Taking my leave before Niki gets a chance to piss me off, I flash Kai a look that says he better not screw this up. He nods as if reading my thoughts loud and clear. Good. We’re done.

  Needing a moment of solace, I go straight to my office and shut myself inside. I click on the small lamp next to my computers. Yes, plural. Computers. My office space isn’t used like Big’s, or anyone else’s for that matter. This is command central for the Sacred Sinners' money flow. I’m the man who finds it, washes its digital imprint, and adds it to our line of investments we launder money through. It’s taken years to get us to this point, but my mad tech skills have it running like a well-oiled machine. This is where I go to get my happy, besides the bedroom. This is where I’m most useful. Apart from the surveillance and securities I run.

  I take a seat in the leather chair behind my L-shaped desk and count to ten. When that doesn’t suppress my ragged nerves, I open a drawer and pull out a glass. Setting it next to my backlit keyboard, I open an expensive bottle of scotch and pour two fingers deep. It was a gift from Big ages ago and I’m the only one who’s ever had a taste.

  Leaning back in my chair, I sip the liquor, enjoying the warmth it spreads from the center out as I scan the room I’ve called mine for years. Gray walls, a black desk, and a recent picture of Bink, Harley, and me, rests on the only other piece of furniture I have—a shelf that holds the extensive collection of old vinyl records I’ve collected since I was a kid. Mostly rock albums with a bit of other tunes tossed in. On top, next to the picture, is where I store the player. Not that it gets much use. Nostalgia isn’t lost on me, but neither is the convenience of digital music on my phone and the wireless speaker I can take anywhere.

  If I had the energy to get up, I’d select some Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers to relax with. “Don’t Come Around Here No More,” would be the perfect fuckin’ backdrop to the day I’ve had.

  What a day that was, huh?

  Don’t think it could’ve been any bigger of a shit show.

  Moving the mouse to wake up my computer, I type with one hand to find what I can about this Melanie and her son Adam. There’s little to go on, considering I don’t know their last name, or much else. Then I remember his receipt stunt and Google that instead. Within minutes, I’ve got my son's mug shot, his birth certificate, social security number, address, and everything else you can think of on my screen. If there was any doubt before that Kit was lying, it’s vanished. Adam’s the spitting image of a younger me with hair and no goatee. The eyes, the smile, the broadness of his shoulders… it’s like looking in a mirror thirty years ago.

  I sigh, wearing a small smile as I take in his darker hair and sun-tanned skin—a stark contrast to the blueness of his gaze.

  Adam McLeod.

  A Scottish last name… interesting.

  Curiouser, I dig up dirt on Jeremy McLeod and his now ex-wife Melanie. He’s remarried with two kids, living in Utah. Works as an insurance adjuster. Snooze fest. Finding stuff on Mel proves to be more difficult than I expect. Though she did say, she lacked an online presence. It shows. She’s scrubbed herself well from the online world. I’m impressed. Why she didn’t do that for Adam too is bizarre.

  Not having anything better to do, I sip scotch and do what any good father would. I wipe my son’s questionable cyber presence clean. The articles about his poor life choices, more specifically, getting caught doin’ them, I skim to fill in the blanks before making it all disappear. Sure, I could do the same for part of his record, but that’d appear more suspicious to the authorities. So, I let that slide and handle the rest for his benefit and his mother's.

  When I’m halfway through, a light rap sounds at the door.

  “Go home, Niki.”

  “It’s not Niki. It’s Melanie.”

  Fuck. I know I haven’t left the best impression on Kit by leaving her to fend for herself in a strange clubhouse with Viper. Not the best decision.

  When I don’t reply right away, Kit knocks again. I like that she respects boundaries and doesn’t just come inside. Most women aren’t like that from my experience.

  “Do you… um… want me to go, too?” she asks timidly through the door.

  That’s the last thing I want.

  “No. Sorry. Come in.” Finished with my scotch, I pour myself another to get through whatever’s about to go down.

  Taking her time, Kit enters and shuts herself inside. You barely hear the closing snick before she turns around to face me. And… what a sight. The light from the small lamp casts a delicate glow over her features and a shadow on the wall behind her. She’s even more beautiful now—if that’s even possible.

  Out of politeness, I get up from my chair and offer it to her, since it’s the only one I’ve got. Nobody enters my domain for me to need a second. Not even Big. They know I value personal space and honor that. But I don’t mind her here. It’s kind of nice to share it with somebody else. Maybe I’ll grab a folding chair in the future, for times like this.

  Eh. Then again, maybe I’m getting ahead of myself.

  Hands twisted in front of her, Kit doesn’t move from her spot inside the entrance. “It’s getting late. I think I should get going. Maybe I could leave my number to discuss more tomorrow… if you’re up for that?”

  “You’re leaving? Now?” I don’t fuckin’ like that idea.

  Kit’s posture stiffens. The tops of her fingers slip into her front pockets. “It’s well past midnight, Gunz. I do need to sleep. It’s been a long and emotional day for me. And I’m sure you still need time to process. I didn’t want to skip out without saying something beforehand.” Her forehead crinkles deep in thought. “I think his name is Viper… he suggested I leave my number with him before I go.”

  I’m sure the asshole did. Probably thinks she’s another club whore I’ve got on the side. Pushing that thought from my mind before anger seeps back in, I check the time on my computer screen. “Damn… You’re right, it’s late. Will you stay here? We’ve got room.” It’s the least I can do for the mother of my son. Plus, I don’t want her to go. Maybe she’d never come back and won’t answer my calls. I’m not fond of tracking people down if I don’t have to.

  Kit nibbles her bottom lip. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Would it help if I said I believed you?” I gesture to the computer screens, then wave her forth. She takes a tentative step forward, then another until she can get a solid view of the display by half leaning over my desk. “I did some digging and found stuff on Adam. You were right when you said you didn’t have much of an online presence. Can I ask why my son does, if you don’t?”

  My son. Christ.

  Kit wraps her arms around her middle to keep from touching my things. “Adam didn’t clean it for himself, so I figured he wanted the stuff to stay.”

  Dammit. She has a point. If he’s smart enough to do the shit he has, he’s skilled enough to wipe his online imprint if he wanted.

  “Is it bad that I did it for him?” I nod to the screen she’s busy reading. When she’s through, her eyes lift to meet mine.

  “All of it?” she asks.

  “Most.”

  Kit grimaces for half a beat before schooling her features, and I feel like a complete dick for overstepping. “If he gets mad, then that’s between you two. Not me. I’m staying out of it. I’ve already meddled enough in his life.”

  Thigh pressed against the side of my desk, I sip my scotch. “Does he know who I am?”

  “No. I didn’t want to get his hopes up. Not that he’d say he was excited, but I know better.”

  Fair enough.

  “Do ya think I can meet him soon?”

  “You mean, while he’s still in lock up?” Her spine straightens and that sass I remember outside comes back in defensive form.

  Not wanting to rile her up by pushing too hard, I play it subtle. “Yeah.” I shrug a shoulder. “It might be easier through glass the first time.”

  “For him or you?” She’s wary, and my respect grows another inch for the woman I barely know.

  “Both?” I hedge, and back down the moment Kit’s eyes start to glaze over in deeper thought—the kind chicks get when they’re playing a thousand scenarios in their head, most of which are over the top and illogical. To nip this in the bud before she reaches the point of no return—with notions of me kidnapping her son and forcing him to be a Sacred Sinner, which will turn him into a killing machine—all untrue, in case you were headed down the same path, I jump in to bypass this inherent female process. “Hey, if that’s not what you want, I’ll follow your lead. You’re his mom. I’m… just me.” I take another sip of my drink, reading Kit’s body language.

  She tucks a stray hair behind her ear, blinks to clear her overprotective thoughts, nods once, then looks at me straight on. “No. No. I’m just a little shell-shocked by all this. You’re taking this better than I expected.”

  She’s gorgeous, isn’t she? And smart… and mature. Is it bad I can’t stop staring? Observing? Wanting to know more?

  I smirk. “How did you expect me to take it?”

  “Badly. Name calling. Disowning him. Bad. But you’ve been very mature about it all. I’m still processing that part. It kinda feels like a dream.”

  My heart thuds in an unfamiliar way and I disregard the feeling. “I’m not a twenty-year-old kid, Kit, who just found out he knocked up his one-night stand. I’m an old man—”

  “Who just found out he knocked up a less-than-one-day stand, over twenty years ago,” she cuts in.

  I nod in agreement, my smirk twisting into a full, tooth-filled smile. “We did have sex. A lot of it if I recall. All over the place.” In the bar more than once, the alley, the…hmmm… I know there’s more.

  Kit chuckles, her posture relaxing. “So now you remember?”

  “Some. What do you remember?” I finish my glass and set it on the desk for later.

  “Everything, or almost everything.”

  All right then. Not what I expected to hear. “How’s that possible? You were drunk off your tiny, little ass.”

  She chuckles, light and sweet. My dick takes notice of the sound and the way he likes it, a lot. “Drunk, yes. Too drunk to remember, no.”

  Again, I step to the side and give her space to sit down. I don’t like her standing here talking. Not when I have so much more I wish to discuss. Sure, it’s late, but I haven’t wanted to talk to someone like this in… ever. It’s different from when I shoot the shit with the guys or chat with Bink about her life or the insignificant things Janie talks about. Even Beth, another woman I’m friends with, we don’t do this. Apart from my brother, Kit’s the only person I have an outside connection with—beyond the Sacred Sinners and all that surrounds my world here. Don’t get me wrong, I love the MC life. Wouldn’t trade it for anything. But I’ve never had any piece of my world that wasn’t about the lifestyle. Growing up, my dad was a Sacred Sinner, and my mom was a former club whore turned old lady. What a shit pairing that was. Kit’s presence is an unexpected breath of fresh air.

  “Please sit.” I do the gentleman thing and twist the chair to make it clear this is where I want her. Chivalry isn’t dead in my book.

  This time, she acquiesces, and I move some paperwork out of the way to prop my ass on the edge of the desk, close enough to Kit, I can see the flecks of gold in her eyes, but far enough, I don’t invade her personal space. There’s a delicate balance here I don’t wanna fuck up. Not when I’ve got peace and quiet in a place nobody will bother us in unless they wanna visit the shed.

  “Thanks.” Kit smooths the tips of her fingers over the curved chair arms. I watch in rapt fascination as does my cock which twitches but doesn’t thicken.

  Keeping my need in check, I help the conversation flow. “Anytime. So, you gonna tell me what you remember?”

  “We had sex a dozen times, I’m sure of it.” Humor dances in those fine eyes.

  “No way,” I counter. “Even then, my dick couldn’t handle that.” I’d have blisters from that much fucking. If you don’t have a dick, you don’t understand what happens when you go that many rounds. Not only do you shoot blanks after the first few—as in no cum—you also get sore. Doesn’t matter if you’re a porn star or not, we’re only equipped to come so much. A chafed dick isn’t a happy dick.

  Charmed by my brashness, she grins, and her cheeks twitch as if holding back a laugh. “Well, maybe you didn’t have sex with me, but we had a form of sex.”

  Ahh… that makes more sense.

  A blurry, fragmented memory bubbles to the surface of a Harley and a sexy woman with her legs draped over my shoulders. “I ate you out on the back of my bike.”

  Cheeks suffusing with my new favorite shade of pink, she nods once. “You did.”

  “And you loved it.”

  Not the least bit shy, Kit adds, “I did. It was my first orgasm.”

  “Ever?” I choke, then clear my throat so I don’t sound like a fuckin’ tool.

  Clearly enjoying our exchange, she snickers. “No. From oral.”

  “Holy hell. Now that’s some news. One point for baby daddy.” Smiling, I lick my finger and mark the air with an imaginary point. It’s not every day a man gets to add first oral-gasm to his list of life accomplishments. Not that I keep that kinda shit. But, for my son’s mother, I’m gonna jot that down for safekeeping.

  Kit laughs with her entire body. I take another mental note to make her do that more often. If I thought her chuckle was erection worthy, her laugh is downright sexy personified. “You’re ridiculous. It was good, though.”

  “If I remember right, your friend wanted us to have a threesome.” Said friend wasn’t hot like her. Not even close. She was needy, too. Almost whiny. An image of Niki takes root, and I wince internally. Why I put up with that from her and not a chick who wanted a threesome, I couldn’t answer. Perhaps Niki’s grown on me. Maybe my patience has matured since then. A lot changes in twenty years.

  “But you said your cock was broken from all the sex.”

  Too bad I don’t have the heart to tell her my dick would’ve worked had I wanted him to. Maybe. Possibly. I’d give it the good ol’ college try. Having sex with her friend wasn’t on my priority list. I don’t have to remember every second of the day to know that to be true.

  “We were at our campsite. In a tent, I believe.” In our younger days, we camped traditionally. Now that we’re old fucks and have the dollars to spend, we rent RVs. A whole slew of ‘em.

  She nods. “Yep. We were.”

  “And she was naked.” Big floppy tits, no ass. Ergo, not my type.

  “She was and so was I.”

  “Right. No tats then… like you got now.” Crossing my ankles, I jut my chin at her colorful forearms. “Didn’t she eat your pussy, too? After we had sex?”

  “Yes. See, you remember quite a bit up here.” Kit taps the side of her head, sounding pleased as punch. And I’m pleased ’cause she’s pleased.

  “It was fuckin’ hot.” I flash her a wink.

  Watching her get tongued out by a chick was the hottest part. Not who was doin’ it. Think I might’ve had a hand in that, too. Said something to the woman about gettin’ her friend off for me after I’d blown my load inside her. Yes, now I remember doing that. Reckless on my part. Couldn’t tell ya why I let it happen, only that it did. Hence, Adam.

  Kit’s blush intensifies as her fingers continue to rub along the arms of my chair out of nervousness, or to give her hand something to do. I don’t know nor care. I just wanna watch. “It was the best sex I’ve had in my life.”

  “Seriously?” I arch a brow and will my pulse to get under control. I shouldn’t like this news as much as I do.

  Don’t get me wrong, it’s not the first I’ve heard I’m the best. You know women, especially club whores, they’ll say anything to boost a man’s ego. Kit admitting it, I know isn’t for my benefit.

  “Yes. Unlike you, I got married a month later. Jeremy was the second person I’ve ever slept with.”

  I swallow hard. “Making me number three?”

  “That is correct.” It’s her turn to return the wink.

  Massaging the nape of my neck, I digest that nugget of information, my stomach tight. “Fuck. That’s some news.” I chuckle awkwardly. Just when I think she can’t surprise me anymore, I learn I’m the third in a very short line of partners. I’m willing to bet there’s been less than a handful after Jeremy. Probably less than that even. Not that I’m gonna ask. It’s none of my business. Her body, her choice. I fully support that, even if I put a kid in her, and hate the idea of anyone else putting their dick where mine’s been. Where my son came from. Irrational? Fuck yeah, now ask me if I care. I don’t.

  I clench my fist on the desk and take a deep breath to cleanse the unwanted thoughts. It’s been an off kinda day, between this and the club attacks yesterday. Then the stuff with Niki, I’m not exactly running on normal.

  Kit doesn’t seem to notice my internal struggle when she throws in, “I’m sure it is, considering your lifestyle.” She’s not judging. It’s a simple comment.

  “Does that gross you out?” I counter, hopin’ she’s not offended by how I live.

  Her head tilts to the side. “No. Should it?”

  “I did have Niki on my lap half-naked in your presence.” While it might not have been the best thing for her to see, it’s best Kit knows the score now before Adam gets involved and she’s suddenly shocked how we live. Better to lay all the shit out there and let the cards fall where they may.

  “According to Viper, that’s a common occurrence around here.”

  My head bobs in agreement. “That’s true. We have a lot of regular club whores who put out.” Niki bein’ the only club whore I bed on a regular. The rest bore me. The others are too young. Sure, gettin’ my dick wet in a twenty-year-old would’ve been fun fifteen years ago. I may like ‘em young, but not that young.

  “I asked him if she was yours,” Kit says, and I chuckle.

  “Did he laugh at you?”