Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 132332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
He didn’t move. “I tried to steal from you.”
“I’m aware.”
His gaze ping-ponged from the truck to his house.
“You can call it a loan if it makes you feel better.”
That worked.
The trip to the store was a quick one. Marcel carefully selected basic items—milk, eggs, peanut butter, jelly, bread, butter, hot dogs, boxed mac ’n’ cheese, cans of chicken, tiny bottles of apple juice—nothing fancy. Most of it seemed to be for his sister. He didn’t try to fleece me or buy the normal junk food a twelve-year-old kid might want. His approach to shopping was more adult than Wrath’s or Zero’s. Somehow that depressed me even more.
After my mother died when I was little, my father fully embraced the lifestyle of a deadbeat dad, frequently leaving me alone or with random women. I didn’t have any siblings to care for. By the time I was Marcel’s age, I was chasing girls, not pretending to be the adult of the household. I’d had a charmed childhood compared to what Marcel seemed to have been through.
Back at the house, I followed him inside with the groceries. We set everything on the kitchen table. Then he went to check on his sister.
The other two kids were still curled up on the couch together.
“Blake,” Marcel whispered. “I’m back.”
Slowly, the redhead blinked and sat up, careful not to disturb the tiny dark-haired bundle curled next to him.
“Marcel? Are you okay?” He rubbed his eyes. “What’s going on?” His gaze darted to me and his eyes widened when he took in the black leather cut I wore. “Shit. You got caught?” He positioned himself in front of the little girl, as if he thought I posed a threat, and he wanted to protect her.
If I was a threat, the gesture would have been futile. But since I wasn’t, his attempt to protect the little girl was sweet. Heartbreaking even.
I glanced down at Marcel. “That’s your sister?”
“Heidi, yeah.”
“You’re Blake?” I asked the little ginger bodyguard.
He nodded.
“All right.” I nodded at Marcel and stepped into the hallway. A heavy sigh eased out of me. Maybe a good citizen would’ve called some agency and reported the obviously neglected kids. That wasn’t going to be me. The three of them would get split up for sure. I’d known enough kids who’d gone through the system to know sometimes it was worse. Never mind the fact that bikers didn’t handle problems by calling in the cops.
Instead, I reached into my pocket, curling my fingers around the money I’d stuffed in there earlier. “Take this.”
Marcel’s eyes widened. “Why?”
“For giving us the tip about Keith.”
At the mention of the guy’s name, Marcel’s mouth twisted.
“Don’t worry. He won’t be sending you on any more jobs. Wrath’s having a chat with him now.”
“Oh.”
I glanced around for a piece of paper, but all I found was a stack of textbooks on the dining room table.
“What’s your favorite subject?” I asked.
“Math. I’m good with numbers.”
Willing to steal or not, I could tell he wasn’t the sort of kid who would accept handouts.
I flipped open his math book and scribbled my number on the inside. “You need something, call me. I’ll put you to work.”
“Okay.”
Before leaving, I gripped his shoulder and gave him one last stern look. “Stay out of trouble.”
He rolled his shoulders back and lifted his chin, a hint of his earlier boldness returning. “I’ll do my best.”
CHAPTER ONE
Teller
The truth is a painful weapon. It burns, cuts deep, and can scar you for life. Eventually pain fades, blood washes away, but the truth remains. Dirty, savage, mocking truth you can’t escape.
Blood never lies.
Thank fuck I’m not the father of Inga’s kid. None of my brothers are. Best news we’ve gotten since the porn star who used to dance at our strip club—and bang our president from time to time—decided to sue almost all of my MC brothers to determine the paternity of her son.
DNA doesn’t lie.
It’s been a tense couple of weeks while we waited for the results. One where I enjoyed needling Rock a little too much about how he’s responsible for bringing this fuckery into our lives.
I pull out my phone and send Charlotte a quick text.
Me: Not the father of the porn star’s baby. None of us are.
I stand and push in my chair, ready to celebrate.
“Teller, can you stay for a minute?” Hope’s soft voice is a mix of urgency and sadness. This lawsuit was the last thing she needed to deal with while she’s pregnant. Last thing Rock needed when all he seems to want to do is hover around his wife. Talk about a helicopter parent. He’s a helicopter husband. Hell help their poor kid. These two first-time parents probably won’t let their baby out of their sight.
Murphy claps my shoulder and leaves the war room. I drop back into my seat, curious but not alarmed that Hope asked me to stick around. Maybe she wants to talk to me about planning Heidi’s wedding or something.