JETT (A Brikken Motorcycle Club Saga)

by Debra Kayn

  But, something about Sydney made him crave time spent with her. Hell, they could both be silent, and he was content to have her near him. He spent hours enjoying the way she moved. She took eating a cold slice of pizza and made him happy to watch her take each bite and pick off the pineapple to save until last.

  She brushed her hair in quarters. First the sides, then the back, and she bent at the waist and brushed underneath. There was no explanation for how she went about the simplest things, he only knew she was different.

  He walked toward the corner of the building and cut through the field, approaching Sydney from behind. Unnoticed, he stopped within ten feet of her and listened.

  "What did they do?" asked Jackie, getting up on her knees. "Did they cry?"

  "Oh, no." Sydney's soft voice caressed his stomach. "The two sisters held each other's hands and very bravely approached the wild ivy that hung from the sky and climbed, and climbed, and climbed until they were standing on top of the cloud."

  Jackie scooted closer to Sydney. "They didn't fall through?"

  "No."

  "What was up there?"

  Sydney swayed side to side with the baby on her lap, curving her upper body to keep the sun off Stassi's skin. "Everything a little girl could want."

  "Candy?"

  Sydney laughed. "Yes, lots of candy."

  "A swing?"

  "A very sturdy swing that swung by itself. They didn't even have to pump their legs." Sydney held still. "And, parents."

  "Momma and Chief can come up to the cloud, too?"

  "Yes." Sydney inhaled loudly. "You'll have to share the story with your mom, so she knows the stories are only pretend, okay?"

  Jett caught up in the lies, tried to understand why Sydney was making up stories for his little sisters. He barely remembered his mom reading books to him, Olin, and Thorn. None of them had been big on sitting still for long, but he had to have been interested in make-believe as a child.

  "Jett!"

  He looked at Jackie. "You being good, sister?"

  "I am." Jackie scrambled to her feet and jumped up and down. "Sydney knows how to play on top of the clouds. The big fluffy ones and you can jump up high. Can you play there, too?"

  Little girls were out of his scope of knowledge. Since Jackie had been born, he'd learned that nothing was written in stone. One week, Jackie liked racing after butterflies and the next week, she'd break out in tears if one landed on her arm. Last month, she wanted to learn how to ride her big kid bike and earlier today, she'd informed him that she was going to ride her tricycle forever because she didn't want to hurt the trike's feelings.

  He squatted. "Nope, I don't walk on clouds."

  Jackie turned her head. "Sydney is that true?"

  "Of course, it is." Sydney smoothed the wispy hair on top of Stassi's soft head without looking in his direction. "Everyone knows boys aren't allowed on top of the clouds to play. Only daddies."

  "But, I want my brother to go." Jackie pursed her lips and leaned against him, wrapping her slim arms around his neck.

  Amused at the way she currently called him Brudder, he rubbed her back. "Girls need a special place to go. Men have Brikken, right?"

  "The clouds aren't real," she whispered loudly. "We're pretending."

  "Ah...I see." He stood.

  Jackie ran away. He yelled at her to stop. Surprised she listened, he said, "Where are you going?"

  "Karla's here." Jackie pointed. "I'm going to see if she knows about the clouds."

  "Go ahead." He turned to Sydney who'd stood up with the baby in her arms to watch Jackie dart across the field.

  Sydney stepped forward, following Jackie. He strode after her and slipped his hand under her arm and stopped her.

  "She's fine. Johanna is standing outside the clubhouse watching her." He waited until Sydney found Johanna in the crowd and assured herself that his sister was being watched.

  "Who's Karla?" asked Sydney.

  "My mom. Jackie's safe with her."

  Sydney nodded and pulled away from him. He stopped her from distancing herself.

  "Give me the baby," he said.

  She frowned and reluctantly gave him his baby sister. While the others had eaten, she'd entertained the kids.

  "I'll walk you over and get you a plate of food." He headed toward the front of the clubhouse.

  She never argued that she wasn't hungry or admitted she was starving. Every day, she followed his suggestions without a word.

  He was damn tired of her silence.

  At the barbecue, he had Deana, Keeffe's wife, fix a plate and then took Sydney over to a vacant picnic table in the shade and sat down. Stassi had gone to sleep in his arms, and he motioned Johanna over to take her baby.

  Alone with Sydney, he watched her eat. Used to women catering to him, he had to work at involving himself in her life. The only time he felt he had her completely was in bed at night, and he spent the whole time holding her, hoping that she would turn toward him.

  His patience left days ago. His balls ached. And, he wanted her attention. He wanted her to want him.

  "When you're done eating, we're going on a ride," he said.

  He'd already tried pushing her into hanging with the members of the club. She'd hung back or sat there, contributing nothing to the conversations. Knowing her sass, he'd assumed she'd join in on the teasing and bullshit. She hadn't.

  When he brought her to Family Day, she instantly took responsibility for his little sisters, alienating herself from the daughters of the members who were around her age.

  Taking her off the property, alone, he hoped she'd find whatever spirit she needed to get out of the funk she'd fallen into.

  Sydney concentrated on her plate, eating one bite after another. He doubt she tasted any of the food. Eating was only one more chore she completed to keep from answering him.

  Maybe if he took her away for a few hours, she'd rely on him. His leg bounced and he found himself agitated. He needed to be alone with her.

  Sydney straightened, pressing a hand to her stomach. His gaze lowered to her breasts. She had no idea how the simplest movements appealed to him.

  She had a way of clicking her tongue before she talked, when she wasn't guarding her words. The more animated she became, whether that was upset, excited, or scared, the more she played with her hair. She'd sweep it over her shoulder or run her fingers through the strands only to bring the ends up and inspect them. What she looked for escaped him.

  It'd been awhile since she'd let herself be happy, or at least relaxed around him. As long as she stayed keyed up and kept her thoughts to herself, he wasn't going to be satisfied with the duller and depressed girl.

  He wanted the Sydney he knew back.

  "I'm done," she said, picking up the paper plate.

  "Run up and grab the extra helmet and sunglasses out of our room and meet me at my motorcycle." He watched her hurry away with more energy than he'd seen in her in a while.

  He rubbed his hand over his mouth and down his beard. Finally, he found something she looked forward to doing with him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sydney slammed the dresser drawer closed and moved to the bed. Lifting the mattress off the box springs, she peered underneath. The way cell phones were passed around the clubhouse, there had to be one hidden somewhere.

  She let the mattress go and straightened the covers. Every spare moment she had alone, she'd look for a way to contact Kylie. Unlike foster homes, the Brikken clubhouse had no landline, and the members held on to their phone as if it provided oxygen for them to breathe. Even Jett kept his beside the bed at night and for extra security, kept his arms around her. She couldn't take too big of breath, or she'd wake him up.

  She'd tested him.

  He always woke up.

  Grabbing the helmet and the sunglasses, she left the room. Believing everyone was outside at the gathering, she almost ran into a couple clenched together on the stairs.

  Careening toward the wall, she gr
abbed the railing and caught herself before she stumbled on the steps.

  "Whoa." A hand clamped around her arm. "Are you okay?"

  She raised her gaze and found Olin hovering above her. "I’m fine."

  The woman beside him studied her curiously, unashamed of her flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and messed up hair. Unfamiliar with her and scared of Jett, Sydney lowered herself to the next step.

  "Where's Jett?" asked Olin, stopping her exit.

  "Outside." She held up the helmet in her hands. "We're going on a ride."

  Olin dipped his chin, dismissing her. She hurried away, glad to get away from Jett's younger brother. He could be a nice guy, but his looks were scary frightening. She had no interest getting to know him better.

  She pushed out the door and walked to the long line of black motorcycles, spotting Jett already sitting on the seat. By the time she reached him, she'd put on the helmet and the sunglasses.

  He crooked his finger, and she slid on the bike behind him. It'd been a long time since he allowed her outside the boundaries of the fence. Adrenaline pumped through her, giving hope to a chance to get away from him. Desperate to see Kylie, she would jump off the motorcycle at full speed if needed.

  Jett started the motorcycle, and the gate opened for him. She hugged his body, exhilarated when he turned right and followed the road to Tacoma. He could go anywhere inside the city limits, and she'd be able to make her way to the Mathew's house in Northeast Tacoma.

  Jett wouldn't think to look for her in the Indian Hill area if she got away from him. The rocky terrain and hillside provided privacy to the houses of the privileged—mostly doctors and lawyers.

  By the time, Jett passed Cheney stadium and headed toward Narrows bridge, she started to worry that he planned to take her out of Tacoma. Without any money on her, she wouldn't be able to go anywhere and would be stuck having to go back to the clubhouse with him.

  He pulled through the cross street, not going the way of paying a toll for the bridge. Her outlook escalated. He stayed in Tacoma.

  Winding through the streets, he rode past Chihuly and stopped his motorcycle on an overpass. Cars whizzed by, and he turned his head. "Are you okay riding in traffic?"

  She nodded.

  He cut into the flow of cars. Until he asked about her ease of riding, the vehicles never bothered her. Now they seemed too close, too fast, too big. There was no way she could jump off the motorcycle while it was going and survive.

  Twenty minutes later, he left Tacoma and then took a gravel road. She dipped her chin and yawned behind his back as he pulled to a stop in front of a single-story house. The toll of the emotional ups and downs sinking low again exhausted her.

  He shut off the engine. "Hop off."

  She slid off the motorcycle, and he motioned her to take off the helmet. Looking away from him, she gazed at the overgrown grass in the yard. There were no cars parked in front of the garage and no curtains on the windows of the house.

  Because of the different roads Jett traveled on and being outside the city limits, she had no idea where he'd taken her.

  He slid his fingers into her hand and led her toward the house. At the door, he took out a key and let himself in. She stayed behind him.

  The room they'd walked into had no furniture. No pictures on the walls. No sign of life.

  He let go of her hand and walked out of the room. "You can sit at the table."

  She followed his voice and quickly could see the kitchen and dining room, practically open to the living room. Surprised to find a narrow table and two chairs, she sat, keeping an eye on Jett as he moved around the kitchen island and opened the fridge. When he turned to come back to her, she sat up straighter.

  Jett handed her a bottle of water and sat down, opening his drink. She broke the cap and drank, surprised at how thirsty she'd been.

  An awkward silence filled the barren house. It wasn't the same house he'd brought her to the first night they'd met. She wished it had been Olin's place. She'd escaped there once.

  Curiosity about why they were here and who owned the house wasn't enough for her to break her silence toward Jett. Her refusal to instigate any talk came from something deeper than resentment toward him for keeping her. She hoped that he'd give up on her.

  Everyone always gave up.

  Her mother gave her and Kylie to their father, who gave them to his mother—their grandma. Eventually, her grandma signed them over to Children's Protective Service. She was told it was because her grandma was too old to take care of them, but nobody had to tell her it was because everyone had given up on her.

  She would not give up on Kylie.

  Nothing would make her leave her sister. She no longer wondered why her mom hadn't wanted them or why their father skipped out of their life. They were too young to understand, and now they were too old to care.

  "I grew up here." Jett stretched his legs out and crossed his ankles. "Chief kept the house after he got together with Johanna, and she lived here until he built the house on the Brikken property."

  He leaned back in the chair and exhaled. She watched him curiously. He'd let himself relax here. She had a hard time understanding how a house could make someone feel comfortable.

  But, she wasn't going to ask him to explain more. When it was only him and her, she found it almost impossible not to involve herself in what he was thinking, talking about, or doing.

  "I bought this place from Chief right before I met you." He lowered his gaze to her chest.

  Her heart raced as if she'd ran a mile. It always happened when he focused on her. Being alone with him, she had nothing else to concentrate on, but him. At the club, she more times than not had Jackie and Stassi to keep herself busy or she picked up a broom and swept the floor. At night when she was forced to be with him, she feigned sleep.

  "Olin bought another house Chief owned. Thorn seems content at the clubhouse." He rolled his head on the couch cushion and gazed up at the ceiling. "I've been thinking it's time to move in here."

  Afraid to breathe, she waited for him to elaborate. She had no idea what that meant for her. Would he leave her at the club at the mercy of the other members? Would he let her go? Would he make her move here with him?

  "Damnit, Syd," he whispered. "I wish you'd talk to me."

  She looked away from him.

  "Gave you time." He exhaled in frustration. "Time that I don't have."

  She startled. What did he mean? Was he done hoping she'd want to be with him? Was he giving up?

  "I have a run I need to go on in two weeks. I'll be gone overnight, and I'd like to be living here at the house with you and not worried that you'll disappear the moment I turn my back." He leaned forward and cupped his hand under her chin, turning her to him. "I can see in your eyes that you'll run."

  "I won't," she said. The rush of excitement left her dizzy.

  "Wish I could believe you." He moved to stand, and she grabbed his hand.

  "You can." Forcing herself to slow down, she said, "It's staying at the clubhouse that I can't stand."

  It was half true. There was no escape, no contact with the outside world, no freedom on Brikken property. Here, she could...she would find a way to make contact with Kylie and be able to stay with Jett. There would be no one watching her with Jett gone.

  He stood, disregarding her hold on him. "Let's go."

  "Please, Jett. Let's stay here." She planted her feet.

  He fisted his hands and faced her. "You might be able to con others. But, you're not rolling one over on me. You're pissing me off, and you're not going to like it when you push me too far. I've told you from the start. It's all or nothing."

  On instinct, she started to plan.

  She followed him out of the house and waited while he locked the door. At the motorcycle, she put on the helmet when he put his on. She climbed on behind him after he sat the seat.

  On the ride back to Brikken, she paid attention to what roads Jett rode on. She let her hands sprawl on his stoma
ch, and she pressed her breasts against his back. She had less than two weeks to convince him she'd changed.

  Hold on, Kylie. Don't give up on me. I'll be back. I swear.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sydney held Jackie's hand and walked toward Jett. He took the beer she brought him and tagged her neck, keeping her beside him. She'd done better being with him and around the others over the last week. It'd been a good idea to take her to his house and show her what she could have if she put some effort into getting along with him.

  "Keeffe put the new schedule up in the meeting room." Chief automatically reached down and scooped Jackie up and held her. "D-Con's out."

  "His leg still fucked up?" Jet pulled a drink from the bottle.

  "Doc says nothing is broken, but there's no fucking way he can ride with the amount of road rash down his leg. He'll be leaving a trail of blood behind him." Chief ignored Jackie pulling on his beard. "Freddy's taking his place."

  "Chief?" Jackie tried to turn his head. "Chief?"

  "Komoon's up half a dozen men," said Chief. "In another six months, they'll have more."

  "Released members?" he asked.

  Chief nodded. Jett took another drink and glanced down at Sydney. She gazed across the room at the women near the bar.

  "Chief?" said Jackie louder. "Momma took Stassi home."

  "Did she?"

  Jett grinned at his dad, knowing he'd choose to go to his family tonight instead of staying at the party. He had similar ideas.

  "We're going to cross the creek. You need anything, give me a call," said Chief.

  "Will do. I think we're going to call it an early night, too, and head home."

  Chief tilted his head and looked down at Sydney, remaining quiet. Jett chucked Jackie under the chin and then lead Sydney toward the door, leaving his dad to speculate what was going on. A crew of members had taken his stuff and Sydney's bag to the house earlier. Unsure if the move was permanent or not, he wanted to get Sydney alone and test the waters before he headed out behind the shipment of motorcycles to meet with Komoon Motorcycle Club with the others.