by Debra Kayn
Jett had been tender, even when his words and voice were harsh and bossy. It was the act of caring or seeming to care, that confused her. He owed her nothing.
Last night while they'd shared a bed, he'd leaned toward fathering her when he made her hold the frozen bag on her wrist. But, he held her as a man when he touched her boob. Her throat closed and she coughed, setting down the crust of the pizza. He believed she was twenty years old.
A twenty-year-old woman was mature, experienced, and responsible.
"We're going to hang out in the clubhouse today." He rubbed the back of his hand against his lips. "It's already one o'clock."
She looked over her shoulder at the window. Unaware of the time until now, she thought it was early morning. "I have a few things I need to do..."
The less he knew about her, the better. Away from the Brikken clubhouse, she could find her next gig, become who she needed to be.
"Not now. You're staying here." He planted his elbows on the table.
Voices came into the kitchen. She looked over at the door and spotted a woman hugging a biker, cupping his ass, and laughing. Looking away, she whispered, "I won't be one of the women here."
No one needed to tell her there were women at the clubhouse who hung around only to hook up with the men. On the two visits to take the bikers money for the bets, she'd heard the talk. They were all hurrying back inside to get drunk, get high, and have sex.
"Nobody is going to touch you, but me." Jett picked up the plates and tossed them in the garbage.
She shot out of her chair. "I don't want you touching me either."
"You don't have any say in that." He turned and came back to her.
"I do." She squared her shoulders. You...you might be trying to help me because of what you did to Victor, and I have no place to live now, but I don't need your help. I don't even want to be here." She lifted her chin the closer he came and kept glaring at him. "You can't keep me here."
"I did, and I am." He put his hand on the base of her neck, trailing his fingers up her neck, and cupped her chin. "I will."
She shivered and jerked away. "Why?"
His gaze narrowed. She held her breath.
Finally, he said, "I don't know."
He didn't know? Her chest pounded.
She couldn’t deal with him. If he couldn't even tell her why she was here, how was she supposed to figure out a way to escape?
She blinked hard. "Can I go outside? I'd like to walk around and be by myself."
"Go ahead." He inhaled deeply. "I have a few things to check on here."
She walked away from him, checking over her shoulder to make sure he wasn't going to change his mind. Her adrenaline grew more and more until she entered the main room and had to force herself not break out in a sprint to the door.
All eyes in the room followed her exit. She pushed through the door and almost laughed in her hysteria of breaking free. Distance from Jett, who put her off her game, would be her salvation.
She hurried toward the gate, gazing around the area. There were twenty or so men occupied outside. None of them paid her any attention.
With each step, she gained her inspiration. She focused on every step. Her goal the outside of the fence, and then to make contact with Kylie.
A biker sitting on his motorcycle by the gate stood at her approach. She waved enthusiastically and gave a skip, smiling. "Hey."
He lifted his chin. She rocked from heel to toe, comfortable and young.
"My ride is coming to pick me up." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and played with the end of the strands, giggling. "When you see Becka, can you tell her to get her butt in gear. My dad isn't going to wait forever."
She walked to the gate, sure that any member of Brikken would cater to a silly teenager who only needed to catch a ride with her dad. When the biker never moved to open the partition in the fence, she looked at him and smiled. "Hey, dude. Can you open the gate, please?"
He shook his head, walked back to his bike, and sat down.
She muffled her groan. Asshole.
Walking back toward the clubhouse, she veered off between the building and some type of barn or garage. If nobody would open the gate for her, she'd go in the opposite direction until she could get off Brikken property or climb a fence out of view from the others.
Several hundred feet from the buildings, she came to a creek. Spotting a bridge, she walked to the other side of the water. A large house blocked her way.
Deciding to follow the water, she started jogging. The long grass, sticks, rocks, and uneven terrain made it difficult to get away fast.
Her foot landed in a hole, and her body careened forward. She caught herself and cried out as pain attacked her already tender wrist. Crouched on her knees, she cradled her arm. Frustrated at every dead end of her escape angered her.
This was all Jett's fault.
While she felt no loss over Victor Clark's murder, she would've been safe in the trailer, sleeping during the day until she had to work tonight. She would've used her time wisely to earn money for herself while waiting for Sunday. Looking forward to seeing Kylie once a week was all the motivation she needed to keep up the charade and survive by herself for the next three years when Kylie would be old enough to leave her foster home and be out of the State of Washington's care.
Her chest ached, holding in tears. Now her wrist hurt. She couldn't even find a way to escape Brikken. Jett made her feel like she had a right to throw the biggest tantrum and he'd comfort her—which was all kinds of messed up.
He'd used his authority, his power, his killer-status, to force her into coming to the clubhouse with him.
She didn't want him comforting her, or touching her, or making her sleep with him.
She rubbed her eyes, stopped, and then continued, remembering she'd scrubbed all her makeup off and there was nothing on her face to ruin. No wonder the biker at the gate wouldn't allow her to leave. Even having boobs, she looked like a thirteen-year-old girl without makeup in baggy clothes.
"Hello?" said a female voice.
Sydney lifted her gaze and hurried to stand up, embarrassed at being caught feeling sorry for herself.
A woman with long, blonde hair wearing shorts with a Rolling Stone T-shirt stood twenty feet away. She held a baby in her arms. There was a little girl with two braids over each shoulder standing beside her. "Are you okay?"
"I'm just walking." She looked down at the ground before gazing at the woman again. "I tripped."
"Are you hurt?"
She shook her head and then changed her mind. The lady was a mother. She'd be sympathetic. "A little, but I'm okay now."
"I'm Johanna." She glanced down at the child. "And, this is my daughter, Jackie."
"Sydney," she mumbled. "Is there another gate at the back of the property?"
She needed to get out of here before more people became aware of her trying to leave and alerted Jett.
Johanna shook her head. "Only in front of the clubhouse. We can walk with you if you'd like. We're heading that way."
"I'm getting new shoes," piped Jackie.
"In Tacoma?" Hope filled Sydney. "You'd save me a walk if I could go with you. I'm supposed to meet my dad soon. I told him I'd meet him at my friend Charlotte's house, but I stayed here longer than I should've, and he'll be mad if I'm late." She lowered her voice. "He doesn't know I came here, and if I don't make it back in time, he'll ground me...forever."
Johanna's gaze narrowed, studying her. "Who are you here with?"
Her mind went blank. There were hundreds of members, all she had to do was pick a man's name, and she'd probably get lucky and make a match. Instead, she blurted, "Jett. He's my cousin, but dad doesn't like me hanging out with him because he's older and rides a motorcycle. He's sorta old fashioned."
"Oh..." Johanna looked down at her daughter and shushed her for yanking on her shirt. "Okay, we can give you a ride."
Together, they walked toward the bridge. Out of her peripheral
vision she caught Johanna using her cell phone with one hand.
"I'm just going to text Jackie's daddy and let him know I'm leaving." Johanna smiled. "We're running late, like always."
Sydney walked between the two buildings, rubbing her wrist. By the time Jett found out she'd left, she'd be long gone. Maybe she'd even make it to South Tacoma, find a shelter, and be able to wait the days out until Sunday rolled around and she could come back to see Kylie.
"Can I run, momma?" said Jackie.
"Go ahead. Watch for the motorcycles." Johanna watched her daughter skip away.
Sydney smiled. Jackie was a cute kid.
"How old is your baby?" Sydney stretched her neck, catching a glimpse of an infant with dark hair.
"Four months." Johanna tilted to the side, showing the baby. "Her name's Stassi."
"She's cute," said Sydney.
Halfway across the field in front of the clubhouse, a man shouted, "Johanna."
Jackie turned and ran toward the clubhouse. "Chief!"
Connecting the dots between the man Johanna called on the phone, Jackie's excitement, and Jett calling his father Chief, Sydney got a glimpse inside a family reunion. She pivoted and groaned, hating to be right that the woman who'd found her snitched and told Jett's father she was giving a girl a ride to town.
Beside Chief, Jett leaned against the side of the clubhouse and crooked his finger at her. Feeling like a scolded child, she walked to him.
She'd blown her chance to escape. The only option left for her was to wait until a party started, flirt with one of the other bikers, and hope she could convince someone else to take her away.
Chapter Seven
Sydney drank the pop Jett put in front of her on the table. He stood ten feet away with Chief, trying to decide what to do with the information his father handed him.
"Somehow, social services gave up looking for her two weeks after she ran away." Chief braced his elbow on his crossed arm and stroked his beard.
The music blaring in the clubhouse kept their conversation from Sydney's ears. Jett widened his stance. "Why would she continue trying to run away?"
Chief scoffed in amusement. "She's a kid of the State of Washington. Bad homes. Abusive foster parents. Neglect. Teenage boyfriend. Drugs. It's anyone's guess. My contact could only get the basic information from her record. She's a minor, so everything is sealed. I can tell you that she's only sixteen years old. You've got her at Brikken around bikers that she's never been around before. She's scared to death, and she wants to leave. It's why we make sure females who come to the parties are at least twenty-one years old and think with their pussy and not their heads. You were born into the club. All these assholes are your family. To her, we're the scum of the earth."
"I killed in front of her," he muttered.
"You can't regret the act."
"She's a child." He shook his head. "Clark had her out doing his dirty work and ripping people off. She had no protection. I'd do it again, but I'm not sure she can see what he was doing to her. Hell, in her eyes, there's no difference between what Clark was making her do and what I'm making her do by staying here."
"What do you plan on doing?" asked Chief.
"I don't know yet."
"You could always keep her." Chief shrugged.
Sydney stood, glanced over at him, and then walked across the room and stood by the pool table. All he could see was a sixteen-year-old girl now that he knew her age.
Chief had kidnapped Johanna when she was eight years old and kept her for himself. Jett had grown up with Johanna, treating her like a little sister. His dad's relationship with Johanna went beyond explanation. He'd known that from an early age.
"I'm not you," he said, knowing that wasn't true.
Last night, he'd slept better than he had since returning from prison. Cuddled around Sydney gave him a calm he hadn't received from other women. If she would've shown any sign that she wanted him, he would've easily fucked her, believing she was twenty years old.
She wasn't.
She was a fucking sixteen-year-old.
Chief squeezed the back of Jett's neck and laughed. "She'll grow up. Remember how you thought and acted as a sixteen-year-old? You already had slept with half the women in Brikken by that age. You and your brothers. That included women twice your age."
He was thirty-seven years old. More than twice Sydney's age. What was okay for boys was not okay for girls. At least not any girl he cared about. If anyone touched his little sisters when they were teenagers, he'd kill the sons of a bitches.
"Yeah, I remember," he said.
The beer he'd drank set heavy in his stomach. It wasn't the problem of keeping his dick out of Sydney because of her age that bothered him. He couldn't pinpoint exactly why he brought her back here under the excuse of keeping her safe.
He had no problem sending any of the women hanging around him away. Why was Sydney different than other females?
Hell, he didn't even know Sydney. But, there was something about the way she seemed to change right in front of his eyes that mystified him and kept him interested—far more than someone her age should.
He stared at Sydney across the room. Earlier, she'd gone upstairs by herself and changed into a short skirt and sexy top that hung off one of her shoulders, and applied makeup on her face again, masking her age. If he hadn't known her age and if he hadn't seen her without being all dolled up, he would've reacted to her as if she was any of the other bitches that hung around the club.
The first night in her trailer, she'd broken down. Not in a fit, not in fear, not in an attempt to gain his attention. It was heartbreak, plain and simple, and he found himself hurting for her.
Besides family, including Brikken, he never gave a shit about anyone. He looked out for himself and in his position, needing to be the one to step up and lead Brikken after his father stepped down, he had to be careful who he put in his life.
Sydney slipped her fingers under D-Con's vest and leaned close to him. Jett stepped forward, and Chief clamped his hand around his arm, stopping him.
"Do you know what she's doing?" asked his father.
"I don't give a shit what she's doing. I'm going to make her stop." He jerked his arm out of his dad's hold and strode forward.
He reached her in time to hear D-Con ask her upstairs. That's all he needed to know about the situation. He pulled back his arm and punched D-Con in the jaw.
Sydney screamed and jumped out of the way. Jett threw himself on D-Con, landing them both on the pool table. Rage consumed him, and he hit his MC brother again, ignoring the hands trying to pull him away.
"She's sixteen years old," he said, through gritted teeth. "Keep your hands and fucking offers away from her." He raised his head and pushed off D-Con. "That goes for everyone wearing a patch. Sydney's off-limits."
He stepped back, grabbed Sydney's arm, and pulled her from the room and took her outside. She stumbled pushing away from him. He let her go because if he touched her again, he'd show her exactly what she could've expected from D-Con if she would've taken him up on his offer.
"I want to leave," said Sydney.
He whirled around and got in her face. "Leave? Where the fuck would you go?"
"I don't know," she shouted. "Away from you. You're the only one who is keeping me here. You've told all your buddies not to let me go. That's kidnapping or keeping me hostage."
"You're sixteen years old." He lowered his head. His mouth inches from her lips. "You lied."
"So what if I did." She half turned away from him. "It's none of your business how old I am. You forced me to come here with you."
"You had nowhere to go." He growled, straightening. "Would you have wanted me to leave you with the motherfucker who was using you?"
"Victor Clark," she snapped. "Yes. I'd rather be working with him. At least, I knew what he expected of me, and as long as I brought him money, he let me live by myself in the trailer. But, I can't do that because of you—"
"Watch
it," he said quietly. "You're heading down the wrong road and going to get yourself killed is what you're going to do."
He inhaled deeply, needing to calm down. He'd no more yell at his little sisters because of their young age. He couldn't expect Sydney to understand his anger.
"Were you looking for someone to fuck tonight?" he asked quietly, controlling his temper.
She gawked. "God, no."
"Then, what was that act with D-Con?"
She rolled her eyes. "I was flirting with him for—"
"Sex?"
"No, stop saying that." She muffled her scream of frustration. "I was flirting with him, so he'd take me back to the city because I wanted to get away from you."
Her breasts heaved. He stared, unable to understand why it was important for her to leave.
"I'm trying to understand." He shoved his hands in his vest pockets. "I get that you're scared."
She glared. "I'm not scared of you."
"You're scared." He challenged her to argue. When she remained quiet, he continued. "Don't you see that you're safe here?"
"From what? From who?" She raised her arms out to her sides. "Victor is dead because of you."
"Did you only take money from Brikken members?"
Her head snapped back. "I had lots of customers."
He waited for her to understand what she'd admitted. She'd been lucky nothing had happened before now. It was only a matter of time before someone who wouldn't let her age, her being a female, stop him from hurting her.
Sydney's mouth opened, and she closed her lips, turning away. He wanted to touch her and reassure her that she was safe here, but knowing how she kept her emotions hidden, she wouldn't want him to console her.
"I'm not going to thank you for killing Victor," she whispered. "And, I still don't want to be here."
He lowered his chin to his chest to hide his amusement. He'd give her that. If she wanted to remain strong, he at least knew he hadn't added more heartbreak.
Sydney looked at him. "Are you going to kill me to keep me quiet about what you did?"
"Is that why you think I brought you here?"