STRIKER: Lords of Carnage MC Page 6

  “They’re here to drop off something for you,” Margot interjects as she walks into the room. “I told them you’d be in at nine,” she says, glancing up at the clock with a frown. “They wanted to wait and give it to you in person.”

  “Actually, I wanted you to meet Wren,” Cady tells me. “Since the work you’re doing involves her. Say hello, sweetie.”

  “Hello!” the little girl chirps, giving me an adorable smile that’s missing one of her lower incisors. She’s dressed in jeans, too, and a sparkly pink T-shirt. Her light brown hair is long and curly, pulled into two pigtail braids that are just about the cutest things I’ve ever seen.

  “Well, hello, Wren!” I take a step forward and look down at her. I’m not sure what I should do — kneel down? Shake her hand? Except for Benji, I’m at a complete loss in general where kids are concerned.

  Cady steps forward with a manila envelope. “Like Margot said, I have some documents with some of the info we should have brought when Tank and I came for our appointment. And Wren has something for you, too, don’t you, Wren?”

  “Yeah!” Wren turns to the chair next to the one she was sitting in. She picks up a small square frame wrapped in butcher paper. “Look! I painted a pitchah foh you!” She widens her eyes. “Uh-oh, I wasn’t supposed to tell you it was a pitchah until you opened it!”

  Charmed, I take it from her tiny hands. “That’s okay, I love pictures! Can I open it now?”

  “Yes! But be careful ‘cause the pitchah’s on this side!” she points to the smooth side without the tape.

  “Oh,” I give her a serious look. “Well, I don’t want to mess it up, so maybe you could help me open it?”

  Wren gives me an excited nod, pigtails flying. I hand the package back to her, and she flips it over and puts it on the seat of the chair she was sitting in. “See? You can open it heah,” she says, pointing. She grabs one folded edge and pulls, ripping the paper away to expose the back of a framed canvas.

  “Wow, this is very fancy, Wren,” I say.

  “I know,” she sing-songs back. “Pull heah now,” she orders, yanking at another corner of the paper. I do as she says, and when the frame is free I lift it out of the wrapping and turn it over.

  To my surprise, it’s an actual watercolor painting. It’s a castle on a hill, painted in vibrant colors, with a long, multicolored walkway leading up to it. It sort of reminds me of the first view of the Emerald City in the Wizard of Oz movie. On the front lawn of the castle are a few different figures who look like they’re playing with a large ball. In the castle itself, a girl is leaning out of the window of a tall tower, waving. Her long, brown hair is almost as long as Rapunzel’s, but I’m guessing it’s a self-portrait.

  “She’s really into princesses right now,” Cady explains.

  I’m genuinely impressed that this tiny girl has painted this picture. It’s astonishingly good. Like, probably better than I could do myself.

  “Is this Princess Wren, then?” I ask the little girl.

  She beams. “Yes! And that’s Dylan, and Olivia, and Landon, and Logan!” She points at each figure, one by one. “They’ah my fwiends!”

  “That’s a great painting, Wren! Thank you so much for my present!”

  “Welcome!” She slides it toward me an inch. “You could put it up in yoah office!”

  I laugh. “I think I’ll do that.”

  I take the canvas and stand, and then look at Cady. “I’m not sure any clients have ever given me a painting before.”

  “Well, I hope you like it.” She waggles the manila envelope. “This isn’t quite as exciting by comparison, but can I go over this information with you before we take off?”

  “Sure thing,” I smile back. “Margot, could you watch Wren for a couple of minutes while I take Cady back?”

  “Of course.”

  I lead Cady into my office and close the door. She sits in the chair she was sitting in yesterday, and I take the seat next to her, on the same side of my desk.

  “Wren is quite an artist,” I remark. “Truthfully. Did you say she’s only five?”

  “Yes. Amazing, isn’t it? Actually, I’m a painter as well. I’ve been teaching her. I agree, she’s got talent. And she really does love it. I can’t wait to see how good she is when she’s older. She even stretched the canvas herself, with some help from me, of course.”

  “She’s really confident for such a little girl.”

  Cady shakes her head. “If you can believe it, she didn’t talk at all when we first got her. We couldn’t get a single word out of her for weeks.”

  “What?” I’m shocked.

  “It’s a long story.” Her glistening eyes tell me it’s not a good one, either. “But suffice it to say, seeing Wren so happy and confident is something I’ll never, ever take for granted. Because I remember what it was like when she wasn’t.”

  “I see.” My heart cracks a little. “I’m guessing that long story has something to do with Wren’s biological mother?”

  “Yes.” Cady’s face pinches. “Tank and I know next to nothing about what happened to Wren in the first few years of her life. As we told you, her birth mother literally left her on Tank’s doorstep and drove away, with a note saying she was his. It was the first he’d ever even heard about Wren’s existence.”

  “Wow.”

  “Wren was absolutely terrified of him, at first. I met the two of them about three days later, when he brought her into the Downtown Diner, where I used to work.” Cady swallows. “It’s been a process, getting Wren to a place where she is now. She’s really blossomed in the time we’ve had her. And frankly, Ember, we’re terrified that if she had to go to foster care, or God forbid, back to her biological mother…”

  She trails off. I sense she’s right on the verge of tears. I don’t know what to say, so I stay quiet, giving her time. Finally, she starts to speak again, voice cracking.

  “That little girl has been through a lot of pain,” she half-whispers. “She needs her daddy. She needs us.” Her eyes meet mine. “Please, please help us make sure she can stay with us throughout this whole thing, Ember. No matter what it takes. If there’s any risk of any step in this process meaning she gets taken away, I’m not sure if she can handle it. I’m not sure if any of us can.”

  Her expression is so raw and earnest, I can practically see the pain of her worry and love for Wren.

  “Tank is the best father to her imaginable,” Cady continues. “You wouldn’t necessarily think that to look at him. Like you said, most people would see a big, tattooed biker and draw their own conclusions about whether he was fit to raise a child. But sometimes, people aren’t what they seem.” She gazes down at her hands. “I had my own preconceived notions about Tank, when I first met him. But then…” Cady’s face turns absolutely radiant, her eyes glowing. “He’s the best man I know, Ember. I know it might seem like he’s being a little overbearing with the whole bodyguard thing, but don’t judge him for that. After everything we’ve been through, I think Tank feels like he has to make sure everyone involved with us is safe. I know you might find it an inconvenience, and I really don’t think you’re in any danger, but thank you for putting up with it. I know it makes him feel better to have you protected.”

  Her words startle me. Since I already agreed to take their case yesterday, I’m not sure why she’s pleading with me now. Unless… she somehow sensed that I might be having second thoughts.

  If she did, bringing Wren here to meet me was a stroke of genius. Yesterday, their case was complex, but abstract. But after meeting that little girl and hearing her story, it’s very, very real to me. There’s no way I can drop them now.

  “I’m glad you don’t think there’s any danger from your husband and your family. But I guess I can’t say Tank is wrong to be concerned,” I concede. “One thing I’ve found from my years as an attorney is that divorce is a process of telling yourself that your spouse would never do any of the horrible things people warn you about — and then findin
g out that they could do all of that, and more.”

  Cady raises a brow. “Wow. Well, let’s hope not. But thank you for being understanding about it.”

  “Of course. And like I said at our first meeting, I promise I’ll talk to you before considering any action that could have unpleasant consequences. But I have to warn you, Cady, that might mean we hit a roadblock or two. Or even a dead end.”

  She sucks in a breath. “I know. We’ll just hope for the best.”

  We spend a few minutes going over the documents she brought me. They cover most of the information I asked Cady to provide, and give me suggestions of ways to follow up on the info she doesn’t have. When we’re finished, Cady, leans back in her chair, looking hopeful.

  “Thank you so much, Ember.” She glances toward the door. “We should probably get going. I’ve got some other errands to run this morning, and then I have to get Wren to a play date.”

  I stand with her, and we walk back out into the reception area. Cady tells Wren it’s time to leave. The little girl dips her head shyly at Margot in goodbye, and then runs to me, giving me a tight hug around the waist.

  “Bye-bye, Wren,” I murmur, feeling a tug in my chest. I reach down and stroke her hair. “I’ll see you soon, I hope.”

  Wren releases me, and Cady takes her hand. Together, they walk out the front door to the parking lot.

  “Damn cute kid,” Margot says, watching them leave.

  “She really is,” I breathe. Even to me, I sound almost wistful.

  Margot turns her head, cocks a brow. “Is that the low violin string of your long-dormant maternal instinct I hear?” she jokes.

  It’s a running gag between us that she thinks I’m suppressing my desire to be a mother. I think she’s full of it. I mean sure, I love her son Benji, but I’m more than happy to be Auntie Em. Aunts get to be there for all the fun, give ridiculously impractical birthday gifts, and leave the discipline to the parents. That’s much more my speed.

  Wren definitely charmed me, though. I know I’ll do everything I can to do do right by that little girl. She deserves it, and so does her family.

  9

  Ember

  Later that afternoon, I’m interrupted by a soft rap on my closed door. Margot pushes it open and appears in the doorway.

  “You have a visitor.”

  I frown. “I don’t have any appointments.”

  “I know.” She purses her lips, and the irritation on her face tells me instantly who it is.

  “Oh.” Shit. “Um… did you already tell him I’m here?”

  She looks pained. “He saw your car in the lot. Sorry.”

  Dammit. “Of course he did. Okay, send him in.”

  Margot turns and calls out into the waiting area. “Come on in,” she barks.

  Seconds later, my husband squeezes past Margot through the doorway. She doesn’t bother moving for him.

  “Do you mind?” Mark snipes at his cousin.

  “Yes, I do,” Margot shoots back. “You don’t have an appointment, so don’t waste her time. She’s got a lot of work today.”

  I love Margot so much. When I first met Mark’s family after getting engaged to him, she kept me at arm’s length. Eventually, she warmed up to me, but Margot still kept her distance for a long time. It wasn’t until I confided in her that Mark and I had split that she finally told me why.

  “I figured if you fell in love with my cousin, there was something wrong with you,” she said. “But eventually, I realized he’d pulled the wool over your eyes like he does with everyone else. I decided you were okay. Just dumb.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I remember joking.

  “Oh, I don’t mean it in a bad way.” Margot gave me a sympathetic look. “A lot of people are dumb where Mark’s concerned. He’s got that charming narcissism that seems to suck people in.”

  She was exactly right. Thankfully, I no longer believe the act.

  “What do you want, Mark?” I ask as Margot pulls the door closed behind him. “Margot wasn’t kidding, I do have a lot of work to do.”

  “December,” he intones, ignoring my question. His eyes flick over my outfit, my hairstyle. “You’re looking well.”

  I hate this overly formal condescending way he talks to me since we split up. It’s like he’s talking to a wayward child who hasn’t come back to her senses yet.

  “Thank you,” I reply.

  He waits a beat, maybe expecting me to return the compliment. I don’t give him the pleasure.

  Mark is attractive enough. Of course, I used to think he was very handsome. He’s not particularly tall, at five feet nine inches. His hair is light brown, his eyes are brown behind his tortoise shell glasses. He has a tendency to talk a little too loudly in a crowd, the kind of man who works to be the center of attention in any room. He’s charming in a glad-handing, superficial way that works to his advantage in his career as an investment advisor. Mark Pante of Pante Investment Securities LLC makes his living by convincing other people to let him take risks with their money, and lining his pockets with the profits. And he’s got just the personality for it.

  “I assume this isn’t just a friendly visit, Mark,” I prompt. “So maybe you could get on with it?”

  “Aren’t you going to ask me to sit?”

  “You’ll do what you want anyway,” I retort.

  With a smirk, he takes the seat across from me that Cady occupied earlier.

  “I do have a bit of a favor to ask.” Mark shoots me a coy look that is meant to seem sheepish.

  My impatience turns me snippy. “What is it?”

  He pouts, put out that I’m not playing along. “I’d like you to come to dinner with me this Saturday at the club, with Fletcher Hadley and his wife.”

  “Fletcher Hadley?” I snort in disbelief. “You mean, the father of the woman you cheated on me with? No thank you.”

  Fletcher Hadley is easily one of the richest men in Tanner Springs. The Hadley family owns half of Main Street, the biggest bank in town, and a construction and contracting business that seems to always get first dibs on any large-scale project that the City Council approves. His daughter Denise is an old flame of Mark’s from high school, and one of a string of women Mark slept with without my knowledge during our relationship. From what Margot has told me — and from what Mark’s mother herself has wistfully confirmed — Mark and Denise were the “it” couple back then. The high school sweethearts everyone assumed would get married.

  A flash of anger lights up Mark’s eyes. “Ember, Fletch is an important client of mine. How will it look if I show up to this dinner without you on my arm?”

  “It will look like we’re no longer together,” I tell him drily. “Which — hey what a coincidence! — is the actual truth.”

  “You agreed not to make that public knowledge,” he bites out.

  “I agreed not to tell anyone until the timing was right. I did not agree to continue letting you parade me around in public at social events.”

  “Appearing with me at social events is expected of a wife,” he counters.

  “Not one who’s soon to be an ex-wife,” I retort. “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you ask Denise? She’s willing to put out for you in private. I’m sure she’d be willing to do so in public.”

  Denise, inconveniently for Mark, is also married. But hell, maybe once our divorce is final, she’ll ditch her boring drip of a husband and switch to Mark. She’s just enough of a fake, heartless bitch for him. The two of them are perfect for each other. I’m sure they’ll make each other miserable.

  “What’s so funny?” Mark scowls, and I realize I’ve been smiling to myself.

  “Nothing,” I smirk. “But the answer is no, Mark. I’m not going to dinner with you. You’ll have to figure out an excuse on your own. I draw the line at actively faking it.”

  “What about the gala?” he barks in alarm, raising his arms wide. “You can’t be absent from that! December, there’s no way people won’t notice and start talking if yo
u don’t attend!”

  The annual charity gala hosted by the board of a local charity for children’s cancer research is happening in a few weeks. It’s among the biggest events of the season for the tony, wealthy set of Tanner Springs. It’s one of those “everyone who’s anyone will be there” things, where people get dolled up in outfits that cost more than many people’s monthly mortgages, and try to outdo one another in wealth and conspicuous generosity. I hate the damn gala, but at least in the end, the money goes to a good cause.

  “I’ll go,” I grumble. “But I’m not showing up on your arm, Mark. We’ll go in separate cars. And I refuse to play any games, so I’ll tell you right now that if you insist on making up stories about some upcoming vacation we’re taking or something like that, I won’t play along.”

  “Ember, you…”

  “No,” I say firmly. “You’re lucky I haven’t told people we’re not together anymore. That’s not going to last forever. Don’t press your luck.”

  His frustration is evident. Blinking behind his glasses, his jaw works as he tries to gain the upper hand. “By the way, I drove by the house yesterday,” he tries, giving me a condescending sneer. “The lawn needs mowing.”

  “What were you doing driving by the house?” I blurt. “It’s not on your way to anything that I can think of.”

  “I had a meeting with a client in the area,” he says vaguely, waving a hand in the air.

  “The lawn is your concern anymore, Mark,” I remind him. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

  I notice he doesn’t ask about Bert, but I don’t point it out.

  After a couple more attempts to dig at me, and a couple more angry outbursts about dinner this Saturday, he finally leaves. I don’t walk him out. I hear Mark say a few words to Margot out in reception, and have to smile when I note her clipped tone as she answers him.

  When the front door closes, I heave a sigh of relief.

  “Good lord, that man is exhausting,” Margot calls. “You survive that?”