Hell's Knights

I’m not sure what I expected when I saw my dad again. I don’t remember him, so I had no idea what it was I actually thought would come from this moment. I guess knowing he is a biker, I expected a fat, ugly, smelly man with a beer belly. Not the handsome, well-groomed man sauntering towards me. My mother, God bless her trashy heart, had such poor taste in men that I have to wonder how she snagged him. I am sure my mother was once beautiful, but all I remember was the scraggly haired woman with rotting teeth and a foul temper.

“Addison?”

My father’s voice is husky, deep and…well…fatherly. I’m pissed at him though, I mean, how can I not be? He never tried to contact me. He never tried to see me. He never made an effort to pull me from the life I was stuck in. I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for that. He left me to live in hell. He doesn’t know what my life was like, with those men she used to bring home. The dealers, the junkies, the trash off the streets. His life…the biker life…would have been a damned walk in the park. When he stops in front of me, I meet his gaze. For a moment, we just stare at each other, taking each other in, figuring out what we can say.

“Jackson,” I say. It’s the only thing that comes to mind.

His mouth twitches. Did he really expect I’d call him Dad?

“You look just like your momma,” he breathes as he takes me in.

My eyes widen and I feel a pinch deep in my chest. Forcing the feeling away, I cross my arms and snap, “That’s an insult, you do know that right?”

He tilts his head to the side, and his gaze narrows. “How so?”

I ignore him, I refuse to spell it out for him. Instead, I turn, looking around the large shed. “This is your life, huh? Very…interesting. Where’s my room?”

“How’d you get in?” he asks.

I raise my brows at him. “Jumped the fence. My room?”

“This your girl, Jacks?”

I turn to see an older man with a bushy grey beard and steely-colored eyes staring down at me with an almost sexual look on his face, yuck. I give him my best ‘if you look at me like that again, I’ll punch you’ smile, and turn back to my father.

“You jumped the fence?” he says, completely shocked.

“Girl’s got guts, jumpin’ the fence into a biker’s lot,” Old grey says.

I spin back around to give him another glare, and that’s when I notice him. It’s surprising that I missed him, because he’s sitting there, looking utterly perfect in his black jeans, black shirt and black leather vest. He has the face of a dark angel. Dark messy hair, green eyes so emerald they’re piercing, and a set of lips that, well, are downright kissable. He has a piercing in the lower left corner of his bottom lip as well as two in his ear. I let my gaze travel down his body, thick silver chain around his neck, tattooed arms, thick skull rings on his fingers, and some swanky black boots with silver chains on them. He also has a chain hanging from his jeans. The man likes chains.

“I have to agree with you, Curly,” he drawls in a voice so deep and husky, my panties become soaked in seconds thinking about how sexy that voice would sound while he was fucking a girl senseless. “Girl is brave jumpin’ into a biker’s lot.”

I tilt my head to the side and give him a curious look. “Why is that?”

He grins, showing me two perfect dimples in his cheeks. He stands, walking over. I see the patches on his vest now, one that says Vice President and a few other stand out patches that he’s earned over the years. I can now see the other man sitting at the table, with his back to me. He has a large patch of a bike surrounded in flames with big, bold letters saying “Hell’s Knights”. That must be the club name! Very original. When hot stuff stops in front of me, and lets his gaze rake me, I do the same, letting my gaze rake him. What is it about men, that makes them think they can check out a woman openly, but she’s expected not to do the same? Well, news flash, this little black duck does not follow rules, in fact, she likes to break all those rules.

“I told you to call me,” Jackson says, stepping in front of me and forcing hot stuff to step back.

“Yes, I’m aware of that, Jackson, but I don’t need your help.”

“Funny that, ‘coz you’re here and we don’t let many girls in our compound, so you must need some help,” hot stuff says from behind Jackson.

I step around Jackson and glare at him. “Fine, give me some money, and I’ll leave. I certainly have better things to do then stand here with a bunch of scummy bikers.”

Hot stuff smirks, crossing his large arms over his chest. “Girls’ got an awful big mouth, Jacks, best you put her in her place…”

“In my place?” I growl, crossing my arms too. “What am I? Some sort of dog?”

“If that’s what you want to be, sugar, then so be it.”

“You mother fucking…”

“Enough!” Jackson yells. “Addison, Cade, enough.”

Cade, that’s his name? Well, it’s a sucky name. I turn to Jackson and give him a look.

“Where can I stay, if I can’t stay here?”

“You can’t stay here, it’s the rules. I have a house just down the road. It has four bedrooms, two bathrooms, enough for you to have your own space. I’m hardly there, so it should do you for now.”

For now. Why does that tug something deep down inside me?