Page 19 of Biker's Enemy

“That’s the bare minimum, Wyatt,” Anna says.

“She doesn’t deserve your protection.”

I grab Anna’s face and pull her close for a kiss. The mother of my child is still so soft. So perfect. I want her lips so fucking badly. The ache spreads through me. I hold onto her from her hips and kiss her forehead. I would much rather spend the night making love to my wife but sometimes… you have to torture a family member instead.

This is my father’s shame, not mine. But I can’t bear looking at Oske’s face. It’s impossible for me not to see the family resemblance. How could he have done this? It would have been just once. Just one time. But that was enough.

“Go to your room, Anna,” I command my wife as gently as I can. “I’ll handle everything downstairs.”

“It’s not her fault. Her connection to your family isn’t her fault.”

But it feels like it is.

We all have our demons in this club but my father’s demon haunts me in ways that others don’t. She sits in my basement threatening to destroy all of us. He kept Oske’s true connection to our family hidden from us for years. He lied to me. To my brothers. To our mother.

If she learned what he did now, it would kill her. I want her to have that perfect memory of him. Her honest husband.

“I love you, baby,” I whisper to my wife. “I love you so fucking much.”

I always say that to Anna before I do some fucked up shit. Just in case it’s the last straw with her. I need her to know that I love her ass more than she will ever know and that is never gonna fucking change.

Magnum Sinclair somehow got the short end of the stick so when I get downstairs, he has a shotgun pointed right at Oske, who has her tongue stuck out and an expression on her face like she’s trying to get her ass shot. What the fuck is wrong with this woman?

“Oske, stop that,” I growl at her, which causes her to promptly suck her tongue back in. Condom and Steel must have worked on her a bit, because she doesn’t look like she’s in the best shape.

“Let me hit her, boss,” Condom asks. “Please…”

“Minnow dick,” Oske ‘mutters’ loudly enough for us to hear. She doesn’t express the slightest shred of remorse when I glare at her. Condom turns bright red but I can’t tell if he’s pissed off or drunk. Maybe a mixture of both.

“Quiet, Oske. I have been more than generous with you but you have pushed it too far. What the hell possessed you to convince Tamiya Simmons to kidnap Juliette’s baby? And I want a real answer.”

Her expression falls away and thin-lipped stoicism returns. She’s so full of shit, playing up the calm Indian stereotype as if I can’t recognize the fire behind her dark eyes. I don’t know what the hell my grandfather was thinking. It’s not just that Oske’s here… It’s what he did after she was born.

“Is this about the past?” I growl at her. “Is that why you’re fucking with me?”

Nothing.

“Give us an answer,” Steel says. “You took my niece from the safety of her home and unlike my cousin… I won’t ask the boss for permission if I get the urge to smack you across the face.”

Oske ignores him, keeping her gaze angrily fixated on me. I don’t want to stop them from punishing her. Being the bad guy often offers you the easy way out. One bullet would get rid of this problem and I wouldn’t have to keep this unpredictable fucking firecracker on such a short leash.

It’s my damn fault for having a heart.

For wanting to be a different man than my father.

Her mother didn’t deserve what happened to her.

“You owe me,” Oske says.

“I have given you everything I can. I promised I would look after you and I have kept that promise. Obviously, Oske, I have to reconsider my commitments to you now that you intimidated someone to kidnap an infant.”

She remains cool despite the tension in my voice. Steel and Condom unconsciously respond to my firm tone, trained by years of riding and working together. They both tighten their grasp on their weapons. Oske feels the energy in the room shift.

“You could give me the benefit of the doubt instead of kidnapping me and tying me up in a basement.”

“You ran,” I remind her, gritting my teeth and reminding myself that she’s still five years younger than me and less mature. That I owe her. She’s right. Anna’s right.

If Oske needs forgiveness… maybe I shouldn’t deny her. After all, I have my share of screw ups.

---