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.
Chapter Two
A beautiful day, the sun hung high, not a cloud in the sky. Sitting on a park bench with her eyes glued to her daughter, Brianna, her mind wandered and settled on him. It always did. Honest, it didn’t matter what type of day it was. Rain or shine, her mind always drifted and always to him.
What she’d give to rewrite history, turn back time… No, it wouldn’t change anything. She had to remind herself time and time again. Too often, she wanted to believe.
Emelia shut her eyes briefly if only to make the image of him dissipate.
“Daddy! I knew you’d come! I knew you’d come, Daddy!”
Her heart pounding a million miles a minute, her eyes snapped open. She stood and turned toward the sound of her daughter’s voice, thinking she’d lost her mind, those couldn’t have been her daughter’s cries.
Brianna stood at an angle. Em couldn’t see her face, but she saw her full head of loose, golden curls, her small body pressed against a man’s jean-clad legs, her little arms tight around his thighs.
She’s mistaken. It’s just someone who looks like him. It can’t be him.
Em shot her gaze up and locked it on the man’s profile. Her heart stopped dead. Her jaw dropped open, and the air in her lungs whooshed out. She blinked then again and again. Only then, she knew. Improbable as it was, it was him, Bryce—the man her thoughts drifted to constantly, the man she loved and lost so long ago. She couldn’t clearly see his face slanted down to their daughter, but it was him. She’d recognize him anywhere because she looked at pictures of them every day, and because every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face.
He looked different, yet still handsome, and at six-foot-two, a good nine inches taller than her. The muscles lining his shoulders bigger and broader, clearly defined through the black T-shirt he wore. His blond hair longer at the top and sides; his face, once clean shaven, covered in stubble.
She pressed her hands over her mouth a second before his head snapped up and to her, and those strange yet gorgeous blue-green eyes, eyes she loved, eyes her daughter inherited, stared back at her. The question hung in them.
A rush of tears choked her. He didn’t need a yes or no. With just one look at her, he’d know it was true.
Brianna was his. Hers. Theirs.
Heart pounding louder and louder, she prayed harder than she ever prayed before, praying he wouldn’t turn their beautiful girl away, praying he’d fall in love with her from just one look.
Bile rising in the back of her throat, she watched for what seemed like endless moments, relentlessly repeating her prayer. Finally, his stare sliced down to Brianna. Gripping her shoulders, he tugged their girl away from him.
Her chest tightened painfully, knowing her daughter’s heart too broke.
He knelt in front of Brianna. His hand went to her hair, lacing his fingers through her blonde curls. Emelia watched him stare at Brianna’s little face, a face so similar to hers. She watched then as he skimmed Bree from top to bottom. He opened his mouth to speak, shut it, and then, finally, he hauled her small body against his and hugged their girl.
He whispered something in her ear. Emelia couldn’t make out the words, but she wondered if he’d fallen. Not a moment later, she had her answer. Tears drifted down his face. She held her breath, shocked speechless and motionless.
He cared. He cared about their little girl despite everything he’d said, everything he’d believed, everything she knew to be true… Maybe he’d even fallen.
He spoke then spoke again. Her daughter spoke, too. When he drew away from Brianna, their daughter wiped his face, an action so sweet and familiar. She remembered Brianna had once done it for her.
A warmth settled in her chest. Just then, Brianna jumped then threw her arms around his neck. He snaked an arm around her waist, put the other under her thighs, stood, and carried their little girl to an SUV.
Trig, one of the bikers from Bryce’s MC, opened the door for them. After Bryce set their daughter inside, he headed in her direction. With each of his steps, her stomach knotted. Looking straight at his handsome face, his arched brows, high cheek-bones, lean nose, and strong jaw, she realized the pictures, her memory, none of it did him justice.
A few feet away, he stopped. Expression ravished, those eyes, in that strange, ambiguous color, met hers, and they were dead. The man she loved, his beautiful eyes, the eyes his daughter inherited were lifeless, and she was the reason. All those years ago, she assumed. She should’ve told him. Had she, she would’ve never made such a horrible mistake.
“She’s mine.”
Another rush of tears swarmed her. “Yes,” she managed, barely a whisper. Though she knew it hadn’t been a question but a statement.
He took a deep breath then released it. “What’s. Her. Name?”
Without blinking, wet stained her cheeks. “Brianna Emma…Knight.”
With her response, he turned and strode away.
****
“Go in and get what you need. Then we’re out,” the dark-haired, tatted man driving the SUV ordered.
Emelia didn’t know his name or who he was nor did she know the other man sitting in the passenger seat of the SUV, also dark-haired and tatted, though his hair was long enough he had it tied in a ponytail. She assumed both were bikers from Hell Ryders MC. Neither wore cuts. Still, she nodded in agreement.
She glanced behind her and realized the other SUV, the one carrying her daughter, wasn’t parked behind theirs in front of her small, two-bedroom bungalow. Pulse spiking at the base of her neck, she asked abrasively, “Where’s Brianna?”
Over the course of her twenty-five years, she grew quite good at discerning moods, a trait she honed as a kid. Even so, it didn’t take a genius to figure out neither one of them was her biggest fan, not that she blamed them. Still, their anger aside, she needed to know where her daughter was. She didn’t care about riling them. From Bryce’s reaction to seeing Bree, she knew he wouldn’t hurt his daughter, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t angry enough to take her. One thing she remembered about Bryce—he never fought fair.
“You’ll see her soon.”
She released a loaded breath, some of her anxiety dissipating. Still, she didn’t know what exactly she needed since she didn’t know exactly where they planned to take her. Until then, she hadn’t known they’d take her anywhere she needed to pack for, so she tempted both of them again by asking, “What will I need exactly?”
The driver’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck if I know. Important documents, clothes, make-up, tampons… Whatever it is you need. Get shit for Rip’s girl, too. You won’t be coming back here.”
This was news to her. It didn’t answer another very important question. Why did Bryce show after so long? She would’ve understood if he’d come for Brianna, but with his actions, he made clear he hadn’t known about her.
“Don’t got all fuckin’ day,” the driver barked.
Pushing all thoughts aside, she parted the door, stepped out, and headed into her home, closely followed by the long-haired biker who’d been in the front passenger seat of the SUV. She unlocked her door, skimmed through her small living room and kitchen, and strode into the hallway to her right. Stopping at the linen closet, she grabbed a duffle bag. In Bree’s room, she reached into her nightstand, pulled out a shoe box, and packed it. She then packed necessities: clothes, underwear, shoes, and her favorite teddy. Once packed, she dropped the duffle in the hallway and grabbed another. In her room, she went into her nightstand and grabbed another box. After packing it, she packed her own necessities as well as their birth certificates, social security cards, and so on.
As she walked into the living room, she grabbed Brianna’s duffle, only to have the biker take both bags from her. In that instant, she decided she liked him. Despite whatever he believed or thought about her, he was nice, taking her bags. A man who did that couldn’t be all that bad. Of course, there were exceptions to every rule. But that combined with the fact he wasn’t being a dick, unlike his friend, hinted he was probably a good guy.
“Thanks.” She headed toward the bookshelf in the living room intent on grabbing two photo albums.
Halfway there, a series of loud bangs sounded making her ears burn. The glass from the windows exploded and shattered. Shoved, she landed hard on her back, knocking the wind out of her.
Not a moment later, she heard a deep voice ask, “You okay?”
Head buzzing, eyes tightly shut, she fought to breathe despite the pressure on her chest.
“Open your eyes,” that same voice insisted.
She cracked her lids open and met a set of dark brown eyes only an inch from hers. His full weight on her, the smell of his cologne infiltrated her senses. Recognizing his face, the long-haired biker, she relaxed partially. “I-I can’t breathe.”
He shifted quickly. The heaviness on her gone, she caught her breath.
“You okay?”
She didn’t get a chance to answer. The door into her house crashed open with a loud thud. The man who’d driven them came through.
“Brother, scared the fuck outta me,” the biker beside her barked.
She moved her stare to him and realized he held a gun in his hand.
The other’s brows rose. “You expected me to knock? The bullets had hit you, no one would’ve answered.”
Bullets? They’d just been shot at. Who’d been the target?
“Where’s my daughter?” She talked over the two who she’d since tuned out.
Their heads went to her, but the driver spoke. “With Rip at the airport.”
“I need to speak to her.”
His eyes narrowed. “What you need is to get your ass off that floor and get in the SUV before they come back.”
She should’ve guessed. Why else would Ripper and the club show out of nowhere unless they’d gotten into some sort of trouble, that trouble, now tracking their relatives and friends intent on getting revenge. Not that she was a friend, just an old flame. Still, they’d go for whoever they could get. She’d lived the MC life, so she knew.
At one point, she couldn’t picture her life without the club. She loved it and had been good at it, but all that changed when she found out she was pregnant. She left that life behind and made sure to cover her tracks. Somehow, someway, the club’s enemies, whoever they were now, had found her and her daughter. A part of her was surprised. Before she left, Hell Ryders was fighting to get clean. She supposed old habits were hard to break.
“Fuck you,” she snapped.
Clenching his jaw, he took a menacing step in her direction.
Perhaps it was stupid and foolish to aggravate a man who wasn’t fond of her already. It was that much more stupid and foolish to piss off a biker who didn’t like you, but at that moment, she didn’t care.
She stood quickly and tilted her chin up defiantly. Though she wouldn’t intimidate the more than six-foot-tall biker, she also knew never to show a biker fear. “I’m sure you’ve convinced yourself you’re here out of the goodness of your heart to protect a woman Ripper fucked a long-ass time ago, but you don’t really care if your club’s blowback gets me killed and neither does he. You all couldn’t care less what happens to me, but I do because I’m the only mother my daughter has. She’s all I live for. They could’ve already gotten to her!”
Her eyes welled with tears at just the thought. “So, you’re going to get your phone, call Bryce, and let me speak to my daughter right this instant, or I swear I’ll kill you myself.” When she finished, she was panting from the emotion overwhelming her, fighting to catch her breath and hold her tears simultaneously.
He didn’t soften, not even a little bit, but after an intense stare down, he reached into his pocket and made the call.
Six years ago, she would’ve been thrilled she won an argument with a biker. Now, she couldn’t celebrate the victory. She still didn’t know if her daughter was safe.
****
Ripper’s phone vibrated. He reached into his pocket, plucked it out, and brought it to his ear. “Rip.”
“You okay?”
The question alone riled him. He just found out the only woman he ever loved fucked him in more ways than he once believed. He just discovered he had a daughter. It didn’t mean shit. He was a man, a biker. He didn’t need a caretaker, didn’t need pity.
“Fuckin’ fine.”
He tensed when he felt Brianna do the same beside him. She hadn’t released him for an instant, not the ride over, not after. Even now, he’d cursed, and she hadn’t. He looked down at her. She sto
od at his side, her hand clutching his tightly, the other wrapped around his leg. Her face angled to his, brows drawn. Damn Hash. Why’d he have to piss him off? He softened his expression, smiled, and laced his fingers through her hair. She rewarded him with a soft smile.
“I meant is everyone okay?”
“Just fine.”
“She wants to talk to the kid.”
She meaning Emelia. That, too, riled him. Did she think he’d hurt his daughter? Did she think he couldn’t take care of her? Maybe he didn’t know what he was doing because he’d never been given a chance to learn, but that didn’t mean he needed her checking on him. It pissed him off more than thinking Hash pitied him, meaning he really wanted to flip his lid. He couldn’t though, couldn’t afford to lose his cool again in front of Brianna, couldn’t say anything snide either. A four-year-old would understand.
“She can talk when she gets here.”
“She won’t go until she talks to her.”
His hand stilled at Brianna’s neck. He bit his tongue hard so he wouldn’t curse. Still, he knew in about five seconds he’d lose it, flip in a way only he could. It’d terrify Brianna. She’d jumped at his tone only moments ago, and honest to God, sometimes when he lost it, he scared himself. He couldn’t risk terrifying her, giving her mother a reason to take her away when he just got her. He had to think fast and act faster.
He lifted his stare. Even among bikers, Strike stood out because the brother was covered in tattoos, the length of his arms, torso, back, and legs. He even had a tattoo on the base of his neck. His little girl was probably scared of him.
His gaze shifted to Trig, short for Trigger, former Army Ranger. A big, ripped, cranky motherfucker, always had been though he smiled more often than ever since he hooked up with Allie, who the brothers called Classy. They’d since married. Before then, Trig had only been in a good mood when he was with his niece, Della.
Bingo.
Della was five or six, and Trig watched her often, had been since she was a baby.
Ripper put the phone to his shirt then met Brianna’s eyes. “See him.” He nodded in Trig’s direction.
Riding Blind Page 3