He glances over at me, then turns back to the road. “Jess’s parents? How far away is it?”
I tell him.
“I’m supposed to be guarding you,” he protests.
“You will be, if you come with me.”
Striker’s brow knits. “I dunno. This seems more like detective work. Is this normally what family attorneys do? Don’t you just send a registered letter or something?”
“It’s not usual, I’ll grant you. But…” I trail off, not knowing how to continue. I can’t explain it to him, exactly. I just want to look into Jess’s whereabouts myself. I feel like being a detective. Maybe it’s because I have a little more of a personal interest in their situation, having not only met Cady, Tank, and Wren, but knowing something about the hell they’ve already gone through to be a family. Cady was smart to give me that window into their world. She’s definitely hooked me in.
“Come on,” I enthuse. “We’re trying to keep Wren with Tank, right? So, we should be doing this research to help them. You said you know Jess, right?”
Striker glances over at me sharply. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Nothing specifically,” I say, a little taken aback. “Except that it might help to have someone with me who actually knows what she looks like. Someone who would recognize her quickly if we happen to run into her somewhere. Maybe she’d talk to you easier than she would me.”
Striker huffs out a laugh. “Not fuckin’ likely.”
“Okay, maybe not. But come on, Striker. Do this to help Tank. We need to find Jess if at all possible, to see if we can get her to sign a waiver releasing her parental rights. If we can’t do that, then we’ll have to petition the court to terminate her rights. That could take months. Maybe even more than a year.” I bite my lip. “It will be hard to keep Wren with Tank and Cady during that time if we have to go that route, Striker. Really hard. Normally she’d be placed in foster care. And there’s no guarantee Tank and Cady would ever get her back.”
That gets his attention. “Are you saying they could take her away from him permanently? Tank’s her father!”
“Technically, Striker, we don’t know that.” I tilt my head at him. “All we really know is that Jess dumped Wren off on him. And you told me yourself she had an ulterior motive, to help that guy ruin your club.”
“It can’t be true that Tank ain’t her father,” he mutters.
“Once Tank gets a blood test, we’ll know for sure. But even with a positive paternity test, getting him custody isn’t a given. Which is why the best case scenario is if we could get Jess to sign rights over to him.”
A second passes. Striker gives me a single curt nod to let me know he’ll do it. But I notice he’s gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white.
“What’s the deal, Striker?” I ask quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“There’s something you’re not telling me. You’re tense as a bowstring.”
“There’s plenty of shit I don’t tell you,” he tosses back.
“You know what I mean,” I say, ignoring his flash of anger. “What’s got you so mad? It’s not just this custody situation. There’s something more, isn’t there?”
He lets out a loud breath. “I’m just pissed that this whole thing is so fuckin’ complicated, is all,” he grits out.
I know it’s a lie. But I also know he’s not going to tell me. I decide to let it go for now.
Five minutes later, Striker pulls his SUV up in my driveway. As he rolls to a stop, I come to the awkward realization that he’s still on duty right now. It feels weird to just let him just stay out here at his post guarding my house. And honestly, I’ve been having a good time with him. I wish it would feel normal to invite him in — to maybe hang out and watch movies or something.
“Hey.” Striker’s voice breaks into my thoughts. “Your lawn kinda needs mowing. Want me to do it?”
“Oh! No, I mean… I couldn’t ask you to do that,” I protest.
“Look, I’m gonna be out here anyway. Be better for me to have something to do. Gets kinda boring staring at your front door.” I open my mouth, but he interrupts me. “Don’t argue.” A corner of his mouth curves upward. “Just show me where your mower is.”
So I do. It’s a newish, fancy machine that Mark bought, which is still here because he’s living in an apartment right now. Striker makes a joke about how it’s nicer than my car, then pulls off his leather cut and carefully lays it over a saw horse. Once he checks to make sure there’s enough gas to do the whole lawn, I go inside to greet Bert and then call Tank and Cady.
I try Cady’s cell first. She answers on the second ring. I give her the news about the birth certificate results. Cady is clearly disappointed, but she works to stay upbeat as I talk to her about the next step of having a paternity test done.
“Since you and Tank are concerned about making sure Wren stays with you, the best way to do this right now is not to go through the courts right now, but to get the test done yourself through an accredited lab,” I say. “That way, we can find out what the results are first, before having to present them to a judge, and you can decide what to do from there.”
“Okay.” Cady sounds nervous. “Where would we do that? A hospital?”
“There’s a diagnostic center outside of Cincinnati, in a suburb called Fairfield. I recommend you go through them. I can text you the info. In the meantime, Striker introduced me to Tweak, who’s helping me with information to track down Jess.”
As I talk to her, I idly pace the living room. Striker is passing back and forth with the lawn mower. He’s taken off his shirt, giving me a view that would make me blush if he knew I was looking at him. A fine sheen of sweat accentuates his muscular torso and upper body. The tattoos that cover his chest and arms somehow make him even more handsome and rugged. Good God, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a sexier man in my life. He could be a model for some super-masculine cologne or something, except that his brand of manliness is completely unself-conscious. It’s just raw, rough man, pure and simple.
As he pushes the mower past the window, I realize I’m openly staring. I rarely get to see him in an unguarded moment, and the change is striking. Right now, as he does this mindless activity, the lines that normally form around his narrowed eyes and on his forehead have smoothed. He almost seems at peace. I’ve only ever seen him this relaxed a handful of times. When he’s playing with Bert. When I saw him with Wren at the clubhouse earlier. Maybe a little bit with Benji, too.
My heart does a weird little squeeze.
My emotions are all over the place about Striker as I end the call with Cady and retreat to the back of the house. Somehow, I almost preferred it when I found Striker nothing but infuriating. Little by little, I’ve grown comfortable with his gruff, cocky attitude, and with the kinder, gentler man it conceals. And my lord, the more I see of that freaking fantastic body, the harder it is to deny that my feelings for him have gotten much more complicated.
I’m attracted to him. Very attracted, in fact.