Lynn pulled away. “Sorry, I’m a hugger.”
“It’s…ah…okay.”
“Still drinking beer?”
Emelia looked at Mia, now standing by the fridge. She nodded. Mia grabbed four light beers then set them on the counter and uncapped them. She handed them out to Allie, Lynn, and Em, keeping one for herself.
“Thanks.”
Mia nodded then shifted to Tiffany, standing by the counter next to the sink chopping romaine lettuce. “You should do that while you’re sitting, so Cuss doesn’t come in here and bitch.”
Tiffany turned then, looking resigned, shook her head and did exactly as Mia suggested.
“Now that we have drinks and Tiff’s settled, you and me should talk.” Mia’s comment directed at Em.
Mia didn’t give her a chance to respond. Grabbing her hand, she pulled her to the other end of the room, where the dining room should be, except there wasn’t a table or chairs, just several sofas, the same raggedy ones that had been there five years before.
Mia took a seat, tugging her down beside her. “Don’t know why you left, but I always assumed it had something to do with Chained and Hell Ryders being at odds.”
Just like Mia: no fuss, no muss, and blunt to a fault. Still, Em, wondering why these women welcomed her into their lives as if she hadn’t left Bryce and taken his daughter without so much as telling him, hadn’t expected it. She appreciated them for it but couldn’t confide in them, not even Mia, with her reasons for leaving. Besides, the real reason, she couldn’t even say out loud.
After a long moment of silence, Mia shrugged. “Right. Well, I had to try.” She took a sip of her beer. “I’m not mad, Em. I’m not trying to play you either. I know why you didn’t tell me back then. I also know there’s a lot more to the story than meets the eye, and I know this because I know you. Maybe I’m stubborn, but I refuse to believe I was wrong about you. You left. I know you had a good reason even though for the life of me, I haven’t been able to figure it out.”
God, that made her feel good and sad. She’d left a good friend behind. Not hard to guess then that the other old ladies had welcomed her because of Mia.
“Anyway…” Mia went on as if she’d said nothing significant. “As you can see, things have changed quite a bit around here. I married Stone three years ago now. Lynn and Wild are hitched too. Just recently, Trig met Allie, who’s Army’s sister. The brothers call her ‘Classy,’ except Cuss who calls her ‘Miracle.’ You want a good laugh, whenever he does, look at Trig. It pisses him off. Allie and Trig are married too. Just recent, Tiff and Cuss got hitched. Watch them closely too, and you’ll get a laugh because ever since he knocked her up, he’s been overly protective…”
Mia lifted a brow. “Well, you know bikers… When they claim a woman, they’re a bit overbearing. After finding out Tiff was pregnant, Cuss kicked it up a couple of notches. It’s annoying for her, but funny and amusing to the rest of us.” Mia chuckled.
Em knew that. Bryce had been overbearing and jealous. She never minded it. It’d been one of the things he did that made her believe he loved her even though he never said the words.
Em took her first sip of beer, wondering if Cuss had ever cheated. Then she wondered if Stone had, if Wild or Trig had. Maybe. Then again, maybe not. After all, they’d married their women, made it official, law-binding. They probably said the words, too.
“Em?”
She’d been too lost in her thoughts. Meeting Mia’s gaze, she finally said, “Good to know.”
“Hey…”
That simple word, the soft way Mia said it, Em realized she’d let her guard down.
“You need a friend, I’m here.”
She swallowed, took another sip of beer, and nodded.
“Come on…” Mia stood from the couch. “You need to get to know the rest of the girls.”
Em stood.
“Listen to us talk about crap, and you’ll forget whatever’s bothering you, even if just for a second.”
Turned out, Mia was right. She listened to Lynn, Allie, Tiff, and Mia talk about everything and anything, nothing too important or heavy. She enjoyed the easy camaraderie between the women and partook in the conversations. For a couple of hours, she let herself believe she was just another woman enjoying a drink with friends, and she forgot.
****
“Daddy, what’s this called?”
Ripper drew his head from under the hood of a ‘67 Chevy and met his daughter’s inquisitive stare. She sat on a chair he’d pulled out of the office and set just beside him.
Bree wanted to go to work with him. He’d made it happen. Quite a picture they painted with her beside him, wearing a pink t-shirt, jean shorts, and a pair of sneakers, holding a tool in her hand.
He smiled. “It’s a wrench.”
Her brows drew together. “It’s very dirty.” She looked at it then back at him. “It’s greasy, and so are you, Daddy.”
He chuckled out loud. He’d done it and not just imagined it. Several of his brothers, working around the garage, halted and looked his way. Not wanting to get pissed, he ignored them. He didn’t hide his amusement after that either. It’d been so long since he’d laughed, he’d forgotten how it sounded, and how good it felt.
“Yeah, baby. Comes with the job.”
“Why don’t you clean your tools? Then you wouldn’t be dirty.”
So logical, that got another chuckle out of him. “You’re right, but then we’d be spending a lot of time cleaning tools instead of fixing cars.”
That seemed to settle her curiosity. As she set the wrench down, he went back to work.
A moment later, he heard, “Can you tell me a story about you and Mommy?”
He lifted his head so fast he banged the back of it against the hood of the car. Biting back a curse, he straightened and looked her way. “What?”
“Mommy tells me stories about you. Maybe you can tell me stories about her.”
Emelia told their daughter stories about him? He could just imagine what stories she told. When they met, Hell Ryders was involved in dirty dealings—running guns and drugs across state borders. They partnered with Chained to do just that. It’s how he met Emelia. A couple of years later, the club got clean and severed ties with Chained.
None of this, he was proud of. He’d been one of the brothers who voted to end that shit for good, but it didn’t mean Emelia would excuse it. Hell, she ran away and hooked up with a cop because she hadn’t thought he’d make a good father. Even if she never told Bree, Emelia couldn’t have had anything good to say about him after she left him.
How badly he wished he could hate her.
Fighting anger, he clenched his jaw, took a deep breath then schooled his voice before he spoke. “Go hang out with your Uncle Trig for a sec, ‘kay?”
Bree, picking up on the sudden change in him, tensed. He supposed as much as he tried to hide it, he couldn’t. Plus, she was a smart kid. He already learned that, which meant he needed to get better at concealing his anger.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, she nodded. He watched her go and waited until she reached Trig, standing near the office talking to Army. When Trig spotted her then him, Rip lifted his chin. Trig nodded, understanding his silent command. Only then did Ripper walk to the back end of the garage through the door leading into the compound and let his fury spill. By the time he searched her room and his, the living room, dining room, kitchen, and found her nowhere in sight, his rage had spiked, making his blood boil. Tearing through the compound on a run, he finally spotted her inside the laundry room. Her back to him, bent over at the waist retrieving clothes from inside the washer. Just the sight of her rear in those tight jeans made him hard.
Seeing red, he fisted his palms until his knuckles cracked. Taking several steps quickly, a second before he reached her, he collided with a mass of muscle.
He sliced his gaze away from her and met Strike’s eyes, blocking him from getting to her. “What. The. Fuck. Brother.”
&nbs
p; Face impassive, Strike took a deep breath. “Gotta calm down, Rip.”
Unbelievable. His brother sticking up for her, the woman who left him and took his kid? Why? Was she trying to land another brother? Had Strike fallen for her games? Emelia, the only woman he ever loved, with his brother?
His stomach turned. Clenching his jaw, he narrowed his eyes and shoved Strike off him. Strike stumbled back, almost bumping into Em, now facing them and watching, her body stiff, face pale and growing paler by the second.
“She’s off limits, brother. Fucked her for a long time means she’s off limits. Mother of my kid means she’s off limits. She’s mine.”
Strike’s face hardened. “Not interested, brother.”
Thank fuck. He’d have to kill him. No one would have her, especially one of his brothers. She didn’t want him. He’d never have her again, but he had Bree now. Em would never leave Bree, so Em would always be around, and he’d make sure no man ever had her.
“Then get the fuck out of my way.”
Strike took a step in his direction. “I will as soon as you calm down.”
Mimicking him, he took a step forward. “None of your business.”
“It is if you’re gonna hit her.”
Was Strike out of his fucking mind? He’d never hit a woman. Why his brother thought that he had no clue. Shit. He must look enraged, that’s the only reason his brother would step in, to prevent him from doing something he’d regret. Still, Strike knew him better than that. Didn’t he?
Through gritted teeth, he took a deep breath. “I’d never hit a woman.”
Strike held his glare for several moments before he walked away. Ripper met Emelia’s gaze. Just one look at her pale face and rigid posture and all that fury resurfaced.
The Emelia he’d known hadn’t been afraid of anything, not snakes, not guns, not club wars, nothing… And there she stood, trembling, pallid, and terrified. Knowing him, she had a right after all she’d done. But still, it didn’t sit well with him. The old Emelia didn’t cry, didn’t cower, didn’t scare. She wasn’t meek or soft spoken. She fought back and dirty. This Emelia was a fake, an amazing actress. Trying to save her ass, she put on an act. He had to give her credit. She was good at it.
Closing the distance between them with just one powerful step, he gripped her arm. “What. Did. You. Tell. Her?”
“I… W-what?” Her voice quivered.
“What did you tell her?”
Her brows furrowed. “Who?”
“Bree!”
She shook her head. “I didn’t—”
He leaned into her. “She told me you told her stories about me. Now, I wanna know what stories you told her.”
Her eyes widened. “I…I…”
“Fuckin’ tell me!”
“I told her about us, how we met. I told her how you used to take me on rides every Sunday. That we used to eat take-out Wednesday nights and hang out with the club on Fridays. I told her you took me to eat at a fancy steakhouse every anniversary…”
“What else?”
“Um…” She shook her head. “I-I…swear Bryce, I didn’t say anything bad about you… Why would I?”
Why? Because she fucking left him! Before he pointed this out, she spoke.
“If I had bad-mouthed you, why would she love you so much?”
Shit. She had a point there. He didn’t know much about kids, but it didn’t take a genius to see how much Bree loved him. He knew that the minute she ran up to him at that park, so excited to see a low-life like him. It wasn’t logical that Bree, even after such few days, would be so attached to him unless Emelia talked about him, told her stories. Obviously, she showed her pictures, too. Bree recognized him even though he now sported a permanent five o’clock shadow.
He dropped his head, stare shooting to the laundry basket just behind her. At the top of the pile, the black T-shirt he wore yesterday, the shirt he left lying on his bathroom floor. He’d jumped to conclusions, and she took the time to pick up after him and do his laundry. His gaze snapped up and landed on his hand, gripping her arm. He released her immediately and noticed the red marks he left.
He was a dick. He didn’t deserve happiness, didn’t deserve shit. Maybe it’s why she left with his kid without telling him. Chest clenching, guilt clogging his throat, he didn’t bother looking back at her. He couldn’t. He just walked away.
Chapter Seven
Emelia didn’t start working at the garage until Monday, but that didn’t mean she’d wait until Monday to start.
She and Bree had been at the compound for less than a week. During that week, she spent most of her time cleaning, cooking, and of course, taking care of Bree. Bree, though, spent most of her time with Bryce. Bryce didn’t mind having his four-year-old daughter follow him and ask questions constantly. Emelia wanted to give them time together and only interrupted them when necessary, like when Bree needed to eat, bathe, or when it was bedtime.
Spending the last several days cleaning not only after herself but Bree and Bryce, she had nothing left to do and wanted to get a head start on her new job. Early that morning after making Bree and Bryce breakfast and cleaning up after them, she headed into the garage and scanned it, looking for Bree. She exhaled heavily noticing Bree and Bryce were both gone.
Over the course of the last several days, he took Bree out often. Never did he find the need to tell her when or where they planned to go or when they’d return. This bothered Emelia. She trusted Bryce implicitly with Bree, but Bryce wouldn’t understand her need to know where Bree was at all times. In order to keep the peace, especially after yesterday’s incident in the laundry room, she hadn’t mentioned this bothered her.
She entered the office through the door leading from inside the garage. The office was quite large and messy. A dark counter divided the room in half. Behind it, a desk and two computers. Behind that, facing a window was another counter with a printer and scanner. In front of the main counter, three fold-out chairs. Windows lined the walls with a clear view of the garage as well as the lot outside. Helplessly, she skimmed the lot but didn’t spot Bryce or Bree, nor did she spot his SUV. She tamped down the urge to call Bryce or more likely, pester one of the brothers to give her Bryce’s number since she still didn’t have it.
Pushing her thoughts aside, she got to work. First, she tackled the mess on the desk, the mass of papers and receipts. Receipts of signed orders delivered, she separated by month. Receipts for food orders and deliveries, she put aside and made a mental note to ask if they were needed or could be thrown out. She also found a series of bills. Some for the garage, others were for customers. She separated those into two piles and made another pile for pay stubs, a separate one for messages—most not dated—and the last one for miscellaneous items. After tidying the desk, she opened the two-drawer file cabinet next to it. Empty, except for an unopened box of file folders. It seemed someone had once thought about filing documents and never got to it. Smiling, she pulled out the box, opened it, and began labeling folders.
Finishing this, she grabbed her phone to check the time. Well past noon, she headed out to the garage, looking again for Bree and Bryce. Still gone. In the kitchen, she made three foot-long subs, one to share with Bree and two for Bryce. She ate her half of one standing over the counter then labeled the others and set them in the fridge.
Returning to the garage with cleaning supplies in hand, she did what she always did, perused the area looking for Bree. No Bree. No Bryce. Back inside the office, she cleaned. It took a lot of time scrubbing to get the grease stains off the counter, computer, and floors, but she managed it. Bent at the waist wiping the door leading into the garage, someone pushed open the front door. Straightening, she turned and found a pair of chocolate dark eyes glued to her ass. Handsome in a not so obvious way, though she knew from just a look at him, he thought the world of himself. His gaze raked her from top to bottom and rested on her breasts.
She cleared her throat and crossed her arms. “Can I help you?”
His stare pierced hers. He took two steps toward her closing the distance between them. In what she assumed he thought subtle, he pushed up his suit jacket to flash his expensive watch. Not like she needed the clue. He looked loaded. The expensive suit, the “I’m-better-than-anyone-because-I’ve-got-money” look on his face. The not-so-indirect hint didn’t do him any good. Maybe if she was that type of woman, the type who didn’t care about the character of a man as long as he had money. Maybe if she wasn’t still in love with another man.
He took another step, too close for her liking. “Yes, I have a flat tire and need it repaired.”
She hated to insult the man, considering he was a potential customer, but she needed space between them. Granted, if she wasn’t in love with another man and had been interested before, she’d be turned off now. Coming on strong and making it obvious he liked what he saw, and all of it made her uncomfortable.
She smiled a fake smile then put down her rag, wiped her hands on her shirt, and turned toward the desk. Behind the counter, she picked up the phone and connected to the garage.
“Yeah?” Cuss.
“There’s a customer who has a flat tire. Can you handle it?”
“Give me a couple of minutes. I got it.”
She hung up, silently wishing Cuss had been literal when he said a couple of minutes, and met the customer’s gaze. “Someone will be right with you.”
Smiling a predatory smile, he rested his elbows on the counter and leaned toward her, making it so that he was again too close. “Your name?”
She straightened putting distance between them. “Emelia.”
“I’m Rick Grady. You may have heard of me.”
No, she hadn’t, and she didn’t care to hear about him either.
“I own several clubs in Santa Rosa.”
She kept her stare level with his, and her face blank, hoping he’d get the hint.
He didn’t. He leaned in farther, his gaze gravitating toward her chest. “You know what I’m wondering?”
She didn’t respond. First, she didn’t care but couldn’t tell him. Second, she hoped her silence clued him onto the fact she wasn’t interested whether he owned one club or fifty. Last, she really wanted to slap him. He may think the way he checked her out was a compliment, but to the average woman, it made her feel cheap. She couldn’t slap him though because she couldn’t get fired before she officially started work.
Riding Blind Page 10