22. Chapter 22
Chapter 22
Maci
I question my decision to come here as I stare at the closed chain-link fence. Anxiety turns my stomach. Beyond the gate is a large, black metal building with cedar post columns. It’s an attractive mix of rustic and industrial construction. Motorcycles fill the open space in front of it, some covered by a structure similar to a carport.
A man wearing the club cut saunters up to the gate. I’ve seen him riding with James and the others, and he was one keeping tabs when James came for a visit.
My window whirs its descent and I tip my head out. “Hey. I’m here to see James.” His eyebrow quirks. “Maci,” I add. I have no idea if that’s going to help me or not in terms of getting in.
The man’s eyebrows shoot up, and he presses some buttons on a keypad nearby. The gate rattles as it slides open, and the man gestures to a space near the front door for me to park.
A cold breeze greets me as I hop down from the Jeep. The man who let me in yells something through the front door, held open. He turns back to me. “Come on in.”
When I get close, he extends a hand. “Hawk.”
Hawk, the Falcon. I don’t ask how that works or which came first.
“Nice to meet you.” I don’t ask if it’s his given name or not. His handshake is pleasant enough, and he waits for me to enter the building before following me in. Another twenty or so men are spread out in the large, open area, seated at round wooden tables with well-crafted leather and wood chairs. There are more people here than I would expect on a Monday afternoon.
A long bar with a glossy top is situated on the entrance wall, and a woman with shiny auburn hair stands behind it. She peers at me suspiciously. I brush it off. She can be territorial if it suits her.
On the left are a couple of pool tables. A few guys continue chatting, but I’ve definitely drawn attention to myself. I wonder if this is a men-only club.
Aside from their vests, they wear an array of clothing. Dark jeans, light jeans, button ups, tees. Some wear caps or bandanas.
Like outside, the inside of the building is a mix of sharp, dark metals, next to unblemished, well-cut wood. On the back wall is a set of French doors, cased in charred wood. The style is beautifully distressed. It’s more stylish than I would expect for a bunch of guys who ride motorcycles.
Near the French doors is a staircase which leads up to the next level. It’s fully exposed along the front except for a narrow railing. My eyes catch on a pair of riding boots and legs descending from above. James comes into view, and a smile automatically spreads across my face.
His eyes light upon landing on me. “Gracie, I’m glad you’re here.” He tips his chin down at Hawk in acknowledgment. It’s a gesture that’s becoming familiar for him. “Thank you.”
“You bet, Prez.”
“Thanks.” I give Hawk a sideways glance and make my way across the floor to where James reaches the bottom of the stairs.
He opens his arms subtly for me and I lean in for a short hug. Physical affection doesn’t always come naturally to me, but James’ arms encase me in a comforting way, even if I’m a little stiff at the newness of it all. When I step back, his hands rest on my shoulders and he looks me over. “You look good, lass.”
I don’t have to come up with a polite remark as he releases me and opens one side of the French doors. He gestures inside and waits for me to enter before following and closing the door behind us.
Truthfully, I’m not sure what I’m expecting from this visit, but a part of me hopes to learn something about James by visiting a place he frequents.
“How are you?” My question comes out more abrupt than I’d like.
He turns to me with a knowing look and sits at the head of a long table. The top is a full slab of wood, charred and glazed like the other pieces I’ve seen. A gavel sits near his chair, a combination of dark leather and styled wood, matching the surroundings.
“Do you have an interior designer?”
He smiles. “Only me.”
My eyes widen. “You designed all this?”
How are the men in my life so creative, design-wise? I think of Sutton’s massive cedar post bedframe with its footboard of entangled branches. Maybe it’s fitting, since I’m a photographer.
“Don’t sound so surprised. It’s my home; it should feel as such.” He motions for me to sit in a chair at the right of the table.
A new cloud of anxiety swirls around me. It feels both formal and familial to take a seat here. Whose chair is this normally?
I sit anyway. “You live here?”
“Aye.” He pauses, studying my face. “After Stephanie left, I didn’t want to be in the house we shared. It didn’t matter that it was mine before her. It didn’t feel like home without the two of you in it. So, I started on this place.”
I’m surprised at his emotional admission. “It’s beautiful.”
He dips his chin in thanks. “That’s not why you came, though.” He holds my gaze.
“I don’t know why I came. I know that probably sounds awful.” He makes a dismissive face at my comment. “Everything in my life feels new, up in the air, in limbo. I’m not really sure. I know we don’t have memories—well, I don’t have memories—but…” My voice trails off. I have no clue what I’m trying to say or why, so how can I possibly explain that to him?
“You don’t need a reason to be here, Gracie.” I warm again at his nickname for me. “If you need to get away and come here, you’ll always be welcome. If you want answers on something, I can only provide limited information, but I’ll try. And if you need help, consider it done.”
I swallow thickly. It feels so odd that a man I barely know has embraced me so willingly and openly, has invited me into his home and offered me sanctuary, when the mother who raised me struggles to let me in or be emotionally available. The person who stole me away in the night to protect me is more distant than the man she was trying to protect me from.
“Stephanie will be in town for a while,” I blurt. One of his eyebrows lifts in response. “I let her know what happened with Colt. She’s leaving Alan, her husband.” Adrenaline surges through me. “It turns out he’s Colt’s father.”
James shifts casually in his chair and lays his hands in his lap. “That’s a hard situation.”
I don’t dwell. “She’s going to be moving into Nana’s house temporarily.”
“And how will that affect you?” His voice turns harder. Was that intentional?
“Me? Well, I have plans for the house. Business plans. A bed and breakfast and a photography studio. But Stephanie and I don’t really see eye to eye on much. I’ll probably lay low until she’s settled somewhere.” I chew my cheek in contemplation.
He crosses his arms and narrows his gaze. “Is she aware of your plans for the house?” There’s a pleasing cadence to his phrasing.
I shake my head. “No. I didn’t tell her.”
“Why?” His question is less curious, more pointed.
A heavy sigh leaves me. “I choose my battles. Some things are easier not to discuss if I don’t really have a need. My grandmother stipulated in the will that my aunt have full control of the house and everything in it while Stephanie is married to Alan. Things were pretty tense between us after the lunch you saw, and the conversation with my aunt Randi to discuss my plan happened shortly after. Even if I had wanted to tell her, everything went sideways after that.”
“You didn’t plan to tell her.”
“It’s not worth the headache of her knowing beforehand.”
His full lips purse, and he strokes his trimmed beard. “Because she’d try to keep it from you if she could?”
I lever my head side-to-side. “Not so much that she’ll try to keep it from me, but she can be overcautious and put her foot down when she thinks she’s in the right. She doesn’t actually have any power over it at this point, but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t be annoying about it given the opportunity.”
“Do you think she’ll move on quickly if she doesn’t know your plans?” I’m surprised that he’s so concerned about this, but I enjoy listening to him talk. “Say she’ll decide to settle here instead.”
I shake my head vigorously. “No. She’s said our lives aren’t here. I can’t imagine her staying.”
He studies me for a moment, pinning me with another pointed look. “What if she decides it’s time to smooth things over with her daughter? You did have a rough go of it lately, even if you handled it on your own. She’s still your mam.”
My stomach tightens. “I’m not holding my breath.”
“Do you want her to stay?”
“Every daughter wants to have a strong relationship with their mother. Right? I’ll always wonder why things couldn’t be better between us, but here we are. And if her being here adds to my continual stress, then no, I don’t want her to stay. In fact, I was fully prepared to go no-contact with her prior to Nana’s passing.”
He bobs his head slowly several times without responding, mulling over my words. “How’s the rancher?”
I smile. “He’s good. He’s been very attentive.”
“You like the ranch?”
“I’m getting to know it. But yes, in theory.”
“Good.” His eyes remain soft as he lets the quiet linger after his statement.
I take a deep breath. “Actually, there is one thing I want to talk to you about.”
“Oh?” His face remains passive.
“Colt. Well, his funeral.” I hesitate, unsure of how he’s going to react.
James stares at me without speaking. I don’t know what to make of his tight expression. His emotions are always so composed. Unlike my mother, who does it to present something perfect, I get the impression he wants to appear open, receptive, even if what he’s thinking is not so much. I’m still learning his tells. Though if he didn’t like something, I think I’d know.
“I spoke with his mother. She hinted that he may have had a mental disorder. Nothing was ever diagnosed, but she described him as frequently paranoid and increasingly aggressive.”
After a moment he says, “He’d not been with the club long, so I didn’t have a chance to observe if that’s accurate.”
“I didn’t know him long either.” My eyes fall to the floor. “Anyway, I’m going to be attending his service.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
I smile. “He’s already dead. He can’t hurt me now.”
He smirks. “Not what I meant. I mean his Da. Won’t he be there?”
“Yes. I suppose he will.” A challenging smile graces my lips. “Alan’s felt the end of my blade. I’m not worried about him.”
James tilts his head gently in disagreement. “I wouldn’t be so quick to judge. You took him on as a teenager. One who hadn’t killed his only kin. He likely won’t react that way he used to.”
I frown at the blunt way he addresses what happened with Colt. Not that it’s accusatory. Just uncomfortable.
“I’ll come,” he says plainly.
My heart rate kicks up at his speedy decision. “Really?”
“Aye. I’ll not let my daughter go marching into the funeral of the man she killed, with his very angry kin, unprotected.”
An unfamiliar tingle coats my skin, and my cheeks heat.
He stands. “Let’s show you around, in case you care to spend any amount of time here.”
There are more men filling the main room compared to a few minutes ago. It’s nearing dinner, but it appears most are drinking their meal.
“Hey! Maci!” A familiar voice catches my attention, and I snap my head its direction to find Pete walking over from one of the pool tables.
“Pete, how are you?” I force a pleasant smile. As Colt’s friend, I’m not sure what he thinks of the situation.
He shuffles. “Heard what happened with Colt. They’re really taking this seriously. You doing ok?”
I nod. “Yeah, thanks.” My fingers are drawn toward the scar on my side, but I drop my hand. I’m not sure how much they know, and I’m not interested in getting into the details.
Pete’s eyes drop to my side, and his face softens as his gaze returns to me.
“All good,” I press.
“Prez.” Pete nods at James.
My father’s eyes linger on him, not unlike the way they studied Colt the night we met at the bar. He finally nods, and I take in the rest of the room. Several people sneak glances our way.
James clears his throat, chatter dying down around us. “Listen up. I’m going to say this once and only once.” He looks around the room with a dark gaze. “This is Maci. She’s my daughter. Nobody fucks with her, or I’ll castrate you on the spot.” His bright green eyes land on Pete.
I should be annoyed that he announced our connection without asking, but I’m unbothered. Murmured agreement travels through the room. Pete stares at me bewildered, while James waits for him to nod agreement.
A brighter patch on Pete’s leather cut draws my attention. It has a freshness to it that some of the others lack. Where Prospect used to be, a Member patch has replaced it.
Hawk approaches from James’ other side. I study him closer this time. He sports a Vice President patch, among others that I largely ignore. He’s the only one that doesn’t seem surprised by the new information.
“You met Hawk.” James acknowledges his presence before addressing him directly.
The majority of the group seems to be older than Pete and me, though they vary in age somewhat, aside from one guy sitting alone at the bar chatting with the bartender.
James looks the same direction I have. “That’s Ginger.” He motions to the woman behind the bar. Her greeting is stiffer than the others, only acknowledging me with a glance. James doesn’t bother introducing the rest, and I wonder if it’s because there are so many or some other reason.
Slowly, our observers return to their conversations. James gestures to the stairs. “Upstairs are a few rooms with beds. Occasionally the guys will stay over, but I suggest staying out of that area, lest you find something you aren’t looking for.” He grins.
I laugh. “Noted.”
His smile remains wide another moment before he continues. “I have private quarters on the third floor. You ever need to get away, you head up there.” I don’t know what I could need to get away from that would drive me here for refuge, but I nod in acknowledgement.
“I’ll let Petey show you around outside.” He turns to Pete. “Church in ten.”
My brows furrow.
“Proud of you, Gracie.” James winks at me and turns to talk quietly with Hawk.
I turn to Pete. “Church?”
“Yeah. It’s club meeting lingo. It was already planned; that’s why there are so many people here. Buuut, after the news he just shared, I’m thinking he’ll have more to go over.”
I shrug. “Not much to share, honestly.”
Pete gives me a skeptical look. “You need a drink?”
“Sure.”
He heads toward to the front door by way of the bar. We stop at the glossy bar top and the lone man there salutes me with his beer.
I offer a friendly, “Hey.”
“McCoy,” is all he says. His curt speech reminds me of Colt, only this guy has the bad-boy look in spades.
“Nice to meet you.”
Ginger leans against the bar with a less-than-hospitable look. I don’t know what her damn problem is. It’s already been made abundantly clear why I’m here. What could she possibly have a problem with? “What can I getcha, Mouse?”
My temper flares.
“Don’t be stupid, Ginger,” Pete says from behind me. McCoy’s attention doesn’t leave us.
“Do I look meek to you?” I cock my head.
“That’s not what she means,” Pete grumbles.
I lean both hands onto the bar and press my face closer to hers. “Well, why don’t you tell me what you mean, Ginger .”
She stands upright and crosses her arms. “I don’t care if you’re some little runaway. This isn’t your home.”
I laugh. “I’m not a runaway. I don’t know what your problem is, but if you’re worried that I’m going to stop you from fucking my dad, then reel it in. I don’t care who you, or he, bangs.”
Ginger’s face turns a deep shade of red and her smug look falters.
“And for the record, I’m no fucking mouse. James’ support or not, you’ll meet claws if you come at me.”
Pete wraps an arm around my waist from behind, pulling me toward the front door. “Come on, Maci.”
I hold Ginger’s eyes until they search for my father. James watches intently, though he doesn’t say anything.
McCoy lets out a low whistle as we walk by. “Well, you can certainly see the Irish fire in that one.” He takes another long pull from his beer.
Outside, Pete releases me at the same time I shove away from him. “You good?” He studies my face, waiting.
I just stare at him. He continues to wait with a pointed look.
Releasing a huge breath, I scan the lot. “Ok, so maybe I overreacted a little bit.”
His eyebrows raise slightly. “I mean, I like a good cat fight, but I don’t want to see you tussle with Ginger.” He puts a hand up. “It’s not that I don’t think you can handle your own. In fact, I know you can. But I need you to put in a good word for me with Leah, and I need James to let me stick around, so keeping you out of drama is going to be a priority.”
“I don’t need you to keep me out of drama.” I cross my arms. I don’t address the Leah bit, even though I remember his puppy dog eyes when we left that night. “Just tell me what that comment was.”
“A house mouse.” He shifts back and forth on his feet, rubbing the top of his backward cap with a hand. “She was just being a bitch.”
I say nothing, and he eventually continues. “It’s a term sometimes used for young runaways. They want a bad boy and find their way to MC clubhouses. Some stick around for work, some stick around for dick.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head, my blood reheating angrily.
“She’s not fucking James,” he continues. I don’t look at him. “She probably would , given the chance, but she’s not his type. Come to think of it, I don’t actually know if he has a type.”
I hold a hand up by my face to stop him talking and figuratively push away the unwanted details. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t need or want to know about his sex life. We’ve barely met each other, and I’m just trying to see if we can have a real relationship.”
“That explains why you two didn’t interact at The Spur that night.”
That night. The night I met Colt. A man I didn’t realize was my stepbrother. The same night I met James, who I didn’t know was my father. I snort. This is all too much.
“Also, you wanna tell me why you’re carrying?” He crosses his arms.
I have half a mind not to respond. “How do you know I’m carrying?”
His mouth tips up on one side and he gestures to my long-sleeved shirt. “That’s not as loose as you think it is. And I felt it when I pulled you away from the bar.”
I close my eyes. “Habit.”
We stare at each other for a moment. “I had to talk to the detective. About you,” he adds, like I don’t know what he means.
“You don’t have to tell me.” I look into the parking lot. A few stragglers hurry into the building.
“I didn’t lie. I told them what I knew. Which is very little, because frankly, Colt didn’t tell me shit. But I do know he was obsessed with you.” He smirks. “And it might get me punched saying so, but as hot as you are, it’s not surprising. But still not his style.”
He waits quietly for me to say something.
“Ok, that wasn’t appropriate, I just mean—”
“I know what you mean,” I cut him off. Too much from the last few weeks pummels into me. “I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”
“See you around.” He gives a small wave as I hurry back to the Jeep. Despite the space here, I need the open skies of the ranch. Everything is closing in on me.