Fire & Whiskey (Diamond Creek #4)

Prologue

Popeye

The moment we stepped into the bar on Bourbon Street, my daughter rushed toward Gator, the president of the Bourbon Kings. I watched with envy as he enfolded her in his arms.

I’d never cared much for New Orleans. The music, the crowds, the fucking voodoo nonsense that engulfed the city. The only redeeming quality was the food. Beignets, pralines, bread pudding... but the food alone wasn’t reason enough to bring me back here with any regularity.

That was probably why Christina had chosen to come here, knowing it was the one place I’d never look.

Finding my daughter at the center of a fucking biker war after losing decades with her wasn’t the celebration I’d wanted it to be. When I got the call from James, I’d long since given up all hope of ever finding my baby girl. But here she was, the old lady to the president of the Silver Shadows MC.

A life I never wanted for her.

Maybe it was destiny. Maybe the queen was who she’d always meant to be. Maybe it was my fault for leaving her with people I thought I could trust.

Like her mother.

When I met Christina all those years ago, I fell madly in love. I’d turned my head to hear someone better, and my eyes caught on the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She was the spitting image of her sister who I’d met earlier in the night.

They had to be twins.

But the way she carried herself was so very different. The clothes she wore were meant to make her blend in, but the way she carried herself made her stand out in a clubhouse filled with bikers and whores.

It was obvious she had something the whores were lacking: poise and class.

She hid along the wall. As if it wasn’t just the clothes making her uncomfortable, but her own skin. Her jeans were tight, and her top was short. An inch of her belly peeked out with every move she made.

It was almost thirty years ago, and I was in Purgatory, California. Sent by my president, George Stone, to gather information to bring down the Golden Skulls. As the VP of the Soulless Sinners, I did what my president asked of me without question.

Until those questions started piling up.

James Doherty was the VP of the Golden Skulls; his father, William, was the president. William wasn’t much different from George. Looking back now, it was a wonder and a blessing that the two of them never teamed up. Then again, neither of them was willing to submit to anyone.

Least of all each other.

They were both dead now, and the rest of us remained here, picking up the pieces of a feud that had nothing to do with us.

My eyes followed Grace as she said hello to each member of the Bourbon Kings. As if she’d known them forever. We hadn’t had much time to catch up yet, but Grace told me her mother moved them to Louisiana when they left Arkansas.

New Orleans, to be exact.

I wanted answers that nobody had. Every person who knew about Grace and her mother, who they were, why I hid them, and why they ran, was dead. Grace didn’t know why they ran; Christina only told her that they needed to move on. Somewhere new, where they could start fresh. Start a new life.

Without me.

The morning came with bright sunlight and the scent of cinnamon and sugar as I walked down the steps into the bar. I sat on the stool, and a cup of coffee appeared in front of me.

I looked up into the face of Gator.

“I hear you’re Gracie’s father.”

“I am,” I said with a sigh. I hoped one day I would say it with pride. It wasn’t that I wasn’t proud to be her father. I fucking loved my daughter, but whenever I heard the words, I thought about all the time I’d missed.

“Where the fuck were you?”

My hand clenched around the coffee cup. I was tired of having to defend myself. Christina was the one who left; she was the one who hid my girl from me.

“It wasn’t his fault, cousin,” Romeo said as he sat down.

“Then whose fault was it?”

“Her mother’s,” I growled.

“Bullshit. Scarlett loved that girl more than her own life,” Gator argued.

“I don’t doubt that. But something spooked her,” I conceded.

It was the only logical answer. I had a feeling I knew what, or more precisely, who it was. How he found out about them, and why he never used it against me, I’d never know because the son of a bitch was dead. But George Stone must have come for them.

“What?”

I looked up and found the rest of the Bourbon Kings gathered around. Worm stared at me, waiting for an answer.

“I assume George Stone found them.”

“But you don’t know?” Juju asked.

I shook my head and stared at the cup in my hands. “And I never will. Scarlett is gone, and she never told Grace the truth.”

“Maybe this will help.”

A book slammed down on the bar in front of me. The sound echoed through the room. I looked up at Gator, a silent question I couldn’t quite bring myself to ask.

“Before Scarlett died, she spoke to me in private. Asked me to take care of Grace. Told me her father would come looking for her one day, and I should give him this.”

His hand lay on the leather-bound book. I stared at it warily. I knew Christina loved to write in journals. I’d seen her do it in bed, at the kitchen table after breakfast. She’d recorded every aspect of her pregnancy with Grace.

“Why not give it to Grace?”

“Scarlett said not to. Said there were answers in here that Gracie wasn’t ready for.”

I glared at the Bourbon Kings’ president, my eyes filled with fury.

“And you fucking believed her?”

“Had no reason not to.” Gator shrugged. “And if you tell Gracie I had this, I’ll fucking deny it.”

Gator and the others walked away, leaving me alone to stare at the journal. I set the coffee cup to the side and hesitantly reached for the book as if it were a snake ready to strike.

I picked up the journal, running my thumb over the worn leather cover, and considered unwrapping the black ribbon that was wound around the pages—pages that might hold the answers to the questions I’d been asking every day for fifteen fucking years.

Answers I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear. Revelations I wasn’t ready to accept.

Instead, I slid it into the inside pocket of my jacket. So much of the past had been coming back to bite us all in the ass. I was no longer sure that I wanted to know what had happened.

I’d finally found my daughter; she’d made room in her life for me, and in less than a year I’d be a grandfather. Maybe some secrets should stay buried.

Maybe the truth didn’t always set us free.