Page 47 of Off-Limits
“Fucking hell, Dottie. You have enough money to stay at a hotel. Why would you subject yourself to that shit again, to them?”
“You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“My dad is sick.”
Shit.
“I have to make peace with them.”
I stop at the door, my hand clenching the frame.
“We’re not indebted to our parents, Dottie. It will do you good to remember that.”
Before she has a chance to say anything else I’m out. I need to get away before I do something stupid.
Like ask her to stay.
But then as if the Gods are a-fucking-gainst me, I see Rowan Knight, VP of the Ridge Riders sitting on his bike with a cigarette in his hand and a smirk on his face. I know why he’s here.
Damn it, I’m going to be fucking late.
Closing the distance, I fold my arms over my chest.
“Knight.”
“Woods,” he responds, kicking off the bike. “Wouldn’t know about any missing bike parts now, would you?”
“You know as well as I do, Rowan, I don’t fuck around with that shit. Bear and Scout have already been here to ream my ass, so what are you really doing here?”
“Just in the area, Damon. But if you hear anything,” he says, tipping his head.
“I have your number. Now if that’s all… I have shit to do.”
With a knowing smirk on his face, he takes one last drag and blows out a plume of smoke.
“She’s a lot nosier than I remember.”
The hairs on the nape of my neck stand to attention, and I don’t have to turn around to know Dottie is there. I can feel her.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.
Rowan throws his leg over the bike and kicks it over.
“Sure, you do.”
And that’s the last thing he says before he peels out of the carpark, his laughter trailing behind him.
It’s going to be a long fucking day.
I spendthe short trip thinking about my next move. The first thing on my list of things to do, is to make certain Arrie is fine and can run the workshop without it affecting her business or lifestyle. I want the best for my daughter, and I guess finding out Kerry-Anne had her three months into the fuck fest of a relationship, solidified my actions.
The memory takes over and I allow myself this remember, tofeel.
“You have a daughter, and you didn’t think you should tell me?” I grind out, looking from Kerry-Anne to her adorable two-year-old in her ripped Cinderella nightie.
I’m trying to keep my cool, but I can feel it fraying at theedges. I don’t care that the woman I’m falling for has a daughter, what I do care about is she’s lied to me for the past three months. Who the hell had her daughter while we were out partying?
