Page 66 of Daddy Issues

Riding through town made me anxious. Too many blind corners, too many people. Every fiber of my being itched for open road, for the desert. Once I got out of the neighborhood, I let the engine rip out to the desert. All throttle the whole way. I knew those curves and valleys as well as I knew anything, maybe even better.

I could clear my mind here. The sun was bright, making the sky a pale blue and the desert damn near orange. And its warmth heated my skin and loosened my muscles.

This was the only time I could well and truly relax, let it all go, forget everything.

Almost everything. Forgetting the taste of Kenna’s lips on mine, or the feel of her tightening around my cock, was impossible.

It was almost noon. David would be here soon. I’d never pulled rank on him like this before, never needed to. But he had shit to fix and I was Sergeant at Arms. This was bigger than the Kenna shit, even if she was what I worried about the most.

Jester, sans his cut, was standing beside his truck in a white t-shirt emblazoned with Vaughn Security on the right front chest. He glowered at me as I parked the bike and climbed off.

“Some of us have real jobs, mother-fucker.”

“Talk to Crash?”

“Yeah, had to leave him at the job site for this shit.” But his annoyance was waning.

“Then you know why we’re here.” I didn’t argue with him, didn’t need to. He knew I was right.

He followed me to the clubhouse door. AP was already here, the door unlocked.

“I’ve got so much work I can’t get to it all. I’m going to end up hiring someone to pick up the slack.”

“I know the feeling.”

Some of the guys worked for the club. Merc. Cam. Dekes. AP. The rest of us had outside jobs for various reasons. Jester, with his tech skills, made more money installing security shit than the club could pay him.

I didn’t like the idea of anyone having that much control over my life. Even the Desert Kings. But more, there was a creative outlet I needed. If I didn’t work, didn’t perform my craft, then I got jumpy, pissy.

It wasn’t a good thing.

Inside, the clubhouse was quiet. That eerie, empty feeling made me want to draw, sketch out the whole place when no one was inside. Capture the serenity of the sunlight flickering through the blinds.

This was the first time I’d had the urge to sketch anything other than Kenna in a long time. For months, I’d sketched that image of her splayed out on that bed in the frat house. I was a sick fuck for that. And yet, there were dozens of those sketches in my office.

The door opened and David walked in, glancing around the room until his gaze landed on me. He looked ready for a fight, but not in an angry way. His resolution was etched in the tired lines of his face.

He ran a hand over his graying scruff and tossed his head toward the back door. His tired eyes reminding me that this wasn’t club business, not something any of them needed to know about.

I hitched a hip on an empty keg and rock it back and forth in the gravel as I collected my thoughts.

“She hates it when you do that.” David said first. “Everything that comes in that girl’s head comes out of her mouth. But when you stop to think, she’ll pounce and try to drag it out of you.” He chuckled. “Usually makes me forget what I was going to say.”

The tender way he spoke of Kenna pissed me off. Where was that the other night?

“Kenna’s what you want to talk about, I’m guessing.”

“Yup.”

“You gonna make her your ole lady?” The gaze he leveled at me was hard.

“It ain’t like that.” I met that glare with one of my own. “I’m here as a father, and as her friend. That shit you let your ole lady pull on her the other night? The shit that was said? That’s not going to fly. Not with the MC and definitely not with me. Kenna is a friend. She’s been around too long for some washed-up road whore to treat her like trash.”

David flinched but said nothing.

“You’re the closest thing to family she fucking has, and you made her feel like nothing. It’s not going to happen again.”

The threat hung there like dynamite, ready to explode.

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