Page 1 of Her Biker Daddy

Chapter 1

Tate

The light on my bike reflects off something shiny up ahead, and I slow down a hint, not taking a chance that whoever’s in the car with no lights on isn’t inebriated. The drunks use this road to get from the bar just outside of town that won’t cut them off as long as they have cash, making it a hundred times more dangerous than any interstate or major highway I’ve ever traveled. Three or more times a year, one of the guys in the club gets in a wreck—or at least moderately injured trying to avoid a massively serious one.

I realize the car is on the shoulder when I get closer, then let off the gas completely when the little sticker on the front bumper gets my attention. I know that car. Look to see if it’s the parking lot of the diner every morning when I go into town. When it is, I pull in to get some breakfast. Always sit in my little Everly’s section so I can be closer to her. Make sure to leave her a cash tip over what I put on my card so it stays as just hers, rather than force her to give part of it to the damn cooks—who can’t cook for shit—or the busboy that never does the work, makes her clean her own tables if she wants more customers. The creep doesn’t do it to her co-worker Lena. Then again, Lena sucks his cock to keep him from taking her tips as well as to do his job.

My sweet Everly doesn’t do that shit and while I know it shouldn’t, it makes me happy that she keeps bastards away from her. From what’s mine—even if it feels like there’s no fucking way she’ll ever really be mine.

I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do if some asshole comes in here and finally gets her attention. Probably run him through with my knife.

She’s too good for me, to get her mixed up in the seedy darkness that’s my world. But that doesn’t mean I don’t fantasize about every last dirty thing I want to do to her. Doesn’t mean I don’t follow her home whenever I get the chance, to make sure she’s safe. Doesn’t mean I didn’t make it perfectly clear to the bastard that moved in next door to her at the trailer park that if I ever saw him near her, watching her, or especially catching him jerking off to the sight of her through the thin curtains in her bedroom again, I would make him wish I’d simply killed him.

I’ll make damn sure nothing and no one ever harms her—me included, even if only by accident—the same way I have for the last year since I first saw her. I’d just gotten back to town after a run with the guys to move some merchandise. After the drop, I’d turned off the bluetooth in my helmet and just let the road take me. Ending up a good hour ahead of the others, hitting town as the sun was coming up, and my stomach didn’t want to wait the extra time to make it to the clubhouse for food.

I pulled into the diner’s parking lot, and almost face planted when I saw little Everly in the waitress uniform carrying a tray towards a table. My dick woke immediately, wanting to get between the thick thighs that were bare beneath the uniform’s skirt. It just got harder when she lowered the empty tray, showing off her chest and the buttons straining to keep it closed around her more than generous bust.

I’ve never had a type. Slept with a shit-ton of women when I was younger—before I met my brothers and became part of the club, nine, going on ten years ago—and there wasn’t ever a single type that kept me coming back. Not girls that were skinnier, bigger, or even the same size as Everly with her fucking delicious curves. None of them kept my attention long, some not even long enough to fuck them, but little Everly…I can’t stay away from her. And despite those fucking incredible curves, my girl is little in every other way.

I knew I was screwed when I caught a real glimpse of her face. Certain she was far too young for me to want, let alone to be working at the diner, but I had to learn just how long I’d have to wait for her. On one hand I was glad to learn it wasn’t an issue, but on the other, it’d have been easier to know I couldn’t have her because she was too young, than because she’s too damn good and sweet to pull into my world.

She’s the brightest light in the cesspool that’s this town and I’ll kill anyone that tries to dim it.

My world is complete darkness. It has been since I was young. Starting with my father killing my mother in a fit of rage when she ‘talked back to him’ all the way up through me taking out the previous president of our club almost three years ago now. That man was as bad as the cops in this town and instead of protecting it from them and their shit, he wanted to add onto it by switching from gun running as our main form of income, to running ‘women’.

The sick bastard didn’t really care how old they were. If they were female—or at least looked feminine as was the case of some of the boys he was showing off photos of as examples in our meeting—they were up for grabs as far as he said.

I don’t condone that shit. My closest friend growing up is in prison for killing the sicko that kidnapped his twelve-year-old little sister, assaulting her for nearly a year before someone finally caught up to them.

She was too broken to save. Took her own life six months later, and my friend showed up at the courthouse with a gun, killing the jackass that’d took a plea deal to avoid spending the majority of his life in jail.

If I’d known what he was planning, I’d have gone in with him, but he hadn’t said a word to anyone since she died. He barely speaks even in jail from what I heard the last time I was out that way to catch up. Shit, that was likely seven years ago, but I don’t anticipate him changing. He once said he was dead from the minute his sister was taken so it didn’t matter what happened to him anymore.

We were seventeen when that happened, and since then, I may have done some stupid and illegal shit, but I’ve never touched a woman that wasn’t legal and willing. If I find bastards that do…things don’t end well for them.

Not a chance in fucking hell was I going to let our old president turn us into the monsters like that. So, when we were sitting in church, and he told us of a ‘shipment’ we could get our hands on for nothing, saying how much we could earn just by taking them up to the city, I was done sitting back unless it was to enforce the club rules.

I took my knife, moving before anyone realized it, and stuck him in front of the others, showing him exactly what I thought of the idea. Only a handful of guys jumped up to try and stop me, but you learn a thing or two on the streets, including just where to stick a guy so he bleeds out fast.

He wasn’t the first life I’d taken, and he’s not the last. I’ve got more blood on my hands than I could ever wash off. Which is why I’ve kept them off Everly—no matter how much I don’t want to, how hard is it to not throw her onto the back of my bike and take her home with me.

She was just barely eighteen last year, nineteen now versus my thirty-nine. I was deep into criminal shit when she was just a baby, making money however I could, then spending most of it on stupid crap—and women. The ink on my body is the only thing I don’t regret getting. Well, that and my bike.

They brought me out this way, originally ending up in the city about an hour and a half away. I had an older tattoo that I wanted covered up but couldn’t find anyone willing to do it because of a nasty cut that ran down the inner part of my arm. I finally found a guy in the city that said he could do it without it looking like total shit and being nothing but a block of black ink the whole way through.

While I was getting the work done, I met up with my now Vice President, Meyer, who was coming in to get some work of his own done. We shot the shit, and I ended up in town, meeting the rest of the club, including the bastard Hinton who was the former president. His eyes lit up when he saw my size, the bulging biceps, and for once, my record back east was welcome.

I never served time in jail, but I was arrested more than once, almost convicted of theft and assault more than once. My last lawyer said it was only the ‘good guy’ stare from my light blue eyes that had the old ladies on the jury finding me not guilty of assaulting some scumbag frat boy who attempted to drug and assault a girl. I beat the ass black and blue, and he filed charges against me, but thankfully, the girl came in to testify that she’d been drugged and had already turned the douchebag down three times. Between that, the security video that shows I didn’t take the first swing, and my face, it had them finding me not guilty.

I doubt that would happen now if I was put on trial. I’m thirteen years older for one, ten times more tatted up, and my beard hides most of my face. I could shave it, and it might make me look a little softer, but I won’t, because I know—despite it being unlikely that anything will happen between us—my Everly likes the beard.

My eyes are glued to her car as I slow to a stop, not finding her in it, or behind it when I make a U-turn and pull in behind her. I park my bike, getting off to check the bit of a slope down to where the ditch is, breathing in immense relief that she’s not laying in it hurt. The back tire there is flat as shit, the jack just sitting next to the car, and the trunk is just barley open. My jaw tightens as I lift it, seeing the spare tire and tire iron both dug out as well, and my gut tells me something here is seriously not right.

I look all around us, knowing I didn’t miss her on the road back towards her place. Anyone walking out here would be doing it on the pavement, not on the grassy edge, and I’d sure as shit have recognized her gorgeous red hair.

I move up towards the front of the car, letting out a curse when I see her purse and cell phone on the seat. There’s no way Everly would leave that behind. She always tucks her cash into her purse when she leaves for the day. She wouldn’t begin to just leave it in the car and walk away, which means something happened to her.

She’s not next to the car, which means someone else either picked her up or took her from here. If it were an ambulance, they’d have taken her purse with them, not left it behind.

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