Page 52 of Striker

“I found it in one of the offices.” He holds it out to me. “This is yours now. Read to your heart’s content, darlin’.”

I take the messenger bag out of his hand, feeling the weight of it pull my arm down. I can’t help the little smile that curves up my lips. I’m hopeful whatever is in here will help us understand the missing pieces.

“What do you think is in there?” Striker asks.

“Lots of money for one thing. I saw him open it a couple of times. There were also envelopes and file folders. Delaney let it slip that Anthony Vale was his son. Hopefully, what’s in here will verify that and more. I can’t wait to dig into it.”

“We don’t have to do it here, among the chaos. Let’s take it home and break into it once you’ve had a chance to rest.”

“I want to have a little peek now. I want answers that make this situation make more sense. If not, it’s going to bug me.”

“Alright, if you’re sure that’s what you want. We can spread it out on that desk you used for cover during the fighting. I’ll grab us a couple of chairs.”

While Striker goes to get chairs, I motion Queenie over. She shows up with a bounce in her step that I couldn’t manage right now if my life depended on it.

“What’s up, honey? Did you call me over so I can gloat about being right? I told you they’d find us.”

I flash her a tired smile. “That wasn’t why I called you over. I want to talk about paying reparations. You were abducted and held hostage because Delaney came for me and you deserve to be compensated.”

Queenie’s mouth drops open. “What are you saying? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Rock is suddenly at her side. “Let her talk, woman.”

I continue as Striker walks up with two folding chairs. “Striker gave me this bag and said whatever is in it belongs to me.” I unzip it and pull out seven ten-thousand-dollar bundles of cash, laying the neatly banded stacks on the desk in front of her. “I want you to have the money. You deserve it.”

Queenie is already shaking her head before I even get the words out.

Before she can object, I shove the bundles of cash in her direction. “Take the money. If you don’t want it, donate it to the club, divide it among the brothers, or donate it to a good cause. It’s my way of saying thank you for all the hard lessons you taught me over the last couple of days. And for being a good role model during a crisis. I feel like I learned a lot about how to survive in the real world from you.”

Queenie steps out, wraps her arms around me and gives me a crushing hug. When she pulls back, there are unshed tears in her eyes. “You’re very welcome. I’ll accept your generous thank-you gift and I’ll find something useful to do with it.”

Rock reaches out and gives me a warm, one-armed hug as well. “Striker did a good job when he gave you his cut. Welcome to the Sons of Rage family, Beth.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m proud to be an old lady in your club.”

When Rock and Queenie leave with the money, Striker and I sit down for a minute to see what the old man was carrying around in his messenger bag. We tip the bag out onto the desk together.

Sitting on top is a folded piece of white paper. I open it and begin reading.

“What is it?” Striker asks.

“It looks like a paternity test from a private lab.” I turn it so he can see the name printed across the top.

He gives me a lopsided smile. “You were right. Marcus Delaney is a ninety-nine point nine percent match. He’s Anthony Vale’s father.”

“Wow, Vale really is his son.”

I tug the next item free from the tangled mess. It’s a thick blue legal binder. “It’s Mr. Delaney’s last will and testament. He recently revised it, leaving everything to Anthony Vale. He’s the sole heir.”

“I wonder why he carried all this stuff in his bag. It’s the kind of stuff most people put in the home safe.”

“I don’t know,” I respond, closing the binder. I pull out a file folder marked financial disclosure. Striker and I read it over together. After a few seconds, Striker says impatiently, “What does all that mean, Beth?”

“Looks like Mr. Delaney kept a running tally of how much he was spending on his son and all the creative ways he used to convey financial resources without Vale knowing where the money came from.”

Striker frowns. “I’ve heard of a Secret Santa, but never a secret dad.”

“If we keep digging, we might discover the reason for it.”