But I had more, so much more. It didn’t register that my dad started looking behind me, or that he straightened away from his table, or that he had a whole different sort of look on his face. Nope. None of that registered until it was too late.

All I was registering was that I needed to end this. “Stay the fuck away from me. Stay the fuck away from my friends. You don’t know who your daughter is anymore, and you clearly don’t give a fuck about getting to know her, so do her and yourself a favor. Stay. The fuck. Away!” I was thrusting my finger in the air, punching it with each word. “And I’ll do whatever fucking job I want to do. Holy shit! I want to throw my knife at you.” I tore myself away, my chest rising rapidly, and I blinked away a couple tears.

They weren’t from sadness. They were from frustration because I really wanted to hurt him again, so bad.

Then I saw the guys who had come inside.

Then I saw how everyone else was watching the guys who had come inside.

Then I recognized one of them.

Maxwell Raith.

The president of the Red Demons MC was staring smack-dab at me.

Chapter Forty-Seven

BREN

“Boss.” A guy moved toward them from the bar. “You shouldn’t be here.”

He was tall, looked around in his fifties, but the years in the sun gave his skin an almost leathery tanned look. The whites in his eyes were almost startling, and those eyes were hard. There was an edge of irritation to him, too.

“I’m fine.” Maxwell was staring at me as he responded, then he switched and took in my dad. “Derrick.”

“Max.” My dad moved around me, suddenly a lot more tense than he’d been before. He swung an arm toward me. “She, uh…she’s angry.”

“I know what she is.” He stepped more fully into the bar, and the other two moved with him. The last one stepped clear of the door, letting it shut, and the bar was back in darkness for a brief moment. Maxwell came over toward us, still watching me, but he moved to greet my dad. “Derrick. It’s damned good to see you.” They thumped each other on the back.

I was transfixed.

My dad was grinning. He was happy.

I’d only witnessed that look on his face a handful of other times, a couple memories with Mom, and the other times were when he was drunk.

One of the others moved farther inside the bar, disappearing. The other came over, greeting my dad the same. I heard my dad say, “Heckler,” and sucked in my breath. Jesus. This was their president and their enforcer, or one of them, as Channing had put it. That other guy…I hadn’t gotten a good look at him. Was that their VP?