Chapter 2

CHAPTERTWO

I wasn’t sure who I hated more, my father or my brother. No, that wasn’t true, I hated my father more but only because I remembered when my brother wasn’t the ruthless motorcycle club president. Though over the years it had become harder and harder to remember Trevor when he was my loving brother and protector. Now, he was damn near unrecognizable, but I saw a glimpse of him return when I went to his clubhouse to tell him about our father’s threats. For a split second he reverted back to the big brother I loved. But, again, that had only lasted a second then he went back to being Zeus.

Ugh.

I hated that name.

Trevor was not the king of the gods. He was a broken boy who’d grown up to be a broken man who instead of seeking help turned into our father—a criminal, an abuser, a despicable human who valued nothing.

There had been times when I wondered if Trevor was so far gone he’d turn on me.

“Where are you going?” Davis asked from behind me.

Another reason to hate Trevor—Davis Wright.

Of all the men who worked for Takeback it had to be Davis who came looking for me. If the men thought they were flying under the radar they were wrong. As soon as the eight men had hit Idaho they were the topic of gossip. Eight hot newcomers who were all build like fitness models turned heads, even in a town such as Coeur d’Alene where there was no shortage of good-looking men.

So, I’d noticed all eight. I’d seen them at Smutties hanging out and at the bakery two doors down. Not that I’d be welcomed into either of those places again now that my secret was out and they all knew I was Zeus’s—insert gagging—little sister. But it was Davis Wright who’d captured my attention with his brown hair, blue eyes, and broad shoulders. I’d never seen him clean shaven, just like now he always had what looked like a few days’ worth of stumble. Not a full beard, not a five o’clock shadow, but just enough facial hair to make him look rugged and manly instead of like Grizzly Adams.

“Jane,” he snapped when I kept walking.

“Calypso,” I corrected.

I was Calypso Gardner now. Not that I’d be her for long seeing as my guy in Oregon had given me up. Which meant if Davis found me, so could my father.

“To pack,” I told him without looking back.

Pack and go where?

Back to Idaho?

My feet hadn’t even hit the hot sand when Davis’s hand wrapped around my bicep and spun me around.

“Where are you going?” he asked again.

“I told you, to pack.”

He shook his head and followed up the gesture with the same question, “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know, somewhere not here.”

“Tell me about your father.”

Oh, no. Hell, no. I’d stupidly listened to my brother once and called Wilson for help. I’d known better then to ask Trevor’s mortal enemy for anything, yet I’d been so freaked out I’d made the call. Now I had Davis poking around in family business.

Family business that would give him and Takeback more ammunition to use against my brother. Not that I made it a habit of covering for Trevor or his club. But I didn’t want any part of Takeback’s dealings with the Horsemen. I’d done everything I could to keep my distance and my connection to Trevor a secret. And Trevor had kept my existence a secret from his club. No one knew he had a sister. Heck, I wasn’t even sure if anyone in the club knew who our father was.

“I don’t want to talk about my father.”

That was the understatement of the century.

There were stretches of time when I could forget I had a father, a brother, or a mother for that matter and live the fake life I had created for myself. Part of that life was pretending I’d been born to regular, nice, loving parents.

“So let me get this straight,” Davis spat. “You’d rather your father use you as payment than explain to me what’s going on and let me help you.”

Damn, I can’t believe I let that slip.

And when he put it like that, it made me sound like I was a twit.

“No, I don’t want my father to use me as payment,” I returned with the same sarcasm. “I don’t even want to remember I have a father. I want to go about my life, living in my bubble. I don’t want Trevor’s help—”

“That’s the first smart thing you’ve said,” he cut me off.

Asshole.

“I see you think I’m stupid, Mr. Wright, but I assure you I’m not. I know who my brother is.”

“Yet, you waltz your ass into his clubhouse, in your tight skirt and high heels, and when you did that you drew attention. A lot of attention, the kind a smart woman wouldn’t want.”

I didn’t need to be reminded of my foolish moment of weakness. No, it wasn’t weakness, it was desperation. But in my defense, what’s a woman to do when her father sends one of his lackeys to retrieve her? The only place I could go was the Horseman compound. The one place my father’s minion would never step foot in.

“Because the better opinion would’ve been to allow myself to be taken back to my father. Right, I see. How stupid of me. I should’ve just gone back to Montana and offered myself up for a life of misery.”

“Who’s your father?”

That was easy.

“The devil.”

Davis did a slow blink and dropped his hand from my arm.

“Name,” he demanded.

“Satan.”

I could see the frustration mounting in Davis’s expression and for some reason that frustration gave me a momentary thrill. Good, I was glad he felt this exchange was just as irritating as I did.

“Jane—”

“My father’s name is Satan,” I cut in.

“Come again?”

“Satan,” I said slowly. “His name is Satan and I assure you it fits. The man is the devil. There’s a reason Trevor is the way he is and it’s because of our father.”

That was another understatement.

Trevor wasn’t who he was because of our father. He was who he was because our father had beaten Trevor into the man he’d become.

The son of a one-percenter.

The abused had become the abuser.

And that was not an excuse. Trevor knew right from wrong, or he had when we were younger. Then the ‘thing’ happened and a switch flipped in my brother and he turned into a monster.

“I take it your father is a biker,” Davis rightly deduced.

“If by biker you mean a scumbag, then yes. Though, just to say, not all bikers are bad people.”

“Why won’t you tell me his name? You have to know all it would take is one call to the office and I’d have all the information I need.”

I didn’t know for certain what Davis could or couldn’t get by calling the office. Though I could guess, seeing as he was standing in front of me after tracking me all the way to Hawaii.

There had been a time in my life when the thought of someone finding out who my father was would’ve given me an anxiety attack. I’d long since moved past that, and hid my real identity as a safety precaution. Though that didn’t stop me from making up flowery stories about my childhood to make myself feel better.

“By all means, waste your time and call your office. You knowing who my father is changes nothing.”

“Why the fuck are you being so stubborn about this?”

“Why the fuck won’t you mind your business and drop it?”

Davis’s head tipped to the side, a deep scowl etched into his brow, and his eyes narrowed.

The look was menacing, but his posture was what had my attention—he looked like he was on the verge of snapping.

“What’s the real reason you don’t want to tell me?”

“The real reason?”

“Yeah, the reason.” Davis stepped closer and dipped his chin. “What are you afraid I’ll find, Jane? What’s your involvement in your father’s club?”

Yup. The man was an asshole. Which was typical—most hot guys were total pricks.

Two can play this game.

On an inhale I pushed my shoulders back and stood my ground. I’d been around dangerous men my whole life. Men that would have no problem lashing out at a woman and striking her. Davis didn’t seem the type to hit a woman, especially in public but I had long ago stopped cowering.

“I see you’ve already made up your mind about me,” I started and shrugged. “You’re not the first judgmental asshole I’ve come across and you won’t be the last.”

With that, I walked away from Davis Wright for the second time that day.

This time he didn’t follow.

I made it to my room, ignored the hurt, and started to pack.