by Debra Kayn
Damn Piston for opening his fucking mouth. Everyone knowing his business was why he'd made a choice to be the transporter for the money WAKOM laundered.
"Right. I'll get on that." He widened his stance. "What did you need to talk about?"
"There's been a date change since the meeting. Tell Woody the exchange needs to be made on the third if it's going to make it up to the Spokane Chapter in time." Falcon lowered his voice. "Everything else remains the same."
When it came to club business, he spread news, terms and exchanged packages, keeping it all in the hands of WAKOM members.
"I'll pass it on."
Falcon studied him. "Between you and me, I'd sell the girl. Her mother isn't going to come back. Even if she showed up when the kid's a teenager, someone would hand her a needle. No kid has to live going through that shit. It'll give her a chance, not to grow up like her mom."
He nodded without commenting. Clasping hands with Falcon, he continued to stand out in the hallway as the president walked away.
Marla Marie wasn't his responsibility. He inhaled deeply. All he'd done was feed a hungry kid.
For how much everyone knew about the mother, they seemed to have forgotten about the child.
Things were different nowadays than when he was growing up. He and Rachel had more eyes on them when his mom lost custody, and they were put into the state's care. If kids could slip away, the world was going to shit.
He latched his hands behind his head, trying to ease the tightness in his shoulders from sleeping in the damn chair all night.
There were women like Rachel who deserved a baby. Women who'd do everything possible to have a child. Then, there were shit parents who are lucky their kid hadn't died growing up from their neglect.
Needing to leave for Bellevue, he opened the room and went inside the room. Marla Marie sat on the couch, looking at him.
Fuck.
At that moment, he decided how he was going to fix everyone's problems.
Marla Marie didn't have a mom.
His sister didn't have a kid.
Chapter 4
THE TRAILER BEHIND the truck rattled over the bump in the road. Marla, sitting on her knees, stared out the back window, watching the black braid tied to the motorcycle's handlebar fly in the wind.
No matter how many bumps or turns, the motorcycle never fell off the trailer.
"Turn around and sit your ass down. We're going into town. The cops will take you if they see you sitting that way," said Dutch.
She turned and squeezed her legs under the belt. "How much longer until we stop?"
He never told her where they were going. Happy he wanted her to stay with him, she tagged behind him as he hurried to leave that morning.
"Five minutes or so."
He was a funny-looking man. His beard was thick and made him look like Santa, except Dutch's hair was dark, and he wasn't old or have a big belly. He also liked to wear sunglasses.
When he stared out the windshield, veins popped out on his arms, and he had hair on the back of his hands like Mr. Jackson, the custodian at her school.
Her stomach ached, and she squirmed. With nothing else to do after Dutch stopped at McDonald's but drink all the pop in the cup, she had to pee.
It was the longest car ride she'd ever been on. Her mom never drove. She didn't have a car. She walked to school and town if they needed something.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"You'll see when we get there." He rested his wrist on the top of the steering wheel, thumping his thumb against the dash.
When he told her to get ready and go with him, she thought he'd take her on his motorcycle. Instead, he left the pool hall and came back with a truck.
"Are we going to your house?"
He glanced at her. "Do you ever shut up?"
She shrugged. "Sometimes."
"Why don't you try not talking like you did yesterday." He slowed and turned.
She stretched, peering ahead through the windshield. He'd become cranky the longer they were in the truck. He should've eaten a burger when they'd went through the drive-thru.
A few minutes later, he pulled to a stop. She looked out at a house.
"Who lives here?" she asked, undoing her seatbelt and scooted closer to the door to look out.
He shut off the truck and stayed inside. She lost interest in what was outside and gazed at him.
His eyes were smaller, and he squeezed the steering wheel. He was angry.
She took off her seatbelt and scooted across the seat, and sat beside him. If he could see that she was nice and could help him do many things, he'd decide to keep her around.
And if he let her stay with him, she wouldn't have to go back to the shed.
"When we go inside, keep your mouth shut." He opened the door and walked around the front of the pickup.
Once he opened her door, she slid off the seat and got as close to him as possible. Halfway to the house, she slipped her hand into his.
He tried to shake his hand free of her, but she held on. If he left her here, she wouldn't know how to get back to the shed.
The front door opened, and a man stepped outside. He had long hair, tattoos on his neck and arms, and had the same kind of vest on that Dutch and the men at the pool hall always wore.
She put one foot on top of the other and hung from Dutch's hand.
Dutch's grip on Marla tightened. "How's she doing?"
"She's curled up on the couch and keeps crying." The man glanced at her. "What's with the kid?"
Dutch pulled her arm. "Go sit on the step."
"I want to stay with you."
"Do what I said." He tugged her forward and pushed her down until she plopped on her butt. "Don't move."
Rejected for someone Dutch's age, she cupped her chin and looked at the step. A black ant crawled toward her on the concrete. She put her finger in its path and watched it turn around and walk off the step.
Dutch walked with the man over to the truck. She stood, ready to run to him if he got inside and tried to drive away without her.
Dutch talked with the other man. She couldn't hear what they were discussing. After a while, her legs got tired, and she sat down.
The door opened behind her. She scooted to the corner of the step and looked over her shoulder. A woman wearing a robe stared down at her. Her long hair hung over one shoulder. Marla turned away and went back to watching Dutch.
The woman had a red face and nose as if she'd yell or cry. Marla pulled her legs up and propped her elbows on her knees, cupping her chin in her hands. She wished Dutch would leave and take her to a bathroom.
She liked it when they were alone. Even riding in the truck was fun. There was a lot to see, even deer.
"Who are you?" asked the woman.
She scooted off the step and sat on the sidewalk to the driveway, closer to Dutch. The lady was a stranger.
"Dutch?" The woman took two steps. "Who is this girl? Why is she so filthy."
Marla turned, putting her back to the woman. Her eyes burned, and she rubbed her face, then tried to brush her hair off her shoulders. She needed a bath.
At first, she liked not washing her hair and wearing the same clothes day after day. She sniffed, rubbing her arm under her nose. But she hated how the dirt rolled into little balls on her arms when she rubbed her skin. Her head hurt from the knots in her hair.
Dutch walked toward her with the other man. She scrambled to her feet. As soon as he was close, she went to his side and leaned against him.
Tilting her head up, she whispered, "I want to leave."
He put his hand on her head and looked at the woman. "She doesn't have a mom, sis. She's alone."
The woman stepped closer. Marla shifted and hid behind Dutch. She didn't want him talking about her mom or telling other people about her.
"Is she your kid?"
"No." Dutch grabbed on to her shoulder and pulled her out from behind him. "She's been living in a shed by herself and needs
someone to look after her. I thought maybe you'd want her."
"I can't..." The woman hugged herself. "She's not —"
"She's a kid who needs a mom, Rach." Dutch gripped Marla's shoulder, holding her in front of him. "If not, she's going to end up in the system."
Marla turned and wrapped her arms around Dutch's waist. "I want to stay with you."
The adults talked, ignoring her. She understood what Dutch was telling them. He wanted to leave her here. This wasn't her house. The people were strangers. She needed to go back to the shed. Her mom would come back, and she needed to be there. Her mom always came back.
"Did you kidnap her?" asked the woman.
"Skull will fill you in on what went down. I need to get over to the clubhouse and try to catch Woody." Dutch paused. "Do you want her or not?"
Marla broke free from Dutch and ran to the truck. All she needed to do was get inside. He'd have to take her back to Moses Lake.
An arm wrapped around her before she reached the passenger door. Her feet left the ground. Screaming and hitting, she tried to get away from Dutch.
She was wrong. He wasn't a nice man.
He wanted to give her to the mean lady.
Her mom would never find her here. It was too far away from home.
Dutch shook her. She froze, terrified he'd leave her.
"I hate you." She struck out. "Let me go."
"Calm down."
"I want to go home. Let me go home."
"Damnit, Marla Marie." He caught her arms and held them down.
She arched her back, trying to get away. "You're mean. I don't like you."
He pulled her to his chest, squeezing her too tightly. She couldn't breathe. Flinging her head back and forth, she wanted to hurt him. She wanted to get away. She wanted to hide.
Chapter 5
RACHEL KNOCKED ON THE open bedroom door and strolled inside, carrying two large trash bags. Marla looked out the window, not ready to talk with the woman who kept doing things for her for the last four days.
She wasn't going to change her mind.
She wanted to go home.
"Some of the women in the club got you new clothes." Rachel touched Marla's shoulder. "They're not brand new, but new to you. Let's go through them and see what fits now and what we can put away until you're bigger."
She ignored her.
"Come on, sweetheart. Let's pick out something you can wear to the clubhouse this evening. There will be other kids there you can play with. There's a room with a game system kids like to play on the television. Doesn't that sound fun?"
She got up from the chair at the desk and sat on the other end of the bed. Maybe Dutch would be at the place they were going.
Rachel removed a pair of jeans. "Try these on. You're such a tiny thing. I hope we find something you can wear now."
Removing the sweatpants Rachel had bought her yesterday and keeping on her new pair of underwear, she tried on the jeans and snapped them.
"Those fit you good." Rachel pointed to the chair. "Everything that fits put over there. We'll use the sack to hold everything else. Skull can put them in the attic later when he gets home, and that way, when you grow a little, you'll have more clothes."
Over and over, she tried on shirts, shorts, sweatshirts, and dresses until she was tired of trying on clothes. She'd liked the jeans and the yellow shirt that belonged to her, but they disappeared after Rachel forced her to take a bath and sat all evening brushing her hair.
She rubbed her head. The top was still tender from all the pulling.
"One more." Rachel held up a shirt. "What do you think about this one?"
The blue shirt had a kitten on the front chasing a butterfly. It was the same shirt she'd seen Beth Ann wear to school.
"It's okay," she mumbled, breaking her silence.
"You can wear this one today if you want and pick out a pair of shorts from the pile. It's supposed to be a warm day." Rachel continued watching her. "How old are you, Marla?"
"Ten."
Rachel raised her brows. "Do you know your birthday?"
She slipped the shirt over her head. "February second."
"That's a long way off, but I'll remember, and we can have a birthday party for you. I can get one of those pretty cakes and ball—"
"No." She backed away. "I'm going home. I want my mom."
"Okay. Okay." Rachel held her hands out. "We won't talk about birthdays anymore. Are you hungry? You barely touched your breakfast."
Her chin quivered. The longer she stayed here, the more she thought it was impossible to get back home. She'd need to find her way back on her own. Her mom wouldn't have any way of finding her.
"How does a tuna fish sandwich sound?"
All she could think about was tonight. They were going to a place called the clubhouse. If Dutch was there, she could beg him to take her home. If he wouldn't help her, she'd tell another adult that Rachel and Skull weren't letting her go back to her mom.
Chapter 6
THE MEETING ADJOURNED. From the back of the room, Dutch headed for the door. He was free to move on.
Maybe he'd head to the Spokane Chapter, take a couple weeks to drink, dip his dick, and enjoy himself before the next run.
A WAKOM member walked past him, knocking into him with his shoulder. He turned and stopped. His temper riled.
"You have a problem?" he asked.
"You." The guy stepped forward, chest first.
Glancing at the patch, he faced a guy named Buck. Because he was on the road most of the time, and there were more than nine hundred members spread out between three chapters, he couldn't remember if he had a problem with Buck.
He refused to back down. The slight movement from Buck's right side had Dutch removing the knife at his side. He put the blade under Buck's jaw, stopping the MC member's fist from making contact with him.
He sensed the men around him, stepping back, giving them room. He walked Buck backward and pinned him to the wall.
"Brother or not, I will slice your fucking neck if you have a problem with me wearing the patch." He applied pressure to Buck's neck, forcing his chin up. "Got it?"
Buck hitched his chin higher. Dutch backed off, leaving the knife in his hand.
"Asshole," muttered Buck, heading toward the door.
He closed his knife and slid the weapon into the open holder on his belt. Every club had someone trying to move up in rank, thinking they could remove each man, one by one. As if taking out the one responsible for making sure the money flowed toward WAKOM would show loyalty to the club, the motherfucker was dumber than shit.
Hell, the president wouldn't get shit done without him, running back and forth between chapters.
Walking out to the main room of the pole building that served as the clubhouse for the Bellevue Chapter, he spotted Skull. Concerned about Rachel, he headed over to his brother-in-law. Four days ago, Rachel was on tender ground, and Skull hadn't wanted to leave her side.
He approached Skull. "Why aren't you at home with my sister."
"She's here." Skull motioned with his chin to the other side of the room. "She wanted to bring the kid and introduce her around."
Dutch snapped his neck, searching for Rachel and Marla Marie. He found them sitting on the side of the room, surrounded by other women. The clubhouse wasn't a place for a child that young. Not on a day when the members were here for a meeting.
Marla Marie wasn't raised around the bikers. The atmosphere would scare her.
"The miscarriages pulled her away from the women. Now that she has the girl, she feels like she belongs again." Skull sighed. "You should see her, man. Since you brought Marla to her, she's been cleaning and setting up the spare bedroom. Hell, she's got no time for me now. Everything she has centers around the girl."
"You complaining?"
"Nah." Skull shook his head and met Dutch's gaze. "Just waiting for her to come off the high, she's on right now. She can't see the girl is miserable. I've been hanging around the ho
use because I suspect the first chance she gets, that kid is going to run. She wants to go home. Crying all night and barely talks."
"She can't go home." He faced Skull. "She can't go anywhere near Moses Lake."
Skull's gaze narrowed. "What kind of hell have you brought down on my family?"
He looked at Rachel. His sister needed someone to love, to raise, to call her own. Dropping his gaze to Marla Marie, he regretted nothing. The kid needed a roof over her head and a parent in her life. Anything could happen to a little girl, desperate for food and comfort. Someone else could take advantage of her.
His jaw ticked. There was something about those blue, untrusting eyes that made him want to protect her. Marla Marie needed the security his sister could provide her.
"Is her real mom going to come looking for her? The cops?" asked Skull.
He turned his back on the others. "Just protect her. Protect my sister. That's all you need to do. I'll take care of the rest."
He walked through the crowd and went outside. Lighting a cigarette, he stayed to himself and away from the others.
Being a member of WAKOM Motorcycle Club, Skull knew how to keep secrets. He knew to do whatever was necessary to protect himself and Rachel against the law. His sister could raise one kid within the club until she was eighteen years old. By then, Marla Marie would understand the lifestyle and be loyal to the club.
Eventually, Marla Marie would forgive Dutch. She'd see what kind of life he'd given her and be thankful someone took her away from the hardships she was facing alone.
He walked over to the truck, climbed up on the trailer, and removed the tie-downs from his Harley. He'd already talked to Skull about returning the truck/trailer to the rental company for him. Trailing his motorcycle was the only way to get Marla Marie out of Moses Lake without a thousand eyes on him. She was too young to ride. He couldn't trust her to safely sit on the Harley.
But she wasn't his problem anymore.
His sister wanted a kid. He got her a kid.
Marla Marie needed a mom and someone to look after her. She also got what she needed.