Scoundrel

by Keira Blackwood

  No, wedges were out, no matter how comfortable they were. And I wouldn’t actually be caught dead baring my midsection, but that was beside the point. The fashion crowd liked crazy high heels and hearing how great short shirts were. Hmm...

  Glitz and sparkle are nice enough. But a girl’s best friend has nothing to do with diamonds, it’s comfortable pants.

  It was relatable, but it wasn’t Gimme material. Ugh. I clicked the laptop shut. At some point I’d have to finish this article or I wouldn’t make rent. But “at some point” wasn’t right now, so yay for that.

  Visiting Evie was something I’d both been looking forward to and dreading for the last week. I grabbed my keys and the plush unicorn from the top of my dresser and headed out the door.

  Her mother Marla and I had been inseparable since kindergarten, gluing our hands together as an excuse to keep our playdates going. It never worked, but we kept trying. As we got older, it was softball. She’d always been the athletic one, and I played just to hang out with her. And when she got knocked up by some asshat, I was there to share in the joy when her baby was born.

  That’s what made my visit today hard. Marla died in a car accident three years ago, and she didn’t get to watch Evie grow up. I was determined to visit every couple of months and show my best friend’s daughter that I still cared, even when it was hard. She looked just like Marla, except for her eyes, and she certainly had her mother’s sass. Being together was a bittersweet reminder of what I’d lost.

  Evie lived with her grandmother Linda just over an hour away. With the plush unicorn on the seat next to me, I left my apartment in the middle of the city and headed to the suburbs. The throng of taxis slowly subsided, while the buildings grew shorter and farther apart.

  As I drove, my mind wandered. How big would Evie be this time? It seemed like she shot up a few inches every time I visited. She was already seven. I bet by the time she was ten or eleven she’d be as tall as me. Would she even like unicorns anymore? It wasn’t just kids’ sizes that seemed to change constantly, but their interests, too.

  The drive wasn’t terribly long, and before I knew it, I was there. Up ahead, the Flint house had an unfamiliar car in the driveway. I pulled up to the curb, parked, and grabbed the unicorn when I climbed out.

  On my way up the sidewalk, I fidgeted with the unicorn’s horn. I was even more of a ball of nerves this time than last time. It was silly. Everything was fine. Evie would be happy to see me, and I’d get to hear about her life, and then I’d go home and the painful memory of losing my best friend would fade once again. Worrying only made it worse.

  I womaned up and knocked. A few moments later, the door opened, and a somewhat familiar face greeted me in the doorway.

  “Sylvia?” I said. I hadn’t seen Marla’s aunt in ten years at least. Her face was wrinkled in a perpetual frown, one that she was reinforcing as she looked me over.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “I’m Paige, Marla’s friend. Is Linda home?”

  Sylvia’s shoulders sank as she squeezed the door handle. “No.”

  I considered asking what was wrong, but she seemed more likely to bite my head off than open up. “Do you know when she’ll be back? She’s expecting me.”

  “A few months, if she’s lucky.”

  “What?”

  “Linda broke her hip. She’ll be in a rehabilitation center for weeks if not months. She’s not going to be here for your…” She looked down at the unicorn clutched in my arms. “Whatever you’re doing together.”

  Seriously, what was with the attitude? I didn’t remember her being friendly, but this was uncalled-for bitchiness.

  “What about Evelyn?” I asked. “Where is she?”

  It was summer break. She shouldn’t have been at school, and she couldn’t have followed her grandmother into rehab.

  “Linda can’t take care of that little hellion. Barely could before, and she certainly can’t now.”

  “Where. Is. She?”

  “Where she belongs. With her daddy.” Sylvia shook her head and squared her shoulders.

  I just stared at her, shocked. Evie had her grandmother, and she had me. That was it, the whole damned circle of support.

  In a prim voice, she said, “I dropped her off yesterday.”

  “How could you?” I couldn’t believe it. My chest ached for the poor child. “Jett Greyson doesn’t even know her. He’s a shitty—”

  “Language, missy.” Sylvia narrowed her eyes and tilted her chin up.

  Yeah, no.

  “Fuck manners,” I said. “Tell me where the hell you took her, and tell me now. That little girl doesn’t belong in a place like that. Do you have any idea—” I sucked in a deep breath.

  Sylvia’s disapproval seemed to soften just a hint when she looked into my eyes. “I’ll give you the address, but remember she’s his daughter.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” I tried to keep the bitterness out of my tone. I was grateful for the address, even if I was pissed as hell that Sylvia had just given Evie away like she didn’t matter. Well, she mattered to me, even when it was hard. Especially when it was hard.

  Jett Greyson was a womanizing asshat. I’d heard all about him from Marla, about how he’d made her believe he loved her, then never called her again after they’d fucked. He was a biker, a criminal, and a scumbag. The last place Evelyn should be was with Jett Greyson.

  Chapter Three

  Jett

  Her skinny little legs dangled from the bar stool like twigs waving in the wind, the only indication of the child’s discomfort. A stoic little statue, except for her feet, the girl stared up at me with the same cold slate eyes that greeted me in the mirror. Was it a coincidence, or was I really this girl’s father?

  I reached over the bar and filled two glasses—one with beer, one with water. I knew next to nothing about children, but at least I knew not to feed them alcohol. “What’s your name, squirt?”

  “Evelyn.”

  “Evelyn what?”

  “Flint.”

  I scoured my memory for a chick with that last name, but I came up short. How long were we talking anyway? Five years? Ten?

  “How old are you?”

  “How old are you?” Evelyn scowled.

  All right, so she was a tough little twerp. I appreciated that. “What’s your mom’s name?”

  She crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter. “I don’t have a mom.”

  “You just spawned out of a pit somewhere?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Okay, Evelyn Flint, Fearsome Pit Spawn, tell me, why are you here?”

  “Because...” Her lip quivered, a shake in that hard resolve.

  My chest tightened, and I straightened my back.

  Shit. This wasn’t the kind of interrogation I was used to. I’d have to be...softer. I’d have to tread carefully and watch what I said. What the hell would I do if she started to cry?

  Her blue eyes glossed and she looked down.

  What the fuck was I supposed to say?

  The door opened behind me. “Greyson.”

  I turned and found Hawke standing in the threshold.

  He said, “Come with me.”

  A short reprieve, but I knew this conversation wasn’t going to be any easier than the one with the kid.

  I rose from my seat, and looked down at Evelyn. “Don’t move.”

  She met my gaze and said nothing. I took the eye contact to mean my order was understood, and then I followed Hawke down the hall.

  “What’s with the kid?” He kept his gaze forward and his shoulders squared.

  “Not sure yet, but I’ll handle it.”

  With a curt nod, Hawke opened the door to his office. I followed him in and shut the door behind us.

  He faced me from the other side of his desk. “Tell me about the Meat Locker.”

  I knew exactly what he wanted to hear—reassurance that Dirty Jack, alpha of the roving Butchers, had fucked up in Greenville. He wanted
me to say that it wasn’t our problem. I wished I could tell him that.

  “Draper says Briggs hired him, then turned on them. They sicced the Tribunal on the rovers and killed Dirty Jack.”

  Hawke’s fists twisted on the top of the chair. “Why the fuck would Greenville do this?”

  By the way he looked down at the table, it didn’t seem like he expected an answer. Still, I had to say something. “I don’t know.”

  “No chance he’s lying?” Hawke searched my face, but his intense, hazel eyes told me he already knew the answer.

  “No.”

  Hawke bashed his hands on the top of his seat and threw it. The chair screeched across the hardwood and slammed into the wall. Better the chair than me.

  Hawke’s chest heaved and his face was red. “What the fuck am I supposed to do, Jett? You know as well as I do that going after Greenville will fuck up everything we’re building here.”

  “I know.” It hadn’t been easy, but we’d built a reputable security business. After the Tribunal had intervened on the Juarez job, Hawke had decided it was time. We’d backslid when the only clients we could find to put food on the table wanted merc jobs. But after lean months and a hell of a time, we’d built a thriving security business. It was all due to Hawke’s leadership. None of the other chapters had managed to do the same, though a few had tried. But all of that went to shit if we made a mistake now. The Tribunal could be watching, and even if they weren’t, I respected what Hawke had built for us.

  “You know what Brick’s going to say?” Hawke shot me a look.

  “Retribution.” No question there.

  He nodded. “I can’t let this slide.”

  “I know.” I wished he could—hell, I knew he did, too.

  He stared at the table, searching for answers in the grain of the wood.

  Hawke had two advisors, me and Brick. Everyone else was away visiting the Glendon Chapter. I had to offer something. If it was up to Brick, there’d be lives lost. Brick always had a plan.

  But maybe I could prevent bloodshed. I had to offer an alternative. “I’ll go.”

  Hawke met my gaze and ran a hand through his blond hair.

  “Let me scout them, see what I can learn. If we can determine Briggs’s motivation, there might be a way out.” Please, let there be a way out.

  Hawke’s shoulders eased. “Do it.”

  I nodded. Good. But there was an issue to resolve first—the kid. “There’s something personal I have to deal with first. I’ll head to Greenville City in the morning.”

  “All right.” Hawke clasped my shoulder as I turned for the door. “Jett, find me a peaceful solution.”

  “I will.” Without question, it would be a challenge, one I meant to rise to and conquer. I’d drive to Greenville and see what there was to find...after I figured out what the hell I was going to do with the kid. First thing had to be learning if she really was mine.

  Back by the bar, the stools were empty. Maybe the kid had to go to the bathroom. There was someone behind the bar. Thick black hair and bare shoulders, Shaundra was messing with the glasses.

  “Hey,” I said, “did you see where the kid went?”

  Shaundra turned, a glass and drying rag in her hands. “You mean Ray?”

  “No, not the prospect, a real kid. Little girl. I left her sitting on this stool.”

  Shaundra furrowed her brow and looked up at me. “This is no place for a child.”

  I slammed my fist down on the bar. “Did you see her or not?”

  “Nope. Just got in. Haven’t seen anyone yet, except for your grumpy ass.”

  I checked the bathroom, and it was empty, then I rushed outside.

  As the door clicked shut behind me, I heard Shaunda’s voice. “You’re welcome.”

  I scanned the lot, but the kid wasn’t there. There was a pang in my chest, a tightness. Where’d she go?

  I cupped my hands and called out, “Evelyn.”

  Guilt and concern weighed on me. Sure, I didn’t want to have to deal with a kid, but that didn’t mean I wanted something bad to happen to her. Please, don’t let something bad have happened to her.

  There was a scraping sound. I turned the corner of the building, and there stood Evelyn by the flower bed, kicking a piece of mulch across the pavement. A weight lifted from my chest. Now that I wasn’t worried, I was pissed.

  “I told you to stay.”

  Her lips flattened into a line. “That’s what people say to dogs.”

  I guessed it was. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  She shrugged her shoulders and stared down at the mulch, crushing the wood chunk beneath her heel.

  I tried to remember what it was like to be her age, not that I knew how old she was. Most of what I remembered was my parents fighting, and me running off to play with Hawke out in the forest. We’d built a tree fort with his old man while I avoided my fucked-up home life. It wasn’t a helpful memory.

  “What do kids like?” I asked.

  Evelyn looked up at me and I stilled in her gaze. She looked so young, so lost. And it made me feel shitty, and I was a bit surprised that it did. It was strange the effect she had on me. I cared that she wasn’t happy, that someone had abandoned her, leaving her in the care of a total stranger. I felt bad for her, and I didn’t want to make her feel worse.

  “What do kids like to do nowadays?” I repeated myself.

  “You sound like an old man.”

  “Not that old,” I said. Though she was right. I did.

  “Why do you care?” she asked. “I thought you didn’t like me.”

  “I don’t know you,” I said. “You don’t know me. You tell me something you like, and I’ll do the same.”

  “You go first.”

  “Hmmm.” Sex. Shifting. Those weren’t appropriate. She carried the wild scent of a shifter, but if her mother was human, she likely didn’t know anything about what that meant. Pointing to my motorcycle I said, “Riding my bike.”

  “You like bikes?” Her brows lifted and her shoulders relaxed.

  It was beginning to look like we’d found common ground. “Hell yeah. Want to see?”

  “Okay.”

  She walked up next to me, but kept her distance. I led her around to where my pride and joy was parked. “Here she is.”

  “Did you say she?” Evelyn’s eyes narrowed and a smiled played on the corner of her lips.

  “Hell yeah I said she. Motorcycles are meant to be treated with respect. And every good bike has a name—a girl’s name.” I was just making shit up, but the kid was engaging.

  She reached a tentative hand out and touched the leather seat. “What’s hers?”

  “Evelyn.”

  “No way.”

  I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter if you believe me. It’s true.”

  She stared at the bike, which had never had a name until now, and then she looked back up at me. “Ice cream.”

  “Is that your bike’s name? Some little red tricycle named Ice Cream?”

  “Are you teasing me?” Evelyn narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “I mean, I like ice cream. You asked what kids like. I like ice cream.”

  “Ice cream, okay.” There was a place on Wellington, just two blocks down from the clinic. Perfect.

  “With hot fudge. And sprinkles.”

  “Sprinkles are shit.”

  Her eyes went wide. What did I do? I thought we had some decent banter going.

  I cleared my throat. “One stop, and then I’ll take you to get some ice cream.”

  “One stop?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Deal.” A victorious smile overtook her face.

  It wasn’t really supposed to be a bargain, but if she was happy, I was happy to leave it be.

  I straddled my bike and offered her a hand. “Climb on.”

  She took it, and struggled to find footing.

  Brick stepped out of the clubhouse and jogged toward us. His always hard face was a little harder than usual.
Maybe Hawke had told him about my trip to the Meat Locker. “What the hell, Greyson?”

  “I have shit to do,” I said. “We can talk about Draper later.”

  “What? No. I’m talking about this.” He waved his arms at me and Evelyn. “You can’t take a kid that small on a bike.”

  “Why not?”

  “There’s safety laws and shit. Don’t you know anything about kids?”

  “No. Not really.”

  “Here.” He fished his keys from his pocket and held them out. “Take my truck.”

  Well, I didn’t want to hurt the kid, and I really was entirely lost, so I accepted and climbed off. Probably not a bad idea, since she still hadn’t gotten herself on the back.

  “Thanks.” I gave Brick a salute and looked to Evelyn. She was staring down at the ground, her shoulders hanging. She looked like a deflated version of the spitfire she could be. Were all kids this expressive, or just her? Either way, it was nice to be able to read her.

  “There’ll still be hot fudge,” I said.

  “And sprinkles.”

  “Okay, and sprinkles.”

  We walked side by side over to the truck, and I opened the door for her. But before either of us could climb in, Shaundra ran out and insisted we needed a plastic block for the kid to sit on top of, and kindly lended us one.

  Evelyn put her hands up on the floor, reaching for something to grip, then she threw her leg up, trying to get a knee in. It was even more awkward for her trying to climb up into the lifted truck than it had been to get on the bike.

  “Want some help?”

  “I’m good.”

  She hooked her knee, and found her grip on the bottom of the seat. Her little arms and legs strained, and I respected how scrappy she was.

  I said, “Looks like you could use a little help.”

  “I...can…”

  I grabbed the foot that was still on the ground and lifted her. She was so light, hardly weighing anything at all. Brick was right, she would have blown away in the wind on the back of my bike.

  She scrambled in, pulling her foot away as fast as she could.