“Shit.” It was Dylan’s turn to scrub at his face. “Your dad is a West Coast King?”
“Yes,” I whispered tremulously.
“Which one?”
“What?”
“What’s his road name? I know it’s not T-Bone. He was already in jail when your gran died.”
“Ah, no. It’s—He’s…” I sighed. “The guys called him Blitz.”
Dylan blinked a few times then shook his head. “I seriously thought you were going to say Rags.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Blitz? I…don’t remember a Blitz.”
“Who’s Rags?” The knot of tension in my stomach hadn’t lessened any.
“He was blackmailing me. He had me on film apparently doing a drug run with my dad. But I didn’t know it at the time; I just thought I was giving him a ride. Turned out we were delivering a ‘package’ and Rags filmed it. Then when I wasn’t paying enough, he tried to run Maddie off the road in retaliation. The cops ended up flipping him against the rest of the MC. I’m pretty sure he’s in witness protection now.”
“Rags turned on the guys? My dad was certain it was you,” I whispered to myself.
Although not quietly enough apparently, judging by the way Dylan’s head whipped around.
“What? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Tears welled in my eyes at the naked fury in Dylan’s tone. I’d known this was coming. Was so hoping I’d never have to have this conversation with him, and yet here we were.
“That’s why I was at your shop when we first met. They’d arrested my dad, and I was so mad. Mad at him. At the fucking universe.” My breath hitched. “And I was so pissed at you.”
“You blamed me for him going away?” he said numbly.
Tears ran unchecked down my cheeks. I opened my mouth, but only a sob left me.
“Why’d you even come home with me that night? Were you going to…I don’t even know how to end that. You blame me for what he did?”
“I don’t. I swear, I don’t. I just—I was just so mad. I thought you were a part of the whole thing and got off because you’re a rich asshole who can afford a good lawyer. That’s what my dad told me anyhow.”
“So that’s why you painted the mural. Because you blamed me.”
I swiped at the tears running down my face and nodded.
“I still don’t get why you’d come home with me. You could’ve stayed with Anne. She was offering her couch to you.”
I hitched a shoulder. “I thought I might as well get as much out of you as I could. You were rich, you could afford it.”
“Right,” he whispered.
“But I don’t feel that way now. It took all of a day for me to see who you really are. I swear I don’t blame you anymore. My dad’s the one who got caught up in the drug ring. He’s going to be doing time for his own actions.”
“Meanwhile I got off scot-free,” he murmured.
“I mean, it doesn’t sound that way to me. You were blackmailed. That doesn’t sound like someone who was a willing participant.”
He laughed darkly. “If you only knew…”
He couldn’t even look at me.
He kept staring at some spot on the opposite wall, and it was killing me. I hated that I’d done this—blamed him for stuff he wasn’t responsible for. No one made my dad run drugs or whatever he’d done for the Kings. I still didn’t have all the details, but that was on him. And I didn’t want this amazing man thinking I blamed him. He had to understand.
“I am sorry, Dylan. I lost my only parental figure that I can remember, my childhood home, my newly found father, and then his home in the span of like a year. It was a lot. And I didn’t really cope with it the best way.”
