I arrived at the clubhouse around nine that morning. King exited his office as I walked towards it. “Wasn’t sure when you’d get in today,” he said.

After we’d taken care of Gibson’s body yesterday, I’d come back to the clubhouse and gone over some club business with him that couldn’t be put off, but he’d left me alone all night once I’d made it clear I didn’t want company.

“You let Monroe in last night?”

“Yeah, she called Nitro and asked him to organise it with me.”

I nodded. King and I rarely exchanged thanks, but we knew when the other offered it.

“Where are you at with your ex and your daughter?”

“I’ve organised a paternity test. We’ll have the results in five to ten days according to their website. Far as I know, Tenille’s gonna stick around in Sydney until they come back.”

“You think she’s yours?”

“I’m running with that thought, yeah.” The alternative had been too fucking painful, so I’d pushed it out of my mind.

Nitro joined us. Looking at King, he asked, “You heard from Kick? They had that baby yet?”

King grinned. “Yeah, had her this morning around five.”

“You got a name? Tatum’s gonna hound me until I give her one.”

“Jesus, Nitro, I never asked, he never said,” King muttered. “That woman has you fucking wound around her finger.”

Nitro shot him a filthy glare, but Devil interrupted us before he could respond.

“Spoke to Bronze this morning. He wanted me to let you know that he still doesn’t have anything on Ryland.”

“Why haven’t we heard even a whisper from the fucking feds?” I asked. As far as Bronze had led us to believe, that would have been a given after we dealt with the Italians.

“Yeah, that’s been on my mind, too,” King said.

“We need to keep moving,” I said. “Get Marx out there again to keep showing us all the places where he met with those assholes. It’s only a matter of time before Ryland shows his face again, so the more we can get done before then, the better.” Devil and Nitro had taken Marx out for a few hours yesterday, but hadn’t come up with much.

King nodded his agreement. Jerking his chin at me, he said, “You and Nitro take him out. I’ve gotta take Jen to her ultrasound this morning.”

It surprised me that he was so involved in her pregnancy. But that was King—doing shit you never expected from him.

* * *

I entered my home late that afternoon after a long fucking day of club work that yielded no results. Morale in the club was dropping with each passing day that we couldn’t figure out who the fuck was behind all the shit going on.

I dumped my keys and phone on the kitchen counter and went in search of Charlie. Finding her in the lounge room, I collapsed onto the couch next to her.

“You look like shit,” she said.

I glanced her way, doing a double take when I saw her hair. “You coloured your hair?”

She touched it. “Yeah. Do you like it?”

I knew I had to tread carefully with this. Females were fucking touchy about their hair. “It’s different.”

Her eyes widened. “Different?”

Fuck. By her reaction, I’d screwed that up. “I like it, Charlie.”

“You’re just saying that now. You hate it.”

I scrubbed my face. The long day, coupled with not a drop of fucking whisky, meant my levels of patience were at a low. But I kept a leash on my frustration for her. “I’m not just saying it. I never say shit I don’t mean. I just preferred it darker. This blonde thing you’ve got going is nice.”

“Oh God! Nice is the worst possible word to describe hair!”

Fuck, it was worse than different? A teen dictionary would be useful right about now.

“Your mother paid for it, huh?”

“Yeah, she’s bribing me into being nice to her after yesterday. For the record, I’m all about bribing.”

“What happened to the balay-colour-thing you wanted?”

“This is balayage, Aiden. Keep up.”

I frowned. “Looks fucking blonde to me.”

She rolled her eyes, and I knew this conversation was done.

“I got your text about dinner,” she said, confirming I was right about the conversation shifting gears.

“You’re good with that?” Monroe had asked us both to dinner at her place that night.

“I don’t know…. Did you say her family will be there, too?”

“Yeah.”

She grinned. “Okay, I’m in, then.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “What’s that grin for?”

“I’m all about watching you handle her family. I hope she’s got one of those overprotective dads. You know, kinda like you and the way you are with Jamie.”

“Smartass,” I muttered. “That little shit hasn’t fucked off yet?”

She stood. “Nope.”

As she took a step to leave, I grabbed her hand and stopped her. “You okay, baby?”

Looking down at me, she nodded, knowing exactly what I meant. “Kinda. It sucks, though.”

She wasn’t wrong there. “Yeah, it does. But we’re gonna get that test done and it’ll prove I’m your dad. And then we’re gonna forget about all this shit.”

She was silent for a few moments. “I’m sorry Mum did this to you,” she said softly.

I stood. “Charlie, I don’t want you to think about me in all of this. Not in that way. Let me deal with that.”

Her voice wobbled on her next question. “What if you’re not my dad?”

There wasn’t anything in life quite like watching your child struggle. It broke me in ways I’d never been broken. The urge to protect kicked in fiercely, and I pulled her into my arms. I wanted nothing more than to tell her it wasn’t fucking true, that it would all work out. But I knew that wasn’t what she was looking for. She needed me to be the strong one here, to be the one she could count on to know what to do if everything turned to shit.

With one arm tightly around her and a hand smoothing her hair, I said, “If we get to that point, we’ll deal with it together. I will never walk away from you. Ever. I will be right here, still your dad as far as I’m fucking concerned, ready to be in your life however you’ll let me.”

She blinked a few times before nodding and resting her head against my chest. She didn’t try to move out of my hold, and I didn’t give her the option. We held each other for a long time, taking the strength and comfort we both desperately needed. Life sure as shit had a funny way of bringing people together.