Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Kimberly

She walked into the coffee shop without seeing anything. Her brain was focused internally on the conversation Kimberly had just had with her boss. Someone had called to complain about her actions, wanting to sue the television studio.

It was more than a conversation—it was a warning. And totally out of character for the man who hired her several years ago.

On automatic pilot, Kim smiled at the barista and ordered her usual. She paid and stepped to the side, waiting for her coffee.

Her eyes closed as she mentally rewound this morning's conversation. It didn't make sense. The story she'd been chasing wasn't earth-shattering… it was a missing person's piece. The person missing wasn't well known. Why would her boss demand she ignore the story, stay away from that area of town, and move on to something else? He wouldn't listen to Kim when she suggested the over-the-top reaction might be hiding something bigger.

No, it got worse. Jason decided he didn't want her working on another story, not yet. He wanted her to take a few weeks off and keep away from the offices and any hint of the missing woman for a few weeks. He looked… frightened. Harassed, with his gray hair sticking straight up from all the times he'd run his hand over the top of his head as he paced in front of his window. This was out of character for the long-time news reporter now turned manager of the station. Until now, Kim would have said her boss wasn't afraid of anything.

Hell, she couldn't get a vacation when she wanted one. Now she was being shoved out the door and told to relax? Nothing made sense.

Kimberly.

Her head snapped up at the interruption of her thoughts. She realized her coffee was ready. Taking it from the counter, tossing a weak smile at the owner, Kim turned to leave. Sucking in a breath, she stopped in her tracks… mesmerized by the man sitting in front of the bay window.

Her fascination didn't stem from the fact that the man's enormous body was in the overstuffed chair that was "her" spot. Kim had no intention of wasting time today, sitting in the weak sunshine and drinking her coffee. She had things to do.

The ice trickling down her spine wasn't due to his long, thick, absolutely incredible blond hair or those piercing blue eyes. It was the tattoos on his neck and hands. The tight jeans and leather jacket screamed biker. Oh, God. She was going to be sick. And she just didn't need this right now. Or ever.

Her first instinct was to run and hide. That was how she'd always handled confrontations with her father's minions before. But Kimberly was no longer a child. Straightening her spine, she eyed the man with what she hoped was cool disdain. She marched up to him, stopping just a few inches away, and hissed, "I am not going back. I am not sending him money. If you touch me, I'll scream. As far as I'm concerned, I'm an orphan. My family died when my mother did. Tell the man claiming to be my father…, " she spit the word out, so angry she couldn't speak. It took everything she had… to move past decades of hate and a healthy dose of fear in those seconds. Finally, she managed to continue, "I don't want anything to do with him!" She stuck out her pointer finger, pushing it into his chest to emphasize how serious she was. When he looked up and met her gaze, blinked, and frowned, Kimberly huffed, speechless at the shock of attraction. Spinning on her heels, she hurried out the door.

By the time she got to the street, she was shaking. Kimberly was furious. She didn't need anything else to go wrong today. If her issues at work weren't bad enough, this had to happen.

Bikers weren't common in this part of Canada. She had no idea if they haunted other areas of the country, but she hadn't seen a single one since she moved here five years ago. To Kim, that meant that the tattooed biker dude had to have been sent by her dad. Right?

Her dad was a biker. Part of the Free Souls Motorcycle Club in the Pacific Northwest. The club had been around for many decades, a sort of Hell's Angel wannabe in the beginning. And not much had changed. Her dad left her mom when Kimberly was a teenager. And it was good riddance, as far as Kim was concerned.

Johnny, the man she hated acknowledging as her father, had never been faithful to her mom. He'd been cruel with his cheating. Mentally and physically torturing her mother with his infidelity and uncaring attitude. And Kim hated him for every bit of spite and downright nastiness. It didn't take a therapist to know that her dad was the reason Kim didn't trust any man with her heart. Not with her heart, any part of her body, or even enough time to have a cup of coffee.

Kim grew up taking care of herself and her mother. They both worked. Kim went to school, went to work, went home, cleaned the house, and cooked dinner. She didn't date or party. She got a scholarship to Oregon State University, close to home. Her major was communications. She lived at home during her college years and nothing really changed. She lived quietly and was happy just being with her mother.

Johnny tried to stay connected with Kim, but she refused. When she was still in school, he'd show up at places where she was on campus, or at the store where she worked. He never came alone. Just appeared with some of the guys from his club, or his current skank. He made a point of embarrassing her. Always asking for money or favors. She refused to give him anything. When she refused to see him—he sent his brothers.

During Kim's last year at OSU, her mom died. She knew she didn't want to stay in Oregon. So, she started applying for jobs that were out of state, out of the country, and far away from her father and the gang he ran with. That move had worked amazingly well until today. She hadn't seen or heard from her father since the day she left Oregon. So why now?

Johnny was older now. It would be just like him to get the younger men in the club involved in chasing her down. He had tried that before. Why couldn't he leave her alone? She didn't want anything from him. Johnny's legacy to his daughter had been one of severe distrust and hatred toward the opposite sex.

Kim dated little after her mother died. The one sexual experiment in her life had been a bust. Shortly after she moved to Canada, she picked up a guy at a bar, wanting to see what sex was like. The experience was horrible and certainly not something she wanted to repeat. So, Kim didn't date. She didn't make friends with men—she didn't go out for drinks and dinner.

Instead, she filled her life with her work and hobbies that kept her busy. She rented a small house that had an art studio in the backyard that she could use for her pottery. She had a kiln and a wheel. Sometimes she did private lessons. She didn't have any pets, mostly because Kim was allergic to cats. She traveled often for work and didn't want to always be searching for someone to take care of her animals. Her plants were all set up with self-watering options.

By the time she turned down the street leading to her tiny home, Kim was almost running. She told herself she wasn't scared of the man behind her. She was just anxious to get home and close the door on this day. Slowing down, she took a deep breath, willing her heart-rate to calm. She turned her focus to the small yards along this street. To the blooming flowers in pots on small porches or beside the stairs leading to brightly painted doorways. Kim loved this neighborhood in Toronto. Many of the small, older homes had been renovated. Most were lived in by the owners and only a few were rentals. Like hers. Kim tried to keep up the tiny front yard and plant flowers to fit in.

Now that she felt calmer, she thought about the biker in the coffee shop. She frowned. He didn't look like a Free Soul. Most of the ones she'd seen with her dad through the years had pasts soaked in alcohol and drugs, hard living… and that life clearly showed on their faces.

When she thought of the man at the coffee shop, she remembered bright eyes, beautiful skin… that was missing the deep grooves of excess and debauchery imprinted on his flesh. His leather jacket was new, unscarred. Naked.

Kim stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Shocked . She felt ridiculous, realizing too late that the leather jacket on the biker dude had been clear of patches and identifying marks. Not something a true Free Soul member would ever wear. They considered themselves naked without their patches.

Moaning, she lowered her head and wrapped her long, black coat around her shivering body. She stared at her boots while her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Kim realized she'd just accosted the man in the coffee shop for no good reason. She replayed his shocked look when she'd poked him, the sadness in his eyes…

Her brows furrowed. Sadness? Why was he sad? Hell, he should have laughed at her, or been mad. Kim rubbed her face. She was tired. And she felt like a fool. Hopefully, she'd never see the blonde man again and have to explain her actions.

She blamed her actions on Jason. Her boss's edict was driving her crazy. She didn't want a vacation or to back off the story. She wanted to finish it. Her specialty at the network had become the hidden story… digging deeper to bring light to why something happened, more than focusing on what had occurred.

Her damn boss warned her to back off her current story, telling her if she didn't, he would fire her. What the hell? Jason insisted she was stepping on the wrong toes and she'd find more trouble than she dreamed of if she continued. He'd never been worried about it before, so why now?

It didn't make sense. They were reporters. Kim thought about the girl who was missing. Nancy Simmons was local. Married, and she worked at the nearby water plant. Her family was solidly middle class and not one of them had a police record or obvious issues. Nancy and her husband had recently gone to the local fertility clinic, wanting to try and have a child.

Kim discovered when doing her research that in the last year, an increased number of couples in Toronto needed to use a fertility clinic. Natural conception numbers were down. Would that information be enough for someone to want her off the case? Kim snorted. She didn't think so.

Fine. She'd take the time off and go back over all her notes. She planned to dig a little deeper and see if she could discover anything she'd missed the first time without going back to Nancy's neighborhood. Kimberly pushed open her gate and stomped up the steps to her house. She flung open the door and screeched.

Kim couldn't believe her eyes. Her house was a mess. Destroyed, everything broken or torn apart. Her couch, the cushions shredded. Smashed pottery, and books with their pages torn out. Why would anyone do such a thing?

A noise behind her caused Kim to whirl around. Her hand slid into her purse and she pulled out the pepper spray she always carried. Before she realized who was behind her, she pressed the button and shot a steady stream into bright blue eyes.