“You seriously askin’ me if I molested my own daughter?” He throws a murderous glare at me. “No. I may be a shit father, and an evil son of a bitch—but fuck, I’d never touch a kid. And I’d take anyone to ground that would dare lay a hand on my Sunny like that.”

Those words barrel into me like a freight train. “Your Sunny.” His daughter.

“Yeah.”

The mental gears in my head slow, grind together, and suddenly screech to a halt. I don’t want to believe it. For all I know he could be lying out his teeth. But I have to admit, I’ve wondered many times on whether I was right about what really happened all those years ago.

I start grasping at straws. “Then what was the money for?”

“What else. Fuckin’ child support. Money to get her and your mama by.”

“But she was a complete mess after you left. Every time. And she wouldn’t tell me why.”

“So you just assumed I was rapin’ my kid? That’s fucked up.” He shakes his head. “Sunny would beg me to take her with me. But I couldn’t. My life was too dangerous. I told her that. Always had too many targets on my back.”

“I . . . I . . .” I’m reeling. Seeing it all in a different light all of a sudden. My hatred for him cools to a simmer. I can even hear the defeat in my voice when I ask, “If you’re her father then where the hell have you been all this time?”

He shrugs and spares me a glance. “Every time I came to see her, I was risking her and your mama. When shit got deep for the club, I knew I had to cut ties. That it was either lose them or bury them. So I made the choice I could live with.”

“Why’d my mother hide me from you?”

“‘Cause, she was hiding her sins, and she was smart. She knew if I found out that while I was servin’ time, she was sleeping around behind my back with a man I trusted, I would’ve killed them both. She kept visiting me. Supposedly got real sick for a while and couldn’t, but then started coming every week like regular, acting crazy weird about making sure we had conjugal visits when she never seemed to care about having them before. I figured she wanted to get pregnant, that maybe it was just that time that she needed somethin’ more than me to make her happy. But then when she got pregnant with your sister, she told me some bullshit about her not being able to wait for me like she promised. That she didn’t want this kind of life anymore now that she was a mother. Shouldn’t have believed her. My gut told me it was a lie. Your mama was a biker bitch through and through. But that’s the story she always stuck to.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Not much to understand.” He stares at his smoke and rolls it between his fingers. “My old lady slept with my best friend and you’re the evidence I need to prove he betrayed me.”

The truth doesn’t always set the world right. Sometimes it wakes you from a dream you’d rather spend your whole life living.

MAVERICK

Slamming the door to the chapel, I bite out, “What in the fuck is so important?” My gaze travels over Whiz who’s holding a manila folder in his hand, and then Taz standing in front of a large brushed metal HOC emblem that hangs on the wall. His arms are crossed and he’s wearing an expression I’ve come to know well. His head is locked on a mark and he’s ready to do what he does best, make whatever problem the club has disappear.

The door reopens and Edge and Griz walk in. “What’s this about?” Edge asks me.

“That’s what I’m here to find out.” I motion for Whiz to get on with it.

“You’re going to want to sit down,” he says.

As a hollow feeling begins to build in my gut, I take my chair and feel the worn leather give me what comfort it can, though I’ve been ill at ease since I left Ember. Edge sits with one thigh on the table to my left, and Griz in the seat to my right. After walking around the table, Whiz lays the folder in front of me. He opens it to a picture of Ember on the arm of another man.

I knew eventually I’d have to see something like this, but it’s still a blow all the same.

I lean forward and pick up the photo. It’s her, only a completely different version of her.

Her hair is slicked and pulled back into a low ponytail, not one hair out of place. She’s wearing jewelry, and a conservative white and navy capped sleeved dress. She looks polished and elegant, and nothing like the woman that was wrapped around me a few minutes ago.

I don’t like this look on her. I don’t like it one fucking bit.

My eyes shift to her ex. The asshole that raped her and held her against her will. I memorize every detail of his pretty-boy face, his ice blue eyes, bone structure, and even his fake approachable smile. He’s tall, younger than me, and clean cut. He wears a charcoal suit, tailored to fit his frame and expensive. Everything about him screams money. His posture, clothes, and even the gold watch peeking out from his shirtsleeve.

“You wanted me to dig and find everything I could on your girl’s ex,” Whiz starts.

Shifting in my chair, I push down the darkness rising higher inside me the longer I stare at the picture. “Yeah.”

“Well, I dug. But I found out something you’re not going to like. Whiz flips over news article after news article about her going missing and the fire. I grab one of the articles and do a quick read through. ‘Senator McTearney Helps Son Search for Missing Girlfriend’ is the headline. For a few minutes, I scan through the other articles, besides the most recent one that says they’ve ruled the fire as an accident due to a gas leak; they all say pretty much the same thing.

“I know all this already.” I shove the file back at him.

“There’s more.”

Taz speaks up. “I told Whiz to look into your girl when you started showin’ interest,” Taz confesses. “But we didn’t have much to go on. Didn’t know her name or where she was from, until you told Whiz about the fire and this ex of hers.”

My jaw hardens and I shoot him a dirty look. “That’s what this is about? You found some dirt on her and couldn’t wait to share it?” To Whiz, I snap, “Did you or did you not check into this Warner guy?”

“It’s more than dirt, brother. It’s a fuckin’ mole hill of shit.”

“Is this really somethin’ Griz and I need to hear?” Edge cuts Taz off. He’s about as pleased at his night being interrupted as I am.

“This touches the whole club.” Taz comes closer and pushes the file back toward me. He searches through the documents until he comes to a birth certificate and hands it to me. “Look at her name.”

I snatch the paper from his hands and scan her birth certificate. I read her full name out loud, “Ember Dee Pierce.” I hoard these additional slivers of information about her like their precious jewels I’m collecting. Her full name. August 12th, her birthday, only a couple of days before she showed up at the clubhouse. Her mother’s name is Tessa Owens. Father, nothing listed, which matches what she told me.

There’s nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing incriminating either.

Taz repeats “Dee Pierce” like it’s a revelation.

Griz noticeably freezes next to me. After a few seconds, he sits up with interest, and sorts through the papers. He takes one, his eyes skim over it. Edge leans over the folder and grabs another, does the same.

“What am I missin’?” Raising my head, I peer at each one of them, take in their dower expressions.

“Show ’em,” Taz orders the prospect.

Whiz pulls additional photos from the back of the folder. He places them beside Ember’s picture with her ex. The first isn’t of her, but a face I’ve seen enough of the last two days that I don’t care to see more than I have to. The the second man, I’d prefer never to see again in my lifetime.

Confusion pinballs around in my brain. Why in the ever-loving-fuck is he showing me these? Then something clicks, shifts inside my head. The last name Pierce. The shape of Deed’s—the GB we call Sonny Psycho—cheekbones. Something in Pappy’s green eyes.