Gavin (A Redemption Romance #3) (22 page)

As a kid, she’d worn rose colored glasses, where her father was concerned, put there, by her mother of course. The romantic stories Sarah had shared about the perfectly wonderful man gave Dawn all kinds of ideas. I thought it had confused her, and probably had done more to harm her, than help. After all, if he’d been so great, where the fuck was he?

I didn’t personally have an issue with many of our local MC’s. Even some of the one-percenters just wanted to be left alone. If they didn’t cause trouble, we let them be. This one, damn, this one was a bad one. I wondered about this man they’d called ‘Trace’ and thought I might just look him up in the database when I got back to work on Monday. Then it hit me. The man I’d seen poking around, watching, the old biker.

Fuck, why hadn’t I gotten his name, checked his license plate, done something. I was better than that, why had I let it slide with him? I’d been concerned enough, especially in the beginning, to pay attention, to make note, but not to do shit. Trying to pull an image of the man back to mind, I had to wonder if that was her father. I didn’t think so, I hadn’t seen his eyes, which would have told me definitively. He was older, of course, and more muscular, broader, he didn’t seem quite as tall, though it was difficult to tell.

I kissed the tip of Dawn’s nose, softened my eyes and smiled, hoping to relax her and to communicate that nothing was wrong, which was true, nothing was wrong, I didn’t know anything, I just knew of the club. I didn’t know anything about the man.

“What do you see?” Damn, this woman was way too smart for me.

Letting out a deep breath, I came clean. I wouldn’t hold back from her, wouldn’t hide things from her, though I wanted to shield her all the time, I couldn’t, and I’d never disrespect her that way.

I told her what the property patches meant, about the one-percent patch and a little of what I knew of that particular MC. The Dawning Death didn’t have a large presence in Texas, they were bigger in Arizona and California, but I knew that they had groups this far east too. The Dawning Death, I thought to myself, Dawn, fucking shit, had her eighteen-year-old mother named my sweet girl after an MC? Fucking hell, that I wouldn’t tell her, it was only conjecture after all.

She was the most surprised about her mother’s apparent ‘old-lady’ status. She admitted, that over the years, as the veil of perfection had come off, she wondered if her mom had made those things up, about him being her one true love. That she’d wondered if he was just a one-night-stand and Sarah hadn’t wanted Dawn to know the sad truth of her conception.

I didn’t tell her my opinion that they might have been better off without him, without that criminal element in their lives, but I didn’t have to. I saw the wheels turning in her head, saw when she came to that realization on her own. The walls were down, her youthful, girlish ideals about her father were gone. I was sad about that, about sharing that, causing that, but it was good too. I knew that on some level, she had wondered if her father had really known about her all along, and hadn’t wanted her. Maybe, in time, this knowledge about the kind of club he belonged to, about the type of man he may well have been, would heal that hurt little girl inside her.

For the rest of the day, she went through the things her mom had set aside for her, the items inside the myriad of boxes, she showed me pictures of her grandparents, the ones who had disowned her mother. Pictures of her aunt who’d left them the house, and she shared what little she knew about the kind, older woman. It was a quiet day, but a cleansing one.

We grew closer in those hours of solitude, but the memory of Trent’s anguish from the night before was never far from my mind. I didn’t tell her about that, knowing it wasn’t my place to share, especially since Dawn worked closely with Amber, that they’d become friends over the past few months.

"Are you expecting someone?" I asked, looking toward her and wondering who was ringing the doorbell. She shook her head, and seemed confused as she got up and started heading toward the front of the house.

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed her around the waist and planted her sweet ass on a kitchen chair. There was no way she was going to answer the door after dark when I was there. She protested for only a minute, until I leaned in and kissed her sweet lips. She settled and waited after that. She seemed resigned to her fate, knowing that I'd always be that way, she could try and fight it, but it wouldn't work. I could be ninety and I'd still put myself between her and any perceived danger.

Standing on the other side of the door was a tall man, a couple of years younger than me, if I had to guess. He looked vaguely familiar, though I didn't know why. My entire body had stiffened and the tension in the air only got worse when I noticed how the other man was eyeing me.

"Can I help you?"

A slow grin spread over the other man's face; "thought it was about time we met." Lifting his hand to shake, he introduced himself.

After a few seconds of stilted conversation and a firm handshake, I stood aside and let Tyler in. It was odd, now that I thought about it, that we hadn't met yet. I knew how big a part of Dawn's life he was, I also knew that he'd met the girls, since he went into the store to take Dawn to lunch almost every week. I probably should have made the effort and met with him, but since I hadn't, he came here. Tonight wasn't be best timing, but we'd moved past a lot of the emotional stuff earlier in the day, so after inviting him in, I grabbed a beer for each of us while Dawn hugged him.

I didn't like seeing her in his arms, as strange and ridiculous as that sounded, I knew that their relationship was completely platonic, that he wasn't remotely interested in her that way, but it didn't matter, seeing her with any other male put me on edge.

"Do I need to kick your ass, or have you got your shit figured out now?"

Dawn had gone into her room to change into sweats and wash her face, which I assumed was her way of giving us a few minutes to talk alone.

"Not that you could; but yes, my shit is sorted. I assume you got the entire story, the corrected story, after all that nonsense?"

"I did, and it was hard as hell not to come beat your ass that weekend, so, just saying, if you ever -"

"Don't, don't go any further with that shit, I get that things were bad and I understand why. You need to understand that I totally respect your friendship with Dawn, but I won't have you coming between us, not ever. She needs to talk to me, to lean on me. When she's pissed, she needs to yell at me, to fight with me, not run to you."

"I hear you, but hear me, she didn't feel like she had the right to talk to you, does she have it now?"

I was getting so irritated with this conversation. Were we really pulling all this back out and rehashing it. Sure, Tyler and I hadn't talked about it, but Dawn and I had, and I was sure she'd already filled him in.

"She does, she did then. The difference is, now she knows it, no confusion."

Tyler nodded his acceptance, and I knew it was about more than what I'd just said, he was accepting my place in Dawn's life, and the role I would play in it.

We talked a long time about sports, my job and random crazy shit Dawn had done over the years, until she heard us laughing our asses off and came out to investigate. Once she figured out what we'd been laughing about, she hadn't been pleased. After a while, I discovered that I liked Tyler well enough. He was someone I could easily sit and watch a game with, or enjoy a beer with.

The three of us enjoyed another beer and conversation for another hour, before Tyler left and I took my woman to bed. Amazingly, she was able to put aside the stresses of the day and let go completely in my arms.

Monday morning, after my favorite wake up from Dawn, I made it into the station and to my desk. Trent wasn’t in yet, though, since I was early, I hadn’t expected him to be. Pulling up the gangs’ database, I pulled up what we had on the Dawning Death MC and read.

Quickly scrolling through recent reports, I made it to the late eighties and early nineties. As I’d been a kid then myself, and had lived in Georgia, I didn’t know much of anything about the MC from that time. There were plenty of contact reports, disturbances, drug related arrests and reckless driving charges. I even found a few for a member named Trace and his most commonly known associate at the time had been another member, his suspected best friend Trap.

Then, I found it. A contingent of MC officers traveling from Southern California through New Mexico, in nineteen-ninety got into a seriously violent altercation at a small bar. The bar had been a known hang out for another outlaw MC, a rival gang. That night, the club officers engaged in a fight, which, according to witnesses, quickly escalated into a shootout in the parking lot. Six men had been killed, including Jameson “Trace” Spear. Included in the report were pictures, mostly previous mug shots of the men killed. It was Dawn’s father. I quickly scanned the other names, not sure why it was important to know, but the name “Trap” wasn’t included among the dead.

“Fuck,” I shouted, to the disbelieving glances of my coworkers. I had to tell her, had to tell her that her father was dead. I had no idea what that would do to her, but she needed to know, that the man she’d idolized all those years, the man she’d dreamed about coming back to her and her mother was gone.

Picking up the phone at my desk, I called her.

“Hello?” She asked in a questioning tone. I could hear a hint of worry, I’d never called from my land line, I could only imagine what she was thinking.

“Shit, sorry babe, should have used my cell.” I explained quickly, not wanting her to think someone was calling to give her bad news, though, I was. I knew my mom hated when I called her from that line, she said it showed up at the Collin County Sheriff’s Department on her screen, and it always freaked her out, that someone was calling to say I’d been hurt. Since I’d only been at work an hour, the likelihood was pretty low.

“It’s fine, no big deal, just surprised me to see the S.O. on the display.”

“Hey, what time are you working today?” I asked, not sure if I should talk to her now, or later.

“Not until eleven, why?”

“Okay, stay there, I’m coming home. I need to talk to you.” I didn’t want to put it off. I wasn’t sure that telling her before she went to work was the right thing to do, but I also didn’t want to tell her I’d known for hours and make her feel like I’d kept it from her.

“Okay, is everything all right?” She asked, the concern back in her voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’ll be right there.”

We disconnected, I explained what was going on as quickly as possible to my sergeant, who was a good guy and totally got it, then rushed home.

Dawn

I paced, after hanging up with Gavin, I knew something was wrong. I had no idea what, but there was a strange note in his tone that alarmed me. I’d gotten ready for work earlier, I had planned to get some laundry done and tidy up a bit before leaving, but instead, I stood at the front window, watching for his truck, paced to the kitchen, and back again. It was only minutes before I heard his truck pull up, then he was inside. He looked, harried, and that alarmed me more than anything else had.

“What is it?”

“Come, sit with me.” He said, holding his hand out, and leading me to the couch.

“Tell me. You’re freaking me out.” I demanded, not wanting to drag this out any longer.

“When I got to my desk, I pulled up what I could on the MC your dad belonged to. I scanned a bunch of reports.” He took a breath, getting ready to go on, but I focused on one word,
belonged
, past tense. What did that mean?

“There was a fight, it ended in a shooting, six men were killed that night and one was Jameson “Trace” Spear, your father.”

I gasped in shock, I wasn’t sad, in the way you’d grieve someone you knew, but it was a blow. My father was dead. The man I’d waited for all those days, sitting on the porch waiting for him to come and save me from the mean kids at school. I’d wanted him to come and prove to everyone that I wasn’t a bastard, to show them that my daddy hadn’t left when I was born because I was so ugly he couldn’t look at me. Kids were cruel, and back then, in this small town, that was a lot smaller then, they were vicious.

Most of the parents were friends, because they’d all gone to school together, but not my mom, she was too young. She was at least four years younger than any of the other moms in my class. Parents looked down on me, with pity and judgement, because everyone around knew that my mom had been kicked out by her own parents. We’d been poor, which hadn’t helped either. I didn’t have the fancy new shoes the other kids did; I didn’t have name brand clothes either.

I had second hand things, they’d been decent quality and mom always did her best to keep me in the best she could afford, but it only took once, when I wore the special Christmas dress mom had found, that had been donated by another family.

One girl’s older sister had owned it and the girl noticed. She’d told everyone and mocked me, in my pretty dress. She’d made fun of me, when I had felt so special. It had been my favorite dress when mom brought it home for me, but after that, I’d only worn it at home.

I’d wanted my dad to come back, to marry mom and buy us the best house ever. He would have been wonderful and kind, he’d love me and show all those kids that I was special too, but he never did. He’d been dead all those years and I’d never known.

A tear trickled down my cheek at the memories of my childhood. It hadn’t been until Gavin and his family moved in across the street when I began to feel safe. He’d made it known that I wasn’t to be teased. He had his own friends, and his own troubles, but he always looked out for me too. Then, in high school, when Gavin had enlisted, I’d found Tyler.

It was the first time in my life I had a
popular
friend, and was accepted, even though my clothes were still second hand, I’d learned to sew and change them, so no one ever knew about it again. I liked to compare myself to Molly Ringwald in
Pretty in Pink
. That movie had been my go-to back in the day, for much needed inspiration.

I’d been silent too long, I knew this, because Gavin cupped my chin and lifted it so he could look into my eyes.

“You, okay?” He asked, hesitantly.

Shrugging, and having no idea how to answer, I didn’t. Then, I realized, “shit, I’m going to have to tell my mom.” That worried me. She’d finally come into herself, she was dating the guy from her office and seemed genuinely happy for the first time in my entire life. I was afraid that she’d slip backward, that she’d go back to the introverted woman she’d been before.

My mom wasn’t a bad mother, she’d been too young, certainly too young and inexperienced with the world to raise a child on her own, with absolutely no support. She’d worked hard though, taking night classes when she could to improve her skills and had gotten progressively better jobs every few years.

We’d been lucky, there was an older lady just a few houses down, Mrs. Hill. She had been a widow longer than I’d been alive, but she helped mom with me a lot. As far as I knew, she’d never accepted money to watch me either. Thinking back to the kind woman, I knew that her influence on me was invaluable. She’d taught me to cook, taught me to sew and taught me to turn the other cheek.

Mrs. Hill had protected me from years of random sitters and the havoc that could have wreaked on my life. She’d passed away a few years ago, I’d come home from college to attend her funeral. The church had been packed with family and friends who had been influenced by her.

I decided that I wouldn’t tell Mom about her lost love’s demise until Friday, when she would have the weekend to come to grips with the news. I felt bad keeping it from her for so long, but honestly, I didn’t trust her fragile mental state with news like that and think she’d be able to function at work the next day without doing something rash, like breaking up with her man-friend, as she liked to call him.

Gavin’s hand wrapped around the back of my neck and pulled me into him. “I can be there when you tell her.”

His offer was sweet, however, I needed to do this on my own. “Thank you, I really appreciate it, but I’m going to tell her alone. I don’t know how she’ll react and I want her to be comfortable to grieve if that’s what she needs to do.” I explained, warmed by his constant support.

“You left work, are you going to get into trouble?” I asked, all of a sudden realizing that he’d barely gotten in before he left again.

“No, it’s fine. I thought about waiting until tonight, but I didn’t want to keep it from you all day.” I really appreciated that.

I asked him to tell me what he knew, which he did, without hesitation. It was a strange feeling, to know that my father was dead, but having never met him, I didn’t feel much aside from a little sadness at the loss of a dream, a never to come true fairy tale.

After the conversation was done, there wasn’t any more to say, Gavin went back to work and I prepared to leave as well. I had a little time, so decided to grab coffees from Gillian’s before I went in.

Mondays were an interesting day. There was restocking to do, depending on how busy the weekend had been. We weren’t usually busy with customers, but you never knew. It was also the day Tyler would most often show up for lunch. Sometimes it was planned, and sometimes it wasn’t, but it was his day off, so I never knew what to expect.

…

Thursday night, I called my mom and asked if I could visit with her the following day after work. She’d agreed, and sounded a bit too excited for my visit. Hanging up the phone, I heard Gavin call from the front of the house.

“I’m in the bedroom,” I called back, slipping into a pair of yoga pants and putting my teal suede Mary Jane’s on their shelf.

Gavin’s booted feet came into view as I leaned down to pull on my fuzzy socks. It was nice outside, but my feet were always cold, so I had a great collection of thick, soft socks. Looking up into his handsome face, I smiled, but it slipped when I saw the furrow in his brow.

Leaning down, he gave me a perfunctory kiss, and looked at me questioningly for another minute.

“What?” I asked, wondering if I’d done something horrible, like accidentally spray his work shirt with perfume again.

“Baby, I need you to come into the living room with me.” He said, voice quiet and a conflicted look on his face.

Having no idea what to expect, but trusting him implicitly, I wondered if maybe he’d purchased something we didn’t need and thought I’d get upset about it.

“Did you buy a dog?” I asked as we exited our room.

Jerking to a stop, he turned and looked at me in confusion.

“What?”

“A dog, you look like you’ve done something wrong, I figured you bought something, and hoped that maybe it was a dog.”

Shaking his head with amused exasperation, he didn’t answer, just pulled me behind him once more. As we neared the front of the house, he pulled me to his side, and held me protectively at his side, like whatever was in the living room, he didn’t want to hurt me.

“Baby, this is Trap.” Gavin said, as we came to a stop five feet from a somewhat tall, older biker. He looked somehow familiar, and I remembered seeing him recently, though I didn’t know where. My recognition must have been apparent on my face, because the man smiled and held out his thick, weathered hand to shake mine. I took it, automatically, shook hands with the stranger and felt Gavin tense, just the slightest amount next to me.

“You know me?” The man asked.

“No, though I’ve seen you, recently, but I can’t remember where. And before that too, I do recall thinking that you looked vaguely familiar when I saw you a few weeks ago.” I was totally honest with the man, I had no idea if I was supposed to know him and if I was, if me telling him that I didn’t would anger him, but thankfully, it didn’t seem to.

A smirk on his face, he nodded and reached around behind his back and pulled something out. Gavin really stiffened, then, but when the man, Trap, produced an old envelope, Gavin relaxed.

“I guess I should start at the beginning with you, Dawn. I’m Trap, as you know, and your dad was my best friend.” The words spoken in that rough, gravelly voice, so deep, I didn’t think I’d ever heard someone speak so deeply, soothed as much as surprised me.

“Okay,” I said, not sure what else I should say. What did someone say just days after finding out that her father wasn’t really a dead beat, as much as a possible criminal and, oh yeah, he’d been dead almost my entire life, and here you go, here is his best friend, some old biker guy standing in your living room, handing you an envelope. This was the strangest week of my life.

“You probably know, that he left your mama for a while to go back to California, he had some things to get in order before he could bring her out there to live with him. He worked really hard to get his shit straight, to clean everything up around him, to stay clear of any trouble. He knew that she was safe with your grandparents. Your granddad was a good man, though he let that wife run over him, from what I understand. Anyway, your granddad would protect your mama, until your daddy could come back.” Trap paused for a while, looking at me, and seemingly taking stock of me to see if I could handle the rest.

I must have passed the test, because he continued. “Anyway, he’d been gone about six months, he’d sent letters and at first your mama sent them back, they’d talked on the phone a few times and all was good. Then, the letters stopped coming, she sent a few that hadn’t made sense, like she wasn’t getting your dad’s letters, and he worried that someone was intercepting them, someone bad, so he laid low for a while, but knowing I was on my way to Texas, he asked me to look in on her, just check on her, not to approach, just see that she was okay.”

Again, he paused, and I had no idea where all this was going, why now, why was he here tonight, what was the point of all this? I had no idea, but I nodded, motioned to the chair nearest him, offering him the seat, and sat down on the couch across from him.

“So, I couldn’t find her, she wasn’t at your grandparent’s house, then I followed your granddad one night, it was odd, he went out every night at eight-thirty and came back around nine-fifteen. It was too fast to be seeing another woman, or really doing anything, so I followed. He drove to a small café that’s gone now, and parked outside. He sat in his car and watched through the large glass window, so I looked to see, and it was your mama. She was heavy with you by then, but she was waiting tables. When she went into the back room, about nine o’clock, he went inside and laid some money on the counter where the line of stools was. It was a small place, and only one old guy was left inside, and it seemed like the men knew each other. They didn’t speak, but they nodded to each other.”

Gavin got up, apparently realizing that this man wasn’t a danger to me, and grabbed each of us a beer. Trap took his, and downed a good swig before he went on. His tale was a long one, so I took a sip and sat back, ready to hear more.

“I watched your granddad walk back outside and get into his car, before your mama walked back out front, and when she did, she picked up that bill and smiled, and put it in her pocket. He sat in that car and watched as she helped close up and that other old guy drove her to the house she lives in now. Your granddad followed and I followed too, needing to know where she was going, because I’d watched long enough to know that she wasn’t staying at her parent’s house anymore. I went back to the clubhouse that night and tried to get ahold of your dad, but he’d gone to ground. He had some shit to deal with, some things he had to finish before it was safe to bring your mama out, and I knew he was working hard on doing that, so I watched for a few more days before heading on. I saw your granddad go to that coffee shop every night I was there and leave money on the counter for your mama.” Trap’s look was wistful, as he looked out the front window, without seeing a thing. I could tell that his memories had a lot of pain mixed in and I had a feeling that we were about to get to that point.