Chapter one

“Nicky, I am not your father.”

“What in the reverse Star Wars is going on?”

I stare at my parents for the first time in three years. It would have been longer, but my mom called desperate to see me and as I was only thirty miles away, I decided to see what the urgency was all about.

This is definitely not a phone call conversation.

“I’m not your dad. Biologically,” my not dad says. I snort. These people haven’t been proper parents since I was four or five. They’ve treated me like a fucking roommate, only doing what is socially expected of them. There really was no need to clarify that he meant biologically.

It doesn’t bother me. Much.

I have Max. He is the only family I need.

We became friends at the start of first grade. Nothing like shitty parents to bond you to someone. I’m glad it was a great someone.

“So, I was adopted? It that what you’re trying to tell me?” I ask, wanting to get this over with. “Why are you only telling me this now when I’m 23?”

“Why don’t you take a seat?” my maybe mom says from where she sits next to my not dad at the over-the-top dining room table. Rolling my eyes at the formality, I slide onto an uncomfortable velvet chair opposite and just look at the both of them expectantly.

“Your fath-Brian and I went through a rough patch about a year before you were born. We both had relations with other people before we got back together. I found out that I was pregnant with you, and it didn’t cross my mind that the baby might not be Brian’s. When you were four, we were trying for another child, and it wasn’t happening. We had tests done, and we discovered that there was no way Brian could be your father.” My mother says this so matter-of-factly. It’s like she is discussing property law or some other kind of boring shit. “It put a strain on our relationship, but we worked our way through it.”

Should I give a fuck they saved their marriage at the expense of me?

Unbelievable.

“Why didn’t you find him? Why did you lie to me my whole fucking life and treat me like a glorified house plant when you clearly didn’t like me, much less love me?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“How would it have looked?” Brian sneers, tapping his fingers on the overly polished mahogany.

I can’t fucking deal with this, with them, any longer.

“What is my father’s name?” I ask, masking my face so it looks like I am devoid of any emotion. They don’t give a shit how I feel anyway.

“You don’t need to bother with that.”

“He was in a biker gang. He’s probably dead now.” Brian looks way too happy about this.

Cunt.

I ignore his hateful comment and focus on the tidbit of information. My dad was a biker. Like me.

This gives me a spark of hope.

I’ve loved bikes ever since I can remember. My earliest memory is waiting to cross the road as a procession of motorcycles drove by. They all looked so happy and free. I knew then I wanted to own a motorcycle one day. That dream came true an hour after I moved out of my parents’ house.

My next dream is to restore old bikes. When I find somewhere I want to settle down, I will. For the moment, traveling the country as I work suits me. Being a website designer by day, and finding people that don’t want to be found by night, is how I make my money. And it’s good money. I can work remotely and all I need is my laptop and internet access. I don’t even have to work half a day and I’ve made more than Brian does in a month at the office job he hates so much.

I know this because I accessed their online banking when I was bored one night.

Which gives me an idea.

I pull out my phone, thumbs flying across the screen before I look up at the both of them with a huge smile.

“I just froze your assets,” I say matter-of-factly. “Tell me everything you know about my father, and I’ll unfreeze them. Then I will walk out of here, and you will never see me again.”

Their eyes bug out. It’s about as attractive as their souls.

I can’t believe these people raised me.

They both pull out their phones to check. Brian looks up at me first, eyes full of hate. “I will call the police if you don’t fix this now.”

“I don’t think you will. Do you really want the authorities searching around your financials? Think about all the things they might find.”

Their faces pale.

Brian skimming money from his clients’ accounts. He’s not even hiding it well. Moron.

My mom, Beverley, clears her throat. “He was a biker from Oregon that I met in Vegas. His name was Kenny.”

“I need more,” I bite out. I’m good at finding people, but why make this harder on myself?

“The gang was called Fallen Gargoyles,” she chokes out.

There it is. I can work with that.

“Your can access your money again, but if I find out you’ve lied, I will make you pay.”

They nod stiffly, trying not to look furious. They aren’t as good at hiding their emotions as I am.

I get up from the table and go to leave before stopping. “Why now?”

“My uncle died. I didn’t want you to expect an inheritance payout.” Brian says, crossing his arms. I shake my head and leave without another word. They don’t deserve my goodbyes This house holds nothing but indifference and lies.

I walk to my bike and climb on.

I need to visit Max.