JETT (A Brikken Motorcycle Club Saga)

by Debra Kayn

  "Yeah?" answered Banter.

  "Has Sydney tried to go out the gate?" He weaved his way through the members, the women, and pushed out the front door of the clubhouse.

  "Nah, man. I know she can't go out. I wouldn't lose her twice."

  "Call me if she tries to leave." He disconnected the call and spotted Olin walking to his motorcycle alone.

  "Hey," he shouted.

  Olin turned and walked toward him. He met his brother halfway. Sydney couldn't have gotten far. He couldn't sleep without her beside him. She had a five, maybe ten-minute lead on him.

  "Have you seen Sydney?" he asked.

  Olin shook his head. "Aren't you two getting along?"

  After she'd spent the day with Johanna while he'd dealt with business in the garage and helped strip parts of the stolen motorcycles, Sydney had stuck right by his side. He thought having her company meant she was finally getting used to being with him and after spending the day apart, she preferred to be with him in a clubhouse full of men.

  "She has to be here somewhere." He gazed at the parked cars in the field. Would she be desperate enough to hide in one of the vehicles, hitching a ride as the visitors to Brikken left?

  The floodlights attached to the clubhouse and the garage only lit up the area so far. There were forty acres she could wander off in, but would she in the dark?

  "The members know to keep their hands off her." Olin stepped away. "I'll go find Keeffe and get a group together to ask around. Someone had to have seen her."

  "I’m going to walk the perimeter, where I can see. Use the phone if you find her or if you find someone who knows where she's at." He jogged toward the gate and veered off into the field.

  All week, Sydney had seemed okay with their agreement. She'd questioned the activities at the clubhouse but seemed content with the little information he gave her. He'd asked the men to let him know if she tried to bargain her way off Brikken property and he'd warned them that he'd rip the patch off anyone who took her up on a bet—because he expected her to try and con them out of their money or give her a ride into Tacoma. But, she'd minded the rules.

  He worked his way over to the garage, used his keys, and walked inside. Flipping on the light, he studied the area. All the bikes were parked ready to be picked up tomorrow night. The only way Sydney would've been able to get inside was if she'd stolen keys from him or Chief. They were the only two who could get in during the twenty-four-hour period before pick-up.

  Locking the door, he left and headed back to the clubhouse when his phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen.

  "Chief?" he answered.

  "Missing your girl?"

  He stopped walking. "Do you know where she's at?"

  "She's over here, talking to Johanna in the living room."

  "What the fuck is she doing there?" It was almost four o'clock in the morning.

  "Johanna got up to feed the baby and spotted Sydney out the kitchen window sitting on the step of the porch. I opened the door, and she asked to see Johanna, and then the little shit asked me if I wouldn't tell you she came over here."

  "Fuck," he muttered, turning around and heading toward the walkway between clubhouse and garage. "I'm coming over now."

  "Doors open, son," said Chief.

  He disconnected and called Olin, gave him the message that he'd found Sydney, and walked the worn path up to the footbridge and crossed the creek. His father had built a house for Johanna in the same spot Rollo, Jett's grandfather, had lived with his grandmother. He barely remembered his grandparents' old home as it'd been burned down by an enemy of the club, killing Rollo's wife. The same enemy later shot Rollo in the back and killed his grandfather.

  Enemies, outside and inside Brikken, were a constant threat that followed Chief, and someday Jett would inherit when he took over as president. There would always be someone trying to take away what Rollo had built.

  He walked up to the front door and stepped into the house, latching the door quietly so not to wake the kids. Soft murmurs came from the living room. He went through the house and stopped in the archway.

  Johanna turned sideways on the couch and caught his eye. He stayed at the edge of the room. Sydney's back faced him and considering she never moved, she hadn't heard him come in the house.

  "I don't want to tell him." Sydney rocked back and forth on the couch. "He won't understand, and he'll tell me no."

  "If you talk to him like you're talking to me, I think he'll understand whatever you're keeping secret." Johanna paused. "I grew up with him, and Jett isn't a cruel person."

  "Maybe not to you but he can be to me," said Sydney.

  His chest tightened, and he stepped forward ready to show her exactly how mean he could be for even thinking he'd hurt her. Johanna shook her head, stopping him.

  "I can't take you into the city, honey. If I do, I'll have Chief and Jett angry at me for going against the rules." Johanna held her arms out. "Let me take the baby and put her in her room."

  It was only then that he realized Sydney rocked because she had Stassi cradled against her chest. Seeing her holding his baby sister eased his anger at finding Sydney gone. It was easy to forget that she was a sixteen-year-old girl, still trying to figure out life. Leaving his bed was a mistake that someone Sydney's age would make.

  She had lived on her own, but the circumstances that led up to her supporting herself through illegal means remained a mystery to him.

  "You're so good with her." Johanna kissed Stassi's head. "Hopefully, she'll be out for the night and won't wake up if I try and put her down in her crib."

  Johanna walked toward him on her way to the hallway and mouthed, "Be nice."

  He wasn't going to give her the benefit of answering. Sydney should've gone to him with any problems. There was no reason why she couldn't trust him.

  Stepping over to the couch, he put his hands on Sydney's shoulders.

  Her body stiffened. He leaned over and said, "Time to come back to the clubhouse."

  "I want to stay here." She tried to break loose of his hold.

  "You belong at the clubhouse with me." He inhaled deeply. "We need to talk."

  "Are you mad?" she whispered.

  "What do you think?"

  She crossed her arms in front of her. "I’m not going back with you until you promise that you're not mad."

  "Where are you supposed to be?"

  "At the clubhouse."

  "Where?"

  "In bed."

  "Right." He rubbed his beard along her neck. "I'll tell you this only once because you're young. When I brought you into my life, I expected you to do everything I asked of you. Disobey me, and my trust disappears...for good."

  Her shoulders sank lower and lower until she slouched on the couch. There were a lot of things he'd put up with. Her smart-ass mouth, her desire to switch moods and personalities to fit in with everyone—even now, she played to Johanna's sensitive need to help others with her little girl act.

  But, he refused to have someone in his life he couldn't trust or control. And, he wanted to know what kind of con she'd tried to run in Chief's house. Brikken enemies came from far and wide to take out the club. He wouldn't pass off the idea someone would send a child in to do their dirty work.

  "Get up. Let's go." He hooked his hand under her upper arm and hauled her to her feet.

  She walked around the couch, refusing to meet his eyes. He followed her, spotting Johanna in the hallway, staying back, and lifted his chin.

  Knowing the path to the footbridge by heart, he led the way back to the clubhouse in the dark. The whole way, Sydney stayed quiet. He'd lost any desire to crawl back in bed and catch more sleep. The sun would be up in an hour.

  He opened the front door of the clubhouse to a mess of bodies—some still partying, others asleep. He followed Sydney, pushing her through the room. She was too young to view the condition of the men and women as the party wound down. Before she could walk up the stairs, he grabbed her arm and pulled her into th
e kitchen, pointing at a chair.

  Amy had already started the coffee pot, and he poured himself a cup. Stepping over to the table, he sat down across from Sydney.

  "Start talking." He drank and set the mug on the table, keeping his two fingers wrapped around the handle.

  She rubbed her bare arms. "Just forget it."

  "That's not going to happen." He leaned back in the chair. "After what I did to your boss, I don't think I have to tell you that any threat or breach against the club won't end well."

  Her eyes widened, and she pressed her back against the chair. "I didn't do anything against Brikken."

  He stared at her, letting her come to her own conclusions on what would be done if she'd gone against the club, against him. He'd learned long ago that everyone had a breaking point.

  Sydney's lasted ninety seconds.

  Chapter Ten

  Jett's silence wounded her as if he'd taken his knife and slit her throat. Her heart pounded. The end of her life was before her, and she was disappointed that no spectacular events from her past flashed before her eyes.

  She hadn't had time to do anything memorable in the years since her birth. The only one who loved her was Kylie.

  She'd never hoped for much. But, right now, she could use a miracle.

  There had never been a situation she couldn't get out of. A con she couldn't pull to save herself and Kylie.

  Until now.

  Without her, Kylie would become another statistic, another product of the failed social services, another victim.

  "I like Johanna," she whispered. "I wanted to talk to her because she's a woman. I thought she'd understand better than..."

  "Me," he said. "Because I'm a man?"

  She nodded. In her life, there were four types of men. Her father was the first kind of man. He'd checked out of her life before she could even know him. Whether that blame laid on his shoulders or her mother's or she was unlovable, the absence classified him as someone with the inability to love. The next kind of men were the ones she grew up knowing, the foster fathers. Numerous men who agreed to take care of someone else's child, only to be hands-off and let their wife be the one in control. She'd become a play toy to entertain the man's wife and give her a social standing where she could brag to her girlfriends of the hardships of raising a child—though she wasn't their child.

  The third kind of man was the worst. He wanted a little girl as a mini arm trophy and wanted to play the big man who gave to charity. He provided a lot of attention, turning that one-on-one time into something perverse. Created secrets making the child feel special until the unusual feelings disappeared and the child only feared the times when she was caught alone.

  Victor Clark fell into the fourth and last category. The category she could handle. She was only a tool for him. He never saw her as a female, only someone who could do the work that he could no longer do. His indifference toward her was welcoming because she still controlled the situation. As long as she could say yes or no, she was safe.

  During her time with Jett, he never fell neatly into a category for her to know how to act. He tiptoed into all four categories without fully obligating himself.

  She swallowed. "You wouldn't understand."

  "Try me," he said.

  Tears burned her eyes. She stared at the middle of the table, unable to make herself look at him. Not always, but sometimes, when he spoke, she believed him. Or, she wanted to believe he really cared.

  "I have a life away from here." Angry that he'd assume differently made her snap. "You can't just make me stay and follow you around every day, cleaning up, and cooking. I'm not a maid."

  He shoved back his chair and stood. She slid her hands under her thighs and leaned against the table, prepared for the heavy hand to come down. When nothing happened, she lifted her head and watched Jett's back in the kitchen with trepidation.

  He'd warned her, and she'd opened her mouth.

  Despite the time spent together, she still had no clue why he wanted her here. At first, she assumed he wanted to make sure she never spoke to the police about the murder of Victor. But if that was the case, why would he want her to sleep with him.

  He never went further than cuddling with her. She inhaled a shaky breath. He wasn't a creeper because if he were, he would've done more. She slept in his arms. There was plenty of time for him to do whatever he wanted. He was twice as big. She wouldn't be able to stop him.

  She'd convinced herself that everyone who lived in the clubhouse had their own room. Maybe there wasn't an extra one. Maybe Jett wanted to make sure she couldn't slip away—and he'd be right. He'd caught her within an hour of escaping.

  Her mistake was in thinking Johanna would help her after getting to know the woman all week and helping her with Jackie and Stassi. She'd assumed they'd developed a casual relationship.

  Jett turned carrying a glass of milk. She braced herself.

  He set the drink in front of her. "Go ahead."

  "I'm not thirsty."

  "Drink it anyway."

  She lifted the glass and sipped. The sweet taste wetted her lips, and she took another drink, looking at him.

  "Like?" he asked.

  She set the drink down. "What is it?"

  "It's something my mom used to make me when I believed I should have more freedom than I'd earned."

  "It's not goat's milk or something weird like that, is it?" She took another drink, testing her first impression. It was good.

  "No, it's milk and malted milk powder." He paused and his gaze narrowed. "It settled my anger growing up while giving my mom a chance to say her peace without me going off half-cocked and getting in more trouble."

  "You got angry at your mom?" She raised her brows. "What did you do?"

  "I—"

  "I bet you didn't check in and stayed out partying. She probably tried to ground you which pissed you off." She set her glass down. "I can also see you cussing around her. Mom's don't seem to like that. Oh, I know. You smoked pot and got caught partying at the river with your teenage friends by the cops when you should've been at school."

  "Syd..." he said, deepening his voice.

  She'd found her new game. "Did you have unprotected teenage sex?"

  He growled.

  "You got a girl pregnant, didn't you? That would make you angry and your mom being a mom would think back to when you were a little boy who wore Superman underwear." She widened her eyes. "Oh, Jett. You broke your mom's heart with disappoint—"

  "Cut the crap, Syd." The hardness around his eyes and mouth put a stop to her current game of putting the attention on him and off her. "What did you talk to Johanna about?"

  She could tell Jett, but it would only make him ask the next question. The one she refused to answer. She'd anticipated Johanna agreeing to take her to town without asking the reason why but that hope had crashed when she asked too many questions. Obviously, her made-up answers failed to get past the president's woman.

  "Syd?"

  "What are you going to do to me if I don't answer?" She picked up her milk and drank the rest before setting the glass on the table. "What are my options? I'd really like to leave and end our stupid agreement. It didn't make sense that you brought me here, anyway. It's a biker club. I'm twenty—"

  "Sixteen," said Jett.

  "Whatever." She scooted her chair back and stood. "I'm going to grab my duffle bag and leave. As far as I'm concerned, you got the better end of the agreement. Your room is super clean. You've had at least three meals a day. I've even handed out drinks to the others. The only thing I've received from you is a guy who wants to act like my father, and I've had enough of those in my life, I don't need another one."

  She took each step out of the kitchen as if it was her last. Nobody talked to Jett the way she had and lived. But, she had no other choice.

  Today was Sunday. Kylie expected her at the house at ten o'clock.

  Not wanting to worry her sister about her disappearing out of her life, she hadn't planned
for a day that she wouldn't show up.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jett walked out of the clubhouse following Sydney. He ignored the glances she sent his way and lifted his chin at Shore, manning the gate. If Sydney wanted to leave, he'd show her exactly what would happen.

  Shore pushed the gate open. He turned to Sydney. At her hesitation, he motioned for her to leave with a lift of his chin.

  She hitched the straps of her bag higher up her shoulder and walked off Brikken property. He clenched his fists and put his hands in his vest pockets to hide his temper. Any woman he allowed to get involved with him would never walk away.

  Except, she wasn't a woman. She was a child and needed to understand the decisions she made would have long-term effects.

  Chief walked up and stood beside him. Jett ground his teeth together. He wasn't in the mood for advice or guidance.

  "She doesn't want to go," said his father.

  He didn't need Chief to tell him what he already knew. "I'm not letting her leave."

  "Looks that way." Chief ran his hand down his beard. "I never allowed Johanna to pull away from me."

  He stretched his lips over his teeth. "You also weren't there the nights she cried herself to sleep because you stayed away too long. Olin, Thorn, and I took turns entertaining her to distract her from you breaking her heart."

  Only once had he gone toe to toe with his father. Johanna had been in high school and was spending more time in the clubhouse to be close with Chief. While with his dad, she'd been happy. But, when she was forced away, he'd been the shoulder she cried on when she had to stay at his mom's house. He'd seen the mind games Chief played with her, keeping her close, keeping her obsessed, and he'd disagreed with Chief waiting until Johanna was older to make their relationship permanent.

  Confronting Chief had gotten no further than words exchanged. His father had done what he wanted in the end. Just like he would do when he had to deal with Sydney.

  "Learn from my mistakes, son," said Chief quietly. "From Rollo's mistakes. Don't let the girl believe you've let her go. Females are different than us. Sydney will remember this day for the rest of her life, even if you're right beside her."