It wasn’t him?
Gage went through my fucking phone and must have seen a message from Clint, or read our message history. We still message each other now and again; he was once a big part of my life, and will probably always remain so, in a purely platonic way. It’s true that he claims to still want me back, but I don’t see him like that. Besides, I could never trust him again. He cheated on me after the accident, and I don’t think I could ever forgive him for that.
What the fuck? This is not okay, and I don’t care who my dad is, I’m going to let him know this.
I walk behind Ace to his bike and get on without a word.
Before we leave, he turns to me and says, “You should probably put a password on your phone this time.”
I scowl but stay quiet, fuming inside.
I’m not going to just let this go.
6
The ride back to the clubhouse doesn’t cool my temper, nor does the close proximity to Ace. I’m off the bike and storming in to look for Gage before I can get my helmet off, barely. A man I’ve never seen before is sitting on the kitchen countertop, drinking a beer, as I stick my head in, trying to locate the man who has already broken a key rule in trust between parent and child.
“You must be Erin,” the man says in a deep tone, studying me. He’s good-looking. Extremely so. And not in the kind of way I’d expect a biker to be. I know I called Ace pretty before, but that was before I laid eyes on this man. He’s beautiful; that’s the only word I can think of to explain him. Classically handsome in that boy-next-door kind of way. Fuck, the women must swoon for him.
“Who are you?” I ask him, stepping into the kitchen, oddly drawn to him in a curious way.
“Rogue,” he introduces himself, dipping his head, his blond hair falling onto his forehead. “Heard a lot about you.”
Rogue?
The name suits him. He’s like a handsome, dashing rogue out of one of those old-school romance novels, just kitted up in leather. He could just as easily don a kilt though.
“Like what?” I ask, pointing at his beer. “Can I have one of those?”
He grins and says, “Sure. Help yourself.”
I open the fridge, grab a beer, and jump up on the counter next to him, using my T-shirt to twist the bottle cap without hurting my fingers. I take a deep, long pull and swallow.
“Can’t be that bad of a day,” he murmurs, taking a sip of his own drink. “It’s not even two o’clock.”
“Tell me what you heard about me,” I say, ignoring his comment. I take a deep breath and add, “And don’t say that you don’t have to tell me anything because you’re a big, scary biker and I’m just a kid, because I will throw a temper tantrum that will outdo Gage’s last night.”
Rogue laughs quietly before replying. “Just heard the prez received an unexpected present, is all.”
“More like Pandora’s box,” I mutter under my breath.
Rogue laughs harder this time. “I’ve known your old man for a long-ass time, you know that? And I think you are just what he’s always needed.”
It’s actually nice to hear that.
The thought that I can bring something to Gage’s life, maybe even soften him a little, makes all of this worth it.
“More responsibility?” I joke, scowling when Ace steps into the room, taking in the two of us.
“There you are,” he murmurs, sounding very unhappy with me. “Rogue,” he says, nodding his head respectfully at the man sitting next to me.
“How was your outing?” Rogue asks, amusement dancing in his clear-blue eyes. “I bet she made it interesting.”
“Wonderful,” Ace replies in a dry tone. “It almost felt like I was back in high school.”
He’s such an asshole. Why does he always have to try to make me feel so small? He’s going to have to try a little harder if he wants to break me though, because there’s no way I’m going to let him know how his words affect me.
“If high school had old, seedy men,” I fire back, finishing off the rest of my beer in one large, alcoholic gulp.
Rogue almost chokes on his beer, and I actually have to tap him on his back, in between his bouts of laughter and air gasping. His back is really hard; he must be really ripped under his black long-sleeve V-neck shirt.
“Don’t die on me, Rogue, I only just met you,” I murmur, hitting his back even harder.
“I’m fine,” he says, laughing still.
“Someone works out,” I say once he can breathe freely again.
“Okay, that’s it. Get your ass here,” Ace demands, moving to the countertop and lifting me off it with his hands tight on my waist.
“Put me down, you asshole!” I yell, trying to push him off me.
He proceeds to throw me over his shoulder, the air getting knocked out of me as he’s not too gentle. “I’m sure our vice president has had enough of your shit.”
“On the contrary,” Rogue calls behind us, laughing as Ace drags me out of there.
Vice president?
Rogue is second under my dad? That’s interesting. I probably wouldn’t have just acted how I did around him if I had known that, but it’s a little too late for regrets. I like the guy. He could have told me off, or put me in my place, but he let me vent, and seemed amused by my antics, unlike the man carrying me right now.
“Can you put me down now?” I ask him, slapping his nice ass, which is right in front of my face. “I wish your personality was as nice as your ass.”
He stops for a second, as if surprised, before continuing on to my bedroom. My door is opened and then slammed closed, and then I’m flying through the air onto my bed. I bounce once before settling, my eyes not leaving him as he stares down at me, chest heaving in . . . anger?
“I don’t know what you’re so upset about,” I say, eyes narrowing. “I’m the one whose privacy was breached.”
“By your father, not by me,” he seethes, jaw tighter than I’ve ever seen it. “And that’s between you and him.”
“He told you what was in my phone though,” I point out. “So you had a conversation about it. If you guys wanted to know anything, you should have just asked! So did you stick up for me? Advise him that, just maybe, going through the phone of the daughter he just met might not be the best way to start a father-daughter relationship?”
“I don’t think you get how it works here, princess. He’s my prez. I’m not going to tell him what to do, and even if I did, he wouldn’t fucking listen,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring down at me. “We aren’t men you’re used to. We’re a different breed altogether.”
“Yet here you are,” I murmur, shuffling back on the mattress until I’m sitting up against the headboard. “In my bedroom. Is your prez going to be okay with that?”
I’m pushing him, I know. But I need to understand what the fuck is going on here. My life is out of control right now. I thought I knew exactly who I was, but I don’t. I have no idea. I also have no idea what I’m doing here right now, sitting in a new bedroom that is apparently mine, across from a man I’m overly attracted to but can’t have, and the fact that in this new world, with this different breed of men, apparently I’m off-limits to him.
“Well, he isn’t exactly here watching you now, is he?” he fires back, jaw tight.
His comment hits his mark, and I wrap my arms around myself and take in a deep breath.
“I want to go home,” I announce, to myself or to him, I don’t know.
“What, you can dish it out but can’t take it? Maybe you should go home, princess, because if that’s true, you won’t survive a day here.”
“I’ve already been here a day,” I point out, lifting my chin. “And guess what, asshole, I’m alive and kicking.”
He steps closer to the bed and rests his knees on it. “You’ve had one of us with you at all times, and none of the women have even dared to speak to you.”
“Why is that?” I ask him, brow furrowing in confusion. Now that he mentions i
t, shouldn’t the women be welcoming me? Or at least coming to say hello? I haven’t even spoken to Gage’s girlfriend, whoever she is. None of the women have been introduced to me. Just what kind of backward, sexist place are they running here?
“Because they’re not stupid,” he murmurs, tone softening a little.
“Okay, I’m going to need more information than that,” I tell him, eyes pleading with him. He keeps saying little comments like I’m meant to read between the lines, but I have no clue what he means.
He moves to sit down on the bed next to me, leaning back against the headboard and staring straight ahead.
“If you were the president of a motorcycle club, and you just found out you have a kid, a daughter no less, what would you do?” he asks me softly.
“I don’t know, I guess I’d want to get to know her,” I reply, looking toward his handsome profile. “Maybe find out everything I’ve missed over the years.”
“You’re still looking at it from your point of view, not his,” he points out. “Remember who he is, Erin.”
Who he is?
Oh, he means what kind of man he is.
If I take out the fact he’s my father, I think about what kind of man an MC president would be. He’d be strong, tough . . . He’s probably done some unsavory things in his life, and he’s probably fought up the ranks to get where he is today. Has he been to prison? Do they do illegal activities here, or are they just into the motorcycle side of things? Does he fight other men a lot? How do they really treat women here? I mean women who aren’t related to them, or married to them.
Suddenly I understand what Ace is trying to explain to me.
If I were in Gage’s shoes and I had done some shady things in my life, I wouldn’t want my daughter to know or see that side of me. I’d want my kid to think I was a hero, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint them.
He’s scared.
Maybe he’s thinking his club life will make me run, or that I’m going to judge him for his lifestyle choices. Maybe he doesn’t want to lose me when he just found me, and like me, he’s confused, like all of a sudden life doesn’t make sense anymore.
Or maybe I’m just hopeful.
“I need to talk to him,” I mutter under my breath.
I need to clear this up, once and for all, and I need to get him to see me. The real me. He might not know me yet, but he will. He has to. I didn’t come all this way just to leave feeling depleted, or to let my mother rub it in that she was right.
She wasn’t right.
I’ll never regret coming here; it’s just something I had to do for myself.
Ace turns his face to me, gaze dropping to my lips. “And you’re right, he wouldn’t want me in here with you right now.”
I shift on the mattress.
I have two options here: one, I can ignore whatever this attraction is between us, and I can focus on the real reason I walked through those clubhouse doors. Or, two, I can explore exactly why I’m sitting here next to a man I’ve just met, our bodies almost touching, and why I’m so drawn to him, probably infuriating my father in the process, and getting the two of us into all kinds of trouble.
I take a deep breath, lick my suddenly dry lips, and look him in the eye and say, “Yeah, but like you said, he’s not here though.”
I guess I’m going with option two.
7
He reaches out his hand and cups my cheek with his palm. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, his gaze tracing my features from my eyes back to my lips. I’ve been called beautiful many times in my life, but it’s never meant more. Kind of stupid, but I like that he thinks so, that this fascination isn’t a one-way street. His gray eyes pin me in place, and I want to move, but I find myself unable to do so. I want to touch him before the moment is over. I don’t know how I get myself into these situations, but it seems like I never take the easy path in anything in life.
“Clint?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.
“Friends,” I find myself replying, even though I know I don’t owe him any kind of explanation. I’m still angry about the whole breach-of-privacy thing, and I’m not willing to just forget about it. “He’s a high school boyfriend who cheated on me, but I forgave him as a friend. That’s it. I wouldn’t touch him again if he were the last man alive.”
He nods slowly, looking deep in thought, something playing behind those eyes of his. “Does he know you’re just friends?”
My eyes narrow slightly. “Yes, he does. Why? Did the messages you guys read make you think otherwise?”
“Maybe.”
“And the woman at your door last night?” I ask again, seeing as fair is fair. I told him about Clint, and now he can tell me the truth of what happened.
“She left a few seconds after she entered,” he admits. “She wanted me; I said no. End of story.”
There’s a quick, quiet knock before my door suddenly opens, and Ace drops his hand from my face as we both look toward the now-open door. I don’t want to look at Ace’s expression right now, but I can only imagine that I look guilty as hell as I stare into the eyes of a man I’ve never met before.
“How many of you are there?” I wonder out loud, eyes widening. “And I could have been naked, you know?”
“Probably should lock your door then,” he replies, crossing his muscled arms over the leather of his vest. His gaze goes to Ace. “Or maybe not.”
“This is Knuckles,” Ace introduces, instantly moving his legs off the mattress and standing up, like he can’t get away from me fast enough.
“Nice to meet you, Knuckles,” I say, also standing. “Do you have any idea where Gage is? It’s like I’ve been playing hide-and-seek with him all day.” I pause, and add, “Except he’s the only one doing all the hiding.”
Knuckles’ lips kick up at the corners. As I step closer to him my gaze goes to the silver in his right ear. He offers me his hand, and I take it.
“So you’re the one causing all the commotion,” he says, brown eyes crinkling at the corners. He must have a good ten years on me, but he’s a handsome man, with a closely shaved head and trimmed beard. “And your old man is out front.”
“Thanks,” I say, moving to walk past him. I stop as we come face-to-face. “They don’t call you Knuckles because you like to crack your knuckles, do they?”
“No,” he replies simply.
“Thought so,” I say, glancing down at his scarred knuckles before I continue on my way out of my room and toward the front door. Ace and Knuckles follow behind me, then appear on each side of me as we clear the hallway. Ace opens the door for me, and I flash him a thankful smile before stepping out in the sunlight and glancing around the parking lot until I spot my father. He’s crouched down on his knees, leather boots covered in brown dust, examining a black motorcycle. Lost in his concentration, he doesn’t lift his head until I’m close enough to touch the bike in front of him.
“There you are,” I say, attempting to keep the bite out of my tone. I’m trying to be understanding and see things from his view, but I’m not going to lie, it’s hard. Being mature is fucking hard work. It’s way easier for me to throw a tantrum right now and ask him why he wants me here if he’s not going to spend any time with me, but that’s not going to help the situation. I’ve been a daughter all my life, but he’s only just become a father.
He stands and wipes his hands on a cloth. “How was your shopping expedition?” he asks, glancing behind me at his men.
“Uneventful,” I tell him. “I got my phone fixed though, so thank you.”
“Least I could do,” he rumbles, nodding his head toward the bike. “What do you think?”
I eye the black machine. If I’m being honest, a lot of the bikes kind of look the same to me, in varying conditions of course, but there’s something about this one. It looks sleeker, prettier if you will, but there’s no way I’m going to mention that to him. “It’s amazing. Whose is it?”
“Yours,” he murmurs, catching me off guard. “It’s a H
arley-Davidson Street 500. Thought it’d be perfect for you.”
My eyes dart from the bike and back at him rapidly. “Wh-what?”
Is he serious? He bought me a motorcycle? And the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen, at that. I don’t even know what to say right now.
Holy fuck.
“Ace tells me you can’t drive yet, so I thought I’d teach you to ride first, that’s if you’d like that.” He shifts on his feet, eyes on the bike as he pats the seat with his hand. “I learned to ride before I could drive.”
“Really?” I ask, still shocked from his surprise.
He nods once. “Yeah. I was a lot younger than you though.”
“All right, all right, no need to rub that in,” I reply, shaking my head in disbelief.
I, Erin Moretti, have my own Harley-Davidson.
My dad is the president of the Cursed Ravens MC.
And now I have a fucking motorcycle that he’s going to teach me how to ride.
Never thought I’d be saying those words. How my life has changed so much, in such a short period of time.
I don’t drive because I’m scared to. When I was learning, I had a crash, one that has never left me. I never got back in the driver’s seat again. This feels different somehow, like it’s a fresh start.
Untainted.
It’s a good feeling.
I eye the machine as it becomes more beautiful simply because it’s mine. “You didn’t need to buy me a bike, Gage.”
He doesn’t need to buy me anything.
“I wanted to,” he says, shrugging. He watches me as I examine the bike and take a seat on it to see how it feels.
“How do I look?” I ask him, then look to Ace and Knuckles. “Do I look like a hot biker chick?”
Gage looks uncomfortable at the question, Ace scowls, and Knuckles merely laughs.
“What?” I ask, tightening my fingers on the handlebars. I look back to my father and ask him, “Is this where you were all day?”
So he wasn’t avoiding me? I think Ace is right: he’s handling this situation in the only way he knows how. It might not be how I want him to, but he’s doing his best.
Ace of Hearts (The Cursed Ravens MC Series Book 1) Page 5