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“Why? You worried I’m going to trap you and make you my sex slave,” she snickered.
Bash was so shocked, he literally choked on his beer so violently that it came out his nose. Morgan slapped him on the back, laughing hysterically.
“Y…you never cease to surprise me,” he said, wiping his face with the back of his hand.
She grabbed a dishcloth from the kitchen and tossed it to him. “Like Pops always said, ‘keep them off balance.’ And just what are you more afraid of, Mr. Bartoli? Being locked in the basement or being a sex slave?” she asked wryly.
“It’s just not something I would expect a kindergarten teacher to say,” he said, clearing his throat. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. And it hurt. She was only attempting to lighten the mood. And it backfired. He was questioning if she was serious. Maybe not about the sex part, but about being locked in the basement.
“Pops would have called you a ‘wussy city boy,’” she said playfully, attempting to defuse the tension.
“I’m not a wuss. It just occurred to me that we are in the middle of nowhere, and we would be hard-pressed to get help if we needed it. And absolutely no one knows we are here.”
Masking her anger and disappointment, she walked to the kitchen and pulled a butcher knife out of the drawer and returned. He flinched and stepped back.
“Here,” she said, handing him the knife handle first. “So you can protect yourself from me. I’ll go down first. If I make any sudden moves, you can stab me in the back.”
He held up his hand. “No, Morgan.”
She ignored him. Putting the knife in his hand, she wrapped his fingers around the handle. Pops was right. You just can’t tell about people, no matter how you think you’ve got them figured out.
“Take it or stay up here,” she said. Turning away before he saw her watery eyes, she climbed down the ladder.
When Bash reached the bottom of the stairs, the knife was no longer in his hand. He caught her arm and turned her around to face him.
“I’m just jumpy after the last couple of days. Please forgive me. My paranoia has gotten the better of me. I’ve lived in my own sheltered world for too long. I trust you. Although I haven’t given you a reason to believe me, I’ll prove it to you, and maybe you can learn to trust me.”
“I already trusted you, Bash, because you haven’t given me a reason not to.” He winced and nodded slowly. She could see the sting of her words hit their mark, but she had to shake it off. They were stuck together. Waving her hand, she said, “You can look around, but I’ve already decided that I’m going to sleep down here. I’ll feel closer to Pops.”
His eyes roamed around the room. “This isn’t bad.”
There was a fabric lounge chair, a tall bookcase with Pops western paperbacks and a stack of motorcycle magazines, a twin bed covered with a multi-colored homemade quilt, and an old wooden desk with a manilla envelope lying on the top. It said, ‘For Chip’. The sight of it took her breath away. His presence in the room lingered so strongly that she half expected him to appear out of thin air. She reached for the envelope with shaky hands and clutched it to her chest. His final words to her. They had only ever had each other.
Bash ushered her to the chair, then sat on the bed beside her. She fought the waterworks again. Pops hated them.
“Would you open it for me?” she whispered.
He took it from her hands, opened the sealed flap, and pulled out two sheets of paper. She immediately recognized Pops chicken-scratching.
“Want me to read it?” he asked. She nodded. He cleared his throat.
Dear Chip,
You know I was never much for words, but you have talked enough for the both of us over the years, and I always assumed you knew me well enough to figure out what I was thinking. I told you a long time ago I was not a good man and did not know how to be one. The only thing I knew how to do was feed you, put a roof over your head, protect you from harm, make sure you could protect yourself, and get you educated so you would have a better life. I failed my son, and I regret that. I tried my darnedest not to fail you. Despite the mistakes I have made, you turned out better than any parent could ever hope. You were the north star in a dark man’s life. As long as we had each other, I never lost my way. I didn’t deserve you, Chip. If there is a man upstairs, I owe him a huge debt.
You were born with a curious streak. Had to know everything. Drove me crazy. That’s why I brought you all those damn books. You always asked about your mom and dad. I knew as soon as I was gone, you would be hell-bent on finding out more about them. Your dad and your mother’s people. I’m gonna tell you why you can’t do that. I also want you to know, you didn’t fool me none with that DNA test. I let it go because I am your grandfather. I didn’t lie about that. As hard as it is, I owe you the truth.
When you were born, I was the president of the Dragon Fire Motorcycle Club in California. We were outlaw bikers. Did it all—drugs, guns, extortion, forgery. My son, your father, was an enforcer named Asa Lion Kline. My real name is Clark Wayne Kline. Patrice, your mother, was one of the ole ladies that rode with us. Don’t know her last name. She and Asa got together for a while until she got pregnant. They decided to sell their baby to a rich couple. If the baby was healthy, they would get $40,000. That was enough incentive for Patrice to stay clean. She overdosed a couple of months after you were born.
At the time, I didn’t think that was a bad deal for you. Better life. That was until Asa found out he could sell you to a child trafficker for $60,000. He started pushing the club members to get their foot in that business. As bad as I was, that was one line I would not cross. I found out where they were taking Patrice for her delivery and where you were being handed over to the traffickers. Couldn’t let that happen. Got all my plans made. New identifications for both of us. Place to stay until you could travel. As soon as you were cleaned off and wrapped up, I came in and took you. I handed the midwife $5000 and told her you were a boy. She nodded and took the money. She said I had to make it look good, so I hit her in the face with my fist. Only woman I ever struck. Didn’t feel too bad about it because she knew the life those babies were being sold into.
It didn’t take long for the club to figure out it was me who took you. Probably thought I was gonna get a better deal. I burned bridges when I left, but I also got me some insurance. I made a deal with a guy I learned was undercover FBI. If he would help me disappear and keep me informed on the club’s activities, I’d give him all the information they needed to bust that trafficking ring. That’s how Asa ended up in prison. I put him there. I took one other insurance policy that I thought would help protect you because they have never stopped looking for us. A couple of months ago, I found out Asa got out of prison on a technicality. He wants revenge, and he wants you in the club. He can’t ever find out you’re a woman. With what I’m leaving you, you will have leverage, and no one can touch you. You’re good at riddles. Build it in a small box, and you can never get it out. You might be able to move it around, but you’ll eventually end up back in the same place.
I got things figured out with the lawyer when I found out I didn’t have long. Hope it helps. I’ve tried to cover any trails to you and the cabin but make this your last trip. You’ll find the paperwork you’ll need to sell it. The club is much bigger now and has a lot more connections. Many in law enforcement. Don’t underestimate the life of revenge.
You know feelings are hard for me, and I have never said it, but you know, Chip. YOU KNOW.
Your Pops
