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CHAPTER NINE

DAKOTA

Once I’ve allowed myself a few moments to wallow in self-pity, I gather myself, dress myself, and then dust myself off. Briana is right. This isn’t about my body betraying my brain. That’s not why I’m here. I’m here to find out more about my father, to get to know Nathan Vaughn and all he was.

I also make an appointment to get tested at the clinic in the next town over. Because I wasn’t joking about that part, but I can’t go for a couple of weeks. And since I don’t know how long I’ll be here, I may end up canceling it and just visiting one in Oregon. I don’t know Bullet. I don’t even know his real name, let alone who he has been with, and if I had to wager a bet, I would say there’s been a lot.

Moving toward my father’s bedroom, I decide this is where I’m going to find things of interest. I might also find things that I don’t want to see, but that’s the cost of doing business, I guess. I move farther into the room and stop when I’m in the middle and spin around slowly.

This is where my father slept.

I’m surprised that the bed is made. The bed itself is rich brown mahogany wood with a denim-blue comforter and four white-cased pillows. It’s bigger than the bed I have at Briana’s, which is a queen, so it must be one of the two versions of a king. It’s massive and looks comfortable.

There is a picture frame on the matching nightstand. Moving forward, I sink down on the edge of the bed, my fingers reaching for the frame before I pull it into my lap, and the moment I do, my eyes well with tears.

It’s me.

I know it’s me because it’s a picture of a newborn baby in the hospital bassinet, and the name written on a chalkboard behind my little head reads “Baby Vaughn.” I’ve got a little pink blanket wrapped around my body and everything.

Lifting my head, I look around the room again, seeing everything here through brand-new eyes. He had me beside his bed. Every single day for thirty years. He framed me and had me with him.

Instantly, as quickly as the emotions of finding this picture fill me, I’m consumed with rage and anger toward my mother. How could she? How the hell could she take me away from him?

Closing my eyes, I inhale a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down before I reopen them. I place the frame back in its spot on the nightstand and rise to my feet. If I allow myself to hyperfocus on this one thing, I might miss something else.

Turning toward the closet, I make my way over to the closed double doors and gently pull them open. A scent washes over me immediately. It’s similar to Bullet’s yet different. Where there is leather and oil, there is also evergreen, and I close my eyes, inhaling deeply.

My father’s scent.

A fresh wave of tears washes over me, and as I wipe them away, I tell myself that I really need to stop crying. This has to be the end of it because I’ve cried more since finding out about Nathan Vaughn than I ever have in my whole thirty years combined.

Inhaling deeply, I hold my breath as the tears dissipate, and then I reach for a box at the top of the closet. I have no idea what could be inside of it, but it’s heavy. I carry it over to the bed and slowly sink down on the edge again, setting the box beside me.

Reaching for the lid, I run my fingers along the top and contemplate opening it or not. Maybe I shouldn’t be going through his private mementos. He kept them for a reason, and I don’t think it was so his long-lost daughter could go poking through them.

I’m not sure how long I sit there, but it’s long enough that my phone buzzes in my pocket. Goose bumps slide over my skin as I reach for my phone and look down at the number. Shaking my head, I toss my phone on the bed, watching as it bounces.

It’s Briana, and I know she’s checking on me to make sure all is good, but I can’t bring myself to talk to her right now. Slowly, I pull the top off the box, setting it down gently before I look in the box.

It’s full of letters.

Lots and lots of letters.

Frowning, I pick up the one on top. It’s dated just two months ago. Slowly sliding my finger beneath the flap, I take out the folded piece of paper. I don’t know what I expect to find in the envelope, but it’s not this.

Dear Dakota,

I know this letter will likely never find its way to you. I’ve written a million of these over the years, but this one is different. This one is my last, and there is no more hope that we will cross paths again.

I want you to know that I thought of you every single day of your life. I’m not a good man, not a clean man. I never have been. Your mother was probably right to run away like she did back then.

But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t think of you, didn’t wish that you were here every day for the past thirty years. I thought of you every single minute and wished I could have laid eyes on you again, just one more time.

In case you were ever wondering, I named you Dakota because I feel the freest when I’m in South Dakota. It’s the only place I’m ever at peace. You’re in those hills every time I am there.

I can feel you.

I wish I could have known the woman you grew to be. Someday, we will meet again, daughter. But know this: the day you were born was the day I decided to be a better man.

Love,

Nathan

Dad

Blinking the tears away, I try not to think about any pain that he was possibly in while he was writing this absolutely amazing letter. I finger the envelopes in the box and realize there are hundreds of envelopes with dates on them, and my name is written on the front of every single one.

BULLET

I slam my gavel down. Church is in fucking session.

The men all take their usual places around the long rectangle table. Sinking down in my chair, I clear my throat before I begin. I want to make the decision myself to go and fuck with that cult leader, but I know that’s not the way we operate. We have a system, and as much as I want just to do whatever the fuck I want, that’s not the way shit gets done when you’re part of a group.

And since I’m supposed to be the man in charge now, I must lead by example, and that means not going rogue, even when I want to do just that— immediately .

“For those that don’t know or haven’t heard, Shade’s biological daughter, Dakota, is in town. She received notification from his estate that she’s inherited everything.”

I give that news a moment to sink in with everyone, and when it does, I’m not surprised to see both Maverick and Goose jump to their feet simultaneously and slam their hands down on the table, their eyes focused on mine.

Clearing my throat, I lean back in my chair. “I felt the same way, but it’s what Shade wanted.”

Shocker snorts, no doubt finding my words lacking conviction, mainly because he knows exactly how I feel about the situation. I’m just as pissed off as they are about it. I’d like to say that being inside of her didn’t soften me to her situation, but that would be a lie, no matter how much I tell myself it’s not.

There’s also the fact that she was kept hidden from him and was raised in some bullshit cult that trafficked girls, and that shit does not sit well with me at all whatsoever. So, as much as I want to hate the absolute shit out of her, it’s becoming increasingly difficult.

Once the twins have settled their asses down, I clear my throat and tell them the rest of the story, or at least what I know about it. As my gaze scans the room, I watch as everyone’s expressions change almost simultaneously.

They go from being as pissed about this stranger coming in and being given everything that our president worked his ass off for to being angry as fuck that this group is doing what they’re doing to girls.

And that’s saying a hell of a lot for a club that has a stable of women here at all times for the sole purpose of fucking and sucking. Huge difference is every woman here is just that, a woman, and they want to be here. We have no contracts, no owners, and any woman can walk out of the door of her own free will.

“So, are we going to do something with this information?” Ivy asks.

It doesn’t surprise me that he’s asking the question, considering he’s a defense attorney and sees bad shit all day, every day. It’s a wonder that Piggy and Ivy aren’t raging fucking drunks with the shit they deal with on a daily basis.

I know I would be.

“That’s up to all of you. Honestly, I’m ready to ride at fucking dawn.”

Shocker chuckles then clears his throat, and because he is the eldest member of our group, everyone shuts their fucking mouths as he takes the table. He doesn’t stand. He doesn’t need to. He just speaks, and we all listen.

“Shade would have been absolutely fucking beside himself with grief and anger to know that his baby was livin’ in that place. Bein’ around those men. I don’t know anything more about Dakota than anyone else here. All I know is that Shade regretted losing her every fucking day of his life. It broke him when her mom disappeared. He looked for them to no avail. Now we know why. Holed up in some sick fucking cult, living under the guise of free love and community.”

The entire room is bathed in silence as he continues. “We do this for Shade—one last act of devotion to the man we all loved. We also do this because, like it or not, Dakota is family now. She is one of us.”

He’s absolutely right.

And that is the moment I decide to devise my own plan involving Dakota Vaughn.

She is the princess of the Vicious Reapers MC, and right now, I’m the reigning king. She may not actually hold any power, but having her as my woman gives me the extra fucking power in just the simple fact that she is Shade’s bio kid.

The princess.

Off-limits to every goddamn man in this club except me. Mainly because I’m the one who makes those rules now.

“We’ll take it to a vote. Who wants to go in and invade the hippies in Oregon?”

Unanimously, it’s decided that we will indeed not just investigate this shit but go to end the fuckers who are running Willamette Haven. Painfully. My lips curve up into a grin, and I slam the gavel down, ending the meeting.

“When do we leave?” Razor asks.

Jerking my chin, I flick my gaze around to the men who are waiting for my answer. “I need to speak with Dakota and get some information, along with as much intel on the property and security as she can give me. We’re going to go in there as educated on this shit as humanly possible. Because I don’t want to get stuck in some kind of war there.”

“In and out,” Ivy mutters.

Smirking, I clear my throat before I speak. “Exactly, in and out and back home before anyone is the wiser.”

With chin lifts and jerks, it is agreed on. Piggy and Ivy stay behind to help start the planning while the rest of the guys file out of the conference room and go about their duties. We’re supposed to get a shipment for delivery today at the store and then also load up a truck to ship out to our buyers, along with deliveries for legitimate customers.

It’s a busy day here at Vicious Reapers, but never too busy to take down a group of sick motherfuckers who hurt kids. I will never be too busy for that shit, no matter fucking what is going on in my life.

Not ever.

I’m not a good man, never have been, but there is one thing I will never compromise in my morals, and that is how I feel about hurting the innocent. Not fucking okay—ever.