He cups my jaw. “You too, baby.”
I smile and get into my car, pulling out. I watch Diesel in the rear-view mirror for a few seconds before focusing on the road. I’ll need the drive to figure out what the hell I’m going to say. The very idea of walking into that club and seeing the disappointed faces is enough to make me want to turn around and run.
The drive is shorter than I’d hoped, and I find myself parked out front of the compound before lunchtime. I stare at the big brick house and press a hand to my forehead, taking a few deep breaths. I just have to be calm and keep myself collected. My dad will listen if I don’t lose it, and I need him to listen. I just need him to understand how much Diesel means to me.
I get out of the car and walk through the front gates after unlocking them with my key. I move to the main house and enter using the front door. There aren’t many bikers around, thank God. I walk down the hall, waving to the guys I notice, and they seem happy enough to wave back. That’s a good sign, right? I reach Jackson’s door and carefully knock.
“Yeah?” he calls.
I push it open and glance in. He’s sitting with Cade and Muff.
“Mercedes,” he mutters.
Yep, he’s angry at me too. I flick my eyes to Cade, who has an impassive look on his face, and then to Muff, who gives me a pathetic excuse of a smile. So I’ve pissed off the entire club—that’s perfect.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Shed,” Jackson says, his voice curt.
“Right,” I whisper, stepping out of the room.
“Mercedes?” Jackson calls.
I glance back in.
“Be careful what you say. He’s already disappointed in you, but more than that, your words hurt him. We have his back on this, not yours. Watch your tongue.”
Ouch.
Jackson has always been like an uncle to me, so hearing him speak to me like that hurts. There has never been a time in my life where I’ve felt so small and ashamed. “Okay,” I say, my voice cracking and my bottom lip trembling.
His face softens slightly, but he makes no move to stop me when I leave. He’s proving a point—my actions are unacceptable. I walk out of the club, forcing my tears to stop. I can’t face my dad emotional—God, I don’t even want to face him at all. I reach the shed and hesitate for a good few minutes before turning the handle and stepping in.
I don’t see my dad at first because he’s sitting over by a window, looking out, and also because he’s semi-covered by an old car that’s getting fixed.
He hears me come in because he stiffens—he doesn’t turn.
“Dad,” I say, my voice weak and unsure.
He still doesn’t turn.
“Wondered when you’d show up.”
His voice. God, his voice. It hurts me to hear it so devoid of emotion. He’s shut down. I’ve only ever seen him like this a few times in my life and never, not ever, was it because of me.
“I . . .” I swallow and take a deep breath. “I know what I did was wrong. More than that, my words to you were cruel and unfair. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to hurt anyone.”
My lip is trembling again, so I force a few more deep breaths, then I wait. It takes a few minutes, but my dad finally turns and stares at me. He looks tired, but mostly he just looks angry. His eyes find mine and I have to glance away when I see the scathing look that’s behind his.
“You let me down, Mercedes. Not just because you’re fraternizing with another club but—”
“I wasn’t fraternizing!”
“Do not cut me off,” he growls and my mouth clamps shut.
“As I was saying,” he grinds out. “It’s not only because of that, but because you lied to me, and worse, you have the audacity to throw what happened to Ava in not just my face, but the club’s face.”
“I said I didn’t mean those words.”
“And maybe you didn’t, but you said them, and you can’t take away the damage that created.”
I look to my feet. “I’m sorry. I was out of line.”
“As for Diesel, you knew what you were doing the second you got into that relationship. You not only lied to yourself—you lied to him. He’s the member of another club. At what second did you think that was okay?”
“I . . . I didn’t know right away!” I say lamely.
Dad’s eyes flicker with something I can’t read. “Answer the question.”
“It doesn’t matter to me, Dad.”
“It matters to me,” he roars, and I flinch, taking a step back. “It matters to me, Mercedes. You’re my daughter. You’re mine to protect, and you were runnin’ around with a club that for all you know could have been dangerous. How the fuck would I have been able to find you if something went wrong?”
“They’re not bad people!”
“You didn’t know that.”
“Dad, please,” I whisper.
“You put this club at risk, and you put that club at risk.”
“How did I put this club at risk? I never told them who I was!”
He crosses his arms. “What makes you think they didn’t know? I knew who Diesel was, so what the hell makes you think they didn’t know who you were?”
He has a point. “They wouldn’t have hurt me,” I try to make my voice reassuring, but it’s pathetic and weak.
“Beside the point,” Dad snaps.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” I finally cry. “I’m sorry, okay? I screwed up, I know that, but I can’t change it.”
His eyes meet mine, brown on brown, determination against anger. “I want you to stay away from that boy and his club.”
My heart skitters, and I stare at him. No. He can’t do that. He can’t tell me I can’t see Diesel. Why would he think that’s okay? I know I screwed up, and I know Diesel and I seem like an impossible match, but the clubs aren’t at war.
“I love him,” I whisper.
He flinches, but his face stays hard.
“You will stay away from him, Mercedes. You’re done. Do you hear me?”
No.
No.
I am done, but it isn’t with Diesel.
“No,” I say, my voice unsure and shaky.
“What did you say?”
“I said . . . no. I won’t stay away from him. I love him.”
“You will not defy me on this,” he hisses.
“I’m twenty-one years old, Daddy. It isn’t your choice.”
“Isn’t it?” he bellows.
I jerk and cross my arms over my chest, rubbing my hands up and down as I try to keep my emotions from exploding.
“He wants nothing to do with that club, and neither do I. We’re not doing anything wrong.”
He throws his head back and laughs, but it isn’t funny, it’s scary. “Nothing wrong. Nothing wrong?”
“Dad . . .”
“You will stop this,” he says, holding my eyes. He isn’t joking. He’s deadly serious, and on top of that, he’s angry.
But I see something in Diesel that it would appear no one else does. I’d defy every person in my life for him, because he needs me, and more than that—I need him.
“Would you have stopped seeing Mom?”
He flinches again. “Don’t.”
“Well?” I yell. “Would you? If someone told you that you couldn’t, would you have stopped?”
“I wasn’t doing something that could lead to major problems.”
“I love him. Does that mean nothing to you?” I scream, letting the tears explode down my cheeks.
He doesn’t show emotion when he says in a low, hard tone, “No.”
Pain explodes in my chest and I turn, running towards the door.
“Mercedes, we’re not done.”
I don’t stop; I swing it open and sprint towards the gates. His heavy-booted footsteps can be heard behind me.
“Stop!” he barks.
No.
No, I won’t.
I pull out my keys and unlock my car, throwing the door
open and getting in. I lock it quickly and start the engine.
Dad reaches me just as I put the car in reverse. His big hand hits the driver’s side window, not hard, but just a warning to stop. I look up at him, and he’s panting with anger. I hate doing this to him. I hate that we’re fighting. It’s tearing my heart right open, but I can’t . . . I can’t give up something I love so dearly.
A tear rolls down my cheek as I hit the gas, backing up.
His angry bellow can be heard even through the closed windows, but I don’t stop.
I don’t know what the hell to do.
I’m so lost.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“You goin’ to stay there a few days?” Diesel asks.
“Yeah,” I say in a hoarse voice. “I can’t leave now; he’ll only track me down.”
“You let them know you’re still in town so they don’t come hunt me down?”
“I texted my mom, told her I’m staying in a hotel.”
“Good. You okay?”
His voice is soft, and it only makes my heart ache more. “I knew it wouldn’t be an easy conversation, but we’ve never . . . we’ve never spoken to each other like that before. It was awful.”
“It’ll take time, baby,” he assures me. “Give it that time.”
“I don’t . . .” My throat gets tight. “I don’t want to give you up.”
“You don’t have to, but you need to see his side of it. In his eyes, it’s another club, and you’re his baby girl. Don’t be too hard on him.”
More guilt slams into my chest. “I hate fighting with him. It hurts.”
“If he’s as stubborn as you, it could take some time.”
I snort and attempt a laugh, but it doesn’t come out right. “Yeah, I get a lot from him.”
“Heard stories about your dad. He’s not an easy man to get around.”
“No, he’s not.”
“Scary fucker.”
I giggle. “That he is.”
“Can’t believe you’re his daughter.”
I sigh. “I am.”
“Baby, he’ll come around.”
“I miss you.”
“Miss you too, Killer.”
I shift on the uncomfortable hotel bed. “I’ll try and get back as soon as I can. I’m not missing your first paid gig.”
He grunts. “Might not be much to see.”
“Stop it; you’re amazing. They’re going to love you.”
“Yeah, hope so. Listen, I gotta get some study done. I’ll call you, yeah?”
“Okay,” I say, my heart sinking. I wish I could just talk to him all night.
“Miss you so fuckin’ bad, you hear me?”
I smile weakly. “I hear you.”
“Later baby.”
“Later.”
I hang up and stare down at my phone. So many calls and text messages. The only person I’ve made contact with is my mom, and that’s because I didn’t want her to worry, but mostly because I didn’t want Dad to ride into Denver and go after Diesel’s family. I don’t want to start a war, so I’ll stay here until things are sorted out. On top of Mom’s calls, there have been heaps from my dad, Jackson, and Cade, as well as Skye, Ava, and Danny.
Yeesh.
I start reading through the text messages.
Ava – Where are you, honey?
Skye – Seriously, your dad is losing his shit. Where are you?
Danny – Don’t be a brat, come and face this.
My heart sinks, and I keep reading.
Mom – Please call your dad, baby. He’s so upset.
He’s upset? What about me? Why am I the only bad guy here?
Mom – Mercy, where are you?
Dad – Call me. Now.
Dad – Mercedes, I’m not joking. Call.
Dad – I’ll find you. You either call or wait for me to do that.
Dad – We’re not done talking. Running won’t solve it.
By the time I’m finished with all the messages, I’m crying again. Diesel’s words come back into my head and I know he’s right, I have to see it from my dad’s side, too. It’s just so hard when he’s angry at me. We clash in ways that can’t be contained, and when there’s this much tension between us, we tend to explode.
I’ll talk to him, but right now we both need to cool off. I’ll let him know I am okay, but that’s as much as I am willing to give tonight.
M - I’m okay. I’m still in town. I’m not ready to talk again.
Five minutes later, he responds.
Dad – We’re talking. Where are u?
M – No. I’m sorry. I don’t want to see you or anyone else.
Dad – Mercedes, I’m not messing around.
Neither am I, old man.
I switch my phone off.
I just need to think.
~*~*~*~
“I think you’ve had enough for the one night,” Mike, the local bartender, says, sliding me another drink. “No more after this, yeah? Your dad would gut me.”
I look up at him and huff. I’ve only had six, but apparently that’s more than enough. The joys of having a biker father. I swallow back the final shot and stand. “I get it. Thanks, Mike.”
“No worries, kid. You got a ride home?”
“I’m staying around the corner; it’s not far.”
He nods. “Be safe.”
“Later.”
I walk out of the bar and into the street. It’s cool out, and the air is refreshing. I cross my arms and rub them as I move down the sidewalk, watching the cars whizz past as I make my way towards the alley that’s a shortcut to the hotel. I step down it and head through. It’s quiet tonight. Usually there are a few people milling around. I’ve walked this alley many times with Ava and Skye when we used to cut through it to find our dads. It’s familiar to me.
So it’s a surprise when two dark figures step around the corner at the end. I stop, and rub my arms again. Probably just some people passing through. I step to the side and hope they’ll just go past me, but when they begin slowing down, something inside my chest screams at me to run. I spin around, but a hand lashes out and catches me, slamming my body against the wall.
I see a familiar face and my chest tightens.
Rex.
“Your daddy don’t take my messages very well, does he?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, squirming. “I don’t even live here anymore.”
“He was warned, and he didn’t listen. Told him to stay out of my fuckin’ business, but he ain’t listenin’.”
“I don’t know anything about it!” I protest, my heart pounding with fear.
“Oh I know that, but the point is, he needs to be taught a lesson. I warned him once; I’m done playing games. He needs to know I’m serious.”
“Please,” I beg tears running down my cheeks. “Leave me out of it.”
He laughs and pulls me forward before slamming me back into the wall. My head hits it, and a loud crack fills the air. I wail, but he slams a hand over my mouth. “How do you think I should send my message? You’re such a pretty thing, just like him. Maybe sending you back raped with a slit throat will do the trick.”
My tears fall harder and I try to kick, but he’s too strong. He nods to the other man, and he steps forward jerking at my shirt. No. Please no. I manage to get my knee up between his legs and I hit him hard there, causing him to let me go for a split second. I try to lunge away, but his friend catches me, and a hard fist connects with my eye. I scream as blackness threatens to take over.
“Fuckin’ kill the bitch,” Rex bellows.
I fight again as the man pulls his gun out, but he never gets the chance to use it. Mike from the bar appears from nowhere with a baseball bat and swings it at his head, knocking him clean out with one hit. Rex scrambles for his gun but Mike is fast; he hits him hard and swift. I don’t wait around. I need to get out of here. I push to my feet and I run, blood trickling out the back of my head, my eye pounding as it begins
to swell shut.
“Mercedes!” Mike calls. “Wait!”
I don’t wait.
I can’t do any of this anymore.
I rush across the road and start going around the long way to my hotel. My phone is buzzing off the hook in a matter of minutes, and I know Mike has called my dad. Soon he’ll find me and I just . . . I just can’t. I run harder, faster, through the pounding in my head and the agony in my heart. I hear the rumble of bikes, but I don’t stop. I just run and run, frantic fear and desperation taking over.
“Mercedes!”
My dad.
I still don’t stop.
“Stop.”
No.
I can’t.
I’m so scared.
I hiccup and sob harder as I run faster and faster down the sidewalk. My mind starts spinning and my head is pounding to the point where vomit is rising in my throat. My dad’s voice becomes a distant sound, and I wonder if it was real or if I imagined it. A hard arm curls around my waist, and I’m suddenly launched off the ground. I scream frantically, clawing at the hands holding me.
“Let me go!” I scream. “Let me go!”
I’m spun around and crushed into a big, hard chest.
“It’s me, baby. It’s me.”
Dad.
Daddy.
I clutch his jacket and lose it, my knees going out from beneath me. He catches me—he always catches me. I sob brokenly against him, devastation wracking my body. He doesn’t move me. He just stands there, holding me, letting me cry.
“Spike?” Jackson’s voice breaks through my hysterical crying.
“She’s hurt, Jacks.”
“How bad?”
“Don’t know. Send Cade into that alley; have him pick up the two bastards Mike is holding. I want them, Jacks. I fucking want them.”
“Calm it down, Spike. Get her home. We’ll talk.”
“They’re mine. Do you fuckin’ hear me?”
Jackson sighs. “I hear you, brother.”
Dad moves me and carries me towards his bike. “Gotta get you home, baby. Can you hold on?”
I lift my head from his jacket and look up at him. His face hardens, and his thumb grazes over the skin at my eye. “I . . . I’m sorry,” I sob.
“Hush. Let’s get you home, yeah?”
He puts me on the bike and honestly, if he didn’t live so close, I don’t think I’d be able to hold on. He climbs on in front of me and takes my hand, pulling it around his waist. He starts the bike and takes off, his hand quickly going back to hold mine, as if he’s sure I’ll just slide off the back. My head is pounding and I feel physically sick. By the time we’re home, I stumble off the bike and vomit onto the ground.