by Harley Wylde
Flicker (Dixie Reapers MC 11)
Harley Wylde
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Harley Wylde
BIN: 008857-02864
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Publisher:
Changeling Press LLC
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www.ChangelingPress.com
Editor: Crystal Esau
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Adult Sexual Content
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Table of Contents
Flicker (Dixie Reapers MC 11)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Dixie Reapers
Playlist For Flicker
Harley Wylde
Flicker (Dixie Reapers MC 11)
Harley Wylde
Pepper -- My mom kept my dad a secret my entire life, only ever calling him Sarge. Now that she’s gone and left me a location for the mysterious man, I’m going to finally meet him. Too bad it isn’t under better circumstances. Thanks to Mom, some really bad men are after me. I’m not sure if Sarge will keep me safe or send me packing. What I didn’t count on was meeting the only man to ever make me burn. Flicker. It suits him because I definitely feel like I’m engulfed in flames when he touches me. I shouldn’t want him, but I do.
Flicker -- The redheaded goddess had my attention from the moment I saw her. Finding out she’s Sarge’s daughter couldn’t even dampen my desire. He’ll try to gut me when he finds out I shackled her to my bed, but I’m not letting her go. Pepper will be mine, will carry my baby, and no one will ever take her from me -- not even the henchmen from Vegas coming for her.
Chapter One
Pepper
I hated my mother for putting me in this position. I stared at the paper in my hand, hastily scribbled along with her suicide note right before she took her life. Maybe it made me a bitch that I resented her so much, but after all she’d done, it was hard to feel anything other than relief that she was gone. I’d been the product of a one-month fling, and she’d never let me forget how it had ruined her life. Or rather that I had. I didn’t think she regretted her time with a man she’d only ever called Sarge, but the fact he’d left something other than memories behind had always pissed her off. I’d tried to search for my dad before, but with only knowing the name Sarge, which I highly doubted was his real name, I hadn’t been able to get very far.
I looked at the address on the paper in my hand, then up at the gates ahead. It was the right place, but it wasn’t what I’d been expecting. When Mom left a suicide note and instructions for me to find Sarge at the Dixie Reapers’ compound, I’d expected something more military-like. This place looked more like a super-nice commune or something, but I doubted my dad was part of a cult. If the bikes across the front of a large building were any indication, he was a biker of some sort. The question was whether or not he was an outlaw or just someone who liked to ride with his buddies. This place didn’t exactly scream recreational therapy or mid-life crisis, though.
At least I now understood my love of motorcycles. Must be in my blood. I shoved the paper back into my pocket, where I’d placed my mother’s suicide note, and eased my bike toward the compound. There was a man at the gates with a leather vest that said Prospect on the front, along with the club name. I was definitely in the right place. The large building had neon letters over the top that even read Dixie Reapers. Too late to turn back after I’d made it this far. Besides, there was nothing left back home. Mom had made sure of that. Vegas was no longer safe for me.
The man arched a brow as I removed my helmet and my hair tumbled down my back. Red, unlike my mother’s blonde tresses, and my green eyes were far from her brown ones. I’d always assumed I took after my dad, but I would hopefully find out soon enough. I braced my feet on the pavement, but didn’t get off my Indian Scout. It was an older bike, nearly as old as me, but I loved it and had paid for it with my own money.
“You don’t look like the typical club whore,” he said, as he scanned me from head to toe.
I snorted and rolled my eyes. As if.
“I need to see Sarge,” I said.
“He expecting you?” the man asked, his tone clearly saying that he doubted it for a second.
“No, but he’ll want to know I’m here. At least, I’m hoping he’ll want to.”
“Sarge usually doesn’t go for the younger women. You might have better luck with someone else.”
“I’m not here for a booty call, asswipe. Are you going to get Sarge or not?” I demanded.
He pulled a phone from his pocket and took a step back. Whoever he called, he was speaking too softly for me to hear a damn thing. He nodded a few times, as if the person on the other end could see him, then hung up.
My nape prickled and I looked over at the big building again. There was a tall, shadowy male figure, and I somehow knew he was staring at me. The man stepped into the light and my breath hitched. I couldn’t see his face, only the golden blond of his hair, and the muscles in his arms. It was enough to make my heart pound a little harder, something that had never happened to me. Before I could analyze the sensation more, or the man, the prospect came back over.
“Sarge will be here in a minute. You can wait right there.”
I shut off my bike, put down the kickstand, then stood up and stretched. It had been a long-ass ride, one that had taken me days. Even though I’d crashed at some cheap motels along the way, I’d never slept for long. Exhaustion tugged at me, but I hadn’t wanted to put this off until morning. If the music blasting from the building behind the gates was any indication, the men here wouldn’t be sober tomorrow anyway.
I kept my eye on the building, waiting for the man called Sarge to come out, but the sound of a Harley drew my attention to the right. Heading down a road that seemed to wind through the compound was the most gorgeous bike I’d ever seen. And one look at the man riding it dispelled any doubts I had as to whether or not this guy was my father. His hair was the same shade as mine, even though it was cut short, and the eyes that locked on mine were the same as the ones I saw every morning in the mirror. He was tall and lean, but had enough muscle that I doubted anyone dared to fuck with him.
He shut off his bike and dismounted, coming closer to the gates. We just stared at one another for the longest time, then I pulled the suicide note from my pocket. I shoved
it through the bars of the gate and he took it, scanning it. The only hint of emotion was the tic in his jaw as his gaze lifted to mine. Mom had mentioned this guy had been in the military, and from the stoic expression I’d have to say she was probably right. He had that don’t fuck with me look, and at the same time appeared completely disinterested in everything around him. I didn’t think that was true for a moment, though. He’d probably cataloged every detail of both me and the surrounding area when he’d ridden up to the gate.
“Who was your mom?” he asked.
“Mary Ann White,” I said. “The two of you met in Vegas and she said you spent a month together.”
“How old are you?” he asked, his eyes narrowing a little.
“Twenty-two.”
He nodded, then glanced at the paper in his hands again. “Seems we have a bit to discuss. You hungry? There’s a twenty-four-hour diner in town.”
“I could eat,” I said, having skipped a lot of meals to get here as quickly as I could.
He looked at my bike and a faint smile curved his lips before he went and mounted his Harley again. The Prospect opened the gates as Sarge came through, and I started my bike, then followed him back into town. The club sat on the outskirts, but it didn’t take long to reach the diner he’d mentioned. I parked next to him and he held the diner door for me as we stepped inside. It was a quaint little place, and I’d bet their greasy food was pretty damn good. Sarge picked a table by the window that overlooked our bikes and he claimed one side of the booth, then motioned for me to sit across from him. His gaze shot to the door behind me a moment before settling on my face.
“I’m Pepper White,” I said. “Your daughter, if my mother is to be believed. To be honest, it wouldn’t be the first time she lied.”
He studied me a moment. “No denying I’m your dad. You look just like my mother when she was younger, and you have my eyes.”
I nodded.
“Why didn’t she tell me about you?” he asked.
“I’m not really sure. I guess she figured the two of you were just having fun and you wouldn’t want to be saddled with a kid. Birth control must have been even more faulty back then than it is now.” I pushed my shoulders back and my spine cracked a few times, then I relaxed a little. Talking about sex with a parent might freak out some people, but when your mother’s occupation was sex, then it changed your perspective. I was still a virgin, only because I’d never felt that zing before. “Look, my mom is dead, if you couldn’t figure that out from her chicken scratch. She wasn’t the nicest person in the world, and had more problems that most. She stole something from some bad people, and now they want it back. Problem is that she said in that note that it’s gone and they’ll be coming for me.”
“That the only reason you’re here? You need protection?” he asked.
I nibbled my lower lip and shook my head. “No, I’ve wanted to know who my dad was for a long time. Mom only ever called you Sarge and never told me your real name. Or your location. I tried to find you, but didn’t get very far.”
“Did she treat you right when you were growing up? Make sure you had everything you needed?” he asked.
I snorted before I could stop myself. “Hell no. Whatever money came in she snorted or drank away. We lived in a crappy trailer that her pimp gave her when I was a few years old. It was rusted out, the heat and air didn’t work, and half the time the plumbing didn’t either.”
“Pimp?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.
“Mom wanted to be a Vegas showgirl, but she said I’d ruined her body so no one would hire her. Martin found her wandering The Strip with me in tow. Our clothes were ragged and dirty, so he made her a deal. One she accepted. When he found out that she was hiding me under a bridge while she worked, he gave us the trailer. Figured it was better than nothing, I guess.”
“Jesus,” he muttered.
A waitress who looked like she’d been on her feet all day wandered over, a tired smile on her face. “Hey, Sarge. What can I get for you?”
“Lily, you look about ready to fall over.”
She shrugged.
“I’ll have whatever’s on special today with some coffee. Just leave the carafe. I have a feeling I’ll need it.”
Her gaze strayed to mine and I arched a brow, daring her to ask the question burning in her eyes.
“Get my daughter whatever she wants,” he said and Lily’s head jerked back toward him so hard I wondered if she’d gotten whiplash.
“Daughter?” she asked.
“Yep.”
He didn’t say anything more and just looked over at me. Plucking a menu off the holder on the table, I glanced over it before ordering the steak and eggs platter and some sweet tea. I’d always wondered why I liked sweet tea when half of Vegas didn’t even know how to properly make the shit, but I had a feeling it had to do with the southern twang in my dad’s voice. Maybe liking sweet tea was genetic. That was a southern thing, right? Sweet tea? Couldn’t think of where else I’d have picked up the taste for it. Mom certainly hadn’t liked any type of tea. Just reminded me that my mom had stolen twenty-two years of time from me and my dad. I didn’t know anything about him, but I wanted to.
“I’ll turn your orders in to the kitchen and be back with your drinks in a moment,” Lily said.
After she’d left, I glanced at my dad and noticed he was watching Lily. Or rather seemed to be staring at her ass. I snickered a little. The guy might be old enough to have a twenty-two-year-old kid, but he still had a thing for the ladies. Or at least he liked our waitress. I wondered if there was history between them.
“She’s probably a sure thing,” I said.
He growled as he faced me again. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
“Whatever. I’m just saying if you wanted to ask her out, she’d probably say yes. I can tell that she’s into you.”
He looked at Lily again before shaking his head. Yeah, there was a story there, but he obviously wasn’t talking about it.
“So how old are you?” I asked. “You seem older than Mom, even though she looked like she was almost fifty when she died. Booze, drugs, and whoring herself out didn’t do her body any favors.”
“I’m forty-six,” he said.
“So, you were twenty-four when I was born, and Mom was seventeen.”
His eyes went so damn wide I might have laughed if he didn’t look completely horrified. It seemed I wasn’t the only secret Mom had kept from him.
“You didn’t know?” I asked.
“She said she was twenty-one,” he said. “Even showed me her ID.”
“It was fake,” I said. “Just like everything else about her.”
“I had been discharged from the Army and just wanted to cut loose a bit before I came home to figure shit out. I’d never intended to start anything with her, much less keep it going for a month. When I told her it was time for me to leave, she seemed fine with it. I’d made no pretense of things going further with us, making sure she knew up front that I couldn’t give her something more permanent.”
“Which is why she never reached out to you.”
“Maybe. I’d told her about my club and that I lived in Alabama. Could have found me if she wanted. Now I’m wishing I’d have called to check in on her. Maybe she’d have told me that she was pregnant and you wouldn’t have had to live like that. Fuck. I’m the world’s worst dad and I’ve only known about you for twenty minutes tops.”
I grinned. “Trust me, you aren’t the world’s worst. I might have grown up fast, and seen way more than I ever should have, but it also made me determined not to live like that. When I turned sixteen, I dropped out of school and started working full-time, then had myself emancipated. I earned my own money, got a small studio apartment, and saved for the Indian out there. After the first month, I was able to get my G.E.D. with special permission from the state.”
“And you just up and left everything behind to come here?” he asked.
“Mostly. I knew Mom was
starting to get mixed up in some bad shit, and I’d planned to take off soon anyway. My lease was up on the apartment at the end of the month. I was going to hit the road and find somewhere new to call home. She just moved up my timetable a little and gave me a definite destination.”
“You still working the same job all these years?” he asked.
“No. I started out washing dishes at one of the smaller casinos off The Strip. They didn’t ask a lot of questions and didn’t mind hiring someone my age. When I turned eighteen, I’d worked up to helping with food prep. I decided I liked the vibe in the kitchen, so I applied to culinary school. Made it through the program and I’m now a professional cook.”
“So you were working as a cook when you left Vegas?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’d only had the job about six months, so I’m not sure how difficult it will be to hire on someplace new, but I explained things to my boss and he wrote me a glowing recommendation.”
“Everything you own in the pack strapped to the back of your bike?”
“Yep. Well, everything I brought with me. I didn’t own much to begin with. A friend is keeping an eye on my knives and a few other things I wanted to keep that couldn’t fit on the bike. A good knife set isn’t cheap. He promised to send them when I landed somewhere.”
“He?” Sarge’s eyes narrowed.
I thought it was cute that he was already trying to be a protective papa, even if I didn’t need it. Not for my gay best friend anyway. He could save that for dealing with Mom’s shit. If I did find the right guy, maybe that golden god back at the compound, then I wouldn’t let him or anyone else stop me from having a relationship. I’d never so much as dated, too worried about what would happen. Everyone knew what Mom had done for a living and made no secret they thought I’d be the same way. I’d seen too many cases of date rape in my two years of high school to ever take the chance.
“Louis Cantrell. My best friend, who also happens to be dating the love of his life, Marcus.” My lips twitched when he eased back against the booth bench. “Yes, my best friend is gay. He went through the same academy as me and is working as a cook in a classy restaurant.”