Page 12 of Biker's Enemy

“Yes,” she says. “It is. Wyatt called, but I didn’t say anything.”

I exhale. “Thanks. He has his hands full with Oske.”

The Shaws have a secret there. I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s big because otherwise, Oske would be dead. Wyatt isn’t the type to hold back against anyone who represents a threat. But Oske is still here… still causing problems. Still on the goddamn run. Maybe we should have listened to Reaper.

“Did you call Annie?” she asks.

She means my mother, Annabel. I haven’t told my mother about the baby despite my aunt’s insistence.

“We don’t know if the kid is mine.”

“She has red hair, Tanner.”

“I know. So does everyone in the family. She might not be mine.”

“This would be a lot easier if you had a theory about who she is.”

I don’t answer the question. I might not have a theory, I just know what my instincts are telling me.

She’s not mine. But I can’t tell if it’s denial or just knowledge of where I planted my seed the past few years. I can’t say I always used protection but… I can’t think any of the women I’ve been with wouldn’t have popped back up with that kid to demand child support the second they saw those two pink lines.

I took a picture of the note, so I open it up and read through it again.

Dear Tanner,

Okay. This person knows who I am. Not just my club name. That means they know exactly who I am and possibly have some connection to the family.

This is your child. I have attached the corresponding documentation and genetic testing to prove these claims. The child has family traits. I am sure you do not remember our encounter all those years ago.

If you do not care for this baby, she will face certain death at the hands of her mother.

You must not contact the police. Give her a good life.

No signature. This is your child. It doesn’t sound like anyone I know. That’s the part that fucks with me. Aunt Deb believes the kid is mine. She thinks I’m like my father. But I’m not. I’m nothing like him. I’m not dumb enough to commit to a woman knowing I can’t keep my dick in my pants. And anyway, I’m not like my father in the most important way.

I can keep my dick in my pants.

First, I read the letter quietly to myself and then I read it again for my aunt. She listens and then she asks me to read it again before repeating each line.

“Is there a chance it’s Andy or Beau’s kid?”

“He’s married. So no.”

“Your father was married and how many half-brothers do you have?”

“If Avery was his, why did she end up on my doorstep?”

She sighs. “I don’t know Tanner. Maybe we should tell Annie. She could get the truth out of him.”

Annie. That’s my mother, and the last thing I want to do is mention another baby my father had out of wedlock. His parting gift, by the age of Avery. The back of my neck flushes with the certainty that my father must have planted his seed days or weeks before passing away. Fuck.

It would be just like him, but without proof, what’s the point in getting my mother all upset?

“I don’t want to disappoint my mom. If this is some type of hoax, she’ll lose her mind. She’s lost too much already with dad gone.”

“The baby is family, Tanner,” Aunt Deb says with that guilt inducing voice she uses with her sons. That might work on a Shaw, but it won’t work on me…

I don’t know how she can be so sure.

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