The Beginning—A Duet: Ryder & Two Worlds Colliding (27 page)

The second thing that brought me back prematurely was a call from a man who wanted to meet with me as soon as possible. It had something to do with Marianne. Fuck, I’d nearly fallen off my chair when he’d mentioned her name. He wouldn’t tell me anything more, so I agreed to meet him. I was curious as all hell. Why had this happened now, just when I’d finally stated making progress by thinking less of hating my mother?

If I was totally honest, the third thing that brought me home was my longing for Jade. Just being in the same city would be enough for me at this point. Fuck, I missed the shit out of her, even her snarky ways, her witty comebacks, the way she scrunched her nose when she was deep in thought. Yeah, I missed everything about her, so much it hurt. But I’d chosen this path, so I had to fucking suck it up.

However, I did plan on doing some stalking of my very own. I’d be her shadow, and even if she didn't know it, I’d watch over her.
Protect her and keep her safe
.

My discussions with the Northern Commando MC hadn’t gone as well as I’d hoped. I was pretty skilled in negotiating, yet we couldn’t reach a compromise that would benefit both parties. The motherfuckers were cagey, and wanted more reassurances than I was able to provide to get the deal back on track.

Cobra was raging mad when I called him and told him about their terms and conditions. He shouted down the phone at me, unhappy that I couldn’t smooth things over. But what shook me to the core was when he asked me if my heart had been in the negotiations. I couldn’t give him a straight answer, because I fucking knew it wasn’t. Fuck, I was letting the club and my pres down. That didn't sit well with me.

The Scorpio Stinger MC had always come first in my life; my brothers were my family. And now that had all changed. My thoughts were constantly turning around a beautiful golden-haired woman who’d cast a spell on me.

No amount of wind in my hair or distance on my bike could rid my mind of her. The faster and more reckless I became on the road, and the wider Ratbag’s eyes grew, the more I yearned for my Princess bitch. My cock fucking ached for her at night, dying to be buried inside her sweet pussy.

I could only laugh at myself now. How I‘d thought running away would help, I had no idea. But I’d tried. It was funny as fuck.

Ratbag thought I’d completely lost my mind when I started laughing uncontrollably for no apparent reason, because it finally dawned on me. No matter how much physical distance was between us, she was always right there with me, wherever I went, because she was in my fucking mind and in my fucking heart.

I could run, I could be in denial, but I couldn’t hide from my true feelings.

T
he man standing in front of me was a mirror image of myself, just older. It was like traveling into the future and seeing what I would look like when I was about thirty years older.

“Ryder? Ryder Knox?” Fuck, even his deep baritone voice sounded like mine.

Scrunching my eyes up, I stared at him, trying my fucking best not to gape.
Who the fuck is this man?

I kept my voice even, hiding my alarm. “Yeah?”

“Christ. You look just like me. It’s like looking in a fucking mirror thirty years ago.” We even
thought
the same. He shook his head, visibly rattled. His skin was ashen grey, his lips drawn into a thin line. Even the way he stood, fists clenched, legs slightly apart, was a mirror image of myself right at this very moment.

“So—who the fuck are you?” I growled. This shit was shaking me up, and I had no idea why this man was looking for me.

“Listen, Ryder. I need a drink. A stiff one. Can we go somewhere to talk?”

I nodded my head.
Fuck
, I needed more than a stiff drink. I needed to sit as well. For the first time in years, my legs were wobbly as hell. Whatever was going on here would affect my life profoundly.

“Yeah. There is a bar across the road. Let’s go there.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I never thought I’d react like this. I was expecting this, but fuck me, it’s more bizarre than I thought.” He hesitated for a beat, scrubbing his face. A fine layer of perspiration covered his brow.

He extended his hand. “My name is Bill.”

I took his hand, looking him in the eyes as I shook it. “You have a last name, Bill?”

“Yeah. It’s
Ryder.
William Ryder.”

He could have kicked me in the nuts, and it would’ve had less of a punch to it. “Who the fuck are you?” I hissed. It was no fucking coincidence that we looked alike, and had the same name. And he’d said on the phone that he knew Marianne. That was the only reason I’d agreed to meet him in the first place.

“I’m your biological father.” His voice cracked ever so slightly.

All the air had been sucked out of the room. I couldn’t breathe. This guy was a nut-job.

“What the fuck are you talking about? My father was Tiny . . . Steve Mayfair, from Karma Electric. My mother’s name is Marianne Knox. You’ve got your facts wrong, old man.” I gasped.

“Ryder. Let’s get that drink first—we both need it. It’s a long story. OK?”

I nodded. This was going to be interesting as fuck. I needed to hear what
William fucking Ryder
had to say. Even though I knew he was wrong, I still wanted to hear his story. And fuck, I needed a drink. More than one, actually.

We made our way across the road, silent in our thoughts. Yet, oddly, it wasn’t uncomfortable. I didn’t warm to strangers easily, but somehow this one had hooked me.

“Two Jacks. Two beers,” Bill ordered when we got to the bar.

The barman placed the drinks in front of us. We both lifted the scotch and gulped it down. Damn, that burned. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and indicated to the barman to refill the glasses. They went the same way. I picked up my beer and walked to an alcove. I needed to sit.

Bill followed me, sitting across the stained table. My stomach churned. It wasn’t only because the joint reeked of stale beer and cheap perfume.

“Fuck. It’s uncanny—the resemblance. Marianne was right.”

“Marianne?” I sucked in a breath. Jesus, I was feeling sick.

“Your mother. My lover. We were having an affair.” He held up two fingers to the barman. Fuck, I needed the whole bottle, not just a shot.

“Who was Marianne
not
fucking? The whore sure got around.” His eyes narrowed at my words, a smirk on his face, as if he didn’t like what I was saying. I didn’t care—it was the truth, and nobody knew it better than I did. I stared at him for a long minute. He looked so familiar, but not only because he looked like me. I’d seen his face and heard his name before. All those music magazines I’d read when I was a teenager—his picture and name were all over them. Why had I never picked up on that before?

I took a sip of my beer. “So. You knew Marianne. That doesn’t prove a fucking thing.”

He ran a hand through his hair, the exact same dark color and thick texture as mine, although his was short and graying on the sides.

“Ryder, I know it’s a hell of a shock—”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you the William Ryder I think you are?” My hands were clammy, and my heart beat erratically in my chest.

“Which William Ryder would that be?” He raised an eyebrow, sneering. This son of a bitch was as cynical as I was.

“The fucking head honcho of Ryder Music.
That one
.”

He nodded. My eyes burned into his. There were so many questions, I didn’t know where to start.

I’d always suspected that Marianne had named me after the music mogul—she was a groupie, after all. But I had no idea she actually knew him, let alone had fucked him.

The barman sauntered over with the bottle to refill our glasses. I took the bottle of Jack from his hands and took a huge swig of the amber liquid. I needed to stop the churning of my stomach.

“Rich dude here will pay for it,” I said, nodding my head towards Will. He nodded, his gaze not leaving my face. The barman shrugged and walked off.

“Start talking, William,” I growled. “And explain why the fuck you are only showing up now. Why I never knew all this shit before today. And where the fuck is Marianne?” I slammed my fist on the table. I felt like throwing a few of these cheap wooden chairs around, smashing them to pieces. Then punch something.
Anything.
Including Bill’s face.

He held up a hand. “Calm down, Ryder. I’ll tell you everything I know. We can take it from there.” He let out a long, slow breath.

“I’m listening.”

“Put the bottle down. I need you to understand what I’m going to tell you.” His voice was deadly calm, yet he looked as if he’d aged ten years in the ten minutes I’d known him.

Bill got a faraway look in his eyes. I could tell he was digging up the past. Fuck. I’d been trying for nearly twenty years to forget that past and here it was, sitting across the table from me, dragging up all those feelings again. I’d thought I had a handle on it, and that I’d buried it so deep inside that it would never surface again. I was wrong. All it took was the mention of Marianne’s name for me to feel like the helpless boy again, deserted by his own fucking mother.

“I met your mother—”

My fist hit the table again, harder this time. Bill jumped. His eyes widened.

“Don’t call her that. Marianne deserted me and Max when we were kids . . . to fend for ourselves. She’s a whore, not my mother,” I hissed. “Anyway, where is the fucking bitch?”

Bill closed his eyes for a minute. His jaw slackened, and he swallowed hard. Fuck.

When he opened his eyes, they glittered brightly. “Marianne died, two months ago. I’ve been looking for you ever since.”

“She’s
dead
?” Fucking Christ, this was getting worse by the minute. I’d fantasized about seeing Marianne again. About telling her to her face what a shit mother she was. It was my hatred that fueled me, kept me alive through all the things that had happened to me, because one day I was going to find the whore, and give it to her straight. Now she was gone.
Fuck.

I grabbed the bottle and took a swig, even though Bill clearly didn't approve.
Well, kiss my ass, motherfucker.
All this time I’d believed that scumbag Tiny was my father—that I’d killed my own flesh and blood. That kind of guilt weighed heavily on a kid; it was virtually insurmountable. Even the fact that I did it in self-defense and to save Max’s life didn't make it any lighter a burden to carry.

And now William Ryder was telling me he was my father?

My head hurt, and my chest tightened.

“Yes. I’ve been looking for her for years. She was supposed to show up at my office with Randy to sign a new contract. I waited all day. They never came.”

My eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“Marianne had called me, and asked for a favor. She said that Jake had throat cancer, and wasn’t going on tour any longer. She’d finally had enough of Karma Electric. She begged me to give her new boyfriend a contract so that she could move you and Max away. She wanted to buy a house, settle you boys. Send you to a normal school.” His voice faded away. He grabbed the bottle and took a long swig. Seemed I wasn’t the only one having a hard time here.

I rubbed at my chest. My heart was squeezing. “She left with Randy. Never came back. Didn't even leave a fucking note.”

“That’s because she never intended to leave you. She only went with Randy to sign the contract and find a house in LA. She planned to fetch you and Max the next week.”

“Yeah? Well, Max and I are still waiting. She never fucking came for us.”

Bill was quiet for a long moment. The sorrow on his face was palpable. His steel-grey eyes—the exact color of mine—were so pained that I had to look away.

“That’s because there was an accident. Randy hit a bus head on. He was killed instantly—wasn’t even wearing a helmet. Marianne survived, but barely. She was in a coma for months, and when she finally came around, she’d lost her memory.”

“What the hell?” I breathed. My throat tightened, and my hands started trembling. It was slowly making sense why Marianne never came for us. Why she didn't save me from juvie.

Fuck.

Bill cleared his throat. He was having trouble talking. “I was married at the time. Even though I knew about you, I couldn’t do anything about it. But signing Randy up with a contract meant Marianne would move closer, and stay in LA permanently. I was planning to get to know you. I'd helped them secure a house, paid the school fees for you and Max.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Then when she never showed . . . at first I was angry. Thought she changed her mind. That she wanted to keep me from seeing you.”

“So, you’re saying you didn't know about the accident at the time?”

“No. I had no idea. At the time I was busy with a label takeover—I couldn’t risk my career trying to find out what happened. The scandal would have killed my business and my wife. She had bowel cancer and something like that wouldn’t have been good for her.” He blinked a few times, trying to regain his composure before continuing. “By the time I decided to look for you a few months later, you were no longer with the band. It was all hushed.
Nobody
would talk to me.” He fell silent, shrugging his shoulders. “I didn't know you were in juvenile prison. I'm sorry.” He choked on the last words, his eyes glittering with tears.

“So you just
gave up
?” My mouth was dry.

“My wife really needed me. Our daughter was taking her illness badly, so I had to help her, too. I had so much on my plate, and I figured Marianne took you boys and went elsewhere with Randy. I got tied up in my own life and business. The perils of a high-flying career and success. ” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head, his shoulders slumped.

I nearly felt sorry for the bastard. “So what changed? Why find me now?” I took a deep slug of my beer, and wiped the froth from my mouth.

“Marianne lived in an institution for years. She was practically an invalid. Her memory never came back—until one day, a few months ago. Apparently, out of the blue, one morning she woke up lucid and remembered everything. She told the nurses everything she could recall, and they contacted me immediately. I hadn’t changed offices in decades, so I was easy to trace.”