Chapter Two
Ada
I pulled my Taurus through the gates of Kiss of Death’s compound, the contrast between my practical Ford and the row of gleaming Harleys making me smile.
The guard at the gate nodded once, recognizing me as Knight’s sister.
Granted, I hadn’t been here much, but these guys didn’t miss anything.
Likely how they all survived on the inside.
The compound sprawled before me, a grid of repurposed warehouses connected by paths covered with camouflage netting that cast dappled shadows on the gravel below.
No matter how many times I visited, the transition from Nashville’s normal world to this secretive, insular community of “outlaws” always felt like crossing into another dimension.
I used the term outlaws as one of endearment.
None of the guys here were evil. In fact, I’d argue my last breath every single one of them were saints.
While they’d all committed various forms of crimes -- some of them violent or deadly -- there had always been an underlying but very good reason.
And no one killed innocents or hurt women or children.
These guys were always polite. More than that, the kids at the shelter they supported and guarded like zealots loved the big guys to pieces.
I parked in front of the main warehouse, gathering my purse and the manila folder from the passenger seat.
The folder felt heavier than it should, weighted with the potential consequences of what it contained.
Three ancestry DNA website logins printed on crisp white paper.
Three windows into a past my brother might not be ready to face.
Funny how shit that seemed so light could weigh a ton when it concerned someone you loved.
I walked with purpose, head high, back straight.
Not because I felt uncomfortable here, but because I knew appearances mattered in this place.
The men who called this compound home respected confidence.
My brother had taught me that. Besides, I didn’t think I could consider myself a true, red-blooded woman if I didn’t notice the appreciative looks some of the guys gave me.
The more confidence I showed, the better they enjoyed the chase.
None of them would ever make a move on me, but I couldn’t deny I enjoyed the light flirting and banter.
Did wonders for my ego. Even though I had my fair share of men chasing me, none of them were quite like these guys.
I think it was because they showed genuine respect.
Even the club girls were more coddled than anything else.
These guys simply loved female company in any form and knew to get it they had to be decent guys.
Inside, the air hung thick with both cigarette and pot smoke, motor oil, and whiskey, the unofficial cologne of the Kiss of Death MC.
Several patched members lounged around, some playing pool, others clustered around a bar at the far end.
Conversations quieted momentarily as I entered, before several men smiled and raised a hand at me before returning to their activities.
I settled onto a worn leather couch, adjusting the folder on my lap.
The clubhouse walls displayed framed photos of bikes, the club’s insignia painted larger than life on one entire wall -- which was relatively new -- and a collection of vintage motorcycle parts displayed like museum pieces.
A massive TV mounted on the wall played some action movie with the sound low, largely ignored by the room’s occupants.
“Can I get you anything, Ada?” A prospect approached me with a nervous smile.
Kid couldn’t be but barely out of his teens.
Probably a juvenile offender they’d managed to get paroled and under the club’s care.
I’d have thought being in a known MC would have violated some kind of parole law or something, but Kiss of Death worked closely with a lawyer named Lana Thompson who frequently helped the shelter.
She also helped with light legal stuff. The kid must not be too bad if he was allowed to prospect here.
Knuckles didn’t tolerate dipshit bullies.
“Just water, thanks. Is my brother still in his meeting with Knuckles?”
“Yes, ma’am. Shouldn’t be too much longer.”
I nodded my thanks and settled back. The clubhouse door swung open with enough force to bang against the wall.
Two men entered, and the atmosphere in the room shifted immediately.
Conversations dropped to murmurs, men straightened in their seats, others offered subtle nods of acknowledgment.
The bigger of the two I recognized as Tiny, the club road captain.
His presence always commanded respect by virtue of his sheer size.
The guy was nearly seven feet tall and solid, bulky muscle.
Wouldn’t surprise me if the guy could bench press a car.
He’d also become a favorite with the children at Haven, the women’s shelter the club protected.
Today, though, it wasn’t Tiny who caught my attention.
The other man who entered beside him moved with contained power, like he was on edge and anyone thinking to approach him should think twice. His gaze swept the room in what I recognized as a threat assessment. He wasn’t comfortable with this place at all.
His expression revealed nothing, blank as a concrete wall, but his eyes missed nothing. Prison-pale skin contrasted sharply with dark tattoos that climbed his neck. This had to be Jagger Kross, the man Knight had mentioned was being released after thirty-seven years inside.
The door behind the bar opened, and Knight emerged. My brother looked tired, the lines around his eyes deeper than when I’d seen him last week. His eyes lit up when he spotted me, though, and he crossed the room with long strides.
“Ada.” I stood and Knight wrapped me in a bear hug that lifted me slightly off my feet. “Wasn’t expecting you today.”
“Hence the surprise part of surprise visits,” I said, returning his embrace. When he set me down, I held up the folder. “We need to talk.”
His smile faded as he glanced at the folder. “Business or personal?”
“Both, maybe.” I kept my voice low. “Can we use your office?”
Knight nodded, placing his hand lightly on my back as he guided me toward the hallway. His office was small but private. He shut and locked the door, then sat behind his desk and slumped back, turning his full attention to me.
“What’s going on?”
I handed him the folder. “I submitted my DNA to three different ancestry websites.”
“OK…” He looked confused. “Why would you do that?”
“You cut Lavender out of your life less than a week after you were arrested.”
Instantly, my brother’s gaze focused and hardened. “I don’t talk about Lavender, Ada. Ever. You know that.”
“Yes. I do. Which is why I took the steps I did.”
“Ada --”
“No. You listen to me!”
He took a breath and opened his mouth like he might argue, but sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Christ, Ada,” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m listening.”
“Something was wrong. That day you told her not to come back.” Did I imagine he winced?
“She was so upset the last time I saw her. I tried to keep in touch, but she changed her number. So, after thinking about it for a few months, I decided to put my DNA profile out there in case there was ever a need.”
“What are you sayin’, Ada?” I could see the moment he saw what I was throwing at him but tried hard to pretend it wasn’t glaring at him in the face.
“I’m saying, I think she was upset about more than you going to prison.”
“You think she was pregnant with my kid?”
I didn’t hesitate. “I do. Last time I saw her, she was sick with what she said was a puking bug. She laughed it off, but she also kept rubbing her lower belly. She was distracted. Nervous.” I paused for effect. “Hurt. Angry. Maybe even more than a little scared.”
He shook his head. “No.” He kept shaking his head. “No fuckin’ way. She’d have told me.”
“Would she?” I leaned forward, needing to make my point. “What did she say to you the last day you saw her?”
“I -- she was -- she was hurt. I didn’t mean to hurt her.” Knight, through all the tattoos covering his face, looked all kinds of miserable and pained. “But I wasn’t getting out for a decade. I didn’t want her waste her life waiting for me.”
“I didn’t ask what you said to her. Not my business. What did she say to you?”
Knight stared at me for a long time. I saw the exact moment my suspicions were confirmed. “She told me she had something to tell me.” He paused. “And I told her I had nothing else to say. Then I left.”
I sighed. “That’s what I thought. You were too stubborn to ask for help, so I helped you out the only way I knew how.”
Knight ran a hand through his shaggy hair, those freaky tattooed eyes of his making him look like something out of a horror movie. Ink covered much of his face, adding to the eerie effect. “I know, but fuck, Ada. There are privacy issues. The club --”
“I used a fake name and a burner email,” I assured him. “Nothing traces back to you or the club. This is our best, quickest shot at finding any child you have. Sure, we could do it all by hand, but that’s like finding a needle in a haystack. At least this way we might have a good starting point.”
The fight went out of him. He slumped in his chair, opening the folder to scan the printouts. “So what now? We just wait for relatives to pop up?”
“Pretty much. I set alerts if anyone with significant DNA matches creates an account.” I leaned forward. “Knight, if you have a child out there, like I believe you do, you won’t be able to stand not knowing. I can tell by looking at you right now you’re worrying about it.”
“Could be worrying about club shit,” He grumbled. “Why you just now tellin’ me about this?”