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going?” I ask, staring at the long dirt road we’ve turned down that seems to be leading farther and farther away from civilization.

“None of your concern,” Adan says, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a gun.

Casually, as if it’s a cold drink.

He checks it over, and puts it back in.

“Why the hell have you got a gun?” I shriek, and he jerks, spinning around toward me.

“What do you mean why do I have a fucking gun? I always carry a gun.”

“You do?” I gasp. “Why?”

“In case I need it.”

“For what? Where exactly are we going?”

“I told you, it’s none of your concern.”

“It is if it’s dangerous,” I yell, eyes suddenly wide and frantic.

Where the hell are they making me drive him?

To some sort of drug trade off?

A shoot out?

A mass murder?

What?

“Wouldn’t take you somewhere that your life was at risk. These people work with us, and that’s all you need to know. I always take a gun because I’d be fuckin’ stupid not to. You won’t leave the car, anything at all happens, you drive away. You’re safe.”

I really want him to elaborate on the “anything else” part of that sentence.

“I’m not too sure about this.”

“It’s fine, now pay attention to the road and worry about driving.”

We arrive at a large, and I mean large, warehouse that is a good two and a half hours from home. It’s very secluded and isolated, surrounded by a fucking massive fence that has guards. Guards. There are shipping containers everywhere, I do not want to know what is in those. Do not. Nope. Not my business.

Everyone, so far, seems calm as Riggs and his crew ride in and park their bikes. I get a few glances as I follow them in the truck, and I wonder if they’re going to kick up a fuss about me being here? God. These men look dangerous—sure, they might be on the same side, but something about this whole setup ... The guards, the way it’s so hidden; this tells me whatever goes down out here is not legal and probably not safe.

This makes me even more anxious than going to the biker club.

At least they’re out in the open, even if they are doing illegal things behind closed doors.

This ... this is next level.

“Stay here,” Adan says. “Do not get out of the car. They won’t be happy if they think you’re anything other than a driver. You move out of the car, and we’ll end up with problems.”

“One thing,” I say. “If something goes wrong, like you hinted, I can’t just turn and drive away. You know, with those big electric gates and guards!”

I may or may not have shrieked a little at the end there.

“You’ll be fine, there is a gun in the glove box. Keep the doors locked.”

“Adan!” I shriek, as he climbs out and shuts the door.

He turns and mouths “lock it” before walking off.

I lock it, boy do I lock it.

I also double check the gun situation, just to be sure.

He’s right there is one in there.

I watch as they all go into the large warehouse with the guards following close behind them, leaving two on the gate still. Those two stare at me ... a lot. It’s freaking me out, actually. They just look at me, and then talk, and then look at me and talk again. I have no idea why. They’re probably going to come over here and order me out, they probably think I’m some sort of spy.

God.

This is awful.

I sink down into the seat and try to be as still as I can, I don’t want them to think I’m doing anything that I shouldn’t be.

One hour passes, and it’s the longest hour of my life but, finally, the club walks out of the warehouse, followed by three or four men that aren’t guards.

That’s when I see him.

It takes me a minute, mostly for my brain to comprehend what it’s seeing.

But I’d know that face, I’d know that face anywhere.

I’d know those large shoulders.

That gruff appearance.

The way he looks so terribly scary, but he’s not.

I make a gasping sound and shake my head, as if that’ll clear my vision and show me I’m wrong.

I’m opening the door before I can think, before I can do anything.

My body just moves.

I step out and start walking toward the group.

The guards yell out and everyone turns. Riggs shouts something. Adan shouts something.

I don’t stop.

My eyes are locked on the one man I’m waiting to look at me.

When he does, I stop in my tracks.

I’m right.

I know I’m right because his face changes.

His entire body stiffens.

His eyes scan me, over and over, as if trying to believe what he’s seeing.

I know he’s waiting for me to say the words, to prove what is happening.

I do, in a low whisper.

“Daddy?”

8

“Don’t touch her.”

The voice roars as the guards reach me and take my arms. They immediately release me, and the confusion on everyone’s face is stark. They’re trying to figure out what the hell is going on here.

I’m struggling to keep it together.

I knew he was around, of course I did, but I didn’t know he was this close.

I also didn’t know the club had anything to do with him.

I haven’t seen him since I was younger, god, I was just a kid.

He’s exactly the same, though.

Age hasn’t bothered him.

They were young when they had me, so the man doesn’t look old.

He’s rugged and dangerous, with messy dark hair that sits atop his masculine head. His eyes, stark blue, just as they always were. His skin the same olive, his jaw covered with stubble, not quite a beard, but not much less. His body is large and strong. Muscled and covered in tattoos. To any other woman, my father would be a knockout.

My heart feels like it’s going to explode.

I can’t breathe.

He takes a step forward, then another, and by the time he’s near me, I can no longer take a full breath. He reaches out, his rough hand

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