Page 2 of A Biker's Tiny Present

“And tell them what? That she packed up most of her and the baby’s things and took off? That’s not a missing person, she’s not a teenage runaway, she’s a twenty-seven-year-old woman who can go wherever, whenever, she wants.”

Letting out a deep sigh, she knows I’m right. “Have you called her work? Or one of her friends? Maybe she decided to spend the weekend with one of them?”

“Can you call the Velvet Room and ask if she’s there? I don’t have many of her friend’s numbers, but I’ll call who I know.” My phone is still in my hand, in a death grip so tight I’m surprisedto see I haven’t cracked the case. I check the screen but see no missed calls from Taylor.

Ten minutes and a half dozen calls later leads us back to square one. The bartender that Sophie talked to at the strip club said Taylor clocked out at three-thirty this morning and hasn’t been back since. She’s not on the schedule until Tuesday night, but if she does show up, he’ll relay a message to call us. Most of her friends that I talked to said they haven’t heard from her in a couple days, but with her work schedule, that is normal. One friend did see her, around four o’clock this afternoon, getting gas at the station just outside our subdivision. Nicholas was in the car, so knowing they’re together is a relief, but it still doesn’t answer where they went after that. It’s been over two hours since then so depending on what direction she went, they could be halfway across the state, or almost into Minnesota, by now for all I know.

“Nicholas’s father!” I exclaim. Remembering a few details I was able to wrangle out of Taylor, I have an idea where he could be.

“What about him?” Sophie is looking at me like I’ve got three heads. “I thought you didn’t know who he is.”

“I don’t know his name, but if I’m right, I know where to find him.” With that I’m up off the couch and headed for the kitchen.

“Where?” Sophie follows.

“I did the math once.” As I put my coat back on, I fill her in. “I remember Taylor going to a party with some friends at the Rebel Vipers clubhouse right around the time she got pregnant. I think one of them could be Nicholas’s father.”

Sophie freezes in place, her hand in the air like she’s trying to stop the trainwreck barreling toward us. “Whoa whoa whoa. The Rebel Vipers Motorcycle Club clubhouse? Like where the bikers live? She went to a party there?”

“The very same.” Her question doesn’t make me stop moving. I’m out the door into the garage and have my car door open before I finish my explanation. “I may be totally wrong, but on the chance I’m not, I have to see if I’m right. I can’t sit here and do nothing. I need to try and find them. I need to do something.”

“Okay. I totally understand.” She races around the hood and gives me a hug. “But you call me the minute you figure something out. Even if she’s not there, I want to know.”

“I will. I promise.”

CHAPTER TWO

TINY

“See, I told you. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Dammit. Why does she have to be right? But there’s no way in hell I’m admitting how much fun I actually had today dealing with what seemed like a never-ending line of kids climbing up on my lap for a jolly ‘ho ho ho’ and a picture.

One plus side to today is the dozen slips of paper that I’m secretly sliding into the pocket of my jeans. More than a few mothers slipped me their phone numbers after I was done chatting with their kiddos and I can’t wait to pull out a couple later to see if anyone is up for some fun.

“If you don’t count the one kid who screamed bloody murder the entire time,” I complain to Raven, my captor for the day who roped me into this playing Santa gig. Just because I have a deep voice and a bushy beard, doesn’t mean I wanted to sit in a chair for three hours and listen to every child in what seems like the five surrounding counties tell me what they want for Christmas.

“She wasn’t that loud,” Raven stares at me with an evil glare. “You and your Brothers have had parties a million times louder. Don’t try to pull that shit with me.”

She’s not wrong.

Raven is the Old Lady of two of my Brothers, Smoke and Haze. The three of them have been in a polyamorous relationship for a couple months now, but even before that, she has worked for the club for coming up on a year. The Lodge, where we are today, is a combination bar and restaurant and Raven is the front-end manager for the bar part.

The Rebel Vipers MC owns a handful of legit businesses, used to help clean some of the dirty money we make doing some not so clean things, but that’s neither here nor there. At this particular moment, I’m finally starting to peel off this scratchy, uncomfortable, hot as balls, stupid-ass costume.

“And this went longer than you told me it would. I only agreed to two hours.”

“You know exactly why I asked for your help today, Tiny.” Raven stands and comes around her desk. “With all the weddings coming up, a lot of your Brothers are busy. But you’re done now. Thank you for your help. You can go back to the clubhouse and continue to be your grumpy ass self for the rest of the evening.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to head back out and work a few hours behind the bar,” Raven says as she slips on her Property cut. Still dressed inher elf costume from being my kid assistant, she gives me a small wave and leaves me in the office alone to finish changing.

She’s not wrong about my plans for the night, kind of. Yes, I do plan on heading to the clubhouse, but no, I don’tplanon being a grumpy asshole. I can’t always help that it’s how I am most of the time. If you had witnessed even a tenth of the things I have in my forty-five years, you would be in a sour mood sometimes too. Combine a shitty childhood, eighteen grueling combat filled years in the Marines, eleven years in a motorcycle club who rides the thin line of right and wrong, and you get me—grumpy Henry ‘Tiny’ Taggert.

Being a single guy in a club that has its membership very quickly pairing off and claiming Old Ladies, it’s quite often that jobs requiring one man get handed off to whoever is near the person who needs help at that moment, and this time it was me. And those weddings she’s referring to, in just over a week, five of my Brothers will be tying the knot with their ladies in a Christmas Eve shindig. The Old Ladies of Whiskey, Ring and Steel, Hammer, and Buzz have everyone in the clubhouse running around like little ants, doing their bidding in preparation for the big day. Today was a small reprieve from the madness, but come tomorrow, I’ll be back in the fray.

After ridding myself of the rented costume pants I’ve been wearing over my jeans, because there was no way in hell I was not going to have barrier between them and my skin, I kick off the shiny black boots with the gold buckles and put my scuffed up pair of work boots back on. I slide my cut on over my sweatshirt, put my phone in the front pocket, grab my coat, and I’m ready to go.

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