“So you knew what my mother looked like,” I said. “That doesn’t mean anything. That doesn’t mean you’re my father.”
“You’re right. That’s not enough proof.” Knight wiped at the corner of his mouth, smearing the almost dried blood. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He flipped it open and drew out a photograph.
I stared at his outstretched hand and with a labored sigh, grasped the photo. It was a picture of Knight with his arm around my mother. She couldn’t have been more than nineteen. Twenty at the oldest. She’d died young, in her twenties. Frozen in youth. I was older now than she was when she’d died.
In the picture, Mom was looking up at Knight like he hung the moon. He was staring at the camera, full of swagger and youthful arrogance. He was nearly clean-shaven, but he had stubble.
My mind was spinning out of control. How was this possible? What were the chances of this happening? That I was meeting the man who’d sired me. I remember asking my mother about my father but she had given me evasive answers when I was a child, never fully explaining something that perhaps at the time I wouldn’t have been able to grasp anyway. Maybe she’d been waiting to tell me everything until I was older.
But she died before she got the chance.
Grammie had been just as cryptic about my paternity. I wondered if it was because she never knew.
I looked at Colt, whose face was expressionless. He wasn’t going to intervene or stop this conversation from happening. And if it derailed like a train on the tracks, then so be it.
“Did you know about me?” I blurted out.
Knight’s eyes went from grim acceptance that I was going to reject him to flaring with hope. “No. God, know. I had no idea. I swear.”
I got up from the couch, setting aside the photo on the cushion.
“Where are you going?” Colt asked.
“I need a drink. If we’re going to talk about my mother, then I need a drink.”
“Why don’t you guys take the office,” Colt said. “You’ll have more privacy in there.”
Knight nodded. “Thanks, brother.”
Colt rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry for what Boxer did. He’s taken to Mia like an older brother. He was just looking out for her.”
Knight smiled. “No apologies needed. I’m glad she found you. Found the Angels.” He held out his hand to Colt who took it immediately.
They shook hands but said no more. Colt led us to the office. “Bottle of bourbon in the file cabinet. Under Z.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That’s what you do in your office? Drink?”
He smiled.
I smiled.
Even Knight smiled.
And then I remembered that I’d just found out my absent father was the president of the Coeur d’Alene Blue Angels.
Before Colt headed for the door, he pulled me into his arms and brought his lips close to my ear. “You need me, you call for me. Otherwise, I’m letting you handle this.”
I nodded. “How’d it go with Sanchez?”
“Tell you about it later. You’ve got other things to worry about.” He kissed my lips, sent Knight a look, and then he was gone.
Knight waited to see what I’d do. I wanted distance from him, yet I also wanted him to spill everything he knew about my mother. The mother I hadn’t gotten nearly enough time with.
I took a seat in one of the office chairs, keeping my posture stiff, my body alert. Knight tapped his fingers against his jeans, clearly nervous. Though why he was nervous, I couldn’t imagine. He’d already dropped the bomb that he was my father.
“I always thought my father was older,” I said, breaking the tension. “I mean, when I allowed myself to think about him, I always thought of a man in his sixties. Gray hair, you know? A guy who wore khakis and a polo.”
“Must be a surprise to find that I don’t match your vision.” He looked out the window and stared for a moment. What could he see through the blinds? Was he wishing for an escape?
I got up from my chair and headed to the file cabinet. I opened the drawer all the way and pulled out the bottle of bourbon under the Z file.
I shook my head. “It’s not even a bourbon that begins with Z. Why not have it under the B file?” I threw him a smile, but his own lips didn’t waver in humor, though he was watching my every move. Almost like he was drinking in the years he’d missed, as if studying me would make up for lost time.
“Maybe we don’t talk about her just yet,” I voiced. “Maybe it’s too soon and we should just—I don’t know—try and talk like two normal people.”
“We aren’t normal though, are we? Thrown into this fuckery.”
I unscrewed the cap on the bourbon and took a sip before handing it to him. The liquor burned, but then warmed my insides, melting the ball of ice that had lodged itself in my throat since the moment Knight had shown me the photo of him and my mother.
He took a long drink and then sauntered over to the couch and sat down. He leaned back, stretching his long legs out in front of him.
“I don’t know what to do here,” Knight said suddenly. “I want to hear it all. I want you to tell me all about you and how you grew up and if you were happy. I can’t believe this shit—that you somehow wound up in this life when all your mother wanted was to keep you out of it.” He frowned. “It’s why she left me. It’s why she didn’t tell me she got pregnant. It’s why she left Coeur d’Alene.”
“Did you know she went back to Waco?”
“Yeah.”
Thoughts swirled through my head. “How did you two meet?”
“She was waiting tables at a diner just outside town. I was newly patched in, looking to throw some swagger around.” He smiled in fond remembrance. “Your mother wasn’t impressed, but I wore her down enough and after a time she gave me a shot.”
“How?”
“I found out she liked boats. My buddy had a small speed boat and let me borrow it. I took her to a picnic on the other side of the lake and she started to fall for me. I was exciting to her. Something more than just waitressing and making ends meet. We were inseparable that summer. Except when I had club business. It was fine at first, but after a while, and a few times I came home with black eyes and blood on my shirt, she started to lose her cool. Said she wanted more out of life and a relationship than what I was giving her. We were both really young. Your mom had dreams, and that didn’t include being a biker’s woman. Her being left in the dark, wondering, waiting if shit was gonna go down, or if a brother would come to the door with bad news about me was too much for her.”
My breath hitched. I’d had the same thoughts when I realized what it meant to be with Colt.
“The night she left,” Knight said, his voice soft in the still air, “we had the worst fight of our entire relationship. She was pissed and hurt that I chose my brothers over her and what she considered a respectable life. She’d talked about her parents, not a lot, but a bit. I knew their background, the families they were a part of. But I didn’t really understand where Scarlett was coming from. This life—the club life—was all I’d ever known. Scarlett’s parents left Chicago, right? Neither one of them wanted to be involved with either of their families’ legacies. It was easy for Scarlett to choose something better because she’d had that example, you know? Her parents wanted her out of a life of crime. Me?” He shook his head. “My dad was club president. Mom was a club whore who didn’t care that my dad dicked around on her. I was twenty years old when I was patched in. Your mother was nineteen. We had no idea what life was gonna look like.”