by Debra Kayn
The cords on her neck constricted. She nodded.
"You're right." His voice deepened. "I brought you here to find out what you plan to do with the information about the crime I committed."
He'd never kill a child, but she didn't need to know that.
"I told you I wouldn't say anything. What more can I promise you?" she said.
"I've since found out that you can't talk to law enforcement or social services will be on your ass...and for reasons I don't understand, you want out of the system." He took in the surprise she failed to hide behind her makeup. "Your name is Sydney Hawkins, and you've been out on your own for six months, and you're only sixteen years old."
"I'm eighteen," she said.
"Syd...damnit." He stepped toward her. "I killed a man who was using you. If anything, you owe me the truth. Don't lie to me."
"Fine." Her chin quivered. "I'm sixteen."
He cupped her face, rubbing his thumbs under her eyes wiping off the black makeup and only making a bigger mess. "If I let you walk out of the gate, where would you go?"
She opened her mouth, and he shook his head, stopping her from answering.
"I want the truth or no answer at all," he said.
"I'd find a shelter. During the day, I'd try to find another Victor who would let me work for him because I'd like somewhere safe to live by myself. I'm good at conning people out of their money. I know I can make this work. I've done it before."
"I bet you are good at what you do," he said, unable to control the amusement. Nobody would suspect a child. "How about we make an agreement. You stay here until we figure out a better plan for you—one with better odds, and in return, I'll make sure you're safe and have what you need."
She shook her head. He raised his brows in question. What he offered was more than she wanted. A safe place, a bed, food, and there was no need for her to earn money. She could be a sixteen-year-old girl.
"That's not a fair agreement." She crossed her arms. "I'd owe you, and I won't put myself in that position."
"Smart girl," he muttered and inhaled deeply. "What can you do for me?"
She gazed at him eagerly, looking for him to tell her what to do. Several things came to mind, but she'd need to be older to fulfill those wishes.
"Laundry, clean, uh, the clubhouse." She leaned forward. "I can cook if I have groceries and I'm good with money. Really good."
"Can you pour drinks?" He had no use for a maid, but she could make herself useful during the parties, and it would keep her busy instead of flirting with the men.
She snorted. "Who can't?"
"You'll pour drinks at the parties, keep my room clean, and if I eat here, you can fix meals for me." He bent his knees and studied her. "Fair?"
She nodded. "Where am I going to sleep?"
"In my bed," he said before thinking. "The rooms are full, so you'll have to sleep with me. Nothing is going to happen between us but sleep."
His struggle to rest for more than an hour at a time never happened on his own or any other women. He still couldn't figure out how he'd slept with Sydney in bed with him. He could keep his hands to himself, but he wanted that deep rest. It wouldn't hurt her to lay in the same bed.
There were at least four rooms vacant at the moment. He kept that information to himself. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.
"Yeah, right," she muttered, looking away.
"Sydney." He waited until she looked at him. "Last night, I thought you were older."
"Mm-hm."
She'd learn he wasn't some fucking teenage boy who couldn't control himself. Maybe for the first time, she'd understand that there were men in the world who wouldn't hurt her.
He stepped back. "Let's go back inside. I want another drink before we call it a night."
"Can I have a pistol?" she asked.
"No." He studied her longer. "Why would you even want one?"
"To shoot you when you touch me."
He gritted his teeth. "I'll give you a knife."
"You will?" She smiled. "Cool."
Her happiness over the thought of stabbing him to death irritated him. "Are you good now?"
"Yeah. Fine." She walked with him and stifled a yawn.
He spotted the fatigue. She'd had a rough day.
Making sure she understood things would be calmer from here on out, he looped his arm across her shoulders and tugged her to his side. She glanced up at him. "What's that for?"
"Nothing." He opened the door. "We've got a partnership."
She stopped, refusing to walk inside, and stared at him.
He chuckled and motioned with his chin. "Come on, I'll play you a game of pool while I have a drink. Winner gets the shower first."
Her smile came slowly and transformed her face. "I'm so going to win."
He laughed, following her into the clubhouse. Wherever she learned her tricks and games, she couldn't hide that gambling was in her blood.
Chapter Eight
Jett sat down in the single chair in his bedroom at the clubhouse. Sydney held a hand mirror in front of her face and drew a black line around the corner of her eye. She'd been awake for two hours, but every time she'd tried to get up and use the bathroom at the end of the hallway, Jett pulled her back against him in bed.
Once he got up for the day and she was allowed to get ready to fix breakfast, two bikers—Freddy and Cash were already waiting for the shower, and she'd come back to the room to put her makeup on.
"Lay off all that gunk." Jett pulled on his sock.
"No." She tilted her head and lined her bottom lashes. "I like how I look."
"All you're doing is hiding and trying to act like an older woman." He picked up his boot and shoved his foot in. "You're prettier with your face clean."
No, she looked like Kylie without makeup, which meant people thought she was young and questioned her why she wasn't in school. She wanted to keep people from looking at her. Besides, when she put on the dark eye makeup and acted confident, she got her way. Whether that was to take someone's money or put a roof over her head.
Jett might not like how she looked with all her hard edges and sexier look, but she'd noticed the difference in how he treated her. He was a man, and he could deny how he felt, but the makeup made him forget that she was sixteen years old. When she wore no makeup, he pitied her.
He talked softer. He watched her more. He touched her face.
The last thing she needed was to get used to how he treated her. She wasn't staying at the Brikken clubhouse. In three days, she needed to get to Kylie.
Deciding on bright red lip stain, she trailed the wand over her lips and made sure to keep her mouth open until the stain dried. She put her makeup in the bag and dropped everything she'd used into her duffle bag.
When she turned around, Jett watched her. She shifted her top making sure it hadn't drooped too far in the front and still covered the knife he'd given her that she'd tucked into her back pocket. The T-shirt was a men's size medium and too big for her before she'd taken a pair of scissors to it and cut off the arms, the neck, and sliced the back, twisting the material before tying each section, and turned it into a rocker shirt. The length covered her shorts.
She looked at Jett. "What?"
He dragged his gaze up her body. Her nipples peaked. She crossed her arms in front of her. He said he wouldn't touch her when they'd made their agreement three days ago and he'd kept his promise for twenty-four hours. Though they'd slept in the same bed the night of the party, he'd been up and down, pacing the room until morning.
The next night had started out the same, until around three o'clock when he'd climbed into bed, pulled her in front of him and spooned her back. They'd both slept until almost noon.
Last night, he came into the room after his shower and pulled her to him. When she opened her mouth to tell him not to touch her, he'd told her to shut up.
Even though he'd gone back on his word, it wasn't weird. Not in a creepy way.
While she'd felt his arousal again
st her and his hand cupped her breast while he'd slept, nothing came from the intimacy.
Except, that look. That one he was giving her now that made her clumsy and not know how to move.
"What?" she repeated.
His eyes focused and he ran his hand over his beard. "I'll be away for a few hours today. If you need anything ask Johanna. She'll be in the clubhouse while I'm gone. I don't know if you like babies or not, but she can always use some help with my sisters."
"I like little kids." Until six months ago, she always had younger foster children around—feeding, entertaining, dressing them. It was rare that foster families only took one or two children. They took as many as they could into their home because it meant they received more money from the state for taking care of them. Then, the foster parents handed over care of the littles to the older kids.
"I'm sure Johanna will appreciate a hand, especially with Jackie." He stood and toed the bottom of his jeans over his boots. "Don't re-hurt your hand picking them up."
"I'll be fine."
"I'm serious," he said.
He probably wanted to make sure she could still cook his meals and clean the room. She lifted her hand and bent her wrist in all directions to prove she was fine.
"So, Chief is your dad and Johanna's your mom?" The other day she'd been curious, but she hadn't wanted to ask him any personal questions. She couldn't understand Johanna being with Chief because she looked young enough to be his daughter—unless she had plastic surgery and hit a gym twice a day.
"I'm five years older than Johanna," he said.
She choked as she swallowed. "Wait...what?"
He chuckled. "Chief's with Johanna. I have a different mom."
"Is she still...alive?"
"Talked to her yesterday." He picked up the knife off the dresser and slipped it under his belt behind his right hip.
"How old are you?" she asked.
"Old enough."
She clicked her tongue. "You know my age..."
"Yep." He straightened his belt buckle.
"Jett." She paused until he looked at her, then she narrowed her eyes, trying to look serious. "How old are you?"
"Is that your grown-up voice?" He chuckled. "Is that your next con? Pretend to be a teacher? A mom? What?"
"Rude," she muttered, turning away. "Whatever. Don't tell me."
"Thirty-seven."
She pivoted around toward him and studied him longer. His beard and hair covered most of his face. The lines at the corners of his eyes and his scar made her think he was older. "That's twenty-one years older than me."
"Like I said...old enough." He swept his hair back.
The door banged open. She jolted, moving toward Jett, and grabbed his arm.
A tall man entered the room and tossed a key to Jett, glancing at Sydney before he said, "Oil's changed."
"Thanks." Jett moved his arm and put his hand on her back. "How close are we to finishing the shipment?"
"We'll be done in time." The man tilted his head.
The visitor's uncanny resemblance to Chief caused Sydney to press against Jett's side. She tried not to move and bring more attention to herself.
"My shift starts at noon." Jett rubbed her back. "Have you seen Olin this morning?"
"He's with Chief in the meeting room." The man backed out of the room. "I'm heading down there now."
"I'll catch him after I eat." Jett guided her out of the room.
She stuck by his side. Chief scared her, and the man who looked like a younger version of him caused the same reaction.
Jett stopped beside Keeffe in the hallway and bent his head to talk to Sydney. "Go ahead and go downstairs. I'll be there in a second."
She hurried away but stayed far enough away from the Chief-look-a-like man who headed toward the stairs. Once she made it down the steps, she slipped into the kitchen and came to a stop.
Amy, one of the women who took turns cooking for the men, stood at the stove. Sydney walked into the room at a slower pace and smiled as she reached for the refrigerator door to see what kind of food was left over from last night. Jett never minded leftovers, and if given a choice, he picked lunch or dinner food to eating a typical breakfast.
"I'm not even going to ask if Jett wants the last of the scrambled eggs." Amy grinned. "Do you want them?"
"No one else needs to eat?" Sydney inhaled, her stomach growling.
"Everyone ate and left earlier. I had these already mixed, so decided to cook them up and put them in the fridge but if you want—"
"I do." She pulled out the plate of leftover roast beef. "Thank you."
"No thanks needed." Amy made her a plate and left it on the counter, then moved over to finish putting the dishes in the dishwasher.
She'd finished making a sandwich when Jett walked into the room and Amy quietly left. Alone with Jett, she set his plate in front of him on the table and sat beside him, breaching the distance she usually kept when she sat on the other side.
She whispered, "Who was that man that came up to your room?"
"What are you talking about?"
"The man you talked to before we walked out to the hallway," she said.
"Keeffe? You met him already."
"No." She fisted her hand and bumped her knuckles on his bicep. "The other one. The one who looks like Chief."
Jett took a bite. "Thorn. My youngest brother."
"Holy shit," she mumbled. "That was...the weirdest thing I've seen all day. It was like Chief became younger overnight. He sounded and walked just like him."
"It's not even noon, Syd. How fucking impressed can you be seeing Thorn?" He frowned. "And, watch your mouth."
She picked up her fork. "I didn't know you had a brother who looked like your dad is all. It's pretty crazy how strong your family looks like each other, but Thorn and Chief—."
"I don’t expect you to know things unless I've told you."
"Yes, sir," she mumbled.
His upper lip twitched. "For your nosy information, I have two brothers. Olin is two years younger than me. Thorn is two years younger than Olin. You know my little sisters, so there you go. My family."
She swallowed her bite of scrambled eggs. "Does Olin look like your dad?"
"How the fuck should I know?"
"Geez, it was only a question." She concentrated on eating her scrambled eggs before they grew cold. "You look like him, too, if it's such a big deal to you. It's just that I know you, so you're different."
No stranger to resembling someone else, she often got asked if she and Kylie were twins. She and her sister often spent time wondering if their real mom had looked like them, too.
Jackie skidded to a stop at the entrance to the kitchen. "Jett!"
Jackie ran toward the table. Before she arrived, Jett turned and caught her before she banged into him.
"Do you ever walk?" Jett put Jackie on his lap and pushed his empty plate back.
"Everyone walks, except Stassi but momma said she will when she's older." Jackie brushed Jett's beard with her hands. "You've got crumbs."
"Well, now, I guess it's a good thing you came by so you could clean me up," he said.
His little sister nodded and smiled as if taking care of her big brother was her sole purpose in life. Sydney laughed. Only someone who trusted Jett completely would be brave enough to reprimand him for having food in his beard after eating. Obviously, Jackie had a close relationship with her older brother.
She stared at the two of them. It was hard to imagine them being siblings. Jett could have children older than his sister. She raked her teeth over her bottom lip. Jett could even have a child Sydney's age.
Picking up his plate and taking her dish to the sink, she tried to ignore how the thought of him having an ex-wife or girlfriend in his life would lessen how much she enjoyed being with him.
The plates slipped out of her hand and clattered against the stainless-steel sink. She gripped the edge of the counter, shocked at the feelings coursing through her.
>
She enjoyed Jett.
Even when he bossed her around, she preferred to be with him than alone in the bedroom upstairs.
"You okay, Syd?" asked Jett.
Syd. The familiarity warmed her. Only Kylie called her the shortened version of her name.
"The dishes slipped." She hurried to pick them up to rinse off. "I didn't break anything, I swear."
"No matter," he said.
Her heart raced. She'd need to be more careful and not forget where she was and stick to fulfilling her end of the agreement. It was safe at Brikken with Jett. He took care of her, and with him, she wasn't alone.
Hands landed on her shoulders. She ducked and froze, prepared to be slapped.
"Hey." He rubbed her arms, pulling her back against his chest. "What the fuck was that about?"
The anger in his voice brought tears to her eyes. She turned on the faucet. "Nothing."
"I'm going to take Jackie to her mom and head out." He lowered his head and whispered in her ear. "You're safe here. Relax."
His hands left her. She stared at the running water. Then, she glanced over her shoulder.
He'd left.
Chapter Nine
Music infiltrated the bedroom. Jett rolled over in bed and came instantly awake. Johanna was gone.
Sitting up, he grabbed his jeans off the end of the bed and was halfway to the bathroom before he zipped.
Before he reached the door, Freddy came out of the restroom, swaying. "Hey."
He pushed his hair back. "Have you seen Sydney?"
The party downstairs was still going hard. He'd taken Sydney upstairs around eleven o'clock before things started going crazy and the drinking got out of control.
Between a couple drinks, Sydney's warm body, he'd fallen asleep deeper than he thought possible. He hadn't felt her leave the bed.
"Nah, man. I thought she was in your room." Freddy belched. "Did you lose her?"
"Yeah." He eyed his MC brother. Already shit-faced, Freddy would be no help. "Who's manning the gate?"
"Uh." Freddy scratched his head. "Chano...no, that prospect. What the hell is his name? Bano? Bango."
"Banter." He walked back to the room, finished dressing, and called the prospect as he took the stairs two at a time.