Page 42 of Break Away (Riot MC Next Generation #2)

It's Private

Ivy

After months of searching old records, Internet-digging, and even a failed road trip that my friend Chad would never let me forget, I sat outside a new neighborhood bar called On a Lark, determined to find my biological dad.

The neon ‘Open’ sign wasn’t lit, but I’d watched at least four couples walk through the doors, and they’d yet to come out. Rumor had it there was a soft launch going on, and another rumor said the bar’s name tied back to the man in charge.

Lark.

The same motorcycle club road name attributed to the man I was looking for: a sperm donor Mom had chosen over twenty years ago.

I inhaled slow and deep to calm my nerves.

There were seven motorcycles in the parking lot.

The last couple I’d watch go inside the bar had arrived on a bike.

I’d never been to a biker bar. I’d watched a few movies and a long-running TV series about bikers, and even if those weren’t entirely accurate (and I suspected they weren’t) I knew this could go the wrong way. Especially since I was here alone.

A shiny, bright blue Ford F-150 pulled into the lot and parked two spots over from my car. Part of me was relieved at that because the side mirrors jutted out from the cab much farther than necessary. Four men got out of the truck, two of them loud and obnoxious.

I kept my gaze pinned to my phone in my hand hoping they wouldn’t notice me in my car.

My head jerked up at a metallic bang coming from my hood. I locked eyes with a young white man wearing a black baseball hat backward on his head.

He laughed and grinned at one of the other men. “Scared the shit out of her.”

Chad’s words from earlier in the day raced through my mind.

Why are you doing this?

That was the million-dollar question.

I’d told him I didn’t know, but that wasn’t entirely true.

Over the years, Mom had off-handedly said she’d love to meet the man who helped make me who I was.

I’d stopped telling her there wasn’t a man who made me who I was, since that would require his presence in our lives.

Still, for some reason, six months ago, her words-slash-request had taken root in my head, and I couldn’t let it go.

I wanted to meet this man, too.

Even more, I wanted Mom to meet him.

Yeah, that redneck asshole banging on my vehicle hadn’t scared me. The prospect of walking into that bar and coming face to face with Lark scared me, but if Mom had taught me anything it was to face my fears with my chin held high.

So, I tucked my keys in my pocket, grabbed my wristlet, and faced reality.

Three paces into the bar, and I stopped short for two reasons.

One, the set-up was wrong. I expected to open the door and wander to the actual bar . Instead, I found myself inside a small room with a glass-case that doubled as a counter and held a variety of t-shirts.

Two, the man behind the counter with his leather vest, bulging biceps, light brown hair and alert blue eyes riled my nerves more than any group of rowdy rednecks ever could.

I swallowed and pushed through my frazzled nerves.

“Hi. Is there a cover charge to get in?”

One of his eyebrows rose ever-so-slightly. “Why would you think there’s a cover?”

I hadn’t expected that. Answering a question with a question had to rank as one of my least favorite conversational gambits.

Worse, this made me a hypocrite since I was rather adept at it myself, working as a Realtor.

Before I could answer, another man entered the small room. A man who was clearly his brother since he looked remarkably similar to the man in front of me. Only he had an air about him that screamed trouble-maker and made it clear his brother was the good one.

What in the world had I gotten myself into?

The two of them had a brief conversation, but I’d been so blindsided I had tuned them out.

You know the cartoons that show the good angel and the bad angel? These men were twins, that much was clear. What was also clear was that they appeared to embody good and bad.

Yeah.

I wasn’t a girl who went for threesomes, but I had a sudden urge to be sandwiched between these two.

“I don’t think I like that look on her face,” the ‘good’ one said.

“I know I don’t,” the edgier ‘bad’ one said.

I shook myself out of my reverie. “I’m looking for Lark. Is he around?”

“Why?” the bad one asked.

“That’s private.”

“So is his location.”

He was lying. I knew it, but I wasn’t going to cave.

With a glance toward the doorway, I saw they weren’t busy. I shifted my gaze to the good twin. “What time do you close?”

“In an hour,” the ‘bad’ twin said.

I glared at him. “I was speaking to your twin.”

I’d never seen an evil smirk, but this man’s was downright diabolical. “Triplet.”

“Good Lord. Three of you?” I breathed, wondering if the third brother would be ‘just right’ between the two of them.

A flirty, feminine laugh filled the air. “Killian! Don’t scare the girl that way.”

A woman entered the room and slugged Killian - the bad twin - in the bicep. Immediately, I knew she was their triplet sister. She was striking.

“What do you want with Lark?” she asked.

I smiled. “Like I told Killian, it’s private. I’ll come back another time.”

Before I could turn on my heel, the ‘good’ twin said, “You’ll still have to go through me or Killian, so your privacy won’t matter then, either.”

His tone sounded angry, it was so tight. My eyes darted to Killian and back to him. Maybe he wasn’t so ‘good’, after all.

“Seriously, Ryan? You just have to pile on when Kill does.”

I smiled at the unnamed sister. “Have a nice day.”

“I’m Mick, and not to pile on further , but they’re right. You’ll still have to tell one of us before you get to Lark.”

With a chin-lift, I said, “I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.”

“Did you find him? Is it done?” Chad asked.

Lying in my bed, in the dark with my cell phone to my ear, I said, “No.”

“His name’s on the business, Ivy. ‘On a Lark Bar & Grille,’ how could you not find him?”

I sighed. “I said it wasn’t done. He has triplets who keep people away from him.”

There was a long pause on the line and I wondered if Chad was smoking.

“You’re telling me he donated his sperm and he had triplets with somebody?”

“I sure as hell hope not,” I blurted.

“What? Why? All you’ve ever wanted was siblings.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, but not with a side effect of insta-lust. Those two were so hot, I had immediate visions of being between them. If we’re related, that’s just gross.”

“Being between three men is gross, period, Ivy. Not to mention cumbersome.”

I laughed. “No, Chad. These triplets are two men and a woman. Even though I don’t swing that way, I’d be interested in her. Not if we’re related, though.”

“Oh,” he muttered. “Still. Why would he donate sperm if he already had kids?”

I contemplated that. “If I’m lucky, I’ll find out. It just won’t happen any time soon.”

“Why not?”

After a rueful chuckle, I took a deep breath. “Let’s just say, I’m determined to corner this man without either of these three people playing gate-keeper. That’s gonna take a while.”

Coming in 2026