Down & Dirty: Dawg (Dirty Angels MC Book 7) Page 16

  “What’s that?”

  “Never had anyone tell me that before.”

  “But—”

  He knew where she was going with that, so he cut her off. “No, Em. Not even her.” His mother had never said those three words to him. Not once that he could remember. “So let me tell you how fuckin’ special that is to me. An’ I also gotta say that if what I’m feelin’ is love, then,” he sucked in a breath, steeled himself then admitted, “I love you, too. Just wanna let you know.”

  She smiled and she brushed her fingers over his brow. “That took a lot for you to say.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then I’ll cherish that.” She planted a kiss on his cheek, then wiggled out from beneath him. “But now I have to go put on a slutty dress and flirt with other men.”

  For fuck’s sake.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dawg gritted his teeth as he watched the woman he fucked almost fifteen years ago climb out of her overpriced shiny new SUV in the driveway of her overpriced huge house.

  She looked good. But nothing like when she was nineteen. Now she looked well-put together, dressed like she had money, her hair was perfectly in place, and she looked pampered.

  Nothing he would’ve been able to give her. Not back then, maybe not even now.

  Fuck no. He could only offer her dick, and the future of living over a damn strip club.

  That wasn’t what she wanted from him. And he didn’t blame her, she had it good now. She probably wanted for nothing and ran in circles that would never give him the time of day. Though, he was sure some of the men in her “circles” were some of his loyal clientele.

  But, hey, as long as they tipped his girls good, he didn’t care what side of the tracks his customers were from.

  The women in her circle wouldn’t give him a second glance unless they were looking for a night with a bad boy just for shits and giggles. Or looking for revenge on a cheating husband. And thank fuck he’d taken one up on her offer one night last year during a dry spell. The rich bitch he did that night just happened to know Regan and slipped about Caitlin’s real father possibly being an Angel when she saw his cut.

  A few casual questions later and Dawg had put two and two together...

  He’d climbed off his sled and now stood there waiting, arms crossed over his chest.

  She had seen him. He was hard to miss. And he was sure it wasn’t very often that a biker wearing a DAMC cut sat on his Harley at the curb of a million-dollar mansion. Or however much that house cost.

  In fact, “wasn’t very often” probably meant never.

  He was surprised none of the neighbors had called the cops yet for a suspicious person. But he kept an ear peeled for sirens just in case. Though he wasn’t doing anything illegal, he didn’t know any of the cops in this wealthy area outside of Pittsburgh. So he might end up tased, batoned or even thrown in jail for just looking at a pig sideways.

  Then his day would suck even more than it already did.

  Regan slipped her sunglasses down her nose as she stared at him from next to her vehicle. Even from where he stood, on public property to make sure he wasn’t trespassing, he could tell she was muttering under her breath.

  Probably calling him every name in the book.

  Well, he was calling her the same shit in his head. So they were even.

  With a large visible sigh, she yanked her purse over her shoulder and stomped in his direction. “What the hell are you doing here, Dawg?” she asked in an angry whisper when she got close enough.

  “Surprised you remember me,” he said, even though he had no doubt she would never forget him. Especially when she popped out his kid. “Need to talk.”

  “Now? There’s absolutely no reason to reminisce about good times.”

  The sarcasm in her voice made him grimace. “Was it good for you?”

  Color flooded her cheeks, and she pushed her sunglasses higher up her nose. She twisted her head left and right, probably making sure none of her neighbors saw her slumming with a man of questionable character.

  “You look good, Regan.”

  Her head jerked back. “I’m married.”

  “Know it. Don’t wanna fuck you, just tryin’ to be civil.”

  Emma had reminded him before he’d left to remain calm and be civil since you drew more flies with honey. That’s what she said, and he would try to stick with that plan.

  “Why are you here, Dawg?”

  “Like I said, need to talk.”

  “We have nothing to talk about.”

  He pinned her with a stare. “Doubt that.” Then he shut up and waited.

  After a few seconds, her face became pale and her lips thinned. Even through her big, fashionable sunglasses he could see her eyes widen when it hit her why he was there. “I’m going inside. You need to leave.”

  As she turned, he snaked out a hand and snagged her wrist, keeping her right where she stood. “No.”

  “No?” She tugged on her arm and he let her go. He didn’t need to add on assault charges.

  “No. Came here for a reason. Stayin’ until I say my piece.”

  She tugged her purse higher up her shoulder. Maybe she was afraid he’d try to snatch it. “What could we possibly have to talk about after fifteen years? We slept together once.”

  “Three times,” he muttered.

  She grimaced as if that number made it even worse. “I don’t remember that.”

  “I do.”

  “I guess it wasn’t as memorable for me.”

  He tilted his head and studied the woman before him. The one he had actually thought might be for him all those years ago. Which proved he was young and dumb at the time and only thinking with his dick. “No? Didn’t give you anything worth rememberin’?”

  “You mean like crabs?”

  He blew out an irritated breath. “Didn’t give you crabs.”

  “Then I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she answered in a snotty tone.

  He raised his eyebrows at her lie. “No idea?”

  She lifted her chin. “Nope.”

  “Found out recently you’ve had somethin’ of mine for the last fourteen years.”

  Her mouth gaped open, and she stumbled back. Dawg reached out and snagged her wrist again to keep her from tumbling backward onto the pavement.

  “Let me go!”

  Dawg released her and held his hands up in surrender. “Just tryin’ to help.”

  “How are you helping me by coming here now, after all these years, and saying stuff like that?”

  “It’s true, ain’t it?”

  She glanced toward the house, a worried look on her face. “No.”

  “Bullshit, Regan. I saw her.”

  “When?” she breathed.

  “A few months ago at her school.”

  “Why would you go there?”

  “To see if it was true. To make sure she’s mine.”

  Regan slammed her hands on her hips. “So what if she is? She doesn’t know you. I don’t want her to know you.”

  His body went solid. “That’s fuckin’ clear.”

  “Even if she was yours, you have nothing to offer her. Just look at you.” She waved a well-manicured hand up and down his body.

  His nostrils flared as he sucked in an impatient breath. “Regan, is she mine?” He needed to hear it once and for all. The absolute truth.

  “She’s my husband Paul’s.”

  Another fucking lie. “On paper or by blood?”

  Regan grimaced.

  Dawg shook his head at her reaction. “Gettin’ a DNA test.”

  “No! I’ll fight it.”

  He shrugged. “Try it. It’s gonna happen.”

  “Why would you want to screw up her life? Paul has given us a good one. He’s giving her all the opportunities you’d never be able to give her. With you, she’d be lucky to end up in a community college, if she didn’t end up on the pole. With him she’s got a shot at an Ivy League school.”

  �
��Because her life’s a lie.”

  “It’s a good lie. She doesn’t have a clue that Paul isn’t her father. She knows no different, Dawg.”

  “But I do.”

  “Don’t be so damn selfish. This isn’t just about you. This is about my daughter.”

  “Just confirmed she’s my daughter, too.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You are nothing to her, Dawg. Nothing. Get that through your thick head. The only thing you had going for you was that you were decent in bed. That’s it. My first mistake was missing a couple days of my birth control and thinking I would still be covered. My second was thinking it’d be fun to have a couple of nights with a bad boy like you. But my biggest mistake was actually fucking you.”

  His hands clenched into fists and his jaw got tight.

  Dawg had never hit a woman before and he wasn’t about to start. But it was close. So fucking close. She was lucky she wasn’t a man because her ass would be on the ground right about now, knocked the fuck out.

  “You were a damn biker. Obviously, you still are. Why would you have wanted to be saddled with a baby back then?”

  “Took my fuckin’ choice away, Regan. Didn’t gimme a chance to decide how to handle it.”

  “You’d better think long and hard about this, Dawg. Think about what you’re going to do to Caitlin. Think about what kind of turmoil you’re going to cause in her life. Why would you do this and be so selfish? Why would you come in now and interrupt her life?”

  “Maybe ‘cause I didn’t know ‘bout her, Regan. So don’t accuse me of being selfish. You,” he poked his finger in her direction, “kept my blood from me. Now, that’s fuckin’ selfish. Wanna know my daughter. Have every right to know her. Wouldn’t be any turmoil if I’d known about her from the fuckin’ beginnin’.”

  “One reason I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. I considered having an abortion. Just because I didn’t, doesn’t mean I want to relive my mistake over and over for the rest of my life.”

  “You didn’t tell me because you considered me that mistake. You’ve made that pretty fuckin’ clear.”

  She tilted her head as she stared at him through her sunglasses that probably cost a small fortune. “Are you still running that strip club? If you are, DNA test or not, you don’t have a chance in hell on getting visitation rights. No judge in their right mind will give you that. So think hard on that, Dawg. What kind of morals are you going to teach a fourteen-year-old girl when you have naked women dancing on a stage in front of a bunch of perverted men?”

  He couldn’t argue that last point. But there was nothing illegal about his club. The women were treated well, and it was their choice to work there. They weren’t coerced one bit. So she could take her self-righteous morals and shove them up her ass.

  He might not be Paul-type rich, but he did well. He could provide for his daughter, give her most of what she needed. Maybe not everything this Paul could, but she didn’t need to be spoiled, she just needed her father. She just needed to know she was loved. And wanted.

  Fuck.

  “Now get out of here before she comes outside looking for me.”

  He glanced toward the house. He’d had no idea that Caitlin was inside all this time. His heart began to pound. “Wanna see her.”

  “You have no right to see her.”

  “Need to tell ‘er ‘bout me.”

  “No, I don’t, Dawg. That’s why there are courts. Good luck with that. I’m sure we can tie things up in the system until you run out of money.” She moved away from him back to her driveway. “If you don’t leave right now, I’m calling the police and then she can see you being arrested and hauled off in handcuffs. Something I’m sure you’re used to.”

  His jaw tightened. “Ain’t a jailbird.”

  “Oh, well, let me give you a gold star. I’m sure you’re an upstanding citizen with a lot to contribute to society. Go you!” she cheered, then sneered, “Now get out of here. Any further communication can be done through our attorneys.”

  With that, she spun on her heel and hurried toward the house.

  He fought the temptation to follow her, force his way into the house and see Caitlin. To talk to her. Hear her voice. Discover everything about her that’s been kept from him.

  But he didn’t.

  Because ending up in jail wouldn’t help him. Wouldn’t help Emma.

  She had told him to remain civil.

  He was going to remain fucking civil even if it killed him.

  “Got a bead on ‘em,” Diesel’s voice grumbled through Dawg’s cell phone three days later.

  Dawg blew out a relieved breath and scrubbed a hand over his beard. “Where? Brunei?”

  “Yeah,” D grunted. “Looks like they were plannin’ on stayin’ for a while. Rented a place. Bought a car. Changed their names.”

  Dawg turned his back toward the stage and stepped away from Cubby, covering his ear with his hand so he could hear the DAMC’s enforcer better over the music. “Your guys there now?”

  “Yeah. Hunter. Walker. Mercy headin’ that direction.”

  Fuck. With Mercy on his way, shit was about to go down and Lily might be home soon. Dawg needed to get his shit together and get their future in order. Talk to Z. Talk to Emma once he figured out their plans to see if she was on board.

  He hoped to hell she was.

  “They got Lily yet?”

  “Nope. Watchin’. Waitin’. Makin’ sure they don’t bolt somewhere else.”

  “She okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can I tell Emma?”

  “Fuck no. Ain’t tellin’ her shit. Once the kid’s back on the ground in PA, we’ll tell ‘er. Not a second before, got me?”

  “She worries, D. Wanna tell her Lily’s safe.”

  “Just gonna hafta worry for now. Don’t want this fucked six ways to Sunday. Keepin’ it on a need-to-know basis. Gonna do this the way my guys wanna do it. They’re the ones puttin’ their asses on the line.”

  “Understood,” Dawg answered. He understood it, but he didn’t like it. Emma needed some reassurance. He turned with his phone still up to his ear and immediately spotted Ember working a customer at the other end of the stage.

  He didn’t like keeping shit from her. Not about her own daughter. But he had to do what was best for Lily and for D’s crew. D was right, they were putting their asses on the line. They didn’t have to, but they wanted to since D confessed that they had decided to volunteer their time. D and the DAMC coffers were covering a lot of the travel expenses. Dawg would cover anything else needed.

  This was a costly mission in more ways than one. But he wasn’t giving the rat bastard who stole Emma’s daughter more than a second of his thoughts. Not more than one fucking second.

  He did Emma wrong. He did Lily wrong by ripping her away from her mother. A mother who loved and cared for her. He deprived both of them a year and a half of their lives together.

  He was a selfish prick who needed to pay. However Mercy decided the fucker needed to pay, Dawg was okay with it.

  Did that make him a cold-hearted bastard? Probably. But there were consequences to every action. And Emma’s ex was going to find that out.

  “You know shit’s gonna change once she’s back with her mother, right?” D’s deep grumble came through the phone.

  “For Lily?”

  “For you, brother. Woman’s got a seven-year-old. You got a strip club. Gotta make a plan. Ain’t gonna be a fight on her end with the husband. That problem’s bein’ permanently solved. Don’t know jack ‘bout ‘is family. They decide to fight ‘er, she might lose. Some people get jacked ‘bout women dancin’ naked on a stage. Ain’t gonna look good durin’ a custody battle.”

  “Yeah. Gonna talk to Z as soon as you hang the fuck up.”

  Dawg heard a grunt on the other end of the phone and then his cell went dead.

  He pulled the phone away and immediately texted Z. He needed a meeting with the prez and his VP.
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  Like yesterday.

  After telling Emma he needed to go take care of business, he approached the private bar at church not an hour later where Hawk waited for him. The VP’s eyes were serious as he tracked Dawg heading in his direction.

  Hawk stepped from behind the bar and they clasped hands and bumped shoulders. “Brother,” Hawk grunted.

  “Brother,” Dawg greeted back. His head twisted toward the end of the bar where Grizz had his ass settled in his regular seat and a half-empty pint glass already in front of him. “Mama Bear must be workin’ in the kitchen if the old man’s already in his seat.”

  “Yeah,” Hawk said. “Can’t pay that woman enough to keep my kitchen runnin’ as smoothly as it does.”

  “Hear ya, brother.”

  Hawk ducked back behind the bar. “Jack?”

  “Fuck yeah, will need it for this.”

  With a raised brow, Hawk pulled a bottle of JD off the shelf, cracking the top and lining up a few shot glasses along the bar. He filled two of them and handed one to Dawg, who downed it in one swallow and hissed away the burn.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his mouth.

  Hawk blew out a breath. “I’d say that’s a good way to start the day, but it’s fuckin’ two o’clock.”

  Dawg turned his head when he heard someone coming down the steps from the rooms upstairs. Crow, his black hair wet and loose around his shoulders, appeared, spotted them and headed over.

  “Don’t you gotta open up shop?” Dawg asked him.

  “What time is it?” Crow asked, rubbing a hand over his dark, tired eyes. He waved a dismissing hand and shook his head at the full shot glass Hawk offered him.

  “Fuckin’ day’s half over,” Hawk grumbled.

  “The fuck it is,” Crow grumbled back. He headed toward the commercial coffeemaker tucked away in the corner and looked at the pot. “How long has this sludge been sittin’ here on the burner?”

  “The fuck if I know,” Hawk answered. “Don’t live here. You do.”

  Crow grimaced as he emptied the coffee out in the sink and started a fresh batch.

  “Don’t you got customers waitin’ on you?” Hawk asked Crow.

  “Fuck no. Got a large piece scheduled for later. Ain’t doin’ shit before that. An’ that fucker who’s scheduled don’t roll outta bed until...” He glanced at the clock behind the bar. “‘bout now. I’ll still be there before him. What’re you two here for?”