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Taz leans back in his chair, nearly tipping the damn thing over to grab hold of Bell. She tries to pull away, but the look he gives her says she better chill her ass out. Only my VP can get away with shit like that. My daughter is not one to be trifled with. But with my VP, she is a lovesick woman who often bends to his will, even if she denies it. Taz pulls Bell toward him, shifting her so she sits securely in his lap, and he rubs up and down her arms. Kissing her on the neck, I try to hold in my grimace. I’m still not one hundred percent with them showing all this lovey-dovey shit around me. Taz sees my reaction, and the fucker smirks and kisses her again. And if I didn’t know the fucker as well as I do, I would punch his fucking lights out for all the PDA in my fucking office. I doubt my knocking his ass out will go well with my girl. It didn't last time. I smirk at the memory of kicking his ass after he claimed my daughter without talking to me first. Served the fucker right.
Bell narrows her eyes on Taz. “Yeah, big guy. Letting you handle it means he.” She points to me. “Is going to hide in his office, throwing a pity party about how different he and mom are now. And how he doesn’t want to take her choices away. Blah, blah, blah.” She looks at me with a raised brow. “Am I right? This is a pity party?”
Taz chuckles at the look in my eyes as I stare at my daughter. Right now, she is playing the role of sweet and concerned, which is something she is not. Well, she may be concerned. Taz, the fucker he is, finds her smart-ass mouth and nosy nature amusing and encourages the shit. I find the shit that comes out of my girl's mouth entertaining as hell, except for when it’s directed at me. Something he sees in my eyes has him shifting her and sitting up a little. He pats her on the hip, understanding I may be amused but not in the mood.
“Baby girl, chill. I’m handling it.” Giving her a pointed look that she promptly ignores.
Turning to me, I know whatever is about to come out of her mouth will be some shit. Instead of interrupting her, I lean back in my seat, placing both hands behind my head. And I’ll let her say her piece because if I don’t, she’ll make me listen, and more often than not, it ends up with her over Taz’s shoulder being hauled off for a spanking. I grimace at the thought.
“Listen, Daddio. I know you and my mother have been knocking boots, doing the horizontal tango, playing hide-the-sausage, filling the cream donut, stuffing the muffin…”
“For fuck's sake Bell. Yes, your mother and I have shared a few moments. Which is none of your fucking business.” I growl out.
“Prez,” Taz says in warning.
A warning: I ignore and glare at him, letting him know I’m not speaking to his woman. I’m talking to my daughter. A daughter that I love dearly but don’t need meddling in my and her mother's shit. What is happening between Savvy and me is just that, between us. Do I want things to be different? For them to go back to how they were? Fuck yeah, I do. The truth is that too much time has passed, and we have allowed too much pain to fester to forgive and forget. We both carry baggage from our shared past. Savvy doesn’t trust me or believe I won’t turn my back on her again if shit gets hard, no matter what I say or how I try to explain that I’m not that scared young biker anymore. The thing is, she knows and has known for a long ass time why I made the choice I did. She just doesn’t trust that, and I don’t blame her.
Thinking about it over the last few months and honestly analyzing things. It isn’t about my choice to marry Beverly that makes her reluctant to open up to me. It was what I said and how I said it when I broke things off. I hurt her in a way that she’s never forgiven me for. And I know that. Wish she would let me explain that I never wanted that. I never wanted to hurt her. But I knew things would have turned deadly if she tried to fight for me and vice versa. With Beverly’s threats, I can admit I was scared shitless. I would rather live in a world with Savvy in it than without. So yeah, I said some fucked up shit I regret and can’t take back. There will never be an apology to make up for that, but fuck if I don’t want to damn well try. She won’t let me, and fuck, if that doesn’t hurt more than anything.
Of course, Bellamy ignores her man’s warning and my silence. She sighs.
“In all seriousness. I know I’m sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong, and lord knows you’ve bitten my head off more than I can count. But… I think… I think it’s a bad idea for you to let her go. Yeah, shit is going to be hard, but that’s life. We live, learn and move the fuck on. My mother has loved you all my damn life. She’s scared, Dad. She never wants to feel the way you made her feel back then. She can’t. It would destroy her. There has never been another man that could replace you. So I know that there has to be a way to fix it. I know there is, but you can’t do that if you give up on her. Fight for her this time. If you don’t, the darkness that has consumed her will overwhelm her. And with Blaze and I moving on with our lives, growing up and living on our terms, she doesn’t have us to keep her centered. She doesn’t have our light to keep her from falling further into the darkness. She needs you, Dad. No matter how much she denies it, she needs you.” Bell says as unshed tears misted her eyes.
The look in her eyes overshadowed the shock of hearing my daughter calling me dad for the first time. When I hear a sniffle, my eyes widen. Tears trail down Bell's cheeks, causing my eyes to snap to Taz’s, who looks like he wants to bolt and murder someone at the same time. Bell frantically wipes her tears away on her sleeve. Not sure what the fuck to say because my daughter doesn’t do girly emotions, her words, not mine. I say nothing as I process her words. Taz pulls her to him, wrapping an arm around her slight form and rubbing her back. My baby girl looks so tiny and fragile, and I hate that her mother and my shit have her feeling this way. She is not one to show emotions, so I know this shit is affecting her. We could chalk it up to hormones, but I understand it’s more than that.
Bell sits up and looks over at me. “If you tell her anything, I just said. I’ll flatten all your damn tires on your bikes. Even the pretty ones you keep tucked away in your pretty little garage.” Tears still slowly stream down her cheeks, but the looks she gives me let me know she is serious about her threat.
I sigh, ignoring her threat. “I know and understand what you are saying, Bell. Me wanting Savvy, me loving your mother, may not be enough. What I’ve done, what I’ve caused, may not be something she can forgive. No matter how much I wish it did.” Looking into my daughter's eyes, the look she is giving me tells me I’m full of shit and need to get my head out of my ass.
For a long while, we both stare at one another. I sigh again because I know what I need to do. Nothing in life is ever easy, and if I want Savvy. I understand I need to fight for her. I need to show her I want her and that I need her just as much as she needs me if not more.
If my daughter thinks there’s a chance. Then I need to get my head out of my ass and take it.
Without a word, I stand from my chair and stomp out of the room to find my woman and hope like hell she’ll stick around and see that the man she once loved and trusted is still here, willing and ready to fall at her feet and beg for her forgiveness. I will earn her trust and love if it is the last thing I do. I hope it isn’t my heart that gets stomped on and obliterated this time. Even if it is, I deserve it.
Two
SAVVY
?
Bellamy says I’m running, and maybe I am. Sigh, shaking my head. She’s right. I am running. And I can’t say if it’s the right choice. Gunner and my past isn’t pretty–hurt feelings aside. Thinking about what he and I shared in the short time we had, it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever and may ever experience. I don’t think that after everything, we can get back to that place. Not because it is impossible but because we are no longer those people. I’m no longer that trusting, unjaded girl I once was. I hold secrets and live a dangerous, guarded life. My eyes close, trying to rein in the emotion threatening to break free. The longer I stay here, the longer I think about what should have, could have, and would have been, which only leads to my resolve crumbling even more.
Looking at the pile of my clothes on the bed, I try to focus on the task. With military precision, I fold, roll, and pack things away. Running a checklist of things that must be done and prepared for the next job. Doing so, hoping to keep my mind distracted. Unfortunately, what has worked in the past isn’t now. My mind continues to stray, wandering back to him and things I shouldn’t allow myself to think or feel.
For the last few months being here at Gunner's club, I’ve gotten to know many of LSMC brothers, their ol’ ladies, and kids. A smile makes its way to my lips as I think about all the amazing women I’ve met and have been reintroduced to. The new generation is nothing like I thought they would be. They have been welcoming and kind and nothing like the ol’ ladies of the past when Gunner's father, Mad Dog, was the president. Many are still around but remain in the background and are cordial enough. When Mad Dog was Prez, I felt the ol’ ladies lived antiquated lives. They turned the other cheek, ignored their men’s unacceptable behavior, and encouraged me to do the same. That’s not who the ol’ ladies are now. Nope, these women are strong, no nonsense, and take no prisoners. They still have a softness, something I no longer have. That is why the ol’ lady's work so well with their men. They smooth out their men's rough edges. Unlike me, who would make them even more jagged and deadly. I’m not soft hearted anymore. I burned that shit out of me years ago, only leaving enough for my kids. I thrive in the dark, only taking brief trips into the light.
I shake my head and move away from those thoughts. A burning need at the pit of my stomach makes itself known. I take a few breaths, trying to shake it off. Now is not the time- not yet.
I focus my thoughts on everyone I’ve met and how happy they are to be a part of this family–a family that will ride or die for them. Something that I wished they would have had the strength for–all those years ago.
Bitter, angry, sad, hurt, disappointed, and confused are constant emotions for me.
I'm trying not to go down that road. Even though I know the truth of what really happened all those years ago, it doesn’t mean it hurts any less. Watching everyone fight for Princess brought back bitterness I hadn’t felt for a long time. Watching everyone accept my children filled me with sadness about what they were forced to miss out on. My thoughts wander to the life I could have led and my life now and how utterly different they are.
For over twenty years, I’ve allowed my emotions to morph into something else that drives me to do better, to be better. Papa calls it the darkness. I call it an old friend. What I do and who I am is because of the need to feel something other than the pain of his rejection. Some would say I should get over it; it’s been long enough, and I should move on. And to those idiots, I say that they have never truly been in love. You don’t get over an all-consuming love–you live without it and adapt. That is what I’ve been doing–living and adapting.
As much as my Papa and I wanted another life for me, a simpler life. He knew what I needed and pushed me in a direction that would allow me to focus on something other than what consumed me. Thus, I became the Widow Maker. Righting the wrongs of our world. Making sure that those with ill intentions pay the price their victims never will. And I don’t regret it. I don’t regret becoming who I am, but I know deep down that the longer I do what I do, the further away I am from who I used to be.
