Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Case
It was supposed to be simple.
My lawyer, my daughter’s representative from the Canadian Council of Child and Youth Advocates, and a justice of the peace, reviewing testimony from Reece’s current legal guardians, me, and the advocate. All just a formality since I’d provided proof that I’m Reece’s biological father and everyone involved agrees that my daughter should be with me.
It should’ve been nothing but paperwork, but then my lawyer and the child advocate were called out of the room.
There’s nothing impartial about how the judge looks at me. I’m gum on her shoe. No, gum is the wrong comparison. I’m more like dog shit. Yeah, that’s it. Judge Horse-Face is looking at me like I’m dog excrement on the bottom of her shiny Prada shoes.
I glance down beneath the big oak desk she’s sitting behind and look at her footwear. They’re… My brows rise. Crocs. I look back up at Horse-Face and blink. Faux-fur-lined Crocs.
What the hell is she wearing under her robe? Pajamas?And is that…? A paperback novel sits under a pile of files on her desk. I squint, reading the title on the spine. I’m expecting a legal thriller or at least a murder mystery, but nope, it’s titled The Rogue Duke of Briarwood Castle .
Horse-Face reads historical romance novels? Jesus. And if I wasn’t convinced by the title alone, I get a peek at the cover when she shuffles through the files and pulls one out. A bare-chested man and a woman with one of those puffy sleeved gowns.
What does my sister call these kinds of books? The corner of my mouth creeps up on one side in a smirk. Bodice-rippers. The judge in my case reads trashy bodice-ripper romances. My smirk drops instantly when I glance at her face though. Her mouth is a thin, downward line as her dark eyes bore into me.
Focus, Case, focus.
I swallow. Justice I-Hate-Men clenches her jaw at me and I realize I’ve missed something.
My lawyer hands over some papers and I scratch my head, wondering what I missed. Damn. If there’s ever a time I need to be paying attention, it’s now.
My mind wanders as I ogle the cover of her choice of personal reading material.
That’ll improve her opinion, Case. Good one. Why not scratch your balls too?
She looks over the papers impatiently as if she has better things to do today, like read bodice- ripper romances.
The wait feels interminable and I’m starting to sweat. Here I am, a six-foot-five, two-hundred- and-forty-pound man with tattoos and piercings, who’d spent five years undercover in one of the worst outlaw motorcycle clubs in the country, and I’m sweating over a four-foot-something, Croc-wearing, bodice-ripper-reading judge.
A judge that holds everything that matters to me in her small, dehydrated-looking hands.
Her gaze, sharp, intelligent and hawkish, flicks up to mine. I run a hand over my shaved head. I knew I should have grown my hair back. Fuck. Shaved heads, piercings and tattoos didn’t give good impressions. And while I’d worn a suit that covered most of the tatts, I still had a Celtic triskele inked on the skin between my thumb and forefinger as well as the words love and hard on my fingers just beneath my knuckles. The symbolism of my commitment to my child and her deceased mother is lost on the judge. The Celtic triskele has many meanings but for me the three legs meant father-mother-child. And I refused to be shamed by it and all that is signifies.
“While it is clear you’re…” She glances down at the papers on her desk. “Reece’s biological father, and her maternal family is not contesting you taking custody of the child, it’s not going to be as simple as you thought.”
My lawyer starts to speak but the judge and her death stare shut him up.
“The reason you were all called here today, is because I received a petition for custody from…” She lifts one the papers on her desk and glances down her nose at it.
“Liam and Siobhan Callen.” The judge’s eyes jump to mine before I fully register her words. “The child’s paternal grandparents.”
It’s as if she’s clarifying my own parent’s names for me. I blink, my jaw going slack a moment before tightening into a tooth-grinding clench.
“Pardon me?” It comes out unintentionally hard and her eyes, a shrewd, almost black color, narrow just the slightest bit.
My lawyer shoots me a similarly scolding look before speaking himself. “Your Honor, the law always puts the child with her biological parent over a grandparent unless the parent is found to be unfit.”
Pursing her thin lips the Judge folds her hands in front of her. “That’s correct, council, and they are claiming just that.”
Before I can swear, my lawyer nudges me and I swallow my angry oaths. My fists clench at my thighs though, and I swallow a hard knot in my throat.
The judge’s eyes drop to my fists and then back to my face. “Do you have something to say?”
My lawyer leans close to my ear, warning me it’s a trap and I need to shut up and let him handle this.
I ignore him.
“I know judging is in your job title,” I pause, checking my tone, “but I think you might want to meet them before deciding which of us you trust. Sometimes money doesn’t equal upstanding.”
The judge gives a small snort. “The bar is quite low, I assure you. But would you like to hear why they’re claiming you’re unfit?”
I bite my tongue hard enough to taste copper and nod. Her eyes land on the tattoo on my hand.
“They’re claiming that after five years undercover in…” She glances down at the file. “Satan’s Ransom motorcycle club, that you’ve changed. And that you are more Paul ‘Python’ Keller than you are Case Callen.”
The words hit hard, hard enough to render me speechless and sweat and gooseflesh start to rise on my neck.
“Right now, your daughter has the stability of a two-parent household, a roof over her head, and everything she needs.” Leaning back in her chair, she assesses me for a long moment before adding, “Mr. and Mrs. Callen can offer similar circumstances. Can you?”
My heart sinks like a cannonball deep into the pit of my stomach. Fuck! I should have grown my hair, shaved off the beard, looked more respectable, even if that wasn’t truly what mattered.
I fold my hands, rubbing the symbol imprinted there with my left thumb as if somewhere, somehow, Reece’s mother would look down and see me, talk to God or whoever’s in charge and influence the judge to favor me.
Lisa, help me out. Our daughter does not need to grow up like I did.
What matters is how completely I’ve shed my club persona—how well I’ve adjusted to life outside the club, on the right side of the law, and how dedicated I am to Reece. Waiting while my hair grew out would have only meant more time lost with my daughter. I’ve lost too much of that as it is.But an ache in my gut reminds me I’m not even sure how well I am adjusting to life outside the club. The only thing I’m sure of is my daughter, and how much I love her.
“Mr. Callen is former RCMP. He’s served the country taking down one of the largest outlaw biker clubs in the country. He’s a hero.”
“Is that true, Mr. Callen? Are you a hero?”
“I did my job, Your Honor. I fought to put the people who’d been flooding our streets with drugs in prison. I shouldn’t be penalized for doing my job.”
Judge Hortense looks to my lawyer. “Has he had an eval and been cleared psychologically?”
My lawyer looks to me and I nod.
“We’ll get you the paperwork if you need it,” he says.
“Good.”
“And where will you be living with the child?”
“I have purchased property, have completed plans and permits for a house, and a contractor in place. My finances are in order, including a financial portfolio dedicated to Reece’s education which I’ve had in place since I found out about her. And I have a job lined up working for a small-town police department because it’s less dangerous than staying with the RCMP.”
I gather a breath. “I’ve got my sh… self together, Madam Justice. And while I’m not running out to find Reece a mother, she’ll still have the support of her aunt, uncle and maternal grandparents. Whether or not I have a country club membership and a house big enough to use a different bathroom every day of the damn week shouldn’t matter.”
But as I look at Judge Ellen Hortense, I see what matters most is her impression of me. And right now, in step one, her first impression is bad. Somehow I’ve fucked that up.
She glances down once again at the paperwork. “The East Coast?” Her eyes land on mine so I nod. “Far away from Reece’s current support system, yes?”
Fuck. There’s a reason for that too, but one I don’t want to bring up. My mind’s eye flashes back to the trial of Jared Glenn, AKA, Slash, a brutal member of the Ransom, who liked to play with butterfly knives. I hated the bastard. But it was his nephew I pictured in my head as I thought back. He’d stood on the courthouse steps trying to intimidate me, telling me I was a dead man. He wasn’t a real threat because he was just a kid, maybe thirteen, but he reminded me there were always going to be guys out there loyal to Satan’s Ransom, who were dangerous. And the farther away from River’s Bend and Toronto I was, the better.
“That’s true, for now, but they’re planning on moving near us. Until then, they’ll visit, we’ll visit. It may be far away from Reece’s aunt and uncle temporarily, but it’s also far away from…” I rub my neck. “The big city. And it’s an island, an idyllic place for a kid to grow up.”
One of the Judge’s brows shoots up and she eyes me with a severe scrutiny that causes more sweat to trickle down my neck. God, I feel like a menopausal woman with Horse-Face eyeing me.
She steeples her hands. “You’re overseeing the house?”
“Yes, I’m overseeing its completion until I start my job in a few months.”
“That’s a lot of responsibility for a single parent.” She mumbles these words as she scans her paperwork then looks up deadpanning me. “So, you won’t be available should Reece need you in the meantime?” Her disapproving look weighs heavy with judgement.
“She has my cell, and I can be on a plane the same day should the need arise. Otherwise, I’ll be home in River’s End every weekend until we move. Of course, if you want to forgo all of this, she can be by my side now and I’ll be available twenty-four-seven.”
She gives me another assessing stare, her eyes narrowing a fraction. I swallow, wishing I had a bottle of water, hell, something stronger would be nice, but since leaving The Ransom I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol. Drinking was part of the role of Python Keller, enforcer for the Satan’s Ransom biker club. But Case Callen, the real me, was nothing more than a social drinker and since I’d left the Ransom, I didn’t even do that. Admittedly, I often craved it though, or the effects of it anyway. My mind told me one sip would kill the angst inside me that said I deserved to be behind bars with my MC brothers. Telling me I was no better than them. Reminding me of the things I’d done.
My brain hitches on this idea. Because, right now, I truly want a drink, something to calm me, to ease the tension of the situation and that wasn’t something I’d ever had to worry about before I went undercover. Were my parents right to question my fitness as a father? Had I changed? Not for the first time I wonder if I remember how to simply be Case, or if Case even existed at all anymore. Was I some mashed version of Python and Case or was I someone completely different now? And how was this going to affect my ability to be a father to my daughter?
The judge clears her throat, and I look up, realizing I’ve drifted off on a tangent of thoughts again.
“So, once you move, Reece will be unable to have a relationship with her paternal grandparents? Is that correct?”
“My parents have the means to travel.” I try to keep the bitterness out of my voice before continuing. “Their own plane, in fact.”
Her eyes bore into me. I stare back holding my spine straight.
“Your parents have excellent legal representation, so this might get messy, Mr. Callen. Are you prepared for that?”
“I am. I’d do anything for Reece. Being raked over the coals by my parents—worth it.”
For a moment it feels as if she’s on my side, but then she says, “I’m assigning a child protective service worker to your case. She’ll supervise all your visits from now on unless you’re visiting her while she’s with her current guardians.”
“Supervise my visits?” I swallow when the judge pinches her lips and arcs her brow.
“Build your house, get everything in place, and we’ll schedule a court date…” She glances over at the quiet woman typing at a table in the corner. “Six months?”
Six months? Jesus!
The woman nods. And Justice Hortense’s sharp hawk-like eyes slide to mine. “Is that a suitable amount of time for you, Mr. Python Keller?”
“It’s Callen, Case Callen.” My lawyer says.
I clear my throat wondering if this is some sort of twisted test to see if I even know who I am. Or maybe that’s just me being paranoid. Is the world out to get me? Is there a higher power exacting karma?
You’re a criminal who’s gotten away with too much and karma is the way the world keeps the balance.
The voice in my head sends a shiver through me. I thought I’d dealt with this in the mandatory counseling provided by the RCMP, but obviously not. I shove the thought away, bury it and focus on my daughter, visualizing her sweet face.
“I want my daughter as soon as possible, Your Honor, but I also want what’s best for her.”
She makes a note in her papers and then looks to the young woman sitting off to the side. “Anna, please add Callen Vs Callen to our calendar. In the meantime, we’ll set up a schedule for shared visitation with you and Reece’s paternal grandparents.”
My gut tightens at the thought of Reece with my parents. I could protest, but I know it won’t do any good. On paper they’re perfect. And if she does end up placed with them, at least they won’t be strangers. For a second I regret going for custody. If I hadn’t, she wouldn’t be facing this. She’d be happy and safe with Jeff and Lulah, who took on full parental duties so Jeff’s parents could travel.
“Your Honor, the child has no relationship with her paternal grandparents.”
“And we’re going to rectify that.” Her eyes slide from my lawyer to me. “Do you have anything to say about it?” There’s flicker of a dare in her eyes. As if she wants a reason to squish me like a bug under her ridiculous shoes.
“They weren’t abusive, if that’s what you’re asking. They were cold, dismissive, and controlling, which are things I don’t want my daughter to experience, but there’s no reason for me not to get custody of my daughter so that’s not something I need to worry about. She’ll never question my love, or fear it being taken away if she screws up or chooses a different path than I want for her.”
The judge rises her brow, but she says nothing to me about it. Instead, she turns to Anna, her assistant or stenographer.
“Who do we have from Children’s Services for Mr. Keller, Anna?”
“Callen,” I remind her, earning myself a sardonic smile from her and a nudge from my lawyer.
“Of course, Mr. Callen. The criminal biker is Python Keller, you’re the upstanding citizen hero, Case Callen.” The slight curve of her lips sours my stomach.
The two of them talk a moment before Anna rises and hands me a sticky note.
I look at it. Janet Eliose is written on the paper along with a number.
“She’ll be in contact. She’ll supervise all your visits.” Anna’s voice is surprisingly small as she’s close to six feet with a robust walk in chunky sensible shoes. She guides me to the office door.
“She’ll be supervising my parent’s visitations as well?” I ask this even though I plan to rip them both to pieces, proverbially speaking of course, for pulling this shit.
Anna nods.
“Mr. Keller?” It’s the judge’s voice but Anna looks sheepish, giving me a small apologetic smile. Judge Hortense clears her throat. “Callen. I mean. Mr. Callen. My apologies.”
I turn to the judge.She doesn’t look the least bit apologetic.
“Jump through whatever hoops your worker wants, understand? Until then, I’ll grant you bi-weekly weekend visitation.” Before I can reply she speaks again. “I’ll also be contacting child services in…” She looks down. “Sunset Cove, is it?” She doesn’t even look up for my answer. “To keep an eye on things there as well. The suitability of the home, etcetera.”
Somehow I think the etcetera is akin more to a loaded gun, but I nod and thank the judge. She’s got me by the balls. My transition into society isn’t going quite as well as I thought though, because I’d love to… I grind my jaw, not even allowing my thoughts to get violent… Let the air out of her tires, screw up her coffee order and deliver her pizza to the wrong address.
I shake my head, huffing a laugh at the ridiculousness of my thoughts. I’d beaten men to a pulp, I’d broken noses, kneecaps, and ribs. I’d done serious damage to people that crossed Satan’s Ransom MC and now? Now, I was fantasizing about letting the air out of Horse-Face’s tires.
But nothing, absolutely nothing, is more important than toeing the line for my daughter. She’s too important to fuck anything up. And besides that, to allow myself into her life I must be the best choice for her.I have to fight and kill those urges to take what I want because I can. And until I do, I’m not good enough for Reece.
Everything’s about Reece.
What I can do is call my parents and find out what the fuck they’re playing at. And find out how they even found out I had a daughter.
They don’t want Reece; they want a way to control me again. And I won’t let my little girl be used as a pawn in their fucking game.
“We have a right to know our blood, Case.” My mother’s voice feels like nails on a chalkboard.
“Blood? She’s a child, not blood. And fine, right to know her is one thing, but to say I’m unfit and you want the job? I’m a damn good father to that little girl and you have balls saying otherwise when you don’t even know us. I haven’t talked to you since before I went undercover. To pretend to know me is disgusting.”
“It got your attention, didn’t it?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? My attention? This isn’t a game, Mother. This is a little girl’s life. A little girl who has lost her mother and grown up not knowing her father.”
“Were you planning on introducing us?”
I grit my teeth. It never even crossed my mind. But thinking about it now, no, I wouldn’t have. I want nothing to do with them, and my daughter doesn’t need their shit either. “I hadn’t thought about it. My focus has been on her and getting her adjusted.”
“If you make her the center of your world, Case, she’ll grow up spoiled,” my father pipes in and chuffs.
“She is my world and excuse me if I don’t take parenting advice from you.”
“We were good parents. You had the best of everything. The best nannies, the best tutors, the best schools, the best extracurricular activities. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”
“I had the best of what you wanted for me and not so much what I needed which… hint, hint… hands-on parents.”
“You’ve always been ungrateful, Case. It’s why we cut you off.”
I laugh. “You can’t cut someone off who never took their trust in the first place. And honestly, legally you couldn’t cut off my trust. It came from Grandfather. If I wanted that money, I could walk into the bank and take it.”
“How could you not care about sixteen million dollars?” My mother lets out a hiss of distain.
“Money has never meant a damn thing to me, Mother. Family, loyalty, and love. Those are the things that matter. And I plan on raising Reece with love and support, helping her to become who she’s meant to be, not who I want her to be.”
“You weren’t very loyal to that biker gang you were involved with, were you? You told your sister they were family.”
“Jesus, Mother, I was undercover, I had to say that. I’m a goddamned cop, not a biker.” And yet, I did feel guilty, but that was because they acted more like family than my family ever did. Not Slash or Preacher, but the others. Mack especially, which is why he’s still my closest friend.
She huffs, “Well I don’t know which is worse. Either is embarrassing to tell our friends.”
“You find having an RCMP officer as a son as equally embarrassing as having a son in an outlaw biker club? That says a lot about you.” I sigh. My energy is depleted as if I’d run a triathlon. “Leave us alone and when this is over, I’ll have Posy bring Reece by so you can meet her.”
“Always getting your sister to do your dirty work.” My father chuffs again.
“We’ve already secured Reece a place at Templeton Academy. What size is she? I’ll order uniforms.”
I curse under my breath. “She doesn’t need private school, Mother.”
“Of course she does. Don’t be ridiculous. Haven’t you heard the state of public schools these days.”
“I’m not shipping my daughter off to be raised by faculty who only care about the next donation. I want to raise my daughter, spend time with her, love her and get to know her. And I consider it a goddamned privilege to do so.”
I can almost visualize my mother’s pinched expression, and I sigh again. “I don’t want to fight anymore. I’m sorry things haven’t been good between us. I’m sorry I don’t know how to deal with our history. I just wanted your love and support in fulfilling my passion, but none of that matters now. All that matters is Reece and if you want to know her, that’s fine. We’ll make it happen.”
“Your passion should have been to take over your father’s company, not going off to play cops and robbers like a five-year-old.”
That’s what she took out of my statement? Jesus. “Right,” I say bitterly. “Well, Posy will be in contact once this is all settled.” I hang up before I say something I’ll regret.
“Do I look outlandish?” My daughter blinks up at me with those big eyes that melt me every time and frowns.
“Outlandish?” I question with a smirk. Will I ever get used to a five-year-old with a better vocabulary than me?
“Yes, outlandish .” Her little hands land on her hips as she looks into the mirror.
“Outlandish is kind of the point of Halloween, gumdrop.”
She cocks her head, still examining herself. “Good point, Daddy.”
I shake my head and hand my five-year-old her fairy wand. “You kill me, kid. Maybe the fairy dust is a bit much though.” I look around my apartment and at Lulah, who’s been assisting Reece with her costume. Everything, including my very pregnant friend, is covered in glitter.And this is just the dry run since it’s still only September. Reece insisted though, wanting everything to be perfect.
“Everything is more superb with glitter, Daddy.”
That word—not superb, but Daddy—hits me right in the feels. Every. Damn. Time.
This little angel is mine. I reach out and brush my hand down her silky red curls and smile at her through the mirror.
“You’re right, precious. I’m a fool for thinking otherwise.”
She cocks her head, spins on her fairy shoes and looks sincerely at me. “You’re not a fool, Daddy. You’re the best.” She lunges at me, wrapping her little arms around my legs. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll be here on the weekend. Six sleeps from tonight. I’ll pick you up Saturday morning and we’ll go for breakfast.”
“Can we have chickens at our new house, Daddy?” It’s one of her many random questions.
“Uh, chickens?”
“Yes, you said it was a farm before.”
“I believe I said it was on former farmland. There’s a little bit of a difference. But I think there are chickens at the little cottage beside us. How about we ask if you can go see them, maybe help collect the eggs or something.”
She nods, holding up a finger. “See how much work they are first.” She wrinkles her freckled nose. “And if they’re smelly.” She giggles and my chest rushes with warmth. “Good plan, Daddy.”
I’ll give her chickens if she wants them, I’ll give her anything.