Page 33 of Her Biker Daddy

Tate sent her away, told her not to come back, and apparently whatever she did or whatever my ‘father’ has on her was massive enough to send her running. Not that she got far.

Her body was found two days later out near the trailer park. I dreaded going to see her but thankfully, it was the county sheriff’s department that had jurisdiction over it, versus the town’s police department, so I didn’t have to worry about anyone getting too close to me asking questions. But like I told the deputy who met us at the morgue, I hadn’t seen her in five weeks and only at the store for a minute when I did. I didn’t have a clue who might have been after her.

I felt sick at the thought of going into the room to look at her dead body and Tate told the deputy he would do it instead. It was a relief, and I stayed out where I was with Law while he handled that, coming back out to me with just a nod, telling me it really was her.

I didn’t cry then, and I still haven’t cried over her loss. She was never really a mother to me. Never treated me even half as well as Tate does, loved me even a tenth as much as him, so I don’t really have any regrets that she’s now gone.

The only thing her death has done, is given us a new avenue to get the proof that Adam Jackson is my biological father. Law came up with the idea to sue him for child support on behalf of my mother’s estate. It’s apparently an actual legal avenue an adult child can take, and our state doesn’t have a time limit on how far back it can go. He fought it but since child support cases go through a separate family court division rather the local courts where judges can sit over civil, criminal and probate matters, there was no one in his pocket to stop it.

The look on his face when we had the test done was one of fury, but that’s because Law requested the state’s lab be the one to run the DNA samples, not any of the local companies that were contracted and could collect the samples and send them off on the court’s behalf. Those he could manipulate. He wouldn’t be able to get into the state lab to find a weak leak before the samples were logged into their system.

The tests samples were sent off last week and we’ve been waiting for the results while staying close to the clubhouse. Tate’s not about to risk my safety right now, especially not since we’re pregnant.

The text from Law saying the case was to come back up this afternoon sometime is entirely welcome and yet not, because Tate can’t possibly make it in with me, so I’m headed to the courthouse to meet Law by myself. Something that I haven’t really been since going home with him. Even when I’ve been alone in our rooms, or in the library, there are still other people around the clubhouse. Crossing through the gate for the property and onto the road all by myself is a bit of a shock.

I really wish Tate was with me. His car is the epitome of luxury and driving it is great, but there’s this pit in my stomach that I can’t shake, which in turn is making the nausea worse. They had a fire at one of the shops, one that sells ammo and weapons they get through legal means but also lets them sell the illegal ones under the table through when someone might not find what they’re looking for otherwise. They’re certain it was arson, but they’re still trying to figure out where it started to figure out who might have set it.

He was hotter than I’ve ever seen, his anger shown in every word he uttered and every movement he made, and I wanted to be able to stay with him, calm him down if needed, but what happens in the courtroom today will dictate what happens next with the inheritance claim. It’s too important not to be at in person, to be able to get that court document that shows without a doubt, that creep is my biological father.

That pit I’ve felt since getting in the car simply grows when I pull into the lot next door to the courthouse, finding it eerily quiet. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything this deserted, and I slip my hand into the console, taking out the knife daddy gave me that I stashed there earlier since you can’t take it into the courthouse. I can always leave it at security, if needed. I simply feel safer with it on me.

I grab my bag, putting the key fob into my pocket and slip out to find Law. I don’t see his bike, but he may have walked over from the other side of the square rather than park it out front. He looks really odd wearing a suit while riding it. He looks really odd wearing a suit period actually, but that’s because I’ve seen him in his casual attire around the clubhouse and it fits his personality far more than a suit ever might.

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t know the law though, because honestly, he was able to find a legal argument for every objection Adam’s attorneys put up that would have compelled any other judge to force the DNA test then and there. One of the other lawyers that’d been in the same courtroom said we should file an appeal because the ruling appeared to be completely biased. Said we had enough of a case with the fact that my mother told me who my ‘father’ was multiple times over the years combined with the genetic characteristics like my hair and eye color that were recessive and much more likely to be dominant with a parents that shared them than one that didn’t. As well as the fact that his own wife had confronted me before about claiming to be his daughter, but never denied that I was when questioned, showed more than enough probable cause to have the test ordered.

Law simply nodded in agreement with it and carried on, looking for anything that could help us, until my mom died, giving us this avenue.

I move towards the sidewalk to come up around to the front of the building but as I go for the corner, something slams against the side of my head, and everything starts to go dark. I try to scream, to fight, but it hurts too much, it’s too deep and everything fades as I’m thrown onto a floor and I’m completely out.

???

My head pounds, my neck stiff as I come to with a jerk. My eyes instantly dart all around me, looking for an escape, and I push myself up off the concrete floor to go look for it. A drag against my leg keeps me from rushing and my heart clenches seeing the metal cuff shackled around it. There’s a thick chain attached to it that’s bolted to the wall, and I curse whoever the hell grabbed me and did this.

Who the hell do they think they are? The only one allowed to tie me up or cuff me is daddy and he sure as shit wouldn’t do it like this.

I look all around me, but it’s just one huge room. It looks like a basement. There aren’t any windows and the only thing other than a chair is a set of steps that come down from the ceiling.

My bag isn’t anywhere I can see with the dim glow from the lights overhead, and my hands slide down my sides, relief filling me when I feel the knife still in my pocket. Tears well up as I silently thank daddy for giving it to me. I don’t know who I’m dealing with, but that knife is the greatest lifeline I have right now. The only one I have until daddy comes looking for me.

Does he even know I’m missing? Law would have called him immediately when I didn’t show—especially if he found the car in the parking lot.

But how long has it really been? How long was I out for?

Does this have anything to do with the fire at the gun shop or is this some sick attempt by Adam to get me out of the way? Are they all one and the same?

Oh god, was there even a hearing called or was that a trick just to get me there? Out in public where I’d be easy to grab.

They’d have had no way of knowing I’d go by myself unless they did something to distract daddy. “Fuck,” I moan sliding down onto the floor, my back against the wall—literally.

This was all a set up. Everything from the fire down to the text from Law had to be a set up.

There’s no way he was in it with them though and he would have checked with the courts before contacting me if he’d gotten a random update about the case. Which only reasons that the text was a fake—a spoof. Law’s information was on the court filings and most likely someone at the police department or courthouse found my phone number. I don’t know if it was listed anywhere, but it’s possible. With as many people as Adam has working for him, it’s no shock that he’d have someone embedded in a clerical position in the courthouse.

My stomach rolls and I rub it, trying to stay calm but that’s about as useful as a toy squirt gun against a blazing inferno. The kind like was set at the shop.

It would have been more questionable if the fire was set after the news of the case being called. But the fire started around five this morning and the text from Law didn’t come until ten. Far enough apart that they didn’t seem to be connected at first glance. Not with the other enemies that the club has—people they’ve refused sales to, people they’ve ripped off shipments from, other clubs that think the Reapers stepped on their toes. Hell, even the cops in town could have been responsible for it simply because they were causing trouble for the club. It could have had nothing to do with me at all.

But I know it did.

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