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“No, that’s the child you tried to murder. That’s my boy,” I retorted. Celt glared at me in hate.
“Want access,” Celt demanded.
“Yeah, you get shit. You’re nothing to me, and Jesse knows the truth of that night.”
“You fuckin’ cunt! Fifteen years, you’ve had our son fifteen years. I’m going to get the next fifteen,” Celt hissed.
“Good luck with that. Escort them off the premises,” I said to Dave, who approached with several security guys. The crowd of fans observed our drama without saying a word. I knew they couldn’t hear, but there was clearly a confrontation going on between us.
“Is the lawyer prepared?” I asked Ken, who watched Hellfire march off the motel’s forecourt.
“Oh yeah, Chey. Most certainly ready for this fight.”
“Good, because they’re going to come at us firing.”
Chapter Three.
Darren Jones and I sat in the meeting room at his offices. He had the information we needed to fight the custody suit that Celt had levelled against me. The evidence we had in front of us would stop any action dead in its tracks. Celt hadn’t faltered in serving papers a day after he’d seen Jesse. And Jesse had not hesitated in his own reaction. Darren was relaxed, a miracle considering the circumstances, which made me calmer. A secretary opened the door and poked her head in.
“Mr Jones, they are here,” she said, and Darren nodded. He’d been with The Wild Wind ever since we signed our initial contract and often travelled when we needed him. Darren was based in Spearfish but downplayed his ties to us. It was something I deeply respected Darren for. Darren never once played on our fame.
Celt arrived first, his dark glower attempting to intimidate. Instead, I sat calmly and refused to react. Chance entered second with Bear. Behind them strode two men I didn’t recognise. Introductions were carried out, and the strangers were Steven Miles and Stuart Mansell, lawyers who worked for the Trusts.
“Gentlemen, please take a seat,” Darren said, and there was a rustling of chairs as they sat.
“We’re here to discuss custody of Jesse Markham and the rights of Celt, his parent,” Stuart opened without preamble.
“Celt has no rights to Jesse Markham,” Darren rebutted.
“Celt has every right to his son,” Chance spat, unable to keep his temper in place.
“A man called Celt did not sire Jesse Markham,” Darren said. I recognised what Darren was doing. He’d explained everything to me beforehand. Steven’s eyes narrowed, and I knew this lawyer was no fool.
“Drew Anders was in a relationship with Cheyenne Markham and goes by Celt nowadays. Mr Jones, we are not here to play games; we are here to discuss how Miss Markham deliberately denied Celt the right to see his son. And as for that matter, we’re going for full custody and suing for emotional damages,” Steven said calmly. Darren smiled tightly.
“No judge will give Celt access, let alone what you want, after our evidence,” Darren replied.
“What evidence?” Celt spat.
“The proof that you attacked Miss Markham while another member of Hellfire MC watched and urged you on. And the fact you informed Miss Markham if she didn’t get an abortion, then you would take care of that yourself,” Darren said. Celt swapped an astonished stare with Steven, who shook his head.
“That never happened and is a pack of lies that Miss Markham is creating to excuse her actions, which are heinous,” Stuart replied.
“Well, please watch and listen to the evidence. Then, if you wish to go in front of a judge, we shall. And we will win,” Darren retorted. Darren picked up a controller and pressed play. The images were fifteen years old and grainy, but I could be clearly identified in them. Everyone watched in silence as I stood behind reception. My mouth was moving, and I was singing and crying. Celt shot me a look as the young me wiped tears from her eyes and then sank her head into her arms and sobbed.
“This proves nothing,” Chance said, angered.
“Watch,” Darren demanded. Another minute ticked past, and suddenly sound kicked in. Darren paused the tape there.
“The video and sound are separate. Clearly, Miss Markham was singing to herself while recording simultaneously. We’ve synced them, but there may be a slight second or two delay on the vocals.” Darren pointed to a black box that could be seen on my side of the reception desk. Steven and Stuart gave sharp nods, not looking so comfortable. Darren pressed play again. A moment later, Celt stumbled in, followed by Zeus. Chance and Celt stiffened, and Bear growled.
“Chey, you fuckin’ bitch!” Celt roared. In the video, I jumped up and shoved my hands out.
“You’re a cunt, Chey, trying to take a brother from the MC. We’re here to teach you a lesson about what happens when you mess with Hellfire and fuck with us!” Zeus gloated, his eyes mean in his twisted-up face.
“But I haven’t messed with you!”
“Lying whore. Tellin’ my boy, you’re knocked up. The fuck you are,” Zeus threatened, lumbering forward. I turned to Celt; my hands held out.
