Filthy Daddy (Satan's Saints MC #2) Read online

  Someone knocks on my partially open door less than ten minutes later. As I turn, I’m surprised to see both my mother and Tate standing in the open doorway.

  Great. A tag team already.

  I sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for whatever it is they want with me—together.

  Could this get any weirder? I actually don’t want an answer to that question. I’d much prefer to leave the house and avoid any further weirdness.

  “Hi. I’m almost ready,” I announce when they just stand there. “Everything all right?”

  “I’m good.” He nods his head.

  “What’s up?”

  “Your mom gave me an interesting update in the living room. I thought you might want to hear about. Something about that ex of yours going to see her?”

  A sliver of dread makes my fingers and toes tingle. My stomach goes in knots. This can’t be good, judging by his stern facial expression. And my mother looks as if she’s just been invited to a garden party. She’s definitely covering up the gravity of something serious.

  I dig my hands into the comforter behind my back and press my lips together so tightly that it hurts my mouth. “What did he do now?”

  Mom takes a step closer. “I was at the grocery store when you know who bumped his cart into me. “

  “What?” Goosebumps crawl along my limbs and I hold back a shudder at the idea that my ex was in such close proximity to my mother, even in a public place. He’s escalating, and this obsession with our now non-existent relationship is heading into dangerous turf. I loathe the idea of him tracking down Mom on top of everything else.

  “He apologized, but I know it was all a game. He wanted me to know he was there and the only way he’d know is if he followed me. Anyway, I told him he needed to leave us both alone. All I can say is I’m glad we were in a public place.”

  My mouth goes dry as I fumble for words. “Did he try to hurt you?”

  “No. Thankfully it didn’t come to that. Jett Williams needs a serious talking to. I don’t think he’ll stop on his own.”

  I can’t wrap my mind around why this is happening now. My fingers grip the sheets, forming fists that dig into my palms. The sharp pain keeps me from going completely off the deep end.

  “Jett Williams?” Tate repeats, and leans against the nearby wall with his stare pinned to me.

  I don’t repeat the name. In fact, I wish I’d never hear it again.

  “Yes. I take it you know him,” I croak, meeting Tate’s eyes that seem to promise a slow retribution for my ex.

  “I do.”

  I’m vaguely aware that my mother resumes her babbling about her encounter with Jett. Tate listens attentively to everything she says. Mom goes on about how Jett can’t accept that things didn’t work out between us, or that I won’t move back to Louisiana.

  “He was a nice enough guy at the beginning, Mom adds, directing her words at Tate, not me. “They just weren’t right for each other. They’d only been together for a few months when Jett proposed, which I thought was strange. He was moving too fast, and the more Molly tried to slow him down, the more unstable he became.”

  The scowl on Tate’s face causes my throat to go tight. I swallow hard, wishing I’d said more to him earlier. Back then, I’d hope this drama would end on its own. Jett was barely a blip in my past, but he’s turned our history into a big nightmare. And it’s damn hard to banish a past that keeps showing up at my front door.

  “Shoot, I almost forgot!” Mom exclaims and brushes past Tate into the hallway.

  He steps up to me and places a steady, supportive hand on my shoulder. “You doing okay?”

  “Trying.”

  The feel of his fingers massaging into my muscles is so comforting, I want to close my eyes and lose myself to his touch, except Mom will be back any second now.

  “This Jett situation is a lot more serious than I first thought.”

  I nod. “Probably.”

  “You should’ve told me.”

  “You’re right. Sorry.”

  He grumbles under his breath, his hand falling away as my mother comes striding back into the room, holding out an envelope.

  “This was in the mailbox for you. It’s Jett’s handwriting.” She doesn’t hand it to me, though. She gives it to Tate. Honestly, I’m glad he has it. I don’t care to read it because I know what Jett wants. I hate the fact that Jett can get to me so easily.

  “I’ll, uh, leave you two alone now. Holler if you need me.” My mother’s searching gaze flicks from me to Tate and back. She gives me an awkward smile and hurries out of my room. The sound of her heels clicking against the marble floor as she moves down the hall and takes the stairs only add to my desire to be anywhere but here.

  “I can tell she wishes you got that psycho out of your life ages ago,” Tate rumbles out as he rips open the envelope.

  “I do too. That’s hindsight for you.”

  Tate scowls a couple of times as he reads. When he finishes, he crumples up the paper into a ball and stuffs it into his front pocket. “You done packing?”

  “Yes.”

  He reaches around me and zips up my travel bag, sliding it over his shoulder. I can hardly register his movements. I’m numb, lost in my own thoughts, wishing that Jett could disappear from my life the same way Tate just got rid of that letter. I want a redo of the last twenty-four hours, one where Jett never showed up. He’s always been a persistent guy. Back when we started dating, it was kind of cute, the way he made it clear that he wanted me and was serious about going the distance to have me in his life. Then he got clingy, overly protective, and beyond jealous. A guy couldn’t look at me without him wanting to pick a fight. His behavior began to bother the heck out of me, and after I told him to hit the road and he didn’t, it just pissed me off. Now, he’s wearing me down. He has me in a state of paranoia. I’m past the point of exhaustion.

  “I get why you let your mother hire us,” Tate says and cocks his head. “It’s good that you picked our company.”

  “Huh?” I glance up and meet his eyes that sparkle with mischief.

  “This temporary living arrangement can turn out to be fun. Think about it. You, down the hall from me at the clubhouse. It sounds damn good to me.”

  It takes every bit of restraint I have not to junk punch him for saying that now, while the whole Jett ordeal is sinking in. “Seriously, Tate? Don’t you think about anything but sex?”

  “Sure, I do. Like weapons, good booze, long rides…want me to go on?”

  “Not really.”

  “I got you to forget about whatever’s on your mind, didn’t I?”

  Damn it, he has. “Maybe a little,” I admit. “You’re something else.”

  He rocks back on his heels with his hands in his pockets. “And yet, your mom’s money in my pocket says otherwise.”

  He’s right—we’ve paid him for the luxury.

  I grit my teeth.

  Crap.

  This is going to be a long few days.

  Chapter 6

  Molly

  While Tate is strapping my duffel bag to the back of his ride, I walk further down the private driveway to my Jeep. I need to grab the pieces of ID I keep stowed in the glove compartment, and I’m sure I left one of my textbooks in the back seat. I click the remote when I’m halfway across the semi-circular paved driveway, but don’t hear the usual sound of the door unlocking.

  “Strange,” I mutter.

  I’m sure I locked it before I went inside a few hours ago. That uneasiness hits another level when I notice the driver’s side door of my white Jeep Cherokee isn’t fully closed. I pause mid-stride, nearly dropping my keys to the ground as my hands start to shake. My head throbs, vision blurry as the adrenaline adds to how jittery I already am. Swearing under my breath, I jog the last few yards toward the door and nudge it with my foot. I don’t want to touch anything. It’s less about contaminating possible evidence and more about the regret of being in physical contact with anything Jett has put
his hands on. It’s not my fault that all of this is happening, but I can’t help feeling some blame.

  And dirty.

  Stupid.

  Like I’m part of the problem because I let him into my life, to begin with.

  I take a beat to pull myself together and wish I’d asked Tate to check the vehicle before I got here. As I glance into the lit-up interior, I’m sure that I should’ve. My vision blurs as I catch sight of it, and I take a step backward, bumping into the side door of mother’s Mercedes coupe parked beside my Jeep. Thankfully Mom’s car alarm doesn’t go off. She doesn’t need to know that Jett was here again twice. But Tate needs to take a look.

  Numb tingling washes over my limbs. With my pulse in my throat, I lean in closer to my car, shaken by all the rose petals dotting the seat, the floor mats, and the dashboard. There’s a black silk teddy-style piece of lingerie spread out on the back seat, a postcard beside it, and a bunch of pictures is fanned out around it. A closer look at the photos causes me to pull away again, disgusted and nauseous. These are new. They’re photos of me in my bedroom. Jett has been watching and waiting, lingering even more intimately over my life than I ever expected.

  I don’t want to, but end up reading the words on the postcard through blurry eyes. It reads:

  Watching you from a distance isn’t enough anymore. On the day you accept that we’re meant to be, I expect you to be wearing this. Until then I’ll be waiting for you, baby.

  Love always,

  Jett

  I’m so rattled by the scene in front of me that when a hand lands on my shoulder, my fear and instinct to fight take over. A scream comes from my lips, and I turn, attacking the source through hot tears, my fists blindly thrashing the chest in front of me.

  Tate’s chest.

  “Calm down!”

  He grabs my arms, pulling me into him with my wrists pinned together in one hand. Tate doesn’t let me go. His soothing voice at my ear breaks through my haze as he rocks me back and forth in the driveway. I’m a frightened little girl all over again.

  As I start to calm down, it hits me that I’ve never seen this side of Tate. I’m used to the asshole, the rough, rugged, filthy talking biker. And right now, he’s kind and nurturing. Protective. It feels like a dream. I want to wake up and be back to my confident, independent, fearless self again.

  I clear my throat. “We should leave,” I tell him, and pull away, taking a few deep breaths that seem to bring back some control.

  “You good now?” Tate asks.

  I nod and point at the open door. He steps closer, silent as he examines what’s inside, and a fresh set of goosebumps washes over me.

  “That fucker was just here,” he says and tugs me away from the vehicle to a safe distance. “That shit wasn’t there when I came over.”

  I shake my head. There just aren’t any words.

  “He’s fucking crazy. And bold. That’s for sure. And as for you, what the hell? This is serious shit you kept from me. Your pride is going to get you killed one of these days.”

  “Okay, you’re right. I thought it’d blow over, but it’s gotten worse. A lot worse. He’s out of control.”

  “Before we leave, I want you to go back inside and bring me every creepy thing this asshole has left here. I know it can’t be the first time he’s done this.”

  “Okay.”

  He pushes a lock of my hair behind my ear. His eyes piercing mine. “No more secrets, Got it?”

  “Fine,” I tell him, although I want to say that I can’t go back and change anything, except maybe to tell him sooner. “Let’s just move forward.”

  “Yeah. I’ll clean this shit up. Bring out a garbage bag for your stash of stalker memorabilia. Once we’re done here, we’ll drop off your stuff at the clubhouse. Then I’ll take you to work.”

  “Okay.”

  “How long is your shift tonight?”

  “A few hours.”

  “Fine… and when I find this crazy motherfucking asshole—”

  “I get the picture.”

  He doesn’t need to tell me twice.

  Chapter 7

  Tate

  “Where’s everybody at?” I call out through the unusually empty clubhouse, hoping for a quick meeting if the MC executives are around. It’s strange to see the place this quiet, even for a weeknight. Molly carries her duffel bag to one of the wooden benches near the main entrance and takes a seat. She looks tired as hell. She has to work a shift tonight. There’s not enough time for her to relax.

  I catch sight of three sack demons hanging out around one of the tables near the bar. They look up from the card game they’re playing. Two of them flash me a flirtatious grin and try to wave me over. I quickly glance over my shoulder at Molly to see her reaction.

  She doesn’t react.

  Not even a little.

  And that bugs me for the first time in well, ever.

  I can’t figure out why, but as I have a habit of overthinking irrelevant shit. Bolting past the three groupies, I step around the bar and get myself a nice size shot of whiskey. I start to pour one for Molly and hear heavy footsteps before noticing Silas coming down the stairs. Finding a third glass under the counter, I fill it up.

  “Rough day at the office?” he asks and steps up to his drink.

  “Not bad. We got an internal issue though. I could use a short meeting to give everyone the details.”

  Before he can answer, the rest of the MC executive show up from different parts of the clubhouse. Axe and Cole come in from the main floor hallway, and Dean, our top potential candidate for Road Captain, walks in from outside through a side door. They each nod over at Molly, who doesn’t move from her spot on the bench. Which is all kinds of strange because all the other times she’s visited, she made herself at home. I shake my head. There isn’t a goddamn thing that’s normal about this evening.

  “What’s going on, brother?” Silas asks as Cole, Axe, and Dean join us at the bar.

  I pour a few more drinks. “There’s a member of another Satan’s Saints chapter who’s been out of line and needs schooling,” I say, then turn to Silas. “Did Sabrina fill you in?”

  “Yeah. I know about the original request, but I didn’t hear anything about another chapter.”

  “That’s because I didn’t mention it to Sabrina,” Molly confirms, stepping forward toward us.

  “It’s Jett Williams,” I say to the boys. “Louisiana Chapter. The idiot’s gone off the rails.”

  Silas glances at Molly. “We’ll take care of it. No need to worry.” He turns to Dean. “Get the story on Williams from someone on the Louisiana Chapter’s executive.”

  Dean finishes his drink in one gulp and leaves in the direction of our main floor meeting room.

  “In the meantime, Molly’s going to be staying here,” I add and offer the rest of them another round.

  “Anytime. You’re really into this job you landed thanks to me, aren’t you?” Silas asks.

  I smile a little, just enough for him alone to see. “It’s a tough one, but someone’s gotta do it.”

  “I fucking bet.”

  Axe slides his empty glass to me, motioning for a refill. “It’s been a while since we had a formal meeting,” he mentions and leans forward to look over at Silas. “How’s business overall, Pres?”

  “Good. Better than good. It’s been word of mouth all the way. Specifically, Jordan Bain’s mouth. The guy’s an evangelist for our MC.”

  “He’s a badass,” I agree distractedly. Molly has her eye on the main entrance. A quick check of the clock tells me I’ve got more than enough time to get her to work. Unless there’s another reason she’s eyeing the door.

  “He is,” Silas answers. “But I hope you know I don’t believe you give a fuck about how much Jordan’s doing for the business. Not with the way you’re watching your new assignment like a hawk.” I glare at Silas, my fingers tightening around my glass, and our Pres flashes me a wide grin. “Seriously. Not subtle.”

 
; “Yeah, well I have my reasons.”

  “And I have more business than just a stalker problem to deal with.” Silas puts his fingers in between his lips and whistles loud enough to fuck up everyone’s eardrums. The few members and sack demons around look over at him. Molly takes a seat at one of the nearby tables. “Big announcement, everybody.” Silas runs a hand through his hair as he waits. It takes less than a minute later for the room to fill up. Members come in from every direction. It’s standing room only as people settle into every available seat, bar stool, and bench to listen.

  “All right, listen up. I had a talk with the Los Diablos MC president today. Vasquez is ready to have a sit down about a truce with us. Cole and I think it’s time, so that’s gonna happen in the next couple of days. We weren’t all expecting this to happen, but it’s time. What I’m saying it we’ll roll with it and hear them out.”

  Axe, our Sergeant at Arms, shakes his head but starts clapping. He isn’t convinced.

  Cole, our Vice President, seems more open to it as he nods. He takes a drag of his lit cigarette. “It’s worth a meeting. Even if it’s too good to be true.”

  His wife, Jenny, comes through the crowd and stands beside him. She doesn’t have a vote, but she seems supportive. She also doesn’t seem to mind it when he uses his free hand to smack her ass as Silas waits to hear from more of the members.

  Axe gets off the bar stool and takes a seat at the empty table close to us, kicking his feet up. “I’ll believe it when I see it. Both Los Diablos and the Mongols have fucked us and back-tracked on truces and deals before. I don’t trust Antonio Vasquez and I sure don’t trust Dean Roman. Those Presidents have a way of changing their minds. And let’s not forget how they sold us out when Giovanni was in the picture… Just like that dude who killed Julius Caesar.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Silas asks, probably regretful now that he opened the floor for input.

  “You know, back in the Roman Empire.”

  I speak up. “No, you dumb fuck. That was Brutus.”