Page 35 of Biker Daddy

Stop it!

He smirked. “I run. A lot. Keeps the demons away for a while.”

She reached out and touched one of the tattoos on his slick arm—something with horns and sharp teeth showing through a cruel smile. “Seems to me, you’ll never escape them when they’re under your skin.”

He nodded. “Nor should I. I earned every one.” He rolled his neck and shoulders, glancing sadly at her. “I dropped off your breakfast, but you weren’t there. It’s a bun with bacon, egg, and cheese. You never did get around to eating the burger I brought last night.”

“I’ll get some groceries today,” she answered.

“I don’t mind making you meals.” His brows rose. “Besides, I don’t trust that you’ll eat.”

“Thanks,” she answered sarcastically, and looked down at herself. “But I’m pretty sure I didn’t get this way by not eating.” His mouth firmed but before he could start lecturing her, she added, “I’m going to the office. See if I can find contact info for some of the campers.”

She heard him call her name, but she broke into a jog to escape.

* * *

The office was big and rustic with a huge real wood desk full of grooves and chips from years of use. The seventies-style wood-paneled walls were covered with lots of shelves, filing cabinets, framed photos and letters, but most of all, dust. A square, yellowed-with-age fan sat in one corner with pliers clamping the broken control dial, and she smiled. Right then, she knew Uncle Ray didn’t let Drew in here. First, because of the fan, and second because it was obvious no one had set foot in here, besides her, in a long time. Her footprints in the dust were proof.

Addi’s uncle was somewhat of a hoarder when it came to paperwork. She clicked the desk lamp on and dust scattered into the air around her. She coughed and attempted to swat it away. Hadn’t anyone been staying here this summer? Was that why her uncle was broke? She frowned, thinking of his paintings and what Drew had said about him giving the money away.

Piles of papers in boxes sat on the floor but the desk was clear except for a calendar, a dish of toffees, and a coffee cup that said, ‘I’d rather be fishing.’

Plunking herself in her uncle’s chair, she gasped at the tenderness of her bottom. Gritting her teeth and ignoring the thrill it gave her to feel his touch even when he was nowhere in sight, she searched. She was sure the information she wanted was here to be found, but where?

She looked around, feeling a little overwhelmed. She could easily picture her uncle lecturing a group of boys that had been brought in by a camp leader for mischief. She swiveled in the chair a moment. He’d lectured her a few times over the years and although it had stung, it always did her good. Everyone needed a dressing down now and then, and her uncle had done it with both love and strictness.

After searching many drawers and boxes, and several dozen dust-induced sneezes, Addi found what she was looking for: A list of former campers and their addresses in a binder. There were years on the tabs, making it easy to find the summer she was there. Curiosity got the better of her and she looked through the names. Some names had more information listed below them than others. Some were behavioral issues, but most said the kid spent too much time in front of the TV, computer, or gaming system and a few stated the child was being bullied.

Addi leaned back, letting the pages and pages of names from a lifetime of years fan dusty air across her face. She coughed. How would she call all the names? She suddenly wondered if there was a book for the camp leaders as well. She rose to look for another binder.

“Aha!” she shouted, yanking a dusty white binder from a box. “I knew I’d find it!” She didn’t bother to go back to the desk but sat cross-legged where she was in front of the box and flipped through the binder. Her finger followed a list and she stopped a quarter of the way through.

Andrew Trigger. Preferred name, Drew. Before she could read any further, a throat was cleared.

She looked up. Drew was leaning against the door frame.

“Hi.” He straightened. “Came to see if you wanted help.”

“Well, now I have two binders full of names to call.” She tossed the binder she held on top of the other with a frustrated sigh. “I’ll never get through them.”

“I think you’ll find a lot of those boys came from the same areas. I’m sure we could just put the obit in their local newspapers with an invitation for former campers and staff to attend. If they don’t see it, maybe their parents will. Maybe some of them still stay in contact with each other and the word will get out.”

Addi looked at him curiously. “Smart.” She rose and plopped into the desk chair, laying her chin in her palm. “Bikers, especially handsome ones, shouldn’t be so smart,” she teased.

He barked a laugh. “That so?”

She nodded awkwardly, chin still in palm. “Yep, I’m sure that’s a rule.”

“How about daddies? Aren’t they supposed to be smart?”

Her face heated and she bit her lower lip. God, she loved when he referred to himself as Daddy.

He shook his head and walked to her. “Let me look through the binders. I’ll pick the newspapers that should get the obit, and I’ll use my laptop to set it up with them. You look like you could use a break.” His eyes narrowed and he reached toward her to tilt her chin up. “Besides, I dropped off some lunch in your cabin and found your breakfast still there.” His brows rose and her bottom tingled. “No dinner last night, or breakfast this morning.” He cleared his throat. “Not eating your breakfast is naughty, baby girl. Does Daddy need to remind you what happens to naughty girls?”

She swallowed hard. “Uh, yeah.” The corner of her mouth hitched up. “I mean, yes. Please.” Her brows wiggled.

He shook his head but smirked. “You’re not supposed to want a reminder, Addianna.”

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