Prologue
Grace
Three years ago, Diamond Creek, Nebraska.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as men who had been waiting for drinks groaned and moved from their stools.
Making room for him.
I knew who he was.
He was the reason I came to Diamond Creek.
My father’s protégé.
When my mother passed away, I didn’t think I would ever discover who my father was. But as I went through her things, I found a picture.
My mother, pregnant. Wrapped in the arms of a biker. A biker I’d recognized. He was handsome; I’d give him that. But as far as I was concerned, that was all he had going for him. Now, twenty-odd years later, he was the president of the Silver Shadows MC in Little Rock, Arkansas. I guess a woman and a child hadn’t fit into his plans.
I stood before the man at the bar.
“What can I get ya?”
“Beer, darlin’, and your number.”
This would be easier than I thought. His voice was smooth like aged whiskey; his eyes were dark steel orbs. And his hair. Good God, a man did not deserve to have better hair than any woman I had ever met in my life. It was down tonight, curlingaround his shoulders. On the rare occasions I saw him in town, he always had it pulled back.
“I don’t give out my number to strangers, but I get done at eleven if you want to get a drink and get to know each other.”
“Come find me when you wanna get off.” He winked, and I knew his choice of words weren’t a mistake.
Kingston O’Rourke was the president of the Nebraska Chapter of the Silver Shadows. The only man who had ever convinced my father to open another chapter.
I clocked out at eleven and made my way to the corner booth King had been sitting in for the last few hours watching me while I worked. Every time I looked to see if he was still there, it felt like he was staring into my soul.
“Hey.”
Smooth, Grace.
King smiled and motioned for the waitress to bring us drinks. Mary Ann raised an eyebrow at me as she set my drink on the table.
“Enjoy,” she said, then winked before walking off.
We talked until closing about nothing. Superficial things. He told me a little about the club, and I talked about my mom. Mary Ann kept us topped off, and by the time last call came around, I was well on my way to waking up with a hangover.
“Let me get you home, Grace.”
He led me outside, and he asked for my keys. Disappointment flooded me that he didn’t offer me a ride on his bike. I knew he wouldn’t. I knew how MCs worked.
That seat behind him was for an old lady. Not some girl you picked up in a bar. I was good enough to fuck, but not good enough to keep.
Like mother, like daughter.
He drove me home and walked me to my door. If I didn’t know better, I would swear he was a gentleman. But I knew better. At least I told myself I did.
I had a plan.
“Come inside.” I held his hand, tugging him through the door. “Stay the night, King.”
