But fate had forced my hand.
With my heart threatening to beat out of my chest, I knelt down in front of Willow. “So, I guess I’m your dad, huh?”
Slowly, she bobbed her head up and down in acknowledgment.
“Look, I’m sorry it took losing your mom for you to get to meet me. If I had known about you, I would’ve come around.”
Willow remained silently appraising me. With everyone’s eyes boring holes into my back, I wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of the roadhouse and escape where I could be alone to process my out of control emotions.
“Would you like to get out of here and see your new house?” I asked.
When Willow nodded again, I replied, “Okay, cool. Then let’s get the hell out of here.”
“David, language,” Mama Liz chided.
“Whatever,” I grumbled, as I rose to my feet.
Mrs. Martinez closed the gap between us. With a grave expression, she grabbed my shoulder. “There’s more I tell you.”
“More than my ex was murdered and I have a kid?” I retorted before I could stop myself. After her nod, I crossed my hands over my chest. “Then spill it.”
“Not with Willow.”
After her meaning registered with me, my gaze fell on Mama Liz. “Will you take her?”
Her face lit up. “I would love to.”
After walking over to Willow, Mama Liz held out her hand. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go find you something to eat in the kitchen. You can have ice cream or candy or anything you want.”
I grunted at her already spoiling Willow. When they were gone, I eyed Mrs. Martinez. “Okay. What is it it?”
“Willow don’t talk.”
My brows creased in worry. “Is she on the spectrum?”
Most people wouldn’t expect a biker like me to no shit about autism. But one of our members had a nonverbal son, so I’d learned how to communicate with him.
To my surprise, Mrs. Martinez shook her head. “No. She talk fine.” With a laugh, she replied, “She talks better than me.”
“So is it like a grief thing?”
Mrs. Martinez’s amusement faded. “She scared.”
“Of me?”
She shook her head. “She saw Lacey…”
“Fuck,” I muttered at the picture painted in my mind.
“And no more talk.”
Once again, I could only reply, “Fuck.”
To my surprise, Mrs. Martinez patted my arm reassuringly. “You get her help, and she be fine. She a smart, sweet girl. Just scared now.”
With a cast-iron resolve pulsing through me, I replied, “As long as I draw breath that little girl willneverhave to fear anything ever again.”
CHAPTER TWO: ALEXANDRA
