Page 13 of 23 Hours

Mindful not to provoke me, Kai gestures toward my bedroom. “Walk it off, bro. Walk it off. Get your head straight.”

Like hell either one of ‘em are gonna tell me what to do. I can make my own choices. I have more than twenty years on each of them. When they’ve run with the SS as long as I have, been through what I have, seen what I’ve seen in and out of the club, they can give me life advice. Until then, they can…

“Fuck off,” I snarl, my upper lip curling back.

Not wanting to make things worse, Kai lifts both hands in childish surrender. “Gunz, come on, man, chill out.”

“Why? ’Cause you’re the one who fucked up? ’Cause you’re new? You do realize you’re lucky as hell Big didn’t take you into that shed tonight and make you pay.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

I laugh. It’s low and cruel, but nothing less than what he deserves for his stupidity.

“Wrong. If you think he wouldn’t do that ’cause you’re a brother, you need to rethink your importance here. She’s his. Has always been his. Will always be his. If he had to pick between saving a bus full of children and saving her life, he’d pick her every time. Your actions are what did this to them. Not hers. Everyone knows Bink’s impulsive and stubborn. That she doesn’t always listen when she should. But everything she does is out of love. What you made her do is inexcusable. Big may forgive you, but I’m not sweepin’ this under the rug. Not when you can’t take a simple goddamn order and follow through. If you don’t get your shit straight, you won’t be VP here. We’ll find someone more qualified.” I’ll make sure of it.

Through with the bullshit, with Niki’s neediness, with the strong possibility of fatherhood looming overhead, with Kai, and everything I can’t fucking fix yet want to, I turn to face my favorite club whore and lay down the fucking law. Tonight’s not the night to toy with me. I’m a patient man. It takes a helluva lot to knock my world off its axis. Consider it knocked the hell off. At this point, it’s rolling down the highway to hell with no end in sight.

“Go home, Niki,” I order.

Hand flying to her mouth, she gasps. “Why? I thought I was staying?”

“No.” My head shakes in firm side-to-side jerks. “You’re going home. I have shit I need to deal with, and you’re a distraction.”And Mel…Kit doesn’t need you prancing around here naked. I’m not gonna let you screw up a chance for me to meet my kid. If he’s my kid.

“I’ll stay in your room. I promise.” Niki drops to her knees at my feet like submission will change my mind.

This should please me. It should make me painfully hard. Any other night, I’d relish the sight. But I can’t muster a single desire to fulfill her needs or mine.

I cross both arms over my chest to keep from touching her and giving the wrong impression. “No. You won’t. You want my dick, and I don’t have time to give you my dick. So, there’s no use in you staying.”

“That’s okay. We don’t have to have sex.” Peering up at me, Niki fixes her hair over her shoulder as her lips pucker in a silent plea.

I sigh to myself.

It’s sex or nothing. We aren’t friends with benefits if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s mutually beneficial fucking. Nothing more. She’s a club whore who likes to spread her legs for bikers. That’s the status quo and I have no desire for more, even if something beyond lust fueled my veins when I was around her. I’ve never been in love, don’t know what it feels like. And if my incapable heart could feel it, it wouldn’t be with her.

“Not the point.” I slice my hand through the air when she opens her mouth to argue. “Please get your things and go. Since Big’s taken care of for the evening, Kai can see ya out.”

Taking my leave before Niki gets a chance to piss me off, I flash Kai a look that says he better not screw this up. He nods as if reading my thoughts loud and clear. Good. We’re done.

Needing a moment of solace, I go straight to my office and shut myself inside. I click on the small lamp next to my computers. Yes, plural.Computers.My office space isn’t used like Big’s, or anyone else’s for that matter. This is command central for the Sacred Sinners' money flow. I’m the man who finds it, washes its digital imprint, and adds it to our line of investments we launder money through. It’s taken years to get us to this point, but my mad tech skills have it running like a well-oiled machine. This is where I go to get my happy, besides the bedroom. This is where I’m most useful. Apart from the surveillance and securities I run.

I take a seat in the leather chair behind my L-shaped desk and count to ten. When that doesn’t suppress my ragged nerves, I open a drawer and pull out a glass. Setting it next to my backlit keyboard, I open an expensive bottle of scotch and pour two fingers deep. It was a gift from Big ages ago and I’m the only one who’s ever had a taste.

Leaning back in my chair, I sip the liquor, enjoying the warmth it spreads from the center out as I scan the room I’ve called mine for years. Gray walls, a black desk, and a recent picture of Bink, Harley, and me, rests on the only other piece of furniture I have—a shelf that holds the extensive collection of old vinyl records I’ve collected since I was a kid. Mostly rock albums with a bit of other tunes tossed in. On top, next to the picture, is where I store the player. Not that it gets much use. Nostalgia isn’t lost on me, but neither is the convenience of digital music on my phone and the wireless speaker I can take anywhere.

If I had the energy to get up, I’d select some Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers to relax with. “Don’t Come Around Here No More,”would be the perfect fuckin’ backdrop to the day I’ve had.

What a day that was, huh?

Don’t think it could’ve been any bigger of a shit show.

Moving the mouse to wake up my computer, I type with one hand to find what I can about this Melanie and her son Adam. There’s little to go on, considering I don’t know their last name, or much else. Then I remember his receipt stunt and Google that instead. Within minutes, I’ve got my son's mug shot, his birth certificate, social security number, address, and everything else you can think of on my screen. If there was any doubt before that Kit was lying, it’s vanished. Adam’s the spitting image of a younger me with hair and no goatee. The eyes, the smile, the broadness of his shoulders… it’s like looking in a mirror thirty years ago.

I sigh, wearing a small smile as I take in his darker hair and sun-tanned skin—a stark contrast to the blueness of his gaze.

Adam McLeod.

A Scottish last name… interesting.

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