And as I pushed off the wall, I threw my torso over the railing of the porch.
Vomiting onto the ground.
2
Kaylynn
“I want my Daddy. Let me go!”
“Ariel, take some deep breaths. You aren’t thinking clearly.”
“Don’t tell me what to do! Let me go, now!”
She ripped away from my grasp and stumbled down the hallway. And even though I had sweat percolating against my brow, I rushed after her. I saw her lunging for the front door, like she did so many times over the past couple of weeks. I wrapped my arms around her stomach and hoisted the little nine-year-old into the air, watching her kick her feet.
“I don't know you, let me go! Please!”
I shook my head. “Not until you calm down. You can’t run away. Not on my watch.”
“I didn’t ask to be on your watch!”
“Trust me, I didn’t ask for you, either.”
“Carlie! Help!”
I sighed. “You're only making this worse for yourself, you know.”
She thrashed around, trying to slam her head back into my nose. Holy hell, this girl could fight. She’d thrown every move at me over the past few days. At first, all she did was cry in her room. Then, all she did was throw her food at me and run upstairs whenever I did get her to come down long enough to eat. And after that, she started throwing amazing tantrums. Yelling and screaming. Condemning my existence and yelling for her father. In one breath, she cursed her father’s existence. And in the next breath, she begged him to save her.
I mean, I couldn't blame her for that. But she wouldn't get away with such things in my house.
“No!” Ariel shrieked.
“Yes,” I said calmly.
“Let me go!”
“Not until you calm down.”
“Never!”
“Then, I’m never letting go.”
She kicked about and tossed her head around on her shoulders. She looked like a mad little rag doll, going limp and trying to pin me with her dead weight. I fought her, though. I fought her every step of the way. Something told me she wasn’t used to people fighting with her. She was simply used to people letting her run away. Something that broke my heart. Sometimes, children like her needed structure. Rules. Hard and fast rules someone stuck to, no matter what. She struck me as the type of child that didn't get those. Which meant she probably had someone in her life that made up for their absence with toys. Or food. Or treats of some sort.
“Please, let me go,” she said through her tears.
“I can’t. I’m sorry.”
When my brother dropped this red-headed firecracker off on my doorstep a couple weeks ago, that had been his only command. To make sure she didn’t get away. And while I didn’t know much about what my brother did for a living, I knew enough to know when I needed to listen. And this was one of those commands. I took the little girl in. The angry, isolated, frustrating little girl. Only nine years old, barely the size of my thigh, and a spitfire unlike anything I’d ever witnessed.
I wondered what her parents were like.
“Open up, Kaylynn.”
I heard my brother’s voice fuming on the other side of my front door. I rushed to it, listening as muffled voices came from the other side as well. I ripped the door open, watching in horror as a frail little girl twisted around. Wiggled about. Trying to get away from him.
“Oh, my gosh. Alex. Let her go,” I said breathlessly.
He dropped her onto the porch, and I scooped her into my arms. She clung to me, sniffling and crying as her body trembled next to me. I held her close to my breast, smoothing my fingers through her hair. I worked out the knots, unable to ask how she’d gotten them in the first place.
Then, my eyes slowly panned up to my brother’s.
“Keep her here until I come back. And whatever you do, don’t let her get away.”
“What in the world is this about?” I hissed.
“Just do as I ask, Kaylynn. You know how this goes.”
I watched him walk off as the strange little girl buried her face into the crook of my neck. I picked her up, bringing her into my home even though I had no idea what the hell to do with her. I kicked the front door closed. She jumped against me as it slammed shut. And as she lifted her head, I gazed into the eyes of a very scared, very shaken little girl.
“Hi there. I’m Kaylynn. What’s your name?”
“No!”
In a flash, she leapt from my arms. She ran down the hallway, screaming for help and calling out for her father. I sighed as I walked after her, watching her move toward the back porch doors. I lunged after her, closing the door with my own hands just as she opened it. I flipped the lock. She screamed out curses in my direction. I sighed as she tore through my house, trying to rip open windows to get away from me.
And all the while, I tried getting to know her.
“What’s your name, sweetie?”
“No!”
“Are you hungry?”
“Let me out of here!”
“Would you like some ice cream?”
“Stay away from me!”
“I could show you to your room, if you’d like.”
“Stop touching me!”
She whipped around, placing a well-timed punch to my gut. And I had to admit, it stunned me for a second. It took me a bit to get my breath again. To gain my bearings. But when I heard her stomping up the stairs, I followed after her. I kept my cool as much as I could. I didn’t dare raise my voice at a girl who had just been ripped from her own home. I knew enough to know that was what had happened. She’d been plucked right off the street. Probably at the beckoning of my brother’s boss. My brother’s employer. The man he defended with his life.
Lars Norden.
“I hate you!”
Ariel’s croaking voice pulled me from the memory in just enough time to see her raise her fists. She brought them down against my chest, striking my breasts as she brought tears to my eyes. But I didn’t fight back. She was scared. Angry. Confused. Even two weeks later. Which I didn’t blame her for at all. She’d been caught up in a whirlwind that had nothing to do with her. And my heart ached for the sadness causing her to lash out.
Instead, I wrapped my hands around her wrists. Stopping her from striking me again.
“Ariel, you have to listen to me.”
“No, I don't!”
“You need to take some breaths.”
“You can’t tell me what to do!”
“Could your father tell you what to do?” I asked.
My question settled her down as she thought on it. And it gave me enough time to wiggle out of the corner she’d backed me into. I watched tears crest her eyes as her body started to shiver. And as I slowly led her back down the stairs toward the dinner, I had prepared for us in the kitchen, tears streaked her face.
“I want my daddy,” she said breathlessly.
“I know you do, sweetheart. Which is why you have to be a good girl, okay?” I asked.
“Why did you take me from my daddy?”
“I’m sure it’s just because Daddy needed—”
“A break?”
I paused. “Why would Daddy need a break?”
“He always needs breaks from me. That’s why I stay with Uncle Lyle all the time.”
My heart broke for her. “No, he didn't need a break from you, pretty girl. He just needs some time. He’s sick, and he needs to get better.”
She sniffled. “What’s Daddy sick with?”
We started making our way for the kitchen. “He’s got the flu.”
“The flu?”
“Mhm. And you’re with me because Uncle Lyle has it, too. And they don’t want you getting sick.”
“So, you know my Daddy?”
I nodded, going along with the lie. “I know him very well. I’ve known him for years.”
“Is that why he hasn’t come after me yet?”
“Yep. He just doesn’t want you sick
. That’s all.”
“So, he loves me?”
I smiled. “Of course, he loves you, Ariel.”
“So, he didn’t get rid of me like Mommy did?”
I sat her down at the kitchen table. “He could never give you away, pretty girl. And your mom? Well, she lost out on a good kid like you.”
She paused. “Good kid?”
I took her hands within mine as I crouched down in front of her.
“Yes, Ariel. Good kid. You’re a good kid. And don’t you ever doubt that. Okay?”
And just like that, she lunged at me. She went from hitting me to hugging me within the span of a few minutes. I closed my eyes tight, hugging her as much and as long as she wanted. Even though dinner was done. Even though the soup was now overcooking itself on the stove. I didn’t care. This girl needed so much more than soup and buttered bread. She needed love. Care. Acceptance. Someone who gave a shit about her. And right now, I was that person.
I wouldn't let her down, either.
“It’s okay. Let it out, honey. You can cry as long as you want,” I said softly.
“Mommy didn’t want me, and I thought Daddy didn’t, either. He’s going to be so mad at me,” she said through her sobs.”
I kissed the side of her head. “He could never be mad at you for something like that. I know this is all very confusing right now. I know you’ve been ripped away from people you love. But I promise you, you’re safe with me. Okay?”
“Even from the man who took me away?”
I paused, thinking back on how I found her. How she came to my door. My brother, with his hand cupped over her mouth. With his fist twisted in her shirt. With his knee in her back. It boiled my blood to think about. It made me want to claw his eyes out. I didn’t know when the hell my brother turned into our father. But as far as I was concerned, I wanted nothing to do with him.
“Especially from him,” I whispered.
The more she cried against my shoulder, the more I thought back to my childhood. How cold and removed my father had been. How he didn’t shed one tear at our mother’s funeral when I was only eleven years old. How he locked himself away in his office and hired a string of nannies to parent me and my older brother, Alex. He had been cold. Calculating. Isolating. And when my father died, Alex stepped into his position.
Replacing his fun-loving smile with the cold, calculating frown I’d always remember about our father.
Ariel sniffled. “Is that soup?”
I smiled. “It is. Tomato and carrot bisque with sweet corn and mushrooms. And I made fresh buttered bread.”
“That sounds good. Except the mushrooms.”
“Will you give it a try for me? And if you don’t like them, I’ll make you up something else.”
“Promise?”
She pulled away and I smiled up into her face. “I promise with all my might.”
“Thank you.”
I furrowed my brow. “For what?”
“For not yelling at me.”
I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll never yell at you unless I feel it’s necessary to get your attention. Or to find you during hide and seek.”
She giggled. “You’re good at that game. I almost couldn’t find you last time.”
“Want to play tonight?”
She paused. “Could we watch a movie instead?”
And as I smiled up into her face, she smiled back at me. Turning a corner, we always did with our fights. Her beautiful hazel eyes danced with a mischievous light and her fiery red hair ignited the freckles smattered against her face. I brushed it away from her forehead, standing up just enough to press a kiss to her forehead.
A kiss I could have sworn she leaned into instead of backing away from.
I promise, we’ll get you out of here.
And it was a promise I intended to keep.
3
Ryker
“Here. Take this.”
Knox’s voice filled my ears as I leaned up from the railing. With strings of spit trailing from my mouth, I reached around for whatever the hell he was handing me. The water bottle fell against my palm and I brought it around. I filled my mouth, swishing and spitting as I rid it of that awful taste. I hated throwing up. Hell, I hated being sick in the first damn place. I stood up, trying to get my feet underneath me as I went from swishing to chugging. I drained that water bottle. I felt parched for breath. For life. For air.
My sweet baby girl was in the hands of that monster.
And I was a shit father for allowing it to happen.
I crumpled the plastic bottle in my hands and tossed it back to Knox. And after a thankful nod, my eyes looked around. The rest of the guys stepped out onto the porch, surrounding me. Waiting for story time, so to speak. I leaned against the railing as I tried to get my bearings. I had no fucking idea where to even start this story. Because every place I chose required me to back up and tell even more backstory.
“Just start at the beginning,” Diesel said softly.
I sighed. “We’ll be here a while.”
“We got time,” Knox said.
“My daughter doesn’t,” I snapped.
“Then, get talking,” Grave said.
I drew in a deep breath. “I lost my virginity when I was thirteen. I was reckless. Angry. My father was an abusive shit, and I saw my mother busted up more than I saw her healthy and happy. Sex was my release. My escape from all that… shit.”
“Fair enough,” Bear said.
“One-night stands were my thing. And when I was sixteen and practically flunking out of high school anyway, there was a knock at the door one morning. I was the only one up. Dad was passed out drunk on the couch and Mom was upstairs nursing her newest wounds. I open the door, and there’s this kid. This little girl. Wrapped up in blankets, lying in a car seat with nothing. Just… just nothing.”
“You know who the mom is?” Toxin asked.
“Yep. I mean, I kind of remembered her. Wild red hair. A little minx in bed. Complete and total trash, that girl. But a decent-enough lay. And here was this little girl, with my hazel eyes and that same fiery red hair. Crying and screaming for food.”
“You said sixteen?” Brewer asked.
I nodded, getting frustrated with their questions. “Yep. I ended up dropping out of high school in order to take dead end jobs to provide for her. Get her shit she needed. Like food and clothes.”
“How did your dad take that?” Diesel asked.
“Not well. He was pissed, like always. Took his anger out on me and my mom, like always,” I said.
“That how you got the scar on your face?” Grave asked.
“Do you guys want to hear this fucking story or keep asking me bullshit questions?” I snapped.
And when everyone fell silent, I drew in another deep breath.
“I haven’t seen the girl since that night we fucked at some party. I don’t know, I was drunk. To this day, I barely remember that night. My best friend from school, Lyle, was a massive help. Night jobs were all I could find, mostly. So, he babysat at seventeen and eighteen years old in exchange for me doing his chores around the house for him. Simple as that, when you’re a fucking kid. He watched Ariel—”
“That your daughter’s name?” Saint asked.
I slowly panned my eyes over to him. “Yes. It is.”
“Cute, with the red hair,” Rock said.
“All of you shut up or go the hell inside,” I glowered.
“He’s right. Let him get through his story,” Diesel said.
I shot him a thankful look before I leaned heavily against the railing. Because telling this damn story always ripped the energy from my bones.
“I got the scar on my face when I was younger. Before Ariel came along. I got a C-minus in one of my classes in school, and he took a damn crowbar to my face. My father was a mean son of a bitch. And I watched my mother throw herself into the line of fire for me one too many times. When he started coming around Ariel, I knew I had to get her out
of there. I mean, being drunk and incoherent is one thing. But I didn't like the way his eyes lingered on her. I didn't like the way he leered at her. There was just something off about it, so I left. Packed up the shit I had bought her, the shit I had of my own, and left. Lyle helped me get set up in this rundown piece of shit apartment. He kept letting me drop Ariel off at night so I could work all sorts of jobs. And finally, I came into a very well-paying job,” I said.
“Doing what?” Rock asked.
“Cleaning up crime scenes for some criminal in town. I’d report to him during the weeknights. I had weekends off. And even if he called me in during the weekends, I got paid time and a half for the job. I pulled easily three thousand a week. Enough to get Ariel and myself out of that shithole apartment complex and into a safer part of town,” I said.
“What happened to your parents?” Bear asked.
“They died. I tried to get Mom to come with me when I first moved out. Then, again after I moved into that better place. But she wouldn't. She refused to leave my father, and I figured that was her choice. I told her she couldn't babysit Ariel unless she left him. That Lyle would continue watching her until she made better choices with her life. But that didn’t work. I was called in one weekend to clean up a crime scene for time and a half, and he handed me my childhood address.”
“Fucking hell,” Brewer sighed.
“Your boss killed your parents,” Diesel said.
I nodded slowly. “Don’t know what they did and didn’t care enough to look it up. They made their bed, so they laid in it. Pools of blood and all. It hurt for a bit. Then, it was just another job I got paid for in order to provide for Ariel. Pay Lyle money for watching her and shit like that.”
Dead Souls MC: Prospects Series Books 1-5 Page 47