“What the hell did we do to some drug lord?” she asks, confusion etched on her expression. “Why does this shit always happen to us?”
“I don’t know. We need to figure out what the tie is between them and us,” I state, looking down at Izzy’s laptop. “We should do some research of our own. Let’s see what comes up when we search.”
We start online searching, and we find a man by the name of Grayson Palmer on social media.
“So it is his real name? Do you think this is even him? Maybe whoever told Renny about it gave his real name instead of his shady drug lord name,” Izzy murmurs, flicking through his photos. “He looks like a normal guy. From his social media, it looks like he lives a relatively clean, boring life. Look, he even volunteers his time at the local food bank and donates there every week. He’s older than I thought he would be.”
“So he’s a generous drug lord who cares about the community?” I say as we scan through the photos. “I don’t know, are we sure this is him? His profile looks extremely wholesome.”
“Well, he hasn’t posted in like two years,” Izzy says, shrugging. “Let’s look at some older photos,” she murmurs, going right to the bottom of the album and starting there.
She swipes through a few, and one of them catches my eye. “Wait, hold on, go back to that one.”
She goes back, and looks at me expectantly. The photo is a group photo of five people, and I recognize the one in the middle.
I point to the woman standing next to Palmer, looking up at him with stars in her eyes.
“That’s my mother.”
Chapter Sixteen
“That’s your mom?” Izzy asks, zooming in on the photo. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “She’s much younger, but yes, that’s definitely her.”
Izzy looks at me with wide eyes. What does this even mean?
“Maybe they’re old high school friends or something,” she suggests, wrinkling her nose. “I mean, come on, there has to be a valid explanation for this.”
“Should I call her and ask? I don’t know what to do right now. She’s already hounding me to get my ass home, and if I ask her any questions she’s going to worry even more about me.” I groan, scrubbing my hand down my face in frustration.
“Of all the ties, I must admit I wasn’t expecting this one,” Izzy muses, taking a screenshot of the photo. “I don’t think you should say anything to her yet. Let’s speak to Temper and see what he says.” She closes her laptop and chugs the rest of her drink. “I think we’re going to need another one.”
“Yes, please,” I agree, sighing.
How the hell does Mom know some drug kingpin? My mom is the most innocent, boring woman I’ve ever known. She sticks to herself, she makes jars of jam and preserves in her spare time and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her have a glass of wine, never mind have any kind of interest in drugs. Even though she owns and runs a bar, she’s never been into drinking, or any other vices that I can think of.
My mind is blown right now.
We’re tipsy...more like borderline drunk when Temper and Renny show up at the door.
“We have something to show you,” Izzy says to Temper. We all sit down and we show them the picture.
“That’s your mom?” Renny asks, looking between me and the photo. “You don’t really look like her.”
“I know,” I reply, holding my phone. “What do we do? Do I call her and ask her or are we just going to leave it? This could mean nothing at all and be a huge coincidence or...”
Or like Izzy said, it’s the unexpected connection that we’ve been looking for.
“Don’t worry,” Temper assures me, standing behind me and gently massaging my shoulders. “Whatever it is, we will sort it out, okay?”
I nod, but really all I want to do is speak to my mom.
We all head back to the clubhouse, even Izzy, who gives up on work to spend some extra time with us.
Even when life is going to shit, it’s nice to have some people who are right there with you.
* * *
“Where are we going?” I ask Temper, staring out at the road, trying to see where the hell he is taking us.
“I told you, it’s a surprise,” he says again, giving me a quick grin. “You’ve been sitting in the clubhouse worrying about things since yesterday, and we need to get your mind off everything.”
How do you get your mom being friends with a drug lord off your mind? It isn’t lost on me that I may be the common denominator here, although I have no idea how.
I’ve decided that when I’m alone, I’m going to call her and get to the bottom of it. Drinking with Izzy last night didn’t help and sitting in my room all day today overthinking didn’t either. When Temper came into my room and told me to get ready because we were going somewhere, I wasn’t exactly in the mood for it, but he insisted. I’m glad I listened to him, though, because sitting around feeling sorry for myself and the situation the MC and myself are in wasn’t exactly being productive.
When we stop in front of a lake, I have to admit, that’s not what I was expecting. “What are we doing here?”
He just smiles, gets out of the car and comes to open my door. “Let me show you.”
We walk toward the water, and then Temper hands a man some money, a man who gives us his canoe in return.
“You ever done this before?” Temper asks, handing me a life jacket.
“Uhh, no,” I say, putting it on, and then pick up one of the paddles. “What if it tips over?”
The water is extremely dark, and who knows what the hell could be down there?
“It won’t,” he promises. “And I can do the paddling if you want. You can just relax and enjoy the ride.”
The man gives us a few instructions, and then helps us get into the canoe.
After that, we’re on our own.
I’m not sure about this whole thing at the start—the paddling is harder than I thought it was going to be—but once we’re out for a few minutes I start to relax and take in the breathtaking scenery in front of us.
“The water is like a mirror,” I say to him from the front, where I’m sitting. All of the trees near the shore are reflected on the still water, and it’s such a beautiful sight.
“I know, it’s beautiful, isn’t it? Like glass,” he agrees, paddling skills much better than mine. “When you look down, it’s kind of trippy, because it looks like the trees are underwater.”
“Or like another dimension,” I say, unable to look away. We paddle together for about an hour, seeing birds and simply enjoying the view before we turn the canoe back around.
“I like coming here when I need to think. You can stop paddling if you want,” he says to me. “You relax. I can take care of it.”
My brow furrows. “Are you telling me to stop paddling because it’s easier for you if I don’t?” I’ll admit that every time I paddle, I go too far left or right and we almost hit the bank, but still, I’m putting in some effort and trying here.
I hear his laughter from behind me. “Maybe.”
“Fine.” I smirk, lifting my paddle up and letting him do all the work while I relax. “I have a blister on my hand anyway.”
“Do you?” he asks, sounding concerned. “Definitely don’t paddle then. I don’t want you hurting your hands.”
“It’s fine,” I say. I kind of feel like Pocahontas when she’s going down the river, singing “Just Around the Riverbend.”
“We should play some music,” I say out loud. “The Pocahontas soundtrack would be so good right now, don’t you think?”
Temper is silent for a few moments, and then the song I was humming in my head is suddenly playing from his phone, and I feel like I’m in my own Disney movie, singing along loudly and wishing I had a talking raccoon with me.
“How d
id you know this was the song I was referring to?” I ask, turning around and looking at him.
“‘Just around the riverbend,’” he sings, arching his brow like come on, it’s obvious.
“I’m surprised you know this song at all.”
“I have two nieces and a nephew, remember?” he fires back, singing along to the next few lines too. I’m not going to lie, I’m impressed. I never pictured a big biker like Temper to ever share a moment like this with me.
When we make it back to the shore, with people around, he still has the soundtrack playing. He doesn’t care what people think, and I love that about him.
I also love that he pulls me out of my comfort zone and makes me do things that I never would have done otherwise. I get out of the canoe first, and wait for him to get out and pull the canoe up on the shore before I take off my life jacket.
“Thanks for bringing me here,” I say. “It was honestly so amazing out there.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for coming along with me, even though you had no idea what the hell we were doing,” he says, winking at me. “At least I know that you trust me again now.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, okay, don’t get ahead of yourself there, buddy.”
He laughs and wraps his arm around me. “Come on, let’s get something to eat.”
He can do no wrong today.
When we get back to the clubhouse, Temper gets a call and says that he has to head out, but will be back later with dinner. So I decide to have a long shower, brush out my knotty canoe hair and get into my pajamas before calling my mom.
“Abbie? Are you okay?” is how she answers the phone, so my voice message clearly did nothing to ease her worry over me being gone.
“I’m fine,” I reply, hesitating. “How’s everything?”
“It will be better when you get home,” she states, sighing. “I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, Abbie, but you need to be home where you belong.”
I try not to let her saying “where you belong” irk me.
“I told you I will be there soon,” I say. “I’m actually calling because I have something to ask you.”
“What is it?” she asks instantly. “If you want me to come and get you from somewhere, I can leave right now.”
“No!” I say, a little too forcefully. “No, Mom, I don’t want you to come and get me. I’ve told you that I’m fine. I’m not a little girl, I’m twenty-eight, and it’s actually not a crime for me to be somewhere on my own.”
“I know that,” she huffs. “I’m just—”
“Worried, I know,” I cut her off. “But I’ve told you a million times that I’m fine, happy even, and that I’ll be home soon.”
“What did you want to ask me then?”
“Who is Grayson Palmer, and how do you know him?” I ask, getting straight to the point.
She’s quiet for a few seconds. “Why do you ask?”
“I saw a picture of you and him,” I admit. “An old picture. And I just want to know what your connection is to this man.”
Who apparently is a fucking drug lord.
Her long hesitation lets me know that she does know something about this man; she just doesn’t want to tell me. If it wasn’t a big deal, she would have just said Oh, I knew him in high school, why? or something along those lines, but she’s acting sketchy as hell.
“Mom?”
When she starts crying, I’m wondering what the hell is going on.
“It’s all my fault, Abbie. I’m so sorry. I panicked and called him.”
“You called Palmer?” I ask, trying to make sense of this whole thing and why she’s suddenly so upset.
“When Ivy said you were close to L.A., I called him because I know he lives there, and he used to be an old friend of mine. I asked him to find you, and to make sure that you’re okay,” she explains, sniffling. “Did he find you? What has happened?”
I open my mouth and close it a few times before I actually answer. “Let me get this straight. You were worried about me, so you called up your old friend, who is apparently a drug kingpin or whatever, and asked him to find me and check up on me to make sure I’m okay? You don’t have any other friends who live near L.A.? Perhaps ones who aren’t criminals?”
Little bit hypocritical of me, considering where I’m sitting right now, but still, come on.
She then has the audacity to come back at me with, “He’s not a bad man. I mean, he wouldn’t hurt you.”
I feel like my life is currently full of men like that. Ones who aren’t necessarily good, but are good to me. “I don’t even know what to say right now.”
She starts crying again before saying, “I had to call him, Abbie. He has connections. I didn’t know what was going on with you, and I know you left with one of the bikers. I’m not stupid, I looked at the camera surveillance! I told you to stay away from them!”
“The bikers are my friends” is all I can think of to reply to that one with. “If you can be friends with a drug dealer, I can be friends with bikers.”
She pauses, and then sighs. “He is your father.”
And just like that, once again, my whole world changes.
Chapter Seventeen
I grew up without a dad, and because I never had one from the beginning, I didn’t think much of it. Whenever anyone would ask about my father, I always replied that I didn’t have one, that I only had a mother. I wouldn’t say it in a sad way, it was just a fact.
Only when I got to about twelve did I ask about him, and my mom told me that he lived in California, and that we were all better off without him. Again, I didn’t think much of it, just that he mustn’t have wanted to be in my life, and that was it.
And now, after all of these years, she’s dropping this bomb on me? After hanging up on her in shock, I’ve been lying in bed staring at the ceiling and just trying to make sense of all of this.
I left town without a word, and when she found out I was staying near L.A., the same city as the father I’ve never met, the one who didn’t bother to be in my life or even send me a fucking birthday card once a year, she decided to call him, of all people, and ask him to find me and make sure I’m okay.
Now that I’m an adult and can take care of myself.
This is fucking rich.
At least I solved the puzzle and figured out why Palmer has been asking around about the MC: because Mom knew I left with Temper, who she knows is the president of the Knights of Fury MC. She would have passed on that information to him.
I can’t believe this.
Half of my DNA belongs to a drug dealer.
No, the drug dealer.
No wonder I was so drawn to Temper. I’m the daughter of a criminal.
I don’t know how to break this news to everyone, because it’s all kinds of fucked-up. How is the MC going to react to this? Temper has never asked anything about my dad, and I’ve never brought him up.
Really, it still hasn’t changed anything.
I still don’t have a dad.
Now, though, I know who my sperm donor is, and it’s looking like I haven’t won the genetic lottery.
Forcing myself out of bed, I drag my feet to the kitchen and pull out a bottle of vodka from the freezer, just as Crow walks in. His eyes widen as I start drinking it from the bottle, no chaser needed, because I currently feel like I’m dead inside. I can’t even taste the vodka; I might as well be drinking water.
“Wow, what’s going on, Abbie? Are you okay?” he asks, coming over and taking the bottle off me, and then he sets it down on the table. “I’m pretty sure anyone drinking liquor straight from the bottle is not okay. Do you want me to call Temper?”
“No, it’s okay. No need to bother him,” I say, sitting down at the table and looking into Crow’s blue eyes. “Life is hard.”
He nods. “Life is hard
, yes. But you need to concentrate on the good things and say fuck you to the bad.”
He gets up and gets two glasses and some lemonade, then pours us both a drink. “Much more civilized,” he murmurs as he slides it over to me.
“Thanks,” I whisper, swallowing half the glass in one go.
“Come here,” he says, pulling me against his chest and rubbing my back. “Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay. You have us, and we will fix whatever it is, okay? Who has upset you? Do you want me to go and kick someone’s ass?”
I smile against him, then start crying, because that’s how fucking messed up my head is right now.
“What’s wrong?” I hear Temper ask, panic in his tone. He comes over and pulls me away from Crow, lifting me up in his arms. “What happened?” he asks Crow, his voice now laced with fury. “I left her here with you for a few hours and she’s fuckin’ crying?”
“I don’t know what’s happened,” Crow says, staying calm. “She came into the kitchen and was drinking straight vodka from the bottle when I found her, and I was just asking her what’s wrong.”
Temper’s voice must have gotten everyone’s interest, because suddenly the kitchen is filled with the MC. Saint, Renny, Dee and Chains, and all with their eyes on me.
“Get out of here!” Temper yells at them all, his booming voice scaring the shit out of me. I’ve never heard him use that tone before, and that volume, and it’s like it came out of nowhere.
The men start to leave, but I say, “Wait.”
They might be scared of Temper, but I’m not, and I know he’d never do anything to hurt me. He’s angry for me, because I’m upset, and he wants them to give me space.
They all might as well know what’s going on. They’d hear about it anyway.
“I found out why Palmer has been asking about the MC,” I declare, looking at Temper’s face.
“What are you talking about?” he asks, putting me down and cupping my cheek. “What has happened, Abbie?”
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