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“Right.” Distracted, I forget to scratch Jupiter, but he's quick to make sure I know, pressing his head up underneath my hand. I resume my duties.
“You heard that I've got a daughter.” He nods his head towards the picture of the pretty young woman. “That’s Faith. An awful lot of people would say I’m a lowlife, no better than your father. Probably worse because I don’t bother dressing it up like he does. A few years back, some people made the unfortunate decision to try to get at me through her. Those people are no longer breathing. Me, this club and her men made sure of it. So tell me, Harper Simmons, why are my men risking their lives for you?”
Her men? Is that a common thing around here?
I take him through the whole story from the beginning. Mom's illness, the email, the DNA test, the fake wedding, the kidnapping, everything. He doesn't interrupt unless he's unclear on something and wants me to elaborate, but mostly he just listens attentively. God, right now, he feels more like a father than my own.
What does it say about my life that I’m comparing the fatherly qualities of two known criminals?
“Well that’s a deep pile of shit,” he says, scratching his cheek after I've finished. “I wish it wasn’t because it would make my life a lot easier if I could just tie you up in a bow and send you back, but I’m not that big an asshole. The question is just what we do next. I gotta think on it a little. This isn’t just about you and the Wrecking Ball guys anymore. I’m making you their responsibility. Don’t go wandering.”
That gets a little snort-laugh out of me. “Trust me, I’m not going anywhere without them. I wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, I dunno about that. It took guts to do a lot of the shit you’ve done so far. It all blew up in your face, but you’re still here and that means something. If life doesn’t try to fuck you up the ass once in a while, you never learn you’re strong enough to stand the fuck up and keep going.”
Biker motivational speeches are really something else. “Can I ask you something?”
His brows furrow as he looks at me curiously. “Shoot.”
“You were talking about your daughter—Faith—and, well, you said her men? Like, more than one? Is that a normal thing around here?”
He grimaces. “Didn't use to be outside of fucking around, but… these days? Families are what you make of 'em, and if it brings a little peace and light into their lives, nobody here is going to say shit. Me? I'm happy with my one old lady. I'm not the sharing kind. A lot of the old timers are the same, but yeah, Faith found herself three of my boys, and if you hang around, you'll see more of it. I don't get it, but I don't fucking have to, as long as their drama doesn't make a mess of my club. Can tell ya, there’s no safer woman than one that has three or four big guys ready to kill for her.” He shrugs and leans back. “Why? You looking?”
I should have expected that after my question, but I’m totally not ready to answer. When I’m with them, things feel right. Especially physically, but is it more than that? Are my emotions all mixed up because they’ve been protecting me? I can't even imagine finding this sort of connection with anyone else, but in the long run?
I still don’t quite know where I stand with all of them. The four of them are a unit, and Outlaw is still very much a mystery to me. He might think I’m okay enough to fool around with a little, but he walked away from us last night, and if he doesn’t want me to stick around, I can’t see it working with the others.
Apparently, my pause is enough of an answer. Eagle-eye shakes his head. “You could do a hell of a lot worse than my boys, but if you’ve got doubts, don’t ignore them. This club is a fucking family, and just like all families, you gotta take the good with the bad. In this life, the highs are really fucking high, but the lows can put you six feet under. Remember that.”
25
HARPER
“Welcome home.” Lightning gestures at the house. It's one of the ones inside the compound that I saw coming in, and there really is a child size bike on the lawn.
I point at it. “And that's yours?”
He laughs. “Nah. It's probably Dante's. He's one of Alessa's. Good reflexes, shit parking.”
I wet my lips, wondering how to even talk about this stuff. I don't want him to get the wrong idea—or is it the right idea? “Is she one of the women together with several guys?”
