guidance counselor. I'm a little girl just like Lily begging someone, anyone, to save my family from death. But no one did. And now I'm alone in the world.

"I'll see you at school tomorrow," I say and stand up. "And I hope you learned your lesson about fighting, because that kind of behavior will not be tolerated anymore."

She stares at me, her eyes wide in disbelief. That wasn't what she expected me to say, but what else could I have said? I can't make her any promises. Her dad's a criminal who might get himself into the worst kind of trouble, could get himself killed, and there's not a damn thing anyone can do about that. Least of all me. He's her father and that's her reality. Just like it was mine. I can only hope it doesn't end as tragically for her as it did for me.

"I thought fighting wasn't tolerated before either," she says as sarcastically as only a twelve year old girl can.

"If it happens again you will be expelled," I say and walk to the door. "Goodbye, Lily."

I step out into the hall before I take this conversation from bad to worse. Before I tell her some truths I know she can't possibly be ready to hear.

Cross is leaning against the wall opposite her bedroom wall, not even trying to hide the fact that he probably heard every word of our conversation.

"So, did you learn anything new from Lily?" he asks.

I just shake my head and walk down the hall. "I've seen what I came to see, and I'll give my report to the principal in the morning."

"And your assessment will be what?" he asks, following me down the hall.

There are pre-prepared, professional answers to such questions in situations like this, but none of them are coming to me.

I stop at the top of the stairs and turn to him. "You have a beautiful daughter that loves you and wants you to be safe, but you don't care. You just put yourself, and her, and everyone she loves in danger and you don't care what that could do to her."

A part of my mind knows very well that me saying that to him in Lily's name is actually me saying that to my own father. But it's far, far too late for me and maybe Lily still has some time.

His gaze, which was pretty soft before now, turns knife edge hard and just as sharp. "I am what I am, Ms. Connor. But I'm thirty-nine years old, and I've stayed alive this long. I plan to stay alive for awhile yet. If that's all she's worried about then she has nothing to worry about."

And that's just like listening to my own father too. But he was so wrong. So very wrong.

"Whatever you say." I turn and walk down the stairs. Voices and laughter are coming from the dining room making my memories overflow and not in a happy way.

I stride across the foyer and out the front door, where birds and other chirpy things are the only sounds I hear.

"Stay for dinner," Cross says. "You'll be able to make an even better assessment of Lily's home life that way."

"I would like to leave now," I say without looking at him, as I walk to my car. "Do I just drive back the way I came in?"

His bike is still parked next to my car, and he heads for it. "I'll escort you to the gate."

I nod and get in my car, then follow him to the gate where I just drive through once it's open and don't look at him again. Not even through the rearview mirror.

It's only when I reach the foot of the hill that I begin to think clearly again. This visit was a complete mistake, and the memories it stirred up could take weeks to become manageable again. But it's done, and I can't change it. The only good that might come of this is that Lily gets to stay in school. Because nothing of what I've seen makes me think she's not being raised right. In fact, I would love to grow up in a grand old house like that. And she has a father who is willing to risk even his livelihood and freedom by inviting me into his home to inspect it, so she has a better chance at a calm and normal childhood.

When he spoke of keeping her safe, I wanted him to say those words to me too. I wanted that so badly, it sickened me even more. I have to stay away from him, from the memories he stirs up in my mind, and I will. Even though I can still feel his eyes boring into me once I’m miles away, and I wish I could fall asleep safe in his arms tonight.

* * *

Cross

"She didn't want to stay for dinner?" Tank asks, meeting me at the front door.

I shake my head, instead of giving him a dumb answer to his stupid question.

"Probably for the best," he muses, following me across the hall to my office and entering behind me without asking. "I don't think letting her come here was one of your best ideas, but after seeing her, I get why you agreed to her visit."

"Yeah? And why's that?" I ask, holding the crystal bottle of scotch, but not pouring yet. I'd prefer to have this drink alone.

"Well, she's fucking hot, for one thing. And she's also round, young and fresh, just like you like them," he says, pointing at the scotch. "I'll have one of those too."

I've been with a lot of women over the years, some short, some tall, some blonde and some Indian. I don't have a type when it comes to women, I like them all the same.

And I like Roxanne very much. Especially after seeing the fire in her eyes while she nearly yelled at me for being a heartless bastard for risking my life now that I have a daughter. Few women ever got very far telling me what they think of the way I live my life, but Roxanne's angry, righteous eyes stirred something in me. Most of the time, I don’t know any “right” except my own, but her telling me off didn’t bother me, as much as it would coming from someone else. She kinda sounded like she really cared what happens to me. But why would she? And she didn’t exactly tell me anything I don’t already know. So that’s probably why it didn’t bother me so much.

All of that is just stupid thinking anyway. She's Lily's guidance counselor, and we'll leave it at that.

"Her visit was a requirement for Lily staying in school," I say and pour us each a glass. "She didn't see anything she wasn't supposed to see, and I think she's satisfied with the way Lily lives."

Tank takes the scotch I poured for him and drinks it in one gulp. "A nun would be satisfied with the way you run things around here. Hell, she'd be impressed."

I'm as done with this conversation, as I am with Tank harping on about the new rules at Sanctuary. My look must say it clearly, because Tank places his empty glass on the bar and turns to leave.

"Alright, I'll leave you to it," he says. "You have things well in hand, as always."

I don't reply and he leaves. But he's wrong, I don't have this in hand.

I want Roxanne, and I'm running out of reasons not to have her. I've already come up with five excuses to call her while Tank was talking, each better than the last. And at this rate, she's as good as spending the night in my bed by the end of the week. I'm no good at not going after the things I want, never was.