Riding Blind

by J. L. Sheppard

  She turned and peered at Trig then met his eyes again and nodded.

  “That’s your uncle Trig. He’s got a niece about your age. You’ll meet her soon. Trig’ll show you pictures while I take this call, okay?”

  Her little eyes widened. He looked back to Trig and tried to see him through her eyes, realizing Trig looked pissed. What else was new? Probably because his old lady wasn’t around. What a pussy. Not that he could talk. More than once over the years, despite what Emelia had done, he wished she’d come back. He couldn’t forget her. Although he didn’t know if he could forgive her, having her would make him better than he was—tormented, angry, and bitter.

  Pushing his thoughts aside, he glared in Trig’s direction then nodded in Brianna’s. “Trig, got any pictures of Della?”

  Trig took the hint, instantly softening his expression and pulling out his phone. Like night and day.

  Ripper met his daughter’s gaze. “I’m gonna stand over there.” He pointed. “I’ll be able to see you, and you’ll be able to see me.”

  She nodded, turned, and headed for Trig. He waited until she reached him then walked a good twenty feet away, his stare never leaving Brianna.

  “Put her on the fuckin’ phone.”

  “Bree?”

  His body tensed, responding to the sweetness in her voice. He clenched his jaw, fighting it. “No, it isn’t Bree,” he snarled. “She’s doing fine with her father. You’ve had her for five fuckin’ years—”

  “I just wanted to make sure… I didn’t know—”

  “No, you just didn’t think I could take care of my daughter for an hour.”

  “Whoever’s after you just shot up my house—”

  His heart jolted in his chest then started pounding loud. “What… Fuck.”

  They found her. They’d already struck. And it killed he hadn’t been there to protect her. Was she hurt? Was she scared? She didn’t sound it, but she hid shit. You shouldn’t give a fuck! Stop giving a shit! Releasing a breath, he refocused his thoughts. How had they found her? Why hadn’t Hash told him? Why let him hear it from her?

  Then he remembered what she’d said. Whoever’s after you just shot up my house… She thought he had something to do with it, made him out to be the bad guy. To her, he was a bad man, bad enough he wouldn’t make a good father. Why else hadn’t she told him?

  She couldn’t be more wrong. This shit had nothing to do with him. He’d show her how good of a father he’d be. He’d make himself the best, even if he never had a father, even if he hadn’t had a good mother, even if no one had ever taught him how to love.

  He bit his tongue until he tasted blood. “Let’s get one thing straight. No one is after me. No one is after my club.”

  He then ended the call knowing if he heard her voice once more he’d lose his cool, and he couldn’t because at that moment Brianna turned to him and smiled wide, looking at him like he made the whole world better by just breathing. His chest filled with the strangest sensation, a heady feeling, so marvelous he lost himself in that, in her, and let everything else fade away.

  Walking to her, she met him halfway. “Daddy, Trig says Della’s six. He says I can play with her all the time because he says he brings her over our house.”

  Daddy. He’d never thought being called anything but his name would feel so great, and still, as good as it felt, he didn’t know if he’d ever get used to being called that.

  “Yeah, baby, and one of your other uncles has a little boy. I think he’s a year younger.”

  Her eyes widened. Then her smile broadened. That feeling filling him, growing, settling a warmth in his middle made him wish he knew what else to do so she’d always smile that way.

  Not fifteen minutes later, he spotted Hash, Trick, and Emelia, striding toward them. He scanned her from head to toe telling himself he just wanted to make sure she was uninjured. It backfired. All it did was remind him how beautiful she was, wearing a pair of jeans, a green blouse, and a pair of sandals, so casual yet sexy.

  Clenching his jaw as if it’d banish the thought, he cursed himself silently then forced his gaze away, deciding then and there, he couldn’t look at her, ever, else risk being reminded again and again.

  By the time they closed the distance, he picked up on the smell of her perfume, the same one she always wore. The scent of it hit him square in the chest and took him back. Memories flooded him—her beautifully flushed face after they’d made love, waking up with her legs tangled in his, riding his bike with her cuddled close.

  Holding his breath, he decided he needed to stay away from her, too. He didn’t want to be reminded. Even without her, even after years, even as badly as he wanted to forget, he remembered it all too well. He needed to forget, so he concentrated on the only thing he had for the past five years—anger.

  Ripper shot Hash a nasty glare. His brother should’ve told him they’d been shot at. Hash shouldn’t’ve let him hear it from her. Only briefly did he let that anger dissipate when he looked to Bree and told her, “Be right back, baby. Gotta get you a ticket.”

  She threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly like he wouldn’t be gone for only minutes, making him feel important. Enjoying it, he wrapped his arms around her thinking he could get used to this.

  She let him go too soon. He let her.

  As he headed for the counter, he plucked his phone out of his back pocket and dialed Tracker. “There’s been a change of plans.” He managed to keep his voice calm.

  “Don’t got time—”

  “You’re gonna fuckin’ deal with this shit ’cause I’m not talking to her.” He wouldn’t talk to her, look at her, or go anywhere near her. That was the plan.

  “She hurt your feelings or somethin’? Grow a fuckin’ pair, and get—”

  “Fuck you, asshole. I gotta bigger problem. Her name’s Brianna. She’s four, and she’s my daughter, a daughter I didn’t know about until an hour ago. Meaning I’m not wasting the time I got now to tell her mother her cousin was shot for messing with the wrong gang. I don’t got the time to pretend I give a flying fuck how she feels about that when she left me five years ago with my kid without even telling me I was gonna be a father. I don’t got the time to take her to the hospital either. I gotta spend my time getting to know the daughter I didn’t even know I had. You don’t wanna do it? Then don’t, but don’t expect me to either.”

  All of it was true. He’d agreed to this plan for Chip, but shit changed. It changed the moment he realized he had Bree. The way he saw it, now more than ever, Emelia didn’t deserve anything from him. And she wouldn’t get anything except his protection—Chip’s last wish. Ripper kept his word, and he wasn’t heartless enough to let her get caught in the crossfire, but also and most importantly, Brianna needed her mom. He knew Emelia was a good one. Way back then, he’d seen her around kids. Though she never said it, a part of him knew she wanted some of her own.

  The silence stretched for a long moment until finally, Tracker spoke. “When are you landin’?”

  He gave him the time, told him to meet them at the airport then ended the call. He purchased a ticket for Brianna, managing to get her on the same flight then strode toward her. Bree’s back facing him so she couldn’t see him. Her mother kneeled in front of her offering her a sweater.

  “I’m not cold,” Brianna said.

  “Then I’ll hold onto it. You may get cold later.”

  “Daddy says we’re going to live with him.”

  This caught his attention, so he peered at Emelia wondering and waiting to see what she’d say.

  “Yes, we will. I packed some of our stuff.”

  “Did you pack the box?”

  The box?

  “Of course, Bree, and I packed your teddy and some clothes. We’re in a rush so I couldn’t get your toys, but once we settle at your dad’s, I’ll buy you some clothes and toys, okay?”

  Brianna nodded.

  Damn. He hadn’t even thought about that. His baby girl was leaving everyth
ing behind. She needed clothes, toys, a room. He lived at the compound, which was attached to the garage run by his club. There were plenty of rooms unoccupied since some of the brothers had homes off the property, but he didn’t think she’d be as comfortable there. He could take them to his house, the home he bought five years ago and never moved into, but it wasn’t as safe as living in the compound, and safety was his primary concern. The Falcons had already found Emelia meaning they found Brianna, too. His brothers were at the compound, and it was wired with a state-of-the-art surveillance system. His home wasn’t, so he didn’t have much of a choice. Still, he felt guilty about it. He wanted to give Brianna the best. The best for her was a stable home with her own room and a yard to play. Only then could he begin to make up for the years he hadn’t been there.

  None of this mess with the Falcons was his fault, but if it hadn’t happened, he might have never known he was a father. He may have never had the chance to be one. Just the thought made his stomach turn.

  On instinct, he grabbed Brianna’s hand, who instantly shifted to him smiling. “I’ll get you all new stuff, Bree.”

  Chapter Three

  Her stomach clenching, Emelia felt bile rising in the back of her throat.

  Something wasn’t right. Something was very, very wrong. It wasn’t just the fact Bryce showed or the fact her house had been shot up. It was him telling her it had nothing to do with him, with his club. In the pit of her stomach, she knew there was much more to this. Logic told her, too. Why else had he come after what he’d done, after five years?

  She would’ve asked except he’d gone from silent anger to visible anger and now moved on to pretending she didn’t exist. Out of character for him, he was the type of man you didn’t rile. He could flip in a second flat. He also wasn’t the type who ignored, and yet he was doing a hell of a job at it.

  Apart from her arriving at the airport, he hadn’t looked her way again. Even on the flight though they sat only a seat away, Brianna in between them, he managed his charade. The entire time, her nerves got worse. She didn’t know what awaited her in California, but she knew something did.

  It hurt to be ignored. No point in denying that. Though she preferred the anger, she couldn’t blame him for either. He had a reason. She left without telling him about Brianna. At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. Now, she knew it hadn’t been, so she deserved whatever he threw her way. She also knew if she asked what was going on, he’d continue to ignore her. She hadn’t asked any of the other four men knowing it’d be pointless too. Not one of them would answer her, even the two she knew from years ago. They wouldn’t because Bryce didn’t want them to.

  As they exited the plane and the terminal, her gaze locked with a set of piercing green eyes she’d never forgotten. Those eyes belonging to Tracker, best friends with her cousin, Chip, and VP of Chained Disciples, the MC she’d grown-up in.

  At the ripe age of fourteen, she moved in with Chip and Tracker. Living with two twenty-something-year-old bikers who partook in illegal activities took some getting used to, but it was better than living with an abusive father. As young as she’d been, she knew she’d never be able to repay Chip, but it hadn’t stopped her from trying. She cooked and cleaned for them and didn’t ask questions. Even so, she’d always been good at observing. To detect her father’s moods and avoid him if need be, she honed that trait at an even younger age. That meant though Tracker was a typical biker who never showed weakness, she grew to know him well enough she read the grief on his face with just one glimpse.

  Something awful had happened. Quite possibly, nothing would ever be the same, and it had something to do with Chip, her cousin, the man who rescued her fourteen-year-old self from one hell of a messed-up life.

  She should’ve known if whoever shot up her house wasn’t after Hell Ryders, they’d be after Chained. All those years ago, she knew Bryce wouldn’t look for her, just like she knew Chip would never stop. And Bryce did, meaning he felt he had no choice.

  Swallowing the tears flooding her eyes, she turned to Brianna, standing beside her father holding his hand. Em kneeled in front of her daughter. “I’m going to be gone for a little, but I’ll see you tonight.”

  Brianna’s beautiful blue-green eyes on hers, suspicion clear in them, she looked to her father as if for reassurance then met her stare again and nodded softly.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll see you later, okay?”

  The more she tried to reassure her, the warier Brianna became. Her daughter was too smart and too aware for her age. Further proving this, Bree looked behind her to Tracker. “Who is he, Mommy?”

  “He’s a friend of your Uncle Chip. His name’s Track.”

  Bree looked at her father again, so she took a chance and did the same. Bryce glared in Tracker’s direction, and Bree picked up on it. It didn’t help her cause.

  She kept staring his way until he finally looked at her. She nodded toward Bree.

  He instantly looked down to their daughter then assured her. “Your mom’ll be back later.”

  Brianna’s eyes widened a little. “But…”

  “There’s nothing to worry about. Your dad will take you home and get you settled. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  Finally, Bree nodded softly.

  “Maybe your dad can take you out for pizza?”

  She smiled then looked to him. “Can we, Daddy?”

  The hard lines on his face relaxing, he smiled back. “Yeah, Bree.”

  When Bree met her stare again, she said, “Be good for your dad, okay?”

  Bree nodded. Then Emelia wrapped her arms around her, released her, and headed for Tracker. With her heart in her throat, she stopped feet away and waited.

  After several silent moments, he closed the distance between them, snaked his arm around her neck, and pulled her into a hug. “Missed you, kid.” He grasped the back of her neck and drew away to look at her face.

  He’d always called her “kid,” but not once in all the years she’d known him had he hugged her.

  Tears welling in her eyes, somehow, she summoned the courage to say, “He’s dead.” Those tears then streamed down her cheeks.

  He wiped them away. “Em cryin’? If I didn’t see it, I wouldn’t believe it.” He shook his head. “He ain’t, but he ain’t in good shape.”

  Thank God. He wasn’t dead. That meant there was hope.

  Fifteen minutes later, she understood why hope sucked. Chip wasn’t dead, but he looked it, ashen face, lips tinted bluish purple. The doctor told her what Track hadn’t, whether that was because he couldn’t force himself to say it aloud, she didn’t know.

  Chip had been shot five times. One bullet struck his stomach, another his chest, a third was still lodged in his shoulder, and the other two were flesh wounds. Still, by the time someone found him and called police and paramedics, he’d been unconscious and lost too much blood. Despite two surgeries to remove the bullets in his chest and stomach, despite several blood transfusions, he still hadn’t woken, and the doctor didn’t have much hope he would. The doctor didn’t say that outright, but from his expression and tone, she knew.

  The only man who’d ever loved her, the man who saved her, the man she owed her life to lay so still on his deathbed, his breathing assisted by a machine. She’d missed out on five years of his life, missed out on five years of everything he had to offer, everything he had given her.

  At the time, it seemed like the selfless choice. Now, though, knowing what she did and knowing she also made a mistake with Bryce, she couldn’t help but wonder if she should’ve stayed.

  She left Bryce, and she left Chip, too, but for very different reasons. Like she knew Chip would never stop looking for her, she knew he would’ve supported her decision to keep Bree, knew he would’ve cared for and loved Bree as if she were his own. What stopped her? She wanted the best for Bree. Giving her an example of a man like Chip would have been great, but Chip came with the club, and the club ran drugs and guns. She wanted
Bree as far away from all that as possible.

  Deep down, she knew she made the right decision, but guilt ate at her, and it’d eat at her for the rest of her life.

  When the doctor left the room, in front of Tracker, Bilk, and Moss, two other bikers from Chained MC, she lost it. Not silent tears, she cried loud, heart-wrenching sobs. She bawled without covering her face or turning away because she didn’t even have the strength to hide. She wept so hard she couldn’t hold her weight and collapsed on the floor, wailed so hard she didn’t recall being lifted and carried to a chair. There, she sobbed until her throat ached, her tears dried, and her eyes swelled shut.

  ****

  “Where’s Mommy?”

  Ripper’s gaze snapped to Bree. God, she was beautiful…just like her mom with those pink cheeks and blonde curls. He was so lost in that thought she had to repeat herself.

  “Daddy? Where’s Mommy?”

  Good question.

  After arriving in Wadden, he took Bree to a local Italian restaurant, Anthony’s. They sat in a booth and ate pizza. Afterward, he took her to the mall. He hadn’t stepped foot in a mall in years because he hated even the thought of shopping, but he did it because Bree needed clothes, shoes, toys, and whatever else girls her age needed. It proved to be a herculean task. As it turned out, his daughter didn’t just look like her mom but acted like her mom, too.

  Like the typical woman, she loved the mall. It wasn’t that that reminded him of Emelia, but the fact that he knew she loved going in stores and browsing, but she didn’t ask for anything, not a toy, a doll, or clothes, not even after he asked her repeatedly, so he enlisted the help of a sales clerk, who seemed only too pleased to help, who upon realizing Bree needed a whole wardrobe was even more pleased. At the register, as the sales clerk rung up fifteen outfits, five pairs of shoes, three pajamas, underwear, and socks, he looked down at Bree and noticed her gaze glued to a set of barrettes. He picked three packages of them and added them on.

  When she saw him do that, her head shot up. She smiled softly, timidly. “Thank you, Daddy.”