Page 25 of Smooth As Whiskey

The nose.

The lips.

The mouth.

Everything that was Irish.

Everything I had dreamed our child would look like.

But another bike pulled into the courtyard.

The rider atop it was one I hadn’t met before.

As I took in his kutte, I was able to make out the wordsCreatureandNomad. And he had on a Zagan MC kutte.

Almost as if I had conjured the man, he came roaring into the courtyard with Trigger hot on his heels.

My gaze shifted from him to the little girl, then back to Irish.

I watched as Asher walked over to him and said something.

Irish’s gaze whipped to the little girl, and then I watched as his body tensed.

Then I stood there, just as everyone else did, and watched as Irish climbed off his bike and walked slowly to the little girl.

Her eyes were wide as she took everyone in.

For some reason, her gorgeous gray eyes stilled on me for a split second longer than anyone else, and then they moved to Irish and watched him as he made it to her.

I watched as Irish knelt in front of the little girl.

They spoke for long minutes.

Then she handed him a white envelope.

He took it, opened it, and pulled out what looked to be a sheet of paper.

And I watched him read whatever was on that piece of paper.

It seemed he was finished, then his head turned, he surveyed everyone, and when his eyes came to me, he jerked his chin.

Yes, I was pissed the hell off at him, but no way in hell would I take it out on that precious little girl.

I was in her spot once; yes, I was older, but still, I had an inkling as to what she was going through.

When I made my way over to them, I knelt, and then Irish handed me a letter.

I took in his face before I took the letter and saw that the paper was slightly crinkled where he had held onto it and clenched it. The anger I could see sitting just below the surface. What shocked me was that he hadn’t already ripped the paper in half.

Taking it gingerly, I started to read,

‘Dear Irish, I’m sure you don’t remember me. Heck, I barely remember that night, but I know that I was with no one else a month before that night and a month after that night. Her name is Maisie April Smith. She was born on the seventh of December, two thousand and twenty. She weighed six pounds and nine ounces. My name is Kendra, by the way. I can’t care for her like I should, I’ve gotten in a spot of trouble. So, Iam giving her to you. All the necessary forms are in her bag. I'm not sure if you remember the event or not, we were both plenty drunk. I would have wanted a repeat... but no woman wants to hear the man that’s currently inside of her say another woman’s name.’

Once I finished reading it, I looked at Irish and handed him the letter, “First thing, we need to get her into the clubhouse. She’s not dressed properly for this weather. Second thing, you need to find a house or an apartment. Third, I don’t think you need it, but you need a DNA test done.”

He looked at me, looking deeply into my eyes, and he whispered, “Will you help me?”

I took in a breath, looked at Maisie, then back at Irish, and nodded.

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