Shift (The Disciples' Daughters #2) (6 page)

Well, that went…about as well as I’d expected.

After a while, I made my way over to the deck and sat on the edge of a step that rose a foot above the grass. I heard a bike start up around the front of the house. Given the way the rider peeled out of there, I was guessing it was Gabe.

Strike that.

Sketch.

He was Sketch now.

He was probably going to stay at the clubhouse—anywhere to get away from Emmy and me.

No, probably just me.

The fire in his eyes hadn’t just been about anger. He’d been ready to claim Emmy. If I said she was his, he would have accepted it—accepted her—in a heartbeat. It wouldn’t have changed the fact that he was pissed at me for keeping her away all these years, but he would have embraced the role of father. He was hurt.

Maybe you should just say she’s his,
a voice in my head whispered.

Absolutely not. I couldn’t do that to him. I couldn’t lie and say Emmy was his when I wasn’t sure. That wasn’t fair to him. And anyway, even if I could convince myself that wasn’t a terrible thing to do, that ship had sailed.

I wished life had been different; wish the moment I found out I was pregnant, I could have been sure he was the father. I could have—would have—come back to Hoffman. He might have been upset, but back then, he would have welcomed me home with open arms. The pregnancy would have been a shock, but he always used to talk about the family we would have one day. Growing up, his parents hadn’t been great and I only had Dad. The club was an amazing family to us, but we always planned to make one of our own. Emmy might have come sooner than we’d planned, but Gabe would have been over the moon.

Emmy would have grown up with more than just me. She would have grown up with a father who adored her. She would have had the kind of love my dad gave me, and there is nothing in the world I could want more for her.

And I…I could’ve had Gabe.

But dwelling on “if onlys” wasn’t going to do a thing. That dream wasn’t real. Life had taken a very different turn and there was no changing that.

Besides, I was ignoring the reason I left in the first place. Being back, being surrounded by the Disciples caring for Emmy and I the way a family would, being near Gabe again—it was all distracting me from the bigger picture.

I didn’t leave because I was pregnant. I left because I couldn’t be with a Disciple anymore.

After Dad died, I saw with stark clarity what I had ignored for most of my life. Being a Disciple wasn’t just riding and brotherhood, it was danger. It was the kind of all-consuming, destructive danger that stole good men from the world. The club had already stolen one man I loved; I couldn’t watch another die too young.

It destroyed me to do it, but I knew I couldn’t convince Gabe to leave the Disciples. So, I left without him.

That decision was one I didn’t let myself dwell on often. I knew it was the gravest mistake I had ever made, and, God willing, I would never be in a position to make another like it. Still, I couldn’t imagine not making it. Even if I could do everything over, where would it leave me? Would I still have my daughter?

I wouldn’t give up my Emmy for anything in the world.

Not even Gabe.

Not even to spare myself everything that had happened since I left.

That knowledge, though it didn’t erase the pain, got me through each day. And it got me off that step and back inside.

Four days later, I was at the clubhouse for the first time since my return. The building serving as the headquarters for the Disciples was once a warehouse for a chain furniture store that went belly-up. The location was relatively remote, no other warehouses or businesses nearby, nothing much at all around for a couple miles. The bank that seized the property was desperate to move it and got no takers, so Dad told me the club got it for a song. Good thing, too, because they had to sink a lot of money into making the large, cavernous space into a proper clubhouse.

Now, it housed a huge lounge area with several couches, TVs, a top of the line sound system, bar, pool table—everything the guys wanted. Decorated in bikers-don’t-do-frilly chic, the furniture, showing the wear it received, was very comfortable, though not exceedingly attractive. Beyond that was a huge kitchen with twice the counter and storage space of an average home, though it was not done up like a true industrial kitchen. There was also a large room that remained locked at all times where the guys had church—their private, members-only meetings. Then, halls led to a variety of rooms.

All the guys had their own rooms at the clubhouse. If they didn’t want to go home, partied too much to make it, or were on a club-wide lockdown, they stayed there. A few might be all-out living there at any given time. It was up to them. The rooms were large, with big beds and plenty of space for furniture including a desk and such. Each also had a private bathroom.

There were extra rooms, too. These might go to new prospects, be available for guests, or they might be rooms where guys fucked particularly skanky club girls they didn’t want in their own rooms. When I was younger, I had my own room next to Dad’s. When I was really little, if we were to stay at the clubhouse, I would share his. As I grew up, he claimed one just for me.

That refurbished warehouse, even more than the farmhouse we were staying at, was like home to me. It was where I had spent most of my time as a kid, besides school. Dad and I had a house in town, but club business had no set hours and even when there was nothing to do, Dad liked to have us both around his brothers. Our house was more a place where we slept than a true home. Where the Disciples were—that was home.

Being back was difficult. Being back with all the Disciples in attendance was even harder.

The club was having a party. The guys did this often enough. I was reassured it wasn’t for Emmy and I, but I wasn’t buying it, mostly because I had gotten different answers. Roadrunner told me it was just for shits and giggles. Tank told me it was because Cami and Gauge were back from their mini-Honeymoon. That was the reason I found more suspicious since the club had just hosted their wedding and reception at the farmhouse the weekend before, and they’d been back for a couple days already. The Disciples might love a party, but two that close together weren’t likely.

I didn’t say anything. Emmy was exuberant, whether the party was for her or not.

The party had been in full swing for a few hours, the sun mostly set and big fire pits lighting the yard. Everyone wandering around the land behind the clubhouse had drinks and increasingly empty plates of smoked pork.

“I love this,” Deni cheered from beside me.

I turned my attention back to the picnic table I was sitting at. Across from me was Deni, a tiny blonde like me, but with far more attitude, who was married to Slick. Slick had been with the club since he was just eighteen, and he and Deni were together when she was still in high school. She didn’t grow up with the club, but I knew her for several years before I left. Now, she and Slick had a little girl, Jules, who was one, and Deni was pregnant with their second. Next to me was Cami. The new bride was a bombshell with long brown hair and a curvy body. Her son, Levi, was sitting in her lap. Cami had been like a cousin to me growing up and the excited way she greeted me and fawned over Emmy told me that hadn’t changed for her, even though she left several years before I did.

I looked to Deni, questions clear on my face, and she explained, “Both of you being back. I was the only permanent woman around here for a while, now I have you both. I love it.”

Cami laughed, and I forced a smile. I wasn’t going to explain—again—that this was temporary for Emmy and me. I looked around the yard for my girl. Last I’d seen her, she’d been attached to Daz. I wasn’t sure what to think of that, but he seemed to be behaving himself when she was around, for the most part. Now, Daz was nowhere in sight.

The part of me used to being alone in keeping an eye on Emmy started to panic a bit when I didn’t know immediately where to find her. Then, like a homing signal, I narrowed in on her infectious giggle.

Across the yard, near one of the big fire pits, Emmy was in Sketch’s arms.

She was laughing while he grinned at her. When she had become comfortable with him, I didn’t know. He’d gotten her water the first night we were there, but I didn’t know of it being anything more than that. Since that night, Sketch had not been around. I assumed he was staying at the clubhouse. Whether he was avoiding both of us or just me, I hadn’t been sure. The way he was holding Emmy in that moment was my answer.

I didn’t know how to react to the sight of them together. All I knew for sure was the burn flaring in my chest wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“Alright, ladies,” Roadrunner rumbled from behind me, shattering my attention on Emmy and Sketch. “Looks like it’s about time for me to get the little ones out of here.”

Roadrunner had volunteered—or insisted,
demanded
—to watch the kids for the night so all us parents could stay and have the night off. Cami had argued most when she first got to the party. Apparently, Gauge had agreed without discussing it with her. She’d been up in arms about how they had just gotten back a couple days ago from leaving Levi behind when Gauge grabbed her and started whispering in her ear. Well, it was almost whispering. More like growling. I heard more than I needed to, including something about her getting drunk and his hand on her throat.

Like I said, I heard way too much.

I’d been hesitant to agree. Emmy had never spent the night without me. Jasmine had been a godsend in watching Emmy for me, but she’d never done overnight. This was mostly because I never had a need to ask her.

Emmy didn’t share my hesitation. She was thrilled to have her first sleepover, even if it was with a burly biker and two one-year-olds. Her absolute conviction when telling me it was something she wanted to do had me agreeing. Still, I wasn’t going to be drinking much. If things went south, I wanted to be clearheaded and good to go get her.

“I’ll go get Emmy,” I told Roadrunner.

Walking toward Sketch was enough to have my heart pounding, but I tried to keep my face clear. I was just getting my daughter so I could say goodnight. There was no more to it than that.

“Momma!” Emmy called when I got close.

“Time to get to your sleepover, baby,” I said, my eyes staying on her. It didn’t matter that Sketch’s face was a foot away from hers. I was laser focused.

“Yay!” She looked to Sketch. I did not. “I have to go. Me and Roadrunner is having a sleepover.”

“Are having a sleepover,” I corrected by rote.

“Right. We
are
having a sleepover. Jules and Levi too, but they’re babies,” she explained to Sketch.

“Have fun, princess,” Sketch rumbled. I felt the breath wheeze out of me.
Princess?

I watched in a removed way as he set her down and forced myself to pull it together when she opened her little arms to me.

“Have a good night, baby,” I said as I knelt down and hugged her. “Be good for Roadrunner. No telling him what to do. He already knows all the rules, including bed time, so don’t try anything.”

“I’ll be good. I pwomise,” she said. I’d believe that when I saw it.

“Give Momma some lovin’.” She delivered right away, giving me a sweet little kiss.

Then, Roadrunner was there. “You ready to go, baby girl?”

“Yes!”

“Don’t hesitate to call,” I told Roadrunner.

“Don’t worry, Ash. We’ve got this under control. Right, Emmy?”

“Yep!”

I wasn’t so sure, but I let it go. If Emmy got upset, I knew he would call.

I watched as they walked away, feeling an unfamiliar unease. Maybe Emmy wasn’t the one who was going to struggle with the overnight separation.

“I want a paternity test.”

Wait. What?

I wheeled around, having completely forgotten Sketch was still standing there.

“What?”

He leveled me with a dark stare. “I want a paternity test.”

Crap.

“I…”

Sketch cut in before I could figure out anything to say. “She’s mine. I fucking know it. I want proof, and then I want her to know me as her dad.”

“I…” I tried again.

“Make it happen. I’ll pay whatever it costs.”

With that, he walked away.

Crap.

I couldn’t do a paternity test. I couldn’t see those results. I couldn’t know.

I couldn’t…

“Ash?”

Blinking out of the daze of fear, I looked to my left to see Cami there.

“Huh?”

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. Fine.” I turned my eyes back in the direction Sketch left. He’d made it halfway across the yard before finding something new to hold his attention. Namely, a brunette in an unreasonably short dress. The club girls had started showing up a bit ago. That was why Roadrunner had determined it was time for the kids to go.

Watching the woman cozy up to a willing Sketch hardly penetrated. In the back of my mind, I knew it was something I didn’t want to see. In any other situation, I knew it would make me sick to see it, but after he just demanded a paternity test, a test I couldn’t have done and couldn’t explain the reason why, it was just an ache I could barely identify.

“Ash, you don’t need to watch that,” Cami said, her tone gentle. She assumed I was upset because Sketch was going to fuck that brunette. Not a bad assumption, so I didn’t correct her.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

I was going to let her lead me away like she was trying to with a soft hand on my arm. I was going to bury the emotions and get through the night. I’d figure out what to do next when I was alone.

Then, the brunette tossed her hair over one shoulder and I got a look at her face.

God hated me. It was the only explanation.

“Tori,” I whispered.

“What?” Cami asked.

I turned away, but not fast enough to miss Sketch leading her toward the clubhouse. “I need to go. Now.”

“Talk to me,” Cami insisted.

I didn’t want to. I wasn’t sure I could get the words out, but I could tell she wasn’t going to let me go until I explained. So I did. In a rush, I told her the whole story. I told her exactly who Victoria was to me, who she’d once been to Sketch.

Crap. I was going to lose it.

“I need to go,” I repeated. “I can’t be here.”

“Babe, I don’t think you should be driving like this.”

“I can’t be here.”

“Shit,” she muttered. “Stay here. Please, just one minute. I’m going to get you a ride home. Okay?”

I gave an absent nod.

Sketch with Tori. He was in there with her. He was going to kiss her. Fuck her. I couldn’t stop the images from forming in my head.

“Ash?” I made myself focus on Cami and the younger guy next to her. He had a prospect patch on the front of his cut. He wasn’t a full brother yet, but he was earning a place among the Disciples. I was pretty sure I’d seen him at the farmhouse once, but we hadn’t been introduced. “This is Jack—” she cut herself off quickly. “Sorry,” she said to him, “I keep forgetting.” To me, she started over, “This is Ace. He’s going to drive you home.”

Home. Yeah, I didn’t really have one of those, did I?

“Nice to meet you,” I said.

He gave me a chin lift. So, he was the quiet type. Fine by me, I was too. Even better, he got me out of there right away. As far as I was concerned, Ace was wonderful.