I Had My Biker Father Arrested at My Wedding So He Couldn’t Harm My Reputation

little Sportster he’d bought me for my sixteenth birthday, the one I told Logan I’d sold — was still in the garage under a tarp. He’d been keeping it running. I could tell by the clean chain.

I sat in the car for twenty minutes before I could walk up to the door.

He opened it before I knocked. He must have heard the engine.

He was in a flannel shirt and continue reading …