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CHAPTER TWO

DAKOTA

ONE MONTH LATER

Briana’s eyes widen as she stares at me. I don’t know what she thought was going to happen. Maybe she thought I would change my mind or something, but I can’t. This letter from my father’s attorney is a stark difference from what my mother claimed he was, which was a monster.

But what do I know? He could have been. But if I don’t know, I will never find out, and I need answers. I’m an orphan who never even knew her father’s name until I found my birth certificate by accident.

And my mother, who is also gone, I wouldn’t classify our relationship as close. Sure, I loved her, but at the same time, I didn’t know much about her. She told me her parents died young, but otherwise, nothing in her life mattered until she found the Haven.

That included me, I felt. And I felt that deeply, even at the age of twelve, when she said the words. My mother lived the life she wanted in the commune. Sexual partners were interchangeable for all people.

The workload was heavy during the day, but the nights were for drinking, smoking pot, and love.

“You’re such a drag, Dakota. I don’t understand how I, of all people, could have a daughter who doesn’t want to experience all the delicious fruits life has to offer.”

My mother said this to me when I was sixteen years old and didn’t want to sleep with a man whom I had grown up calling Uncle Freely.

Uncle Freely was forty years old and creepy as hell. Even if I wanted to taste the delicious fruits that life had to offer , it wasn’t going to be anything that he had to offer… ever. So, while I loved my mother, I didn’t know her.

We weren’t friends.

And she never was like the mothers I saw on television or in movies, which was something that I didn’t discover until later. Because in the commune, we didn’t watch television or movies. In fact, we didn’t even have electricity after seven in the evening.

Once dinner was made and cleaned up, everything was turned off. Maybe that’s why all the adults drank, smoked, and had sex every single night—they were bored. Because television is amazing. Briana has introduced me to streaming, which I am a huge fan of.

I can watch whatever I want, the way I want.

It’s amazing.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you? It’s a long drive all by yourself,” Briana asks, taking me out of my thoughts on the convenience of streaming.

Sliding my tongue across my bottom lip, I shake my head. “I can’t ask you to take any more time off work for me. I can work from anywhere.”

She crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head to the side as she dips her chin slightly and looks down her nose at me. “I don’t care about work, Dakota. I care about you. And you don’t know how the world works, not really. I’m scared something is going to happen to you. This isn’t Willamette Haven.”

She is not wrong. I don’t know the ways of the world. I’ve been staying fairly isolated in her place, and she knows it. I can see the worry in her eyes, but I also know that I need to do this for me. I need to. I need to prove to myself that I can do this.

“I know,” I exhale. “I have your number. If something happens, I can call you or the police. But I think I need to go on this journey on my own.”

Briana helped me get my license after I left the commune, and I’ve paid for a rental car because I don’t spend my money on anything. I’ve been saving up to get my own place. Although I probably have more than enough to do that, I’m also not sure that I want to live alone yet—the irony is not lost on me.

“I expect you to check in with me when you stop, every single time, and then again when you’re on the road. Only stay at hotels where the parking lot is well-lit and it’s in a busy area. God. I cannot believe I’m not jumping in your back seat.”

My lips curve up with a smile, and not for the first time, I wish Briana had been my mother. Granted, she’s only five years older than me, but still, she’s been more of a motherly figure than mine ever was, which was something I didn’t realize until after she passed away and my eyes were opened to the rest of the world.

“I’m going to be okay,” I whisper.

“I will fly out to wherever you are. I have Life360. I will find you,” she snaps.

She does have that app. She installed it on my phone just in case I got lost around town, but the joke's on her. I never went anywhere until now. So, I guess now the joke is on me because I’m driving, literally, across the entire United States on my own.

Giving her a trembling smile, I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and try as hard as I can not to cry. “I love you, Briana.”

Her eyes get watery as they search mine. “I love you, too, Dakota. And I hope that you find everything you’re looking for and so much more.”

Closing the car door, I start the engine and shift it into Drive before I ease out onto the street. I try not to look in my rearview mirror, but I fail. Briana is waving one hand and wiping her tears away with the other.

God.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. My heart races inside of my chest with each mile that I drive farther away from Briana and my safe space. I haven’t felt this way since the day I walked away from the Haven.

I don’t know what is going to happen to me, but as terrified as I am, I am also excited. I won’t ever get to meet my father, but maybe going to his home and being around his things will help me feel the connection that I’ve always wondered about.

I hope so.

BULLET

It still doesn’t feel real. Four weeks have passed since we had the funeral for Shade, and while I’m now the president of the Vicious Reapers, sitting in his office, making all the major decisions, it feels like I’m impersonating him. As if I’m playing dress-up.

It doesn’t matter that I’m forty-two years old. I do not feel ready for this. There is a knock on the door. Lifting my head, I look over to see Ivy standing in the doorway, his brows raised before he clears his throat.

“What?” I ask.

He seems nervous, definitely hesitant. Since he’s our club defense attorney, that makes me feel all kinds of ways. Lifting my hand, I motion for him to come farther into the room. He does, closing the door behind him.

“I am not supposed to know this or tell you about it, but since she’ll be here in a few days, I think it’s something you need to know.”

“She?” I ask.

“She,” he repeats, dipping his chin in confirmation. Tilting my head to the side, I watch him and wait for him to continue. “You got your shit locked down?” he asks.

“Not sure what I need to lock down, so no.”

Ivy smirks, then sinks down on the couch across from my desk. I watch as he slides his palms down the thighs of his jeans, stopping at his knees. His eyes lift to meet mine and hold my gaze for a moment before he speaks.

“Shade had a daughter.”

Shaking my head from side to side, I almost tell him that he’s a fucking liar. “An attorney in my firm represents his estate and sent her a letter after he died. Shade left her everything. His house, his bike, and his percentage of the security company. Everything goes to her.”

It is safe to say that I have zero, not one ounce, of my shit locked down after hearing this news. I stand so quickly my chair flies behind me, clattering as it tumbles over. I don’t look back. I don’t fucking care.

“How?” I demand.

Ivy shrugs a shoulder. “I didn’t know she existed, either. I knew he came to the office to set up his estate and will shit, but I had not the first fuckin’ clue he had a kid. I don’t think anyone did.”

“So where the fuck is she?” I ask with a snort. “We had the funeral, we had the celebration of life, and she was nowhere to be seen. Hell, we all helped take care of him when he was sick, and she’s going to come in here and cash a fucking check without ever once coming to visit him. Nothing?”

Ivy’s brows lift. He doesn’t clarify anything, probably because he doesn’t know. Instead, he starts to talk again, and each word he says pisses me off more and more.

“She’s supposed to be coming to the office in the morning and have a meeting with my partner John Gentry to discuss the assets and shit.”

“What time?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you that kind of shit,” Ivy says. “But if you want to come over around nine tomorrow morning, maybe grab some breakfast, I’ll have some free time.”

My lips twitch into a smirk at his words. “Yeah, I’ll fuckin’ be there,” I grunt.

He lifts his arms, slapping his hands on his knees before he stands to his feet. “Whelp,” he calls out. “I got some booze to drink and Lolita’s pussy to fuck. I’ll see you at the bar.”

I watch as he turns toward the door and walks out of the office, leaving me alone. I’m still standing, my palms flat on the desk and in complete fucking shock. I can’t wait until tomorrow to find out anything else. Instead, I reach for my cell phone and call the one person who I know, without a goddamn doubt, will have something for me.

“Prez,” he grunts.

I don’t say anything immediately, mainly because I’m still not used to being called that and really don’t even think anyone is talking to me when they use the title.

“You in the clubhouse?” I ask, unsure if he’s here or working tonight.

I should really have his fucking schedule on hand, so I know what the fuck is going on. I’m sure that Shade had it somewhere, but I haven’t found anything. I also haven’t been able to bring myself to snoop around his space, either. And I am, without a doubt, still feeling like this is very much his space and not mine.

“Just got off. I was going to go home and change before I made my way down there. Last night of my shift, and I’m exhausted. Need some beer and a blow job.”

“Come by the office first. Need to ask you a few questions.”

“Be there in an hour,” he grunts before he ends the call.

Tipping my chin, I stare down at my desk and wonder what the actual fuck I’m going to do about this situation. I also want to know who this bitch is. She thinks she’s going to come in here and just take everything that Shade worked his whole life for because some, no doubt whore shot her out of her cunt.

I think fucking not.

Shade may have put her ass on the documents, but she doesn’t deserve the legacy he worked his whole life for. His blood, sweat, and tears are here in this club. In his home on six acres. In his bike and in our store.

There is no way in fuck I’m going to let her swoop in here, cash checks, and then swoop out never to be seen again. She’s not getting a goddamn dime of Shade’s money. She’s also not taking a single fucking thing from his house.

Not even the welcome mat, which I know reads: Come Back with a Warrant .

No. This girl, whoever the fuck she thinks she is, she’s not leaving Thunder Rock with a single fucking thing. Not a fucking penny, and sure as fuck not any of Shade’s shit. And I’ll be good and goddamned if she touches his bike. If she leaves so much as a fingerprint on it.