Casual pictures of members past and present cover the far wall and my eyes immediately find my father. Painful aches strike me in the chest with the sight of him. Before chemo wore him down to a weakling-something a retired Marine didn't tolerate well-he was a strong, incredibly handsome man. In the picture he isn't much older than I am now and the smile on his face is one of the brightest I've ever seen. Looking at his long, dark hair, the light mocha shade of his skin, and the sparkle to his kind, brown eyes, is like glimpsing into a mirror three years ago.
Two men sitting at the bar in leather vests with the club's logo turn when the heavy door slams shut behind us. One's long and lean with a bun of dark hair secured on the back of his head while the other's bald as a cue ball and a wall of solid muscle.
"Jesus H Christ," the bald man hisses, rising to his feet. His dark eyes don't stray from me as he stumbles to a nearby door and hollers, "Remmy, get your ass out here! You're gonna wanna see this!"
"You know her?" Colt asks, looking back and forth between me and the bald man marching toward me.
"Harley," the man coos, collecting me in his thick arms. "Jesus, kid. It's been too long."
"Buzz, how've you been?" I ask casually, trying to choke down the lump rising in my chest as my hands hang loose at my sides. I'll be damned if I come off as weak after all I've been through, and these bikers hate nothing more than an overly emotional chick.
But as soon as the MC's president steps out of his office, gray eyes landing on me, I nearly lose my composure. He's aged considerably since I last saw him. Long, dark hair once peppered with grays has been completely replaced with a buzz cut of all white. Sharp lines cover nearly every inch of his tanned face, making him appear exhausted from all he's been through. His bulk has faded with time, making way for a sinewy frame covered in faded ink. The corners of his thin lips twitch when he charges at me.
"Remmy," I whisper, ready to give in to my wavering emotions and wrap my arms around the man I once knew as a surrogate grandfather.
The deep creases on his face harden once he's standing in front of me, enveloping me in the strong scent of leather and tobacco. Something unreadable passes through his expression before he raises his hand and delivers a sharp slap to my face.