“Oh, hi there,” she said, her cheeks picking up the prettiest blush. “You’re the new neighbor, right?”
“Yes. I’m Hawk.”
“My name’s Amelia Belton and I…live here.” She nodded toward her door, her blush deepening, but before I could say anything more, her phone started ringing again. “Sorry, I…um, need to go.”
And then she fled, something she continued to do for the eleven months we’ve lived next door to each other. It’s alwaysa mix of standing in the hallway, all shy and flustered, and running away at the sight of me. I can’t tell if I scare or excite her. Or both.
Still, something about that first encounter changed something inside of me. For the first time in months, I found myself smiling. Smiling at thoughts of my adorable neighbor, how quickly her face can take on different shades of pink and those eyes, Christ, they’re like melted chocolate. Warm…delicious.
A slap on the shoulder pulls me back to the present and I turn to find the guys staring. “What?” I ask defensively.
“It’s your turn to play,” Knox says, a curious look in his eyes.
He’s wrong if he thinks I’m going to discuss Amelia with them. I place my beer to the side and join the guys to play, talking smack to each other with each missed stroke. I stick to my one beer all evening and I realize, with amusement, that the Steel Rebels MC isn’t so different from their sister club. I transferred here from the Steel Order MC, at the recommendation of my old MC president. I thought the move would take time adjusting to, but Priest was right—it’s a good fit for me. The guys here are just as crazy and loyal as those from my hometown.
We’re in the middle of the second round when a prospect approaches Knox and speaks to him in low tones. I shrug it off as club business and even when they turn to look at me, I don’t think much of it. As a parole officer, the club often turns to me for help with members who get themselves in trouble. But then something about the way Knox’s face shifts tells me something is up. He nods and then says something back to the prospect before the man walks away.
I pass the cue stick blindly to the guy standing next to me before making my way to Knox, a frown etched on my face. “What’s up?”
“Trouble,” he says sympathetically, which confuses me. “We need to talk. Let’s head to Saint’s office.”
“What’s this about?” I ask even as I follow him down the hallway. He doesn’t respond, and when I walk into the office, it’s to be met with another sympathetic look from the club’s president. Saint is Priest’s cousin. The two look nothing alike, but leadership must run in their family as they are both exceptional leaders to their respective MCs.
“Have a sit, Hawk,” Saint says.
“What is this about?” I ask again, too unnerved to take a seat. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re about to announce the loss of a family member. Except my whole family is dead.”
“It’s more like a gain,” Knox says cryptically. Before I can ask him to elaborate, there’s a knock on the door and in walks a woman I’ve never seen before. She’s young, dressed in a dark suit with a firm look that screams authority, but even more surprising is the bundle she’s carrying in her arms along with what looks like a baby carrier.
“Jax Drayton?”
I nearly jerk at the sound of my name on the woman’s lips. A name I don’t use outside official settings. Even the men I help rehabilitate call me Hawk. Everyone at work does as well, so sometimes I forget the name I carried in a different time, a different life.
But this woman knows my name. Is she maybe the lawyer or spouse of one of the men I help? How the hell did she find me here? And why?
With a frown, I step forward and stand in front of the lady. “That’s me. And you are?”
“My name is Kelly Davis, and I work for DCFS—”
“DCFS?”
“The Department of Children and Family Services,” she clarifies, but of course I know what it means. I’m just surprised she’s here. I glance at the bundle she has in her arms, but don’t see much of anything, as whoever’s in there has their face covered. “I apologize for searching you out here rather than at your home, but I wanted to find you as soon as possible.”
I turn away from the baby to look at the woman. “Did one of my parolees abandon her?” I ask, raking my mind for any men under my supervision with young kids, but I come back empty.
“Fortunately…” she starts, then shakes her head. “Or perhaps unfortunately, it seems this particular case falls on you.” She tugs down the soft pink blanket to reveal the most angelic little face I’ve ever seen. “She’s yours.”
Silence.
“What?”
“Mr. Jax Drayton, let me officially introduce you to your daughter, Wren Drayton.”
***
I used a condom.
As the judge flips through papers—my papers—all I can think is that I used a condom. I don’t remember much about the drunken night I spent with my one-night stand but I clearlyrecall tearing the packet with my teeth and tossing it aside. Hell, I recall stepping on the empty wrapper the next morning when I woke up with a violent hangover.
