my attention. A smile I could never forget. I cock my head to get a better look at the woman in the photo under the arm of a much younger Axel ‘Cannon’ Hawke. My mouth falls open. My chest tingles. Breathing becomes difficult as the smile in the photo becomes a flashback of the real thing in my mind. Her beautiful face stares back at me. Happy. Loving. Alive.
“Mom.” I whisper and it takes me back.
I clung to Grandma’s neck tighter. Tucking my face away. Away from the rough voices. Rough voices that sounded like the bad man who hurt Momma.
She squeezed me tight and whispered in my ear, “It’s okay, Roamyn. You can open your eyes.”
I didn’t want to look. I shook my head.
“Why did this happen?” I heard Grandma ask and I dropped my chin to my chest to peek out a little.
Axel, the man who sometimes came over to play with me runs a hand through his hair that was all the way to his shoulders. “It was revenge. I’m sorry, Beth. So fuckin’ sorry.” His eyes twinkled with tears. “I’ll make them pay. That’s a promise.”
“It’s okay, Axel. She always knew it could end this way. I’ll call you when it’s safe.”
Grandma shifted me into her arms and walked us to the front door where there were cases full of our stuff. She told me we were going on a holiday. She opened it and I looked over her shoulder at the three big men in our little kitchen. Axel looked at me and I could tell he was sad. I just didn’t know why.
He called out just before Grandma shut the door. “Beth. Take care of my boy.”
My rigid muscles ache from standing so still. Slowly, I come back. I can hear Mason and Cannon’s voices. I blink, coming out of the daze and turn around to see if they noticed any of what just happened.
“Nine. Maybe ten months ago.”
“Why now go after him? Why did you wait so long?”
The two men are still talking, taking no notice of me. I chance another look at the photo, rubbing my chin. The wave of shock from another suppressed memory slows and the questions surface.
Why was he there the night my mother was murdered?
Why did he call me his boy?
Is he my father?
Was my mother in love with the Misery’s Angels Club President?
I clear my throat and straighten up. Taking a deep breath, I turn back around. I try my hardest to concentrate on Mason and not the man sitting behind a desk who might just be my father.
“I might be a biker Cole, but I’m not stupid. We had to play it right or we would’ve had a war on our hands. I wanted retribution and for the kid to pay more than anyone. He laid a hand on my baby girl. When Giuseppe got killed our perfect chance came up. The Marino name was tarnished. Lucio had no one left and was already on the run.”
Mason runs a hand along his jaw, lost in thought. “You’re right. Perfect opportunity. But one you’re not going to take. You’re gonna call me if you find anything else out. I don’t care how small or big your intel is, you find something out I wanna know about it.”
Mason walks away, ready to leave and as he pulls on the door handle, he turns back to the president. “And Cannon, if you double cross me, it won’t end well.”
Cannon grins. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good.” He eyes me. “Let’s go.”
I follow Mason without looking back. My mind is reeling and my heart’s still beating a million miles an hour. I need a breather and a stiff fuckin’ drink.
We pull out into traffic once we get back in the car.
“You believe that story?” I ask, Mase. More for small talk than anything because I don’t want him to notice something’s up.
He frowns from behind his aviator sunglasses. “Yeah. But it sure as hell isn’t the whole story.”
His comment circulates through the shadowed mess of confusion in my head. Everything I thought, everything I believed, is being dragged out of the darkness from the past and hinting at questions I’m not sure I want to know the answers to. One thing is for certain, though, Mason’s not wrong. Worry rips through me.
“You might be right on that one.”
Yeah, I don’t have a good feeling about this.
A loud knock sends me jumping out of my skin and the two metal forks I was