Page 53 of Biker Daddy

As she passed through the room into a kitchen, she felt her strength waning. The beauty through the wall-sized windows overlooking the cliff was astounding but she barely noticed. Her eyes were stuck on the paintings hung perfectly on the walls.

Her.They were all of her. Tears welled as she went closer. She was sixteen, chubby, and innocent, her hair hanging in dark braids, but the truth of the painting lay in the stubborn pride painted brilliantly in her eyes and the tilt of her chin. It was like going back in time and looking in the mirror. She was on the cliff, her mouth a willful curve and her eyes flashing determination. The boys were all there too, but none held the focus or detail of her in the painting.

Her uncle hadn’t been there. He hadn’t seen what had happened. As far as she knew he didn’t even know it happened at all. How could he have painted this?

The portrait beside that one was of her as well, her face down in concentration as she read. The shade of a willow tree shadowed her face. This time there was no obstinate look on her face, just one of peace and wonder.

She looked around again—every portrait was of some moment that summer. Except for the one sitting on the easel closest to the bay window. It was her as an adult.

Addi’s mouth fell open. Her in the big floppy hat and flowered skirt. The first day she’d met Drew in Last Resort. Her hand flattened against her mouth.

Uncle Ray was not the artist. Drew is.

It clicked suddenly that he smelled of turpentine and paint and what she thought was grease on his fingers could very well have been remnants of his latest work. Why hadn’t she realized this before? He’d drawn her many times at camp and they’d discussed his dream of being an artist. Shit!

Addi closed her eyes, letting a memory from camp play out in her mind like a movie.

“Sit still, squirmy!” Drew said, with his one eye peeking over his sketchpad. “Keep moving and I’ll give you something to squirm about.” She tipped her head back and laughed. He was always threatening her. The pad flopped into the dirt suddenly and he lunged at her, tackling her to the ground gently. His big strong fingers clasped her two wrists above her head and his free hand found her ribs. She squealed as he tickled her.

“Stop… no… please!” Giggles burst from her and echoed through the clearing as she wiggled relentlessly for freedom.

When he stopped, she was out of breath. His eyes found hers and her stomach fluttered. Those blue eyes were so filled with adoring, she felt it right to her soul. The dark blue ring she loved so much seemed to pulse and he leaned down and kissed her nose.

“You, gorgeous, don’t cooperate at all!”

“Lemme see!”

Drew turned the pad her way.

“It’s amazing. You’ll do it, you know. You’ll be a famous artist.”

She smiled, opening her eyes. He’d succeeded in getting his dream. Addi wandered the house, finding paintings everywhere, more of her and camp that summer, and even some more of her uncle. Those she stared at for a long time, feeling both grief and joy at the sight of them.

Drew really captured him well. He had a way of painting beyond a simple expression. He told a story with each face. You felt as if you knew the subject. You knew what they were thinking, what they believed, and what they felt. It was quite amazing really and she didn’t doubt why his paintings sold for hundreds of thousands of dollars. He was brilliantly talented.

Why though? Why did he hide his talent? Her brow furrowed. And where was all the money? He lived in a trailer, and it wasn’t a new one either. And why were so many paintings of her?

She got to a room with a closed door and twisted the handle. It didn’t turn, but the door opened a crack anyway. The jamb was broken. The room was full of paintings too, but without light she couldn’t see them in detail. They weren’t like the others though—that much she could tell. They were dark and gave her chills.

“Christ, Addi, did you break into my trailer and steal my keys?” Drew’s accusing voice startled her and she spun to see his deep frown and sleep-tousled hair. Her heart pounded in her throat. He still had faint bed lines on his cheek.

“You startled me.”

“That tends to happen when you’re caught being naughty, baby girl.”

“Are you mad that I’m here?” she questioned when he looked around, sighed. He walked past her and shut the door to the room. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he gathered a breath.

“Only that you broke into my trailer and invaded my privacy.” His brow quirked up. “But I think Daddy knows how to deal with naughty little B&E bandits.” His mouth hitched at the corner and her heart fluttered as he reached for the buckle of his belt.

She stared, her heart doubling its pace as the belt buckle jingled. Her core clenched and heat spread from her middle outward, weakening her as it went. She even considered keeping quiet to see where things went. The thought of that leather against her ass titillated her.

“I couldn’t have stolen the keys, Drew. I found this place while I was out walking. Brent mentioned a cliff house but I wasn’t sure what was out here.” His hand paused in unbuckling and she swallowed. “The door had the key in it and I saw someone running away. But if you wanna keep sliding that belt through your loops I just might confess to something I didn’t do.” Though her tone and expression were flirty, his was not.

“Someone?” His hand fell from the belt and he strode toward her swiftly, his eyes wide and worried. He grabbed her upper arms firmly and looked her up and down. His jingling buckle no longer thrilled her with concern plastered on his face. “Babe, are you hurt?”

“It was Layla, and she didn’t see me. I followed her for a bit before I came back here though.” His brows rose in question and he scratched at his beard. She could see he was deep in thought. “She called someone named Rebecca, eager to tell her what she’d found. Do you think it was the reporter?”

He looked away and swore.

---