Chapter One
More than seven years later…
Under the hood of a ‘67 Chevy, Ripper heard the familiar roar of motorcycles.
“What the fuck?”
Darting his gaze beside him, he spotted Trick, one of his brothers from Hell Ryders MC, his body tense and ready for a fight. Nothing ever riled Trick, so it caught Ripper’s attention.
Ripper straightened making sure he didn’t slam his head under the hood of the car, his stare gravitating to the three men who rode up to the lot of Ryders Custom Rides, three men wearing cuts from Chained Disciples MC.
Not good.
The clubs had history and a murky past. Years ago, when the clubs severed ties, Hell Ryders banned Chained from entering their town of Wadden. Though the president of the rival club, Chip, had recently tried to mend fences, Hell Ryders voted against it. One of the brothers who’d been strongly against it was Rip. Three of Chained’s bikers, officers no less, showing in their town, driving up to their garage, their compound, was a blatant threat.
Ripper’s whole body shot ramrod straight. Fisting the wrench in his hand, he took several steps in their direction eyeing the three officers whom he knew by name, Tracker, Mase, and Till. Tracker, the vice president of Chained, returned his glare. His brothers, about ten of them who’d been inside and around the garage, closed in just as an SUV pulled up behind the bikes. A man, tall, sporting a military-style crew cut, stepped out.
“Doug?” Army, one of his brothers, said, surprise in his voice.
The man lifted his chin in Army’s direction. Then the bikes turned off, one by one, and a deadening silence filled the air.
Ripper knew Doug. Army and Trigger, both part of his MC, mentioned him before. Doug served with both in the U.S. Army. Now, he was a private investigator and one of the best. Trigger hired Doug not so long ago to dig up dirt on his old lady’s ex. A few months later, Chip, Chained MC’s president, requested his number to find his…
Fuck. He closed his eyes tightly trying to erase the image of the beautiful woman who crept into his mind with just the thought of Chip.
Shaking it off, he glanced around wondering where Chip was. It had been Chip who’d wanted the clubs to mend fences. It’d been Chip who so badly wanted Doug’s number to find…her.
He shouldn’t care. The thought of her shouldn’t fuck with him at all. It’d been more than five years. And still, with just the thought, his heart clenched so hard it made his whole body ache.
“Came to talk to Ripper,” Doug said.
That caught his attention, dragging him away from his thoughts. He stepped forward. “Don’t know what business you have with me.”
Doug’s gaze met his as he took several steps in his direction. “I was told to come to you if anything were to happen. Shit happened, so here I am.” He paused then explained, “Chip hired me a while back to find his cousin.”
Chip’s cousin, the beautiful woman he shouldn’t give three fucks about, the woman he should’ve long forgotten by now—Emelia.
Don’t think about her. Don’t say her name. Clenching his jaw, he shot back, “That’s got nothing to do with me.”
“It does now. My instructions were to give you this information should anything happen to Chip.”
He twisted his neck, stare slicing to Tracker. He then looked to Mase and Till and noticed what in the heat of the moment, he hadn’t before. Grim expressions, tense, and on alert, only meant one thing.
Directing his attention to Tracker, he asked, “What happened?”
“Shot last night. He’s in a coma.”
A coma? Ripper couldn’t believe it. He and Chip hadn’t had a conversation in more than five years, but before that, they’d been friends, good friends. That’s how he met Emelia. Honest, one of the things he hated the most after their clubs became rivals was losing Chip as a friend, though he supposed it’d been for the best. He couldn’t’ve handled being around anyone that reminded him of her. He had enough memories in his room, his club, his life. Even still, after so many years, the memories haunted him.
Swallowing the emotion clogging his throat, he told Tracker sincerely, “Sorry to hear that.”
He didn’t ask who’d done it. He knew. Chained MC was heavily involved in dealing drugs and running guns. Hell Ryders MC had once been, too. It’s why the clubs cut ties. When they had, Chained MC partnered with the Falcons, a California street gang. Chained had only recently attempted to get clean. The Falcons weren’t too happy about losing their partners and retaliated, not the first time either.
He looked at Doug. “Don’t know why he’d send you to me. Tracker’s his right-hand man, his VP.”
“His request. If he doesn’t make it, it means it’s his last.” Doug handed him a manila envelope.
He hesitated too long before he took it and peeked inside. His heart throbbed at the base of his neck when he spotted a picture—of her, the one and only woman he loved, the one who’d run out on him, the one he’d been trying to forget for more than five years.
He knew what he’d find inside because Chip reached out to Hell Ryders specifically for Doug’s number in an effort to find her. Chip hired a series of PIs over the years, and none had been successful. Ripper had to give Chip credit. He never stopped looking for her. For that reason, he shouldn’t be surprised to see the picture of her staring back at him, yet he was.
She looked beautiful even after all that time passed. She stood beside a car, that blonde hair still so blonde, still long, reaching mid-back, her lips stained a rose color. Her hips and legs encased in a pair of dark-wash jeans and a white shirt hung off her shoulder giving him a look at her flawless skin.
Without realizing it, he reached into the envelope and pulled out the picture. There were more, a series of them. He didn’t want to, and yet he couldn’t stop himself. He browsed. Every time he spotted another image, his heart stopped then jump started again.
Over the years, he’d wondered why she left, where she’d gone, how she was. Finally, he had an answer… She was just fine. Eating in restaurants, getting her nails done, working at a small shop, residing in a small house in the suburbs—living, breathing, and doing it all without him. She moved on while he couldn’t go an hour without thinking about her.
Chip clung to life and his last wish—for Ripper to get to her, care for her. The reason was clear. The Falcons would start shooting relatives next. Chip knew no one could handle her but Ripper, and he knew, even after all this time, no one would protect her like Ripper.
His job wouldn’t be easy. Emelia was feisty, bullheaded, and could frustrate a saint. They fought hard and loved harder—at least on his part. The fights never bothered him. He loved every second of it. Then again, he loved her, loved her more than life itself, and at the end of the day, he knew she could be spitting mad, and he could make it all go away with just one kiss. That wouldn’t be the case now. She left him, after all, and moved on.
It shocked him to this day. For a man who’d never known love in his life, he’d loved her so much that when she walked out, he lost himself. He was a man, a biker, and he had pride. It’s why he admitted this to himself. Besides, there was no point in lying. Though no one said it, every one of his brothers knew it.
He flipped a picture and caught sight of the only one in the pile of her smiling. The sun shining in her hair making that blonde color seem even more golden. In that split second, he lost track of what he’d been thinking, too captivated by her beauty—petite, long hair, hazel eyes, and the fullest lips known to man.
He was fucked. Not having a choice was messed up, and that’s exactly what he had—no choice. Even after all that time, whether or not she screwed him over, he couldn’t let her get caught in Chip’s club mess. He couldn’t let her get killed. He hated that the most. It meant a part of him still cared too much. In truth, he never stopped. Deep down he knew that too because he’d never been able to forget her, no matter how many women he had, no matter how much he drank or smoked.
Finally, he garnered the courage to flip the picture and found a report with the information he needed. Of all the places, she made her new life in Santa Rosa, New Mexico. Their town of Wadden was half an hour away from Santa Rosa, California. His gaze slid to the top of the report. He read her name, except it wasn’t right. Emelia Joyce Knight. She’d changed her name and took his.
Clenching his jaw, his stare, spitting fire, shot to Doug’s. Doug smirked then shrugged, looking at him with knowledge in his eyes. The bastard knew, which made Rip think Doug probably knew more than he let on, more than what was written on that report. Rip bet his left nut Doug had done a background check on him too.
Glancing back down at the report, he supposed he had to give Emelia credit. No one would’ve assumed she moved to Santa Rosa, New Mexico. No one would’ve assumed she’d taken his name, the man she left high and dry five years ago.
He met Tracker’s stare. “Don’t owe her shit. My club owes her fuckin’ less.” He looked away, took a deep breath then met his eyes again. “I’ll do it for Chip.”
A stupid, futile attempt to hold onto his pride.
He hadn’t fooled anyone, least of all himself.
****
“You’re such an asshole!”
Ripper sighed heavily. He was tired of fighting. Honest to God, they’d been fighting for so long that he couldn’t remember what started this fight. She was pissed in a way only she could get. He had to end this already because he hated fighting with her and especially because his dick was so hard any moment it’d explode.
It happened all the time, early in the mornings, late at night, in the afternoons whether they were cuddling, kissing, or fighting. It was something about her. She was beautiful, yeah, so beautiful even after a year of exclusively fucking her, he still couldn’t get enough. Even pissed, she was. Her eyes narrowed, cheeks flushed, and all of it turned him on.
Maybe he knew how to end this fight. He’d never tried it before, so there was a chance doing it would piss her off more.
Fuck it. He’d take the chance.
Smirking, he took a series of menacing steps toward her. She retreated until her back hit the wall behind her. Snaking an arm around her waist, he cupped the back of her neck, trapping her arms against his bare chest.
“Let me go, Bryce!”
Pressing the length of his body against hers, he whispered against her lips, “One kiss, and I’ll let you go.”
Her eyes further narrowed. “No. I want you to let me go this instant.”
The arm around her waist tightened, his fingers digging into her neck. “One kiss, and I’ll let you go. I promise.”
She scanned his face, seemingly considering the request. Then finally she nodded. He went for the kill, pressing his lips against hers forcefully. She hesitated briefly, but when he buried his tongue in her mouth, kissing her deep and hard, she caved, melting against him like she always did. When he pulled away, she was panting against him. It took her a couple of minutes, but she managed to remember why she’d been so pissed.
Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t play fair.”
Without bothering to hide his smile, he shook his head. “Not in regards to you, babe.”
He didn’t have to ask her for another kiss. He didn’t have to keep his promise either. A moment later, her lips slammed against his.
“Rip.”
He jolted against the seat, his eyes shooting open a second later. The memory fading as fast as it’d come. He was tired, exhausted in fact, but a part of him couldn’t sit still, not unless he thought about her.
He peered at Trig, one of the brothers who accompanied him on the trip.
Trig nodded forward, toward the front of the SUV they’d rented at the airport. “We’re here.”
Without a word, he fisted his hands attempting to hide the nerves, hopped off the passenger seat, and skimmed the small playground in front of him: a series of swings, a sand box, and two slides. His gaze stilled when he spotted her—Emelia. She sat on a bench, her back facing him.
It had been so long, and still, the sight of her even from behind, that flawless golden hair swirling around her, took his breath away.
For the millionth time since she walked out of his life, he wondered why he loved her, a woman cruel enough to leave without a word. He wondered then, too, why still, even after all that time had passed, she had the ability to turn his insides to mush.
He clenched his jaw until it hurt reminding himself he wasn’t there for her. He was there as a favor to a man he once called a friend who lay on his deathbed. Holding his breath, he strode toward her so focused on the destination until something crashed into him. Startled, he stopped dead in his tracks, looked down, and spotted a girl with a head of golden curls wearing a colorful flowery dress, her arms tight around his thighs.
She drew away slightly to look up at his face. Smiling brightly, she said, “Daddy! I knew you’d come! I knew you’d come, Daddy!”
Stomach turning, he scanned the beautiful child’s face. So familiar, so beautiful… Like the woman he loved so long ago. The same blonde hair, the same oval face, flushed cheeks, and pink lips. Her eyes were different though, an odd blue-green color…
Like his own.
And she called him, “Daddy.”
Fuck.
He snapped his head up and immediately met Emelia’s ashen face. She’d since stood and turned toward him, a mere twenty feet away. Her hands covered her mouth, tears brimming her eyes, and still as breathtaking as she’d been all those years ago.
Tears… He couldn’t believe it. Not once in the years he’d known her had she cried, not even the times she had plenty reasons to. Her watery hazel eyes now pleaded, maybe begging for her life, maybe for mercy. She knew not to fuck with a man like him. She pretended to love him for two years then left. And now, he knew she’d taken something of his—his kid. She hadn’t even had the decency to tell him he’d be a father.
His gut knotting, heart clenching, a horrid, burning ache seared his insides alive. He swallowed the bile rising in the back of his throat and came to terms with the truth. The beautiful little girl who looked so much like the woman he loved so long ago, the girl who had his eyes was his little girl.
He couldn’t help the emotion rushing him, welling in his eyes. He had a daughter. He’d had a daughter for a long time, and he hadn’t known. She was talking and walking and running, looking to be four. It’d make sense since the last time he saw her mother had been more than five years ago.
He missed so much, her birth, her first words, first steps. Did she go to school? He hoped not. It meant he missed her first day of school, too. Worse, she knew him, and he hadn’t known about her.
“Daddy?”
His head shot down, gaze hit hers, eyes that strange blue-green color.
He was a daddy. He was this beautiful little girl’s father, an absent one, but a father nonetheless, and she didn’t seem to mind. She looked so happy to see the man who didn’t even know she existed until seconds ago, a man who hadn’t been part of her life at all.
His hands went to her shoulders, he tugged her away from him. She released his thighs, her arms falling to her sides, and that beautiful smile lighting her face fell, looking so devastated his heart clenched.
He knelt in front of her. His hand went to her hair. Lacing his fingers through it, he realized it felt like her mother’s, thick, silky, and soft. Slowly, he scanned her face trying to memorize it. Then he dropped his head, looking at her from top to bottom, trying to commit to memory every other part of her: shoulders, arms, hands, legs, and small feet.
He met her stare again. Her eyes were wide, watery, and sad. It hurt to see those tears. In a way, he felt like they were his own. He had to do something, anything he could to make them go away.
He opened his mouth to speak, to assure her then stopped short. He didn’t know what to call her, didn’t even know his daughter’s name, so he pulled her small body against his, wrapping his arms tight around her. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here, and I’ll never leave you.”
She hooked her little arms around his neck tightly. “I prayed, Daddy. I prayed you’d come. I promised I’d be good, so you’d come. I’ve been good all this time. I was waiting for you to come, and you came.”
His girl praying for him to go to her every night for years? He swore that instant his heart broke, shattered to a million pieces, and it was the reason his whole chest ached. The tears pooled in his eyes, much to his surprise, skated down his cheeks.
He wanted to tell her he’d never left her, wanted her to know he’d never had a choice, but he couldn’t force the words out. And he had no clue why nor did he care too much to look into the whys then. He had a daughter, and she was waiting for a response.
Rubbing his palm down her back, he whispered, “You be good or bad, baby. It doesn’t matter. I’m not ever leaving you.”
“Thank you for coming, Daddy.”
Shit. He hadn’t come to her. He hadn’t even known she existed. Remorse swarming him, he forced out a lie then a vow, “Nothing could stop me from getting to you. Nothing and no one’ll ever keep me from you.”
Pulling away to look at her face, he paused, so enthralled with the beguiling smile. “You understand?”
She slid her hands against his cheeks rubbing the moisture away. Then her brows drew together. “Do daddies cry like mommies cry?”
Did that mean her mother cried? Maybe now she would because she knew she’d been caught. Never had she before. She was made from stone, and her heart was fucking steel. She never cried. Did she? Why would his daughter ask then? Had she seen her mother cry a lot?
She looked down and whispered, “Mommy cries at night sometimes.” Then she met his stare. “She doesn’t know I know, Daddy, so you can’t tell her.”
Emelia cried. Why? And why did the knowledge of that make his chest ache more? You don’t care. She’s a fucking bitch. She left you, took your daughter. You were a shitty father just ’cause of her.
“I won’t.”
“Do you cry at night, too?”
He shook his head. “No, baby, I don’t.”
He didn’t add that the urge would gnaw him raw every time he looked at her. She didn’t need to know. His burden and his alone, and no one was to blame but the woman he loved so long ago.
“Why do you cry now?”
He cupped her cheeks. “’Cause I’m so happy to see you.”
Her smile widened. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you, Daddy.”
Four little words said together surged such a blast of emotion that a rush of fresh tears welled his eyes and glided down his face.
When was the last time he heard those words? Don’t think about her. She never loved you. She left you, took your daughter. Think about your daughter.
Holding his daughter tight against him with one hand on the back of her head and the other around her back smelling the scent of her hair, he swallowed the urge to sob. “I love you more, baby.”
He meant it. He loved her from first glimpse, loved her more than she’d ever imagine, more than he ever loved anything or anyone in the world. It made perfect sense that she’d come from the woman he once lived and breathed for, the woman who walked away from him five years ago with his daughter growing inside her.
With every fiber in his body, he should hate her. He couldn’t find the strength to because his little girl looked so much like her, because a part of his little girl was her because… Shit. He didn’t know. Maybe for all those reasons. Still, he should hate her like he wanted to.
His daughter drew away from him, and reluctantly, he let her go. “Are you coming home with us, Daddy?”
“No, baby.” Watching her smile fade, he quickly added, “You’re coming home with me.”
Her eyes widened, and she smiled a smile that lit up his whole fucked life. “Mommy and me are going home with you?”
“Yeah.”
She jumped in her spot then threw her arms around his neck again. “Thank you, Daddy. Thank you.”
Snaking his arm around her waist, he buried his face in her hair and inhaled that sweet scent, a scent he’d remember forever as hers. Putting an arm under her thighs, he stood, carrying his little girl, and strode to the SUV.
Trig opened the back door. He set his daughter inside, strapped her seatbelt on then kissed her forehead. “Be right back.”
When she nodded, he turned and strode to Emelia. His gut knotting as he neared. Six feet away, he stopped then finally met her stare. “She’s mine.”
“Yes.”
If his eyes hadn’t been glued to her face, he would’ve missed it since she whispered. Not that he needed a response. It hadn’t been a question, more of a statement. Still, she admitted it. Face pale, eyes wet, looking like she was about to faint. After all the messed up shit she’d done to him, it pissed him off. A rage too powerful for words ripened inside him.
Was that all she had to say? Didn’t she feel the need to explain? Didn’t he deserve an explanation? What had he ever done to her? He treated her like a queen! He loved her so much he would’ve died for her! No, he loved her so much he died when she left. The God’s honest truth because the man she knew died the day she left.
He took a deep breath then released it, deciding he wouldn’t flip his lid, not now, maybe not ever. Maybe she thought he didn’t deserve a goodbye so long ago. Maybe she thought he didn’t deserve to know he had a daughter. Maybe she thought he didn’t deserve an explanation. For all those reasons, she didn’t deserve any emotion from him, none at all. He’d do to her what she’d done to him—walk away. But first, he needed to know something.
“What’s. Her. Name?”
Tears flowing down her too pale cheeks, she said, “Brianna Emma…Knight.”
At least she gave her his name. At least she gave him that. Too bad it didn’t make up for everything else she hadn’t done.
Without another word, he turned and strode away.