The Four Stages of Loving

Dutch Owen

a saga novel

by Debra Kayn

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,

and incidents are products of the author's

imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to

be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual

events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or

dead, is entirely coincidental.

The Four Stages of Loving Dutch

Owen, a saga novel

used or reproduced electronically or in print

without written permission, except in the case of

brief quotations embodied in reviews.

purchaser ONLY. No part of this book may be

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or electronic form without prior written permission

from Debra Kayn. Please do not participate in or

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Table of Contents

—SNEAK PEEK— | The Sandbar Saga by Debra

Kayn

Part One | Katie | Chapter 1

Dedication

To all the women who are living each day with the

one they love.

May you have more days, more nights, and many

more seconds together.

Part One

She waited for something to happen to her.

Something colorful and exciting. Little did she

know, her life was more colorful than anyone

else's.

Chapter 1

A GROUP OF MEN TALKED loudly around the
burning barrel behind the building. Marla tiptoed to
the picnic table without anyone noticing. She lifted
the beer can left behind and brought it to her
mouth, guzzling until there was nothing left.

The musky taste almost as good as a burger

from McDonald's.

Not the Happy Meal cheeseburger her mom

bought her for her eighth birthday, but the bigger
hamburger with the special sauce her mom would
eat when she remembered there wasn't food in the
house.

Sometimes, if she stayed extra quiet, her mom

fell asleep while eating. Marla was always waiting
nearby, ready to save the food before it dropped on
the dirty floor. During those times, she'd eat
because her mom always forgot about the food
when she woke up.

Finders keepers.
Hurrying back to her hiding spot underneath the

bushes at the corner of the building, she waited for
the men to go back inside.

Her stomach growled, eating her insides. She

wrapped her arms around her middle, afraid the
noise would alert them to her presence.

She hadn't eaten in three days. It was the

longest she'd gone without food since the police
took her mom away.

Usually, when her mom left her, she would

always find soda crackers and cheese in the
kitchen. There was always cheese.

She hated cheese, especially the kind her mom

bought that came in plastic-covered slices. But right
now, she'd eat a grilled cheese sandwich. She was
that hungry.

She peered out from behind a branch on the

bush and squinted. If she couldn't find leftover food
soon, she'd need to walk back to the shed and try
again tomorrow.

It was getting dark, and the mean dog on the

other side of the field always came out at night and
would chase her.

She hugged her middle. The pain returned again

at the thought of going back to the shed.

The landlord had locked the house two days

after her mom left and put a paper on the door too
high for her to read. But he forgot to close the
padlock on the shed's door in the backyard.

The shed was her home now until her mom

returned. Afraid the landlord would return and lock
her inside if he found the door open, she hid
whenever he came around.

He was always mean, coming to the house and

yelling at her mom about paying rent. She was

scared of him.

The men's voices quieted. She leaned forward

on her knees. Excitement about getting a chance to
eat what they'd left on the picnic table made her
want to pee.

They were going inside.
Saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth.

She wiped her hand across her face, almost tasting
the food. The last time she chanced stealing their
leftovers, they'd had big, thick meat she'd never
seen before. While it was hard to chew, she'd eaten
everything she fit in her pockets and took back to
the shed.

The men disappeared inside. She wiggled out

from under the bush and started counting.

"One. Two. Three," she whispered as she

crouched on her feet. "Four. Five..."

She looked all around and stood.
"Six. Seven." She forced herself to go slower,

knowing she was not waiting long enough to see if
it was safe. "Eight. Nine."

She stepped forward. "Ten."
Running to the picnic table, she stepped up on

the wooden bench and pulled all the paper plates
scattered on the surface toward her. Her chest
pounded, scooping up stray potato chips that were
left behind, fallen pieces of lettuce, and crumbs of
bread. She shoved them all in her mouth, unable to
wait until she got back to the shed.

Her stomach talked, telling her to eat more. She

picked up a plate and licked the ketchup off the
paper. It was sweeter than candy.

Scrambling underneath the table, she looked for

any scraps that had fallen. Her throat got smaller,
and she opened her mouth to breathe.

"Hey, what are you doing?" bellowed a man.
She froze, curling against her knees, trying to

make herself invisible. Without moving her head,
she looked toward the door of the back of the
building.

Big, black boots thunked against the ground and

stopped at the corner of the table. Afraid to move
in case she made noise, she ignored the pain in her
palms from the pebbles on the asphalt digging into
her hands.

The man walked to the side of the table. She

leaned away from him, unable to see his upper
body.

A hand appeared underneath the table. She

jerked, but her legs wouldn't work.

His fingers grabbed her shirt. She wrapped her

hands around his wrist, pushing him away, but he
wouldn't let go.

A whimper escaped her mouth as he dragged

her toward him. He lifted her off the ground by her
shirt. She gasped, reaching out for the bench, the
table, the air, anything to help her get away.

Plunked onto her feet, she scurried away from

the large presence in front of her. He dragged her
back to him.

"Hold on, you little mouse." He shook her,

causing her to cry out. "What the fuck?"

He hauled her up to her tiptoes. She raised her

gaze and glared at him.

"You're a little girl," he mumbled.
His mean eyes widened. She panted, seeing the

moon in his brown eyes. Her mom always swore
mean people were missing the moon-shaped light in
their eyes.

He set her on top of the picnic table and planted

his boot on the bench, leaning toward her. She
glanced at the empty plates.

"Who are you?" he asked.
Kids at school always made fun of her name

and called her Marble. All she wanted to be was a
girl with two first names like Beth Ann and Sadie
Lee.

So, she lied. "Marla...Marie."
He let go of her shirt and narrowed his eyes.

"Marla Marie, huh?"

She crossed her arms in front of her. He wasn't

supposed to touch her. Every kid knew only moms
and dads could touch kids.

"What are you doing hanging around back

here?" He sat down on the bench.

She looked at him harder now that his back was

to her. He had a lot of hair. She fingered the end of
her strands. His weren't as long as hers. She pulled
her hair straight down to her leg.

Like the men who used to come over to the

house and drink with her mom, he smelled like
smoke and alcohol. She touched the leather vest
and jerked her hand away, afraid he'd slap her.

"Don't your folks want you at home?" He

looked up at the sky. "You're losing daylight."

Her stomach ached. Nobody knew her mom

wasn't home.

Since school was out for the summer, even her

teacher wouldn't know what happened to her mom.

"You don't talk much, do you?" He looked over

his shoulder at her.

She lifted her shoulder. There was nothing to

say. He was nosy.

"You've got ketchup on your forehead." He

nudged her leg. "Hungry?"

She swallowed, rubbing the sticky spot on her

face. As if her stomach answered him, her belly
growled.

"Want a burger?" He stood and faced her.

"What do you say, Marla Marie?"

Only because she liked hearing him say her first

and middle name together as if they were one, she
nodded.

He lifted his chin. "Come on."

He walked to the back door. She jumped off the

picnic table and turned to run off but stopped.
Looking at the open door, the man had gone inside.
He wasn't going to chase her.

She leaned, trying to see inside. Slowly walking

to the building, she peered down the hallway and
spotted a bunch of people inside.

Music played, and the clank of pool balls sent

shivers up her spine. A haze of smoke hovered near
the ceiling. There were so many colors and lights.

Nobody appeared to pay any attention to the

empty hallway. She crept forward, inching toward
the door.

The aroma of something cooking hung thick in

the air. She followed the wall, ready to turn and run
if anyone tried to touch her.

Making it to the main room, she hovered at the

entrance and looked around at all the people. Most
of the men wore a black vest. Women's loud
laughter filled the soft parts of the song playing
loudly in the building. She stuck her head into the
room and looked for the man who offered her food.

She found him behind the counter. He talked

with another man and motioned her forward.
Glancing around, she darted through the crowd and
made it to the round stools without anyone
touching her.

The man set a white plate in front of her with

the biggest hamburger she'd ever seen on it. "If you

don't like tomatoes, pick it off the burger."

Surprised he'd let her do that, she crawled up

onto the stool. Her legs dangled without her feet
touching the floor.

He slid the plate closer. "Fries will be ready in a

second. Go ahead and eat."

She waited until he turned away and talked to

another man by a doorway in the back, and then
she picked up the hamburger, holding the meal in
both of her hands. She opened her mouth as wide
as she could and bit into the burger.

The warmth hit her stomach. She quickly

chewed and took another bite. Starving, she tried to
eat as fast as she could before the man came back.
Afraid he'd make her pay, she kept an eye on him
as she chewed. She had no money to pay for food.

The nice man, who let her eat, pushed through

the swinging door and left. She wiped her mouth off
with her arm and glanced around. There were no
kids in the building, only adults playing pool and
talking.

"Careful. They're hot."
She jerked around, only to have the man put a

large plate of French fries in front of her. Her
mouth watered, seeing the salt sparkling on the
fries.

He set a ketchup bottle in front of her with a

grin. "You probably want some of this to dip them
in and cool 'em off."

He unscrewed the lid. She snatched up the

bottle as soon as it hit the counter and shook it over
the plate.

The man gave the bottom of the bottle a couple

thumps for her. She picked up a fry, dipping it first.
She shoved half of it in her mouth, unable to close
her lips because her tongue burned.

The man kept looking at her. She eyed his chest

and read his patch. WACOM.

"You know what that says?" He pointed to the

patch.

She looked away and picked up her burger. Did

he think she couldn't read?

None of her spelling lists ever had the word

WACOM on it before. She didn't want him to find
out that she had no idea what the word meant.

He straightened and moved away. She glanced

after him, making sure he wasn't going to take the
food away.

Attacking her hamburger, she ate as fast as she

could swallow, afraid he'd get angry if she took too
long or make her pay for the meal. She scooted her
butt on the stool until her toe touched the floor and
stayed in that position, prepared to run if he started
being mean.

She eyed a napkin dispenser and leaned along

the counter, taking one of the white papers. Gazing
at the man who'd given her the food to make sure
he wasn't looking, she picked up a handful of fries

and set them on the napkin, wrapping them, and
holding on to the bundle. It was too big to put in her
pocket.

"Dutch!"
The man looked around and then lifted his chin

at a group by one of the pool tables. "Give me a
minute."

She looked behind her to see who he was

talking to, and an old man lifted his arm and threw
something across the room.

Dutch? She'd never heard anyone called that

name before.

Voices grew louder behind her. She crammed

another fry into her mouth before she'd swallowed
her bite of burger. Her stomach rumbled. Used to
the gnawing and angry sounds, she wanted to calm
her hunger.

Intent on eating, she ran out of ketchup. She

blindly reached for the bottle while taking another
bite.

Dutch approached her. "I've got it."
She jerked her hand back and slipped off the

stool. The temptation to finish the fries kept her
from running out of the building.

"Sit up and stay still." He frowned. "You need

something to drink? Milk or something?"

He walked away. She climbed back up on the

stool, using the time without him nearby to dip each
of the fries and shove them in her mouth.

Once she finished and used her finger to clean

the ketchup that was left on the plate, she eyed the
rest of her burger. She could carry that with her.

Looking around, she couldn't see Dutch in the

room. She slid off the stool and skirted the people
playing pool. In the hallway, she held out the
bottom of her shirt, made a pouch, and dumped the
bundled fries and the rest of her burger inside.

She peeked out the back door, making sure no

one was around. It'd grown darker while she was
inside.

"Where you going?" said a gruff voice behind

her.

She shot outside and ran, cradling her leftovers

to her stomach. Pumping her legs as fast as she
could, she headed toward the field. There was no
way she'd make it past the yellow house before the
big, brown dog was let outside.

She waited for something to happen to her.

Something colorful and exciting. Little did she
know, her life was more colorful than anyone else's.

Chapter 2

DUTCH REMOVED HIS SKULLCAP from his
back pocket and walked out of the pool hall's front
door. He pulled the tight material over his head.

"Are you leaving already?" Kimball, an MC

brother from the Moses Lake Chapter of WACOM
Motorcycle Club, stepped away from the building.

As a member of the Bellevue Chapter, Dutch

visited the Moses Lake and Spokane Chapter in a
continual loop, making sure business was taken
care of and only staying as long as he was needed
to keep the laundered money route on schedule.

"Just going for a ride." He threw his leg over the

seat, started his bike, and rode away.

Two little legs couldn't outrun him.
He'd find the girl and make sure she got home

safely. She shouldn't be out after dark. Not at her
age.

He'd never seen such a scrawny kid with knots

in her hair and dirt on her face who ate like a
grown-ass man before. Maybe he'd slip her parents
some money to feed and clean her up.

He spotted movement in a field south of the

county road heading out of town. Slowing down, he
studied the area, straining to see in the darkness. It
could be a deer or a fucking cow.

He rode forward, suspecting it was a lone girl,

running in the night. A girl young enough, she
shouldn't be allowed out of sight of the house,
where her parents should be keeping a good eye on
her.

Seeing her eating like a dog, wolfing down the

scraps of food off the picnic table, angered him. He
had a good childhood, but there were hardships
between barely surviving with a single mother
supporting two kids and Children's Protective
Service stepping in on occasions, but he'd never
gone without food.

He slowed along the highway, made a U-turn,

and then cut across the road, parking next to the
field. Making sure he was out of traffic, he cut the
engine and studied the land, trying to find the child.

Several minutes later, the kid's form grew

clearer in his vision. Her uneven gallop and
uncoordinated movements marked an erratic path.

Angered that she was out in the night by

herself, he made sure he stayed on his motorcycle
to keep from shaking some sense into her. It wasn't
her fault.

Some people shouldn't have kids.
The girl stumbled out of the field twenty feet

from him and stopped before falling to her knees.
Despite his intentions to stay away from her, he got
off the Harley and strode toward her.

She looked up at him. The desperation and fear

apparent in her gaze before her upper body pitched
forward, and she vomited in front of him, barely
missing his boots.

He leaned forward and gathered her long dirty

strands of hair, holding it behind her back as she
emptied her stomach of everything she'd eaten.
He'd known it wasn't normal for a child that size to
eat a man-size meal.

He should've stopped her or had the cook fix

her something else instead of taking one of the
orders out from under the warming light.

She dry heaved, no more food coming up.

That's when he spotted the napkin and bundle of
uneaten fries on the ground beside the vomit.

He exhaled heavily. She'd taken some of the

food he'd given her when she ran.

He hooked his arm around the middle of her

without letting go of her hair and lifted her off the
ground.

Taking her to his motorcycle, he set her on the

seat. "Hold still, so you don't fall off."

He dug through his bag and found one of his

shirts. She refused to take it from him, and he
wiped her face and hands off. It wasn't much
different than cleaning up one of his MC brothers
who'd passed out after vomiting a night's worth of
drinks.

She made no move to run away from him.

He tossed the shirt in the ditch and strode back

to her. When he'd left the pool hall, he hadn't had a
plan on what he'd do with the kid if he caught up
with her. He only wanted to make sure she got
home safely.

If her parents confronted him, he'd have a lot to

say about their parenting.

Her chin fell to her chest and soft noises leaked

from her. He gritted his teeth. It wasn't his aim to
make her cry.

"I'll take you home." He bent at the waist,

trying to see her face. "Where do you live?"

She leaned toward him. Afraid she was going to

slide off the seat, he stepped closer. Her head
pressed against his stomach.

Despite being 31 years old, he had no kids of

his own. He was at a loss on how to comfort her.

A car zoomed past them, not slowing down. The

side of a highway wasn't the place for a child to be,
especially at night.

"I need to get you home." He cupped the back

of her head, hesitated, and patted her. Her fucking
skull fit in his palm.

Resolved to get her home and safe, he pushed

her away from him. He couldn't put it off any
longer. Someone would be looking for her, and the
last thing he wanted was the cops on his tail and
catching him with a little girl.

"Can you tell me where you live?"

She looked behind her. Okay, she lived on the

other side of the highway.

Not wanting to take her on his motorcycle and

not wanting to leave his ride on the side of the
highway, he took out his cell phone and made a
call. It'd take a couple minutes to have someone
from the Moses Lake Chapter ride over and watch
his bike.

After he put the call out, he took his pack of

smokes out of his vest pocket. "Hang on a second.
Once someone comes, I'll walk you home."

She scooted on the seat as if to leave. He

stepped in her way, preventing her from running.

Losing patience, he set her back on the bike.

"You're not going anywhere."

She struck out, every limb going in different

directions. Afraid of hurting her, he could only
deflect her tiny hands and feet from striking the
buttons on his vest or the chain at his hip. He
couldn't have her hurting her little hands.

He realized quickly that he couldn't stop her

without touching her. Hauling her off his
motorcycle, he hugged her small body to his chest.

She gave up the fight and stilled. He exhaled in

relief.

She slipped her arms around his neck and her

head pressed against his shoulder. Her warm breath
blew on his skin. He looked around. Someone had
to be looking for her.

He was unfit to watch over a child.
Pacing back and forth along the side of the

highway, he kept looking for a WAKOM member to
come to his aid.

He'd done some risky things in his life, but

holding a little girl that was a stranger to him,
seemed more dangerous than anything he'd ever
done—including a two-year stint in prison.

He looked down the two-lane highway.

Headlights beamed in both directions. He turned his
back, facing the field.

His heart pounded. He'd hate to kill someone in

front of the child.

People see him, and they believed the worst.

They wouldn't see what was right in front of their
face.

The low rumble of a motorcycle reached him.

He glanced in the direction of town and spotted the
lone headlight.

"I'll get you home," he whispered, turning back

around as the cars passed.

The rider pulled around and came to a stop

behind Dutch's Harley. He carried the girl to his
MC brother.

"Jesus Christ, man. What are you doing with a

child?" Piston heaved his overweight body off the
motorcycle and sauntered over to him.

"I found her at the pool hall, eating scraps

outside." His arms tightened around the girl. "Fed

her a meal, and she ran off. It was dark."

Piston shook his head. "Probably a runaway."
"Nah, she's a baby." He hefted her higher in his

arms. "She's probably around ten years old."

Teenagers ran away from home. He'd taken off

more times than he could count when he hit his
teen years. But ten years old was too young to be
on her own.

"Her daddy will kill you if he catches you."

Piston sighed. "Take her home."

"Plan to, but I don't know where she lives." He

couldn't leave her on the side of the road. "You live
around here. Who does she belong to?"

WACOM members normally kept to themselves

but kept abreast of news and people in the
community. It was their business to make sure they
knew everyone. It helped keep targets off their
back.

Piston stepped around him. He understood his

MC brother was trying to get a look at the girl. She
had her face against his neck, and going by her
breathing, she was out for the night.

"I can't see her." Piston sauntered over to his

bike, removed a flashlight from his bag, and
returned to Dutch.

The light shined on his shoulder. He kept his

gaze on the road. The faster he could get out of
here, the better he'd feel.

"Fuckin' hell." The light went out. "That's Sue

Smith's kid."

"Who?" He turned toward Piston.
Besides the members of the Moses Lake

Chapter, he knew no one in the area. He hailed
from Bellevue and wore the patch for the chapter
there.

"A chick with a bad heroin addiction." Piston

rubbed his head. "I thought the cops picked her up
on an outstanding warrant a couple of weeks ago
and found her overdosed."

"She's a foster kid?"
"Yeah, I imagine. I don't think she has any

family around, 'cept her mom." Piston looked
behind him. "Though I could be wrong. Sue was
staying in a rental house over on Dover Street."

"Where's that?"
Piston hitched his thumb over his shoulder.

"You go North, up the highway, take the first road.
If you go about a half-mile, there's a dirt road on
the right that winds back into those trees you see in
the distance."

He couldn't see any trees through the darkness.

"I'll take her back to the house. Maybe someone is
there."

"Yeah." Piston cleared his throat. "How are you

going to do that?"

"Walk." He stepped toward the highway. "What

color of house?"

"Brown, I think." Piston strolled over to his

bike. "I'll ride over there and wait for you."

"No." He stepped up onto the asphalt. "Stay

with my Harley."

"It'll be a walk, carrying her. You can probably

cut across the next field. There will be a yellow
house you'll have to skirt, but the next house was
where her mom was staying."

If he had a choice between walking and riding,

he'd be on two wheels. But he had no choice. The
kid needed to be at home. Whoever was in charge
of taking care of her needed to learn what a
fucked-up job they were doing.

He waited until a car flew by, shielding the child

in his arms, and then crossed the road. Twenty
yards into the next field, water seeped into the
leather of his boots. Just his luck, he would
probably walk into a swamp and not see it coming.

The tall grass grabbed his jeans, hampering each

step. Uneven ground from the tires of a tractor
putting ruts every few steps threatened to trip him.

Making it to the first house, he was almost past

when a big dog charged, barking its fool head off.

"Shut the fuck up, or I'll shoot." He growled

back at the dog.

The animal followed him until he reached a line

of trees and spotted a darker house up ahead.

The kid's warm body against his vest had him

sweating by the time he trudged into the backyard.

He walked around the single-story home until he
stood on the dirt road out in front.

He should've brought a flashlight.
The trees around the house blocked the light

from the moon. He shifted the girl to his other
shoulder, half hoping she'd wake up.

It looked as if no one was home. There were no

lights on, and the grass was up to his knees. No
cars, no toys. Nothing, except a garbage can by a
mailbox.

He couldn't have the right place.
With only one direction to walk, he took off to

find another house. It was hard to believe no one
was out looking for the girl. There had to be an
adult around. Someone had to know she was gone.

Ten minutes later, he spotted a glow in the

distance. The light moved, and he walked faster. He
had to be close to the road. What had Piston said
about the distance on the dirt road? A mile? A half-
mile? It felt like he'd walked longer.

Another light came from ahead and then shifted

toward him. Someone was coming.

He stopped, stepping off the road.
A lone headlight. He stepped out again and

raised his hand. MC brother or not, he trusted
someone straddling a seat more than one driving a
cage.

The rider stopped beside him. Recognizing

Piston, he ignored the frustration over having his

bike sitting on the highway, easy enough for
someone to Jack.

"Where?" He needed to put the girl down.
"Last house, brother." Piston balanced the

motorcycle. "I called Crusher. He's with your
Harley."

"Thanks, man." He stayed on the road.

"Nobody is at that house. It's dark."

"I don't know what to tell you." Piston

shrugged. "Guess you could drop her off
somewhere, call the cops, and let them know where
to find her."

Having lived through going to a few foster

homes while growing up and having a mom who
cared but struggled, the last place he wanted to put
the girl was somewhere that someone could hurt
her.

"I'll take her back to the pool hall." He hefted

her up higher.

He'd carried sixty pounds of dead weight

around for the last hour. His arms killed him. All he
wanted to do was set the girl down.

But, none of tonight was her fault.
Whatever she'd gone through was too much for

a young child to carry. So, he'd carry her.

Chapter 3

DUTCH TURNED THE SCRAMBLED eggs in the
pan and looked over at the girl, asleep on the
couch. She hadn't moved a muscle all night.

He'd locked the deadbolt with the key, making

sure she stayed in the room above the pool hall.
Due out on the road today, he had needed a few
hours of sleep before he took off.

He divided the eggs onto two plates. The itch to

ride out made him antsy.

He'd planned to leave early for Bellevue. The

club expected him back.

He needed to update them on the meeting at the

Moses Lake Chapter last Friday.

Finding a fork in the drawer, he carried the

breakfast over to the couch. He thought she'd wake
up by now.

"Hey." He set the food on the arm of the couch

and nudged the girl's shoulder. "Wake up."

He needed to get her out of the room before

Falcon, the president, came in. No underage girls
were allowed in the building.

"Wake up, Marla Marie." He pulled her by the

arm until she sat up.

Rubbing her eyes, she let her head fall to the

side to go back to sleep. He grabbed her, needing
her to stay awake.

"Shake a leg. I need to get you back home or

wherever you belong." He stepped back.

She blinked at him and looked around the room.

He expected tears, even screams. She was in a new
place with a stranger.

She spotted the plate of scrambled eggs and

licked her lips. He scratched his cheek. He had no
idea what young kids needed to get their day going.
All he could remember was what he always had
done when he woke up.

"If you need to take a piss, there's a bathroom

over there." He pointed.

She followed his finger with her gaze, then

looked back at the food as if judging what was
more important.

"The food will be here when you finish," he

said.

She tossed the blanket he'd covered her with

last night and walked across the small room. The
place was no more than a small studio with
everything in one room, except the bathroom.

There were six rooms above the pool hall, used

for club business, visiting nomads, or WAKOM
members who tied one on or wanted to bring a
woman up for some one-on-one-or-two.

It was enough space for him when he visited.

Though, he'd rather spend his time on the road than
cooped up in a small room.

He'd had enough of four walls in his lifetime.

She came back, wiping her hands on her dirty

jeans. In the daylight, she looked filthier than last
night. Her run through the swampy field hadn't
helped.

He picked up his plate and grabbed a fork,

standing in the kitchen. "Eat."

It took no more urging. She balanced the plate

on her lap as she sat on the couch. Eating much
slower than last night, she swung her legs as she
played with the food between each bite.

His cell phone vibrated on the small counter

beside the free-standing stove. He looked at the
screen, recognizing the number.

Swallowing the bite, he connected the call and

put the cell to his ear. "Rachel?"

"No, it's Skull."
Expecting his sister, he was surprised that her

old man was using her phone. "What's up?"

"Rach had a miscarriage yesterday."
He dropped the fork on the plate and turned his

back to the girl. "Is she okay?"

"Nah." Skull's voice shook. "She's tired, man.

It's her third one in as many years."

He rubbed the back of his neck. Rachel wanted

a family more than anything. Having grown up
together, been through the same hardships, his
sister believed having a man in her life would give
her everything she ever wanted.

But that all changed when she decided she

wanted a child.

"Damn." He sighed, at a loss for words but

understanding their pain. "I need to finish business
here, and then I can be there in a few hours."

Bellevue was almost three hours away,

depending on traffic and if he could ride through
while dodging the state cops. There was nothing he
could do to change what happened to his sister, but
he could be there for her.

"She's down, man. I don't know what to do."
"Stay with her."
"Yeah." Skull cleared his thick voice. "The

baby...she just got a fucking positive on the test last
month. She didn't even have time to..."

Dutch swallowed. "She'll try again."
"I don't know." Skull paused. "All she wants is a

kid, brother. I don't know how much more she can
take."

A soft cough came from behind him. He turned,

catching the girl shoving food in her mouth again.

"She's going to lose her mind if she has to go

through this again. All she keeps saying is she
wants her baby. I can't do anything to change what
happened. It's killing me." said Skull.

"Once I check in with Woody, I'll swing by and

see what I can do for her." He looked down at the
plate of eggs growing cold. "Until then, stay with
her."

"I will, man."
He disconnected the call and set his phone

down on the counter. The news wasn't what he'd
expected. He hadn't even known Rachel was
pregnant. She hadn't told him.

Dumping the rest of his breakfast in the trash,

he strode to the door before he remembered the
girl. "You've got one minute to tell me where you
live."

She stared at him silently, not eating or moving.
He was done trying to help the girl. "I'll call the

cops and have them haul your ass out of here."

She pressed her back against the couch and

stared at him with big eyes.

Figuring people of all ages feared the police, he

hoped that worked. He'd rather dump her in a
supermarket than involve the police. There had to
be a nice, older, caring grandma-type who'd look
after her.

There was no time to waste. He needed to head

back to Bellevue.

He strode over to her and stood in front of the

couch. "You're going to answer me, Marla Marie."

Her hands fisted on her lap. He had her

attention.

"Now," he ordered, rougher than normal to get

her attention.

"Seven. One. Two. Dover Street," she said,

pulling her feet up on the couch and wrapping her

arms around her knees.

"Bullshit." He leaned over her. "I took you

there last night. Nobody lives there."

She cringed, burying her chin between her

knees. Infuriated that he'd wasted time on a girl that
lied to him, he wanted the truth.

He pried his teeth apart. "Let's try this one more

time. Where do you live?"

"In the shed," she said softly.
His body hardened. "Shed?"
Marla Marie looked everywhere but at him.

"Can I stay with you until my mom comes back?"

Floored by news of what was happening to his

sister and finding himself tangled up in the life of a
young girl who finally decided to talk by asking if
she could stay with him, he walked away from her.

That wasn't part of his job. He lived on the

road. He put all his sweat and blood into WAKOM
Motorcycle Club. If he wanted a kid around, he'd
knock up some woman and have one.

Banging on the door interrupted his problem.

He glanced over at the kid. It was time for him to
leave. He needed to get Marla Marie out of here.

He strode to the door and opened it to find the

Moses Lake Chapter president standing in the
hallway. "Yeah?"

"Get her out of here. We need to talk." Falcon

stayed, waiting for him to kick the kid out.

He stepped out into the hallway and shut the

door behind him. "She's too young to send back out
there."

"Piston filled me in. Sue Smith is in prison.

She'll be there for two years if she survives that
long." Falcon's hardened face showed no
compassion. "Drop the kid off a block from the
police station and give her directions on how to get
help. She's old enough to do that. Let them deal
with her."

Damn Piston for opening his fucking mouth.

Everyone knowing his business was why he'd made
a choice to be the transporter for the money
WAKOM laundered.

"Right. I'll get on that." He widened his stance.

"What did you need to talk about?"

"There's been a date change since the meeting.

Tell Woody the exchange needs to be made on the
third if it's going to make it up to the Spokane
Chapter in time." Falcon lowered his voice.
"Everything else remains the same."

When it came to club business, he spread news,

terms and exchanged packages, keeping it all in the
hands of WAKOM members.

"I'll pass it on."
Falcon studied him. "Between you and me, I'd

sell the girl. Her mother isn't going to come back.
Even if she showed up when the kid's a teenager,
someone would hand her a needle. No kid has to

live going through that shit. It'll give her a chance,
not to grow up like her mom."

He nodded without commenting. Clasping

hands with Falcon, he continued to stand out in the
hallway as the president walked away.

Marla Marie wasn't his responsibility. He

inhaled deeply. All he'd done was feed a hungry
kid.

For how much everyone knew about the

mother, they seemed to have forgotten about the
child.

Things were different nowadays than when he

was growing up. He and Rachel had more eyes on
them when his mom lost custody, and they were put
into the state's care. If kids could slip away, the
world was going to shit.

He latched his hands behind his head, trying to

ease the tightness in his shoulders from sleeping in
the damn chair all night.

There were women like Rachel who deserved a

baby. Women who'd do everything possible to have
a child. Then, there were shit parents who are lucky
their kid hadn't died growing up from their neglect.

Needing to leave for Bellevue, he opened the

room and went inside the room. Marla Marie sat on
the couch, looking at him.

Fuck.
At that moment, he decided how he was going

to fix everyone's problems.

Marla Marie didn't have a mom.
His sister didn't have a kid.

Chapter 4

THE TRAILER BEHIND the truck rattled over the
bump in the road. Marla, sitting on her knees,
stared out the back window, watching the black
braid tied to the motorcycle's handlebar fly in the
wind.

No matter how many bumps or turns, the

motorcycle never fell off the trailer.

"Turn around and sit your ass down. We're

going into town. The cops will take you if they see
you sitting that way," said Dutch.

She turned and squeezed her legs under the

belt. "How much longer until we stop?"

He never told her where they were going.

Happy he wanted her to stay with him, she tagged
behind him as he hurried to leave that morning.

"Five minutes or so."
He was a funny-looking man. His beard was

thick and made him look like Santa, except Dutch's
hair was dark, and he wasn't old or have a big belly.
He also liked to wear sunglasses.

When he stared out the windshield, veins

popped out on his arms, and he had hair on the
back of his hands like Mr. Jackson, the custodian at
her school.

Her stomach ached, and she squirmed. With

nothing else to do after Dutch stopped at

McDonald's but drink all the pop in the cup, she
had to pee.

It was the longest car ride she'd ever been on.

Her mom never drove. She didn't have a car. She
walked to school and town if they needed
something.

"Where are we going?" she asked.
"You'll see when we get there." He rested his

wrist on the top of the steering wheel, thumping his
thumb against the dash.

When he told her to get ready and go with him,

she thought he'd take her on his motorcycle.
Instead, he left the pool hall and came back with a
truck.

"Are we going to your house?"
He glanced at her. "Do you ever shut up?"
She shrugged. "Sometimes."
"Why don't you try not talking like you did

yesterday." He slowed and turned.

She stretched, peering ahead through the

windshield. He'd become cranky the longer they
were in the truck. He should've eaten a burger
when they'd went through the drive-thru.

A few minutes later, he pulled to a stop. She

looked out at a house.

"Who lives here?" she asked, undoing her

seatbelt and scooted closer to the door to look out.

He shut off the truck and stayed inside. She lost

interest in what was outside and gazed at him.

His eyes were smaller, and he squeezed the

steering wheel. He was angry.

She took off her seatbelt and scooted across the

seat, and sat beside him. If he could see that she
was nice and could help him do many things, he'd
decide to keep her around.

And if he let her stay with him, she wouldn't

have to go back to the shed.

"When we go inside, keep your mouth shut."

He opened the door and walked around the front of
the pickup.

Once he opened her door, she slid off the seat

and got as close to him as possible. Halfway to the
house, she slipped her hand into his.

He tried to shake his hand free of her, but she

held on. If he left her here, she wouldn't know how
to get back to the shed.

The front door opened, and a man stepped

outside. He had long hair, tattoos on his neck and
arms, and had the same kind of vest on that Dutch
and the men at the pool hall always wore.

She put one foot on top of the other and hung

from Dutch's hand.

Dutch's grip on Marla tightened. "How's she

doing?"

"She's curled up on the couch and keeps

crying." The man glanced at her. "What's with the
kid?"

Dutch pulled her arm. "Go sit on the step."

"I want to stay with you."
"Do what I said." He tugged her forward and

pushed her down until she plopped on her butt.
"Don't move."

Rejected for someone Dutch's age, she cupped

her chin and looked at the step. A black ant
crawled toward her on the concrete. She put her
finger in its path and watched it turn around and
walk off the step.

Dutch walked with the man over to the truck.

She stood, ready to run to him if he got inside and
tried to drive away without her.

Dutch talked with the other man. She couldn't

hear what they were discussing. After a while, her
legs got tired, and she sat down.

The door opened behind her. She scooted to the

corner of the step and looked over her shoulder. A
woman wearing a robe stared down at her. Her long
hair hung over one shoulder. Marla turned away
and went back to watching Dutch.

The woman had a red face and nose as if she'd

yell or cry. Marla pulled her legs up and propped
her elbows on her knees, cupping her chin in her
hands. She wished Dutch would leave and take her
to a bathroom.

She liked it when they were alone. Even riding

in the truck was fun. There was a lot to see, even
deer.

"Who are you?" asked the woman.

She scooted off the step and sat on the sidewalk

to the driveway, closer to Dutch. The lady was a
stranger.

"Dutch?" The woman took two steps. "Who is

this girl? Why is she so filthy."

Marla turned, putting her back to the woman.

Her eyes burned, and she rubbed her face, then
tried to brush her hair off her shoulders. She needed
a bath.

At first, she liked not washing her hair and

wearing the same clothes day after day. She sniffed,
rubbing her arm under her nose. But she hated how
the dirt rolled into little balls on her arms when she
rubbed her skin. Her head hurt from the knots in
her hair.

Dutch walked toward her with the other man.

She scrambled to her feet. As soon as he was close,
she went to his side and leaned against him.

Tilting her head up, she whispered, "I want to

leave."

He put his hand on her head and looked at the

woman. "She doesn't have a mom, sis. She's alone."

The woman stepped closer. Marla shifted and

hid behind Dutch. She didn't want him talking about
her mom or telling other people about her.

"Is she your kid?"
"No." Dutch grabbed on to her shoulder and

pulled her out from behind him. "She's been living

in a shed by herself and needs someone to look
after her. I thought maybe you'd want her."

"I can't..." The woman hugged herself. "She's

not —"

"She's a kid who needs a mom, Rach." Dutch

gripped Marla's shoulder, holding her in front of
him. "If not, she's going to end up in the system."

Marla turned and wrapped her arms around

Dutch's waist. "I want to stay with you."

The adults talked, ignoring her. She understood

what Dutch was telling them. He wanted to leave
her here. This wasn't her house. The people were
strangers. She needed to go back to the shed. Her
mom would come back, and she needed to be there.
Her mom always came back.

"Did you kidnap her?" asked the woman.
"Skull will fill you in on what went down. I

need to get over to the clubhouse and try to catch
Woody." Dutch paused. "Do you want her or not?"

Marla broke free from Dutch and ran to the

truck. All she needed to do was get inside. He'd
have to take her back to Moses Lake.

An arm wrapped around her before she reached

the passenger door. Her feet left the ground.
Screaming and hitting, she tried to get away from
Dutch.

She was wrong. He wasn't a nice man.
He wanted to give her to the mean lady.

Her mom would never find her here. It was too

far away from home.

Dutch shook her. She froze, terrified he'd leave

her.

"I hate you." She struck out. "Let me go."
"Calm down."
"I want to go home. Let me go home."
"Damnit, Marla Marie." He caught her arms

and held them down.

She arched her back, trying to get away. "You're

mean. I don't like you."

He pulled her to his chest, squeezing her too

tightly. She couldn't breathe. Flinging her head back
and forth, she wanted to hurt him. She wanted to
get away. She wanted to hide.

Chapter 5

RACHEL KNOCKED ON THE open bedroom
door and strolled inside, carrying two large trash
bags. Marla looked out the window, not ready to
talk with the woman who kept doing things for her
for the last four days.

She wasn't going to change her mind.
She wanted to go home.
"Some of the women in the club got you new

clothes." Rachel touched Marla's shoulder. "They're
not brand new, but new to you. Let's go through
them and see what fits now and what we can put
away until you're bigger."

She ignored her.
"Come on, sweetheart. Let's pick out something

you can wear to the clubhouse this evening. There
will be other kids there you can play with. There's a
room with a game system kids like to play on the
television. Doesn't that sound fun?"

She got up from the chair at the desk and sat on

the other end of the bed. Maybe Dutch would be at
the place they were going.

Rachel removed a pair of jeans. "Try these on.

You're such a tiny thing. I hope we find something
you can wear now."

Removing the sweatpants Rachel had bought

her yesterday and keeping on her new pair of

underwear, she tried on the jeans and snapped
them.

"Those fit you good." Rachel pointed to the

chair. "Everything that fits put over there. We'll use
the sack to hold everything else. Skull can put them
in the attic later when he gets home, and that way,
when you grow a little, you'll have more clothes."

Over and over, she tried on shirts, shorts,

sweatshirts, and dresses until she was tired of trying
on clothes. She'd liked the jeans and the yellow
shirt that belonged to her, but they disappeared
after Rachel forced her to take a bath and sat all
evening brushing her hair.

She rubbed her head. The top was still tender

from all the pulling.

"One more." Rachel held up a shirt. "What do

you think about this one?"

The blue shirt had a kitten on the front chasing

a butterfly. It was the same shirt she'd seen Beth
Ann wear to school.

"It's okay," she mumbled, breaking her silence.
"You can wear this one today if you want and

pick out a pair of shorts from the pile. It's supposed
to be a warm day." Rachel continued watching her.
"How old are you, Marla?"

"Ten."
Rachel raised her brows. "Do you know your

birthday?"

She slipped the shirt over her head. "February

second."

"That's a long way off, but I'll remember, and

we can have a birthday party for you. I can get one
of those pretty cakes and ball—"

"No." She backed away. "I'm going home. I

want my mom."

"Okay. Okay." Rachel held her hands out. "We

won't talk about birthdays anymore. Are you
hungry? You barely touched your breakfast."

Her chin quivered. The longer she stayed here,

the more she thought it was impossible to get back
home. She'd need to find her way back on her own.
Her mom wouldn't have any way of finding her.

"How does a tuna fish sandwich sound?"
All she could think about was tonight. They

were going to a place called the clubhouse. If
Dutch was there, she could beg him to take her
home. If he wouldn't help her, she'd tell another
adult that Rachel and Skull weren't letting her go
back to her mom.

Chapter 6

THE MEETING ADJOURNED. From the back of
the room, Dutch headed for the door. He was free
to move on.

Maybe he'd head to the Spokane Chapter, take

a couple weeks to drink, dip his dick, and enjoy
himself before the next run.

A WAKOM member walked past him, knocking

into him with his shoulder. He turned and stopped.
His temper riled.

"You have a problem?" he asked.
"You." The guy stepped forward, chest first.
Glancing at the patch, he faced a guy named

Buck. Because he was on the road most of the
time, and there were more than nine hundred
members spread out between three chapters, he
couldn't remember if he had a problem with Buck.

He refused to back down. The slight movement

from Buck's right side had Dutch removing the
knife at his side. He put the blade under Buck's jaw,
stopping the MC member's fist from making contact
with him.

He sensed the men around him, stepping back,

giving them room. He walked Buck backward and
pinned him to the wall.

"Brother or not, I will slice your fucking neck if

you have a problem with me wearing the patch."

He applied pressure to Buck's neck, forcing his chin
up. "Got it?"

Buck hitched his chin higher. Dutch backed off,

leaving the knife in his hand.

"Asshole," muttered Buck, heading toward the

door.

He closed his knife and slid the weapon into the

open holder on his belt. Every club had someone
trying to move up in rank, thinking they could
remove each man, one by one. As if taking out the
one responsible for making sure the money flowed
toward WAKOM would show loyalty to the club,
the motherfucker was dumber than shit.

Hell, the president wouldn't get shit done

without him, running back and forth between
chapters.

Walking out to the main room of the pole

building that served as the clubhouse for the
Bellevue Chapter, he spotted Skull. Concerned
about Rachel, he headed over to his brother-in-law.
Four days ago, Rachel was on tender ground, and
Skull hadn't wanted to leave her side.

He approached Skull. "Why aren't you at home

with my sister."

"She's here." Skull motioned with his chin to the

other side of the room. "She wanted to bring the kid
and introduce her around."

Dutch snapped his neck, searching for Rachel

and Marla Marie. He found them sitting on the side

of the room, surrounded by other women. The
clubhouse wasn't a place for a child that young. Not
on a day when the members were here for a
meeting.

Marla Marie wasn't raised around the bikers.

The atmosphere would scare her.

"The miscarriages pulled her away from the

women. Now that she has the girl, she feels like she
belongs again." Skull sighed. "You should see her,
man. Since you brought Marla to her, she's been
cleaning and setting up the spare bedroom. Hell,
she's got no time for me now. Everything she has
centers around the girl."

"You complaining?"
"Nah." Skull shook his head and met Dutch's

gaze. "Just waiting for her to come off the high,
she's on right now. She can't see the girl is
miserable. I've been hanging around the house
because I suspect the first chance she gets, that kid
is going to run. She wants to go home. Crying all
night and barely talks."

"She can't go home." He faced Skull. "She can't

go anywhere near Moses Lake."

Skull's gaze narrowed. "What kind of hell have

you brought down on my family?"

He looked at Rachel. His sister needed someone

to love, to raise, to call her own. Dropping his gaze
to Marla Marie, he regretted nothing. The kid
needed a roof over her head and a parent in her

life. Anything could happen to a little girl,
desperate for food and comfort. Someone else
could take advantage of her.

His jaw ticked. There was something about

those blue, untrusting eyes that made him want to
protect her. Marla Marie needed the security his
sister could provide her.

"Is her real mom going to come looking for her?

The cops?" asked Skull.

He turned his back on the others. "Just protect

her. Protect my sister. That's all you need to do. I'll
take care of the rest."

He walked through the crowd and went outside.

Lighting a cigarette, he stayed to himself and away
from the others.

Being a member of WAKOM Motorcycle Club,

Skull knew how to keep secrets. He knew to do
whatever was necessary to protect himself and
Rachel against the law. His sister could raise one
kid within the club until she was eighteen years old.
By then, Marla Marie would understand the
lifestyle and be loyal to the club.

Eventually, Marla Marie would forgive Dutch.

She'd see what kind of life he'd given her and be
thankful someone took her away from the
hardships she was facing alone.

He walked over to the truck, climbed up on the

trailer, and removed the tie-downs from his Harley.
He'd already talked to Skull about returning the

truck/trailer to the rental company for him. Trailing
his motorcycle was the only way to get Marla
Marie out of Moses Lake without a thousand eyes
on him. She was too young to ride. He couldn't trust
her to safely sit on the Harley.

But she wasn't his problem anymore.
His sister wanted a kid. He got her a kid.
Marla Marie needed a mom and someone to

look after her. She also got what she needed.

He slid the ramp to the back of the trailer.

Lining the rear wheel up to the aluminum track, he
put the bike in neutral and rolled it back.

Toeing the kickstand, he planted his boot on the

ground and got off the bike. The need to ride
vibrated through his body. Four days, staying in one
place and off the asphalt had him cooped up. He
needed to feel the wind and the vibrations under
him. He needed to get on the road.

"Marla!"
His sister's scream stopped him. He spotted

Rachel running away from the clubhouse. Stepping
toward his sister, he understood what had happened
and gazed around, trying to find the girl.

"Somebody, help me," screamed Rachel.
Skull ran out of the building, following Rachel.

Already near his motorcycle, Dutch hopped on the
bike and rode in front of his sister.

"I'll get her," he yelled toward Rachel and

roared away.

Scanning each side of the road for Marla Marie,

he kept the Harley in second gear. He had no fear
of her making it back to Moses Lake on her own.

He needed to stop her from talking to anyone

outside WAKOM.

With two miles until she hit the edge of the city

limits, he had enough time to find her. The only
problem was there were woods on each side of the
road until Marla Marie reached the outside world.

She could be anywhere in the woods.
There were hundreds of fir and alder trees and

an overpopulation of underbrush. A dense enough
area for a kid to hide in. The area worked for the
clubhouse. They were far enough away from the
town of Bellevue to keep their activities hidden
from the local police and keep the gawkers away.

But, not a prime spot to locate a child.
Pulling over to the side of the road, he cut the

engine. He let his hearing adjust to the silence and
strained to hear a crack of a branch, a ruffle of a
dry leaf, or heavy breathing as Marla Marie ran to
get away from a family that would eventually love
her if she gave them a chance.

He caught a flash of light blue moving slowly

through the woods before he heard the snap of a
twig. Eyeing the area, he got off the motorcycle. It
would be faster to catch her on foot than find
somewhere to cut her off with his Harley.

He jumped over the ditch and trudged through

the overgrown weeds lining the road until he met
the curtain of trees. Dodging left and right, he made
a beeline toward her, making good progress with his
longer legs.

In her frantic need to escape, she had yet to

glance behind her and see him. He hoped he'd get
within reach of grabbing her before she took off
running.

His luck held out. A dozen paces behind Marla

Marie, he plunged forward, not worrying about
making extra noise.

Marla Marie stopped, looking around her. Then

hurried in the opposite direction, fighting the
branches that swung out and grabbed her hair, her
clothes. She tripped on a stick and fell to her hands
and knees. Dutch caught up with her and lifted her
to her feet, taking a sweep of her bare knees to
make sure she was okay.

"Don't touch me." She shrank away from him.
He let her go. "Don't run, and I won't touch

you."

She sank down on her ass, hugging her middle.

He exhaled loudly, running out of patience. All
she'd caused him was trouble since he found her.
His life was the open road, not babysitting a child
that hadn't the sense to see what was right in front
of her.

Grabbing her arm, he ignored her screams and

dragged her back to the road. By the time he
reached the bike, she'd shut up.

He swung her around to face him, and he found

out why she'd stopped fighting him. Tears rolled
down her cheeks, and her mouth gulped for air.

"Knock it off." He set her up on the Harley and

glared at her. "You're young, but even a baby
knows when someone is willing to take care of
them."

Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. It

took him a few seconds to read her lips. In a litany
of pleas, she silently called out for her mom.

"Do you know where your mom is at right

now?" he asked.

She looked up at him. "She's coming back."
"No, she's not."
Her chin quivered. "She always comes back."
"Does she normally leave you this long?"
Tears sped up and coated her cheeks. "She'll

come back."

"She's in prison." He squatted in front of her.

"She did drugs, and the cops caught her. Your mom
isn't coming back until you're older."

"You're lying."
"I don't have a reason to lie this time." He lifted

her chin and met her gaze. "I can take you back,
hand you over to the police, and they could put you
in a home with other kids or send you to live with

strangers, or you can go back and live with my
sister and her man. They'll take good care of you.
They won't hurt you. You'll have food, clothes,
friends, and can go to school."

" I don't want to live with them. I want to go

home."

"Clean your ears out. You're not going back

home. Your mom isn't coming back for you. The
sooner you accept that, the easier you'll have it."
He paused, letting that sink in. "Nobody is going to
hurt you. If they do, I'll kill them. You'll have a bed,
food, probably more hugs than you need."

"Why can't I go back to Moses Lake with you?"
"I don't live in Moses Lake." He looked up the

road. "I don't live here."

"Where do you live?"
"Nowhere." He motioned for her to move.

"Scoot up and straddle the motorcycle."

"No."
"Move your fucking ass, Marla Marie." He

growled, stepping forward. "I'm done talking."

She scurried. He threw his leg over the bike and

pinned her against the gas tank in front of him
before she could get another idea to take off. He
placed her hands in front of her, letting her hold on
to the gas cap.

Keeping her tight against his stomach, he

started the Harley and made a U-turn in the road.
Then, he headed back to the clubhouse.

Before he got there, he needed to make sure

she stayed put when he left.

"If you run off again, I'll never come back and

see you." He kept his head dipped so she could
hear him over the Harley. "I'm the only one who
knows where you are. Be a good girl and stay with
Rachel and Skull, and you'll see me in three
weeks."

The clubhouse came into view, and he slowed.
He pulled in front of the building. Rachel

hurried toward him. He shook his head, warning his
sister off. The last thing Marla Marie needed was
coddling. She needed some rules and consequences
if his sister planned to keep her around—and
knowing Rachel, she would.

He stopped and put his feet on the ground,

holding up the Harley. Lifting the girl off his
motorcycle, he set her feet on the ground.

She turned and grabbed his arm. "Don't leave

me."

"Remember what I said and go with Rachel."

He motioned with his chin.

"You'll be back in three weeks?" She frowned,

skeptical of him. "You'll take me to my mom if I
stay?"

Glancing at his sister and Skull, waiting a few

feet away, he nodded. "Yeah, someday, I will."

"Promise?"

He leaned down, and without raising her hopes

with useless words that wouldn't mean anything to
her by the time her mom got released from prison,
and Marla Marie was all grown up, he pushed her
away. "Go to Rachel."

She walked backward, never taking her eyes off

him. Dutch looked at his sister, assuring her that
everything was okay, and then rode away.

The road called his name.

Part Two

He knew where she came from.

He knew her as Marla Marie Smith.

Chapter 7

MARLA RAN BESIDE HER friend, Alyssa. "Did
you get some?"

"Of course, silly." Alyssa burst out laughing. "It

was easy."

Marla grabbed Alyssa, pulled her around the

corner of the clubhouse and out of the adults' sight.

"Ow. You're hurting my arm." Alyssa giggled.

"Calm down. No one can see us."

There were hundreds of WAKOM members

hanging around. The women were always snooping
to see what the kids were doing when there were
more people at the clubhouse than normal. Anyone
could've seen Alyssa.

Marla faced her. "Well?"
"I told you I could do it." Alyssa produced a

container of eyeshadow and mascara from her
pocket. "Amber won't even know I took it if we can
hurry."

They both admired Alyssa's older sister. She

looked like a model. The boys were always
grabbing Amber and making her laugh.

"Let's put it on before anyone comes this way."

Marla pulled her to the ground.

Alyssa sat crossed legged in front of her and

handed her the shadow container. "What're your

parents going to say when they see you wearing
makeup?"

"They're not my real parents." She shrugged,

tired of telling Alyssa that.

Everyone always acted like she belonged to

Rachel and Skull. None of them mentioned how she
was going back home as soon as Dutch made up his
mind.

"Okay. I'll do you first." Alyssa brushed her

hands at Marla's hair. "Ugh, you've got so much
hair."

She gathered the strands over her shoulder and

held the hair in her fist. "Make my lashes really
long."

"Do you want black, brown, um, tan, or

sparkles on your eyelids?" Alyssa opened the
container.

"Black. Definitely black." She leaned forward

and closed her eyes. "I wish I had lipstick."

"Just bite your lips hard and rub them together.

They'll get redder."

The brush tickled her face. She held still, not

wanting Alyssa to make a mistake.

"I hope Cade is coming to the clubhouse

tonight," said Alyssa.

"Are you going to tell him you like him?"
Cade was the cutest boy that always came with

his parents to the parties. He was fifteen years old,
two years older than her and Alyssa, and had a

stuck-up girlfriend. Nobody liked her because she
was snotty to everyone but Cade.

"No, never. He'll have to tell me first if he likes

me."

"You'll never get a boyfriend if you wait for

them to make the first move." Marla blinked her
eyes open when she felt Alyssa stop. "What?"

"That's something you would do, not me. I'm

too shy. I couldn't just hang on a boy. What if he
pushed me away?" Alyssa waved her hand in the
air. "Close your eyes."

She closed her eyelids. "It's not about being

brave or shy. Cade's just a boy."

"I don't know about that." Alyssa finished.

"Okay, open them."

She raised her brows and looked up while

Alyssa used the mascara. "Don't poke me in the
eye."

"I won't." Alyssa took her time, bending her

wrist this way and that way while stroking the wand
on her lashes. "Who are you going to flirt with
tonight?"

"Nobody."
"Not Johnny?"
She groaned. "Gross."
Alyssa completed the other eye. "Done. Let me

look at you."

She posed, batting her lashes. "Well?"

"You look older." Alyssa licked her thumb and

rubbed it under Marla's eye. "There. Perfect. Now,
do me."

Her stomach fluttered in nerves while she

worked on putting makeup on Alyssa's face.
Tonight wasn't just a party for WAKOM
Motorcycle Club. She'd overheard Rachel telling
Skull that Dutch would be here and staying for five
days.

She put a fine line of darker shadow in the

crease of Alyssa's eyelid. It'd been almost six
months since Dutch had come to the clubhouse or
the house. He'd never stayed away from her that
long.

Tonight, he'd see she was old enough to travel

with him back to where she used to live when she
was little and help her find her mother.

She wouldn't give him any reason to tell her no.
Considering six months ago, the last time he

visited, she screamed and hit him because he
refused to take her home, she was going to be on
her best behavior. She'd prove to him that she was
mature enough to return and deal with her mom.

"Are you sure you don't want your eyes

darker?" she asked.

Alyssa peered into the tiny mirror inside the

eyeshadow container. "I have blonde hair."

"What's that matter? So do I."
Alyssa laughed. "But, black suits you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're brave and wild." Alyssa frowned. "I'm

not."

"That's not true." She hugged Alyssa. "You're

the nicest, bestest friend ever."

Alyssa squeezed her back, then jolted. "I need

to hurry and sneak the makeup back into Amber's
purse before she notices and tells my mom."

"I'll keep everyone busy, so they won't notice

you." She stood and brushed the grass off the back
of her bare legs.

"How are you going to do that?"
She grinned. "Walk into the clubhouse, looking

hot."

"Shit," mumbled Alyssa. "Your parents are

going to ground you when they see you."

"They can try." She looped her arm around

Alyssa's elbow and walked to the door of the
clubhouse. Nothing was going to stop her from
staying at the party tonight. "Be quick. I'll meet you
outside when you're done."

She walked into the clubhouse ahead of Alyssa.

Seeing Corbet hanging around the group of boys
ogling Amber, she went straight to him and poked
him in the shoulder. He turned. She grinned,
throwing her arms around his skinny body. With all
her strength, she moved him backward—straight
into Amber.

"Hey." Amber bounced into Kenny and stayed

in his arms longer than needed.

"Oh, gosh. Sorry." She turned Corbet and

pushed him, bumping into Kenny, jostling Amber.
"I'm a clutz."

"Girl, go outside if you're going to goof off."

Amber tossed her hair and looked up at Kenny,
whispering to him.

Not put off by Amber's attitude, Marla let go of

Corbet. His face had turned red during the fiasco.

"Sorry, Corbet." She smiled.
"It's okay." Corbet shrugged, putting his hands

in his pockets. "You look different today. Want to
hang out?"

Catching sight of Alyssa waving at her from the

doorway, signaling that she was done putting the
makeup back in Amber's purse, she stepped away.
"Sorry. Can't. Maybe later."

She hurried out of the clubhouse. Once outside,

she fell against Alyssa and laughed. The high of
getting away with borrowing the makeup without
being found out excited her.

"Tonight is going to be so fun." Alyssa plopped

down on the grass.

Sitting beside her friend, she stretched her legs

out in front of her and pulled the edges of her
shorts up to the top of her thighs, baring them to the
sun. "I know. I'm so psyched."

"You should come home with us and spend the

night with me."

"Not tonight." She wanted to stay home. There

was always a chance that Dutch would stay at the
house instead of the clubhouse. He'd done that
before when he only came for one night and left the
next day.

Dutch even let her use his sleeping bag and

sleep on the spare bedroom floor beside him. She
always tried to stay up the whole night, talking with
him. Though, he always fell asleep before her.

He had the funniest way of snoring. Sometimes

she wondered if he pretended to sleep, just to make
her laugh.

A group of adults carried food out to the picnic

tables. Out of their way, Marla studied them. She
watched the adults a lot.

They weren't much different than children.

While she splurged on junk food and liked to spy
on others at the party, the grownups drank, smoked,
and fooled around. Sometimes, they got into
arguments, as if they were tired of being around
each other and wanted to go home.

"Why don't you want to sleep over?"
"Because—"
A rumble of a motorcycle made it impossible to

talk and be heard. She watched the activity in the
gravel parking area in front of the clubhouse. The
men were congregating by all the motorcycles.

Through the crowd, she caught sight of a

familiar face riding in. Her stomach somersaulted,
and her heart raced. She pulled her legs up and
pushed herself off the ground. Dutch had arrived.

She stepped closer, not wanting to lose track of

him with all the people around.

"Where are you going?" asked Alyssa.
"I'll be back," she yelled.
She jogged over to the corner of the building

and stopped. It seemed like the three weeks had
taken forever to get here.

Dutch got off his motorcycle. Her stomach

warmed, and she leaned against the side of the
clubhouse, soaking in the sight of him. Seeing him
was like remembering her childhood. All the good
things, never the bad.

He was the only one who knew her and stayed

with her. Sure, he wasn't around a lot, but he
always came back. Always.

She inhaled as pressure built in her chest.

Rachel and Skull were nice and loved her, but they
weren't her parents. Most of the time, she felt like
they were her babysitters, who were taking their
job too seriously. They treated her nice, too nicely
—which made her feel guilty for wanting to go
home.

They bought her a lot of clothes and let her go

to Alyssa's house all the time, or Alyssa came to

their house. But her real mom was all alone. She
had nobody with her in Moses Lake.

Not sure what was waiting for her back in

Moses Lake, she wanted Dutch with her when she
returned.

Dutch strolled toward the clubhouse, stopping

to talk with Woody, the president, and half turned,
scanning the crowd. She crossed her arms right
before his gaze swept over her and came back.
Holding herself together until she could have time
with him without Woody and the others around, she
stayed where she was, proving that she was older
and more mature than she was last month.

Dutch nodded without taking his eyes off her.

Then, he walked away from everyone and headed
straight toward her. When she had all his attention,
she got nervous. There wasn't anything shy about
her, but around Dutch, especially when he returned
after being gone for weeks, she was always
nervous.

Afraid that she would do something that would

send him away or never come back, she tried her
hardest to act right.

He would see how she was growing up. She'd

started her period two weeks ago—at home,
thankfully. She was always afraid of starting at
school and everyone finding out.

Now that she was a woman, maybe he'd start to

trust her more and give her the information she

needed.

She'd waited forever.
By now, her mom wouldn't even recognize her.

She'd grown. Her body had changed. She wore a
bra, and the ends of her hair still had temporary
highlights from six months ago.

Dutch stopped in front of her with a frown.

"What the hell have you done to your face?"

She touched her cheek, then remembered the

makeup Alyssa had put on her. Lifting her chin, she
looked at him through her longer, darker lashes.
"I'm wearing makeup."

"Jesus Christ," he mumbled, looking away.
Not wanting him in a bad mood, she flung

herself at him, wrapping her arms around his broad
chest. "I've missed you."

She closed her eyes, inhaling the familiar scent

of leather, sunshine, and tobacco. He cupped the
back of her head. Her throat closed, and she
swallowed the lump of emotions only he brought
out in her.

If she ever lost him...
She squeezed him harder, not willing to let that

happen.

"All right. Enough of that." He pushed her

away. "Where's Rachel?"

She wasn't ready for him to talk with anyone

else. "Don't know."

"Where did you see her last?"

"In the car, when we arrived." She slipped her

hand inside his and held on. "Are you staying at the
house?"

"We'll see." He frowned and shook his head.

"Go wash your face."

She followed him a few steps and bounced in

front of him, making him stop. "Don't you think I
look prettier with makeup? Older?"

His mouth tightened, making his beard move. "I

think you should wait to grow up."

"I can't stop." She laughed, skipping beside him

when he started walking away again. "How old are
you?"

"Old."
"I know, but how old?"
"Thirty-three." He reached the front of the

clubhouse. "Now, go play. I need to take care of
business."

Her shoulders sagged, and she pouted, staying

outside, as he went inside the clubhouse and the
door shut behind him. She hung around in front,
hoping he'd come right back out, but he never
reappeared. Remembering Alyssa, she trudged to
the side of the building and found her friend playing
with the other kids.

She stayed back. Most of the time, she'd join in.
Looking over her shoulder, she searched for

Dutch again.

Even though she was friends with everyone, she

never really belonged here.

Everyone knew she showed up in Bellevue

when she was ten years old, and suddenly Rachel
and Skull were telling everyone she was their child.

They told the school.
They told their friends.
They told her. All. The. Time.
But Dutch never pretended she belonged here.

He knew where she came from.

He knew her as Marla Marie Smith.
She wasn't Marla Richard, the way Rachel and

Skull told her to write her name.

Chapter 8

MARLA MARIE WALKED the top of the fence
line with the balance of a cat. Dutch stood in the
kitchen of his sister's house, looking out the
window. For once, Marla hadn't run to the door
when he rode up.

She was probably mad. She'd had her hopes up

he'd sleep at the house last night.

Instead, he decided it was better to crash a few

hours in one of the clubhouse's spare rooms after
drinking too much.

And the reason for him tipping back the

whiskey bottle played outside with the weight of
the world on her slim shoulders.

"How's she doing?" He took a healthy swallow

off the coffee mug in his hand.

Rachel stepped up beside him and looked out

the window. He waited to hear what he already
knew. Marla Marie never gave up her desire to
return to Moses Lake and find her mother.

He understood that without being told. She was

a child, believing she was stolen from a life she was
meant to live—even though she couldn't
understand how her past life would've eventually
killed her. At the least, kill her innocence.

If the hardships hadn't physically done her in,

someone else would've hurt her.

"You know..." Rachel sighed. "She's a good

girl."

"But?"
"She's lived with us for three years, and she still

doesn't see me as her mother or Skull as her dad.
I've tried to get her to understand how much we
love her, but she holds back. I can't seem to break
that wall she puts up."

He looked at his sister. "She knows you love

her."

"Oh, I know she does." Rachel stared outside.

"But will it be enough?"

"What are you saying?"
His sister turned her back to the window. "I'm

going to lose her."

"You're not going—"
"Don't tell me I'm wrong. I'm her mom. I know

what goes through her head." Rachel's shoulders
straightened, and strength looked back at him.
"She's lost, wandering life without direction, hoping
one of the roads she walks down will lead her
home."

"She can't go home."
"I don't think it's her..." His sister's brows

pinched. "It's not Moses Lake or her real mom she's
searching for anymore. She's wild and impulsive.
More stubborn than kids her age. She's maturing,
and something or someone is going to lead her
down the wrong path."

"She's thirteen years old." He couldn't see how

Rachel couldn't change Marla Marie.

"She's got a war going on in her head." Rachel

swallowed. "She's untouchable. Another year or
two, and she's going to search out boys who make
her feel like she belongs. And, she'll never find
what she's looking for because nothing—no amount
of sex, drugs, and whatever she finds, will be
enough to fill the hole that her mother left behind."

He looked out the window. Marla Marie jumped

off the fence and stood with her back toward the
house, gazing at something beyond the yard.

She was a child. There was time for Rachel to

parent Marla Marie. To show her love. To accept a
new way of life.

"She's a lot like you, wandering highways, going

from club to club, trying to escape—"

"I'm not escaping anything," he said.
"No, you're searching for something no one can

give you. I don't even think you know what you
want." Rachel's gaze softened, turning sad. "That
girl outside is doing the same thing you've done
your whole life, except to us, she's still a baby. She
doesn't have a club to fall back on and keep her
safe. She'll never fully trust us, no matter how much
we love her—and we do."

It was out of his control of how Rachel should

deal with Marla Marie. He'd brought her here, so
she would have a chance at a good life. He wanted

his sister to have everything she never received
growing up.

"Anything you do for her will be better than

what she had." He swallowed when his voice had
gone out of him.

Rachel leaned against him and whispered,

"She'll ask you for help finding her mom."

Taking her back was no longer an option. Her

mom was no longer alive. He'd made sure her mom
couldn't hurt her anymore.

"Don't worry. I won't help her."
The door opened and closed, and Skull walked

into the kitchen. Turning away from the window, he
lifted his chin at his brother-in-law.

"Heard you tied a good one on last night." Skull

chuckled. "The bitch you left at the clubhouse is
still passed out."

He ignored his brother-in-law's amusement. The

woman who entertained him last night would wake
up and move on to one of the other MC brothers.
Besides, he couldn't even remember what happened
last night.

Rachel ducked her head and hurried out of the

room. Dutch watched her go. Unlike the majority of
the women in WAKOM, Rachel's heart remained
intact. Her sensitivity to others was one of the
reasons why he'd brought Marla Marie to her. If the
kid stood any chance of growing up and having a
half-decent life, she'd find it with Rachel.

"I'm heading out." He raked his hand through

his hair, tying it back.

"Hitting the road?"
"Not until after the meeting tomorrow." He

walked with Skull to the back door. "Probably best
I don't come back to the house."

"Is there another problem with Marla?" Skull

planted his hand on the door, stopping him from
going to her.

"Rachel thinks she'll never adapt."
"Yeah, well..." Skull inhaled deeply. "My

woman worries too much. Marla's happy. Anyone
can see that. She respects Rachel. She does good in
school."

"Are you saying there's no problem?"
"I'm saying my daughter has a wild hair, and

there's no taming that." Skill dropped his arm to his
side. "You can't change a person, no matter how
much you want her to be exactly like you. Rachel
wishes for the children she lost. The children she'd
mapped out their whole lives for before she
miscarried. She's not going to find it in Marla. She's
her own person. It's not a bad thing. It also doesn’t
mean something is wrong with her."

He looked at Skull in a new light. Through the

years, he never thought Skull gave much thought
past the club and Rachel.

Dutch dipped his chin. Hopefully, Rachel would

accept what she has and set her sight on new plans.

"Besides, in a few more years, one of the men

will probably snap Marla up, and there won't be a
damn thing Rachel can say. Marla's going to do
what she wants."

He gritted his teeth. Now, that was the Skull he

knew. "She's a little girl. Keep the men away from
her."

"I plan to, and I can keep the men away from

her." His gaze hardened. "But, you don't know
Marla very well if you believe a threat from me will
keep the men away from her. As soon as she
realizes all she has to do is offer herself to them,
she'll go her own way."

A growl rumbled inside of him. He walked out

of the house before he did something he'd regret.

Marla Marie was thirteen years old. Men

shouldn't even be looking at her. There were plenty
of women at the clubhouse for them to entertain.

Halfway across the yard, he caught the moment

Marla Marie found out he was at the house. She
rewarded him with a smile, running toward him. He
caught her before she could cause him any damage.

"You came back." She held on to him and

craned her head to look at him. "I just knew you'd
spend the night here. Rachel told me she bet you'd
stay at the clubhouse."

"I'm not staying here."
Her lower lip pouted. "Why not?"
"I have things to do."

"But don't you want to spend more time with

me?"

"You're a kid." He motioned toward the fence

and walked to the back of the yard. "You don't
want to hang around me."

"I do, too." She climbed up onto the top rail and

sat down. "I always want to be with you. I want to
live with you."

"Don't talk about shit like that. I live on the

road. You know that."

She scooted up until her hip settled against his

arm and looped her arm around his shoulders. "I
wouldn't get in your way. I'd be quiet."

"You don't know how to be quiet."
"Do, too."
He gazed at the house, feeling the warmth of

her arm around him. "Yeah, I suppose you do,
Marla Marie," he mumbled.

The first time he'd met her, she'd refused to talk

to him. And all he'd wanted her to do was tell him
how to help her.

Now, he had no fucking clue on how to help

her. He only knew he felt better with her living with
his sister and Skull.

Hell, he felt more at peace arguing back and

forth with her and standing under the sun with her
slim arm around him than he had in the last three
weeks riding the roads. He couldn't explain how a
young girl could bring him peace, but he found

himself looking forward to coming back to Bellevue
when he was running between clubhouses.

"I don't want you to leave." She laid her head

on his shoulder. "Can't you stay?"

He couldn't stay in one place too long. In the

last six months, the cops had dogged him over
hundreds of miles in an attempt to get him alone.
He'd talked to several federal agents, been held as
long as the law would allow, trying to weaken him
into spilling the activities of WAKOM.

They knew he was a patched-in member, even

though he rode solo. He had no chapter watching
his back most of the time, and they waited for
moments to get him alone.

But they had no idea his reasons for traveling

between the chapters were more important than
claiming a house and staying in one area. They had
no idea the mother chapter allowed him to ride
without the backing of his MC brothers surrounding
him every fucking second of the day because he'd
shown them loyalty in the highest form.

"Dutch?" Marla Marie straddled the fence,

leaned over, and looped her arms around his neck.
"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything." He closed his eyes, preparing

himself for what he knew would come from her.

"Can you take me back to Moses Lake and help

me find my mom?"

"No."

"But why?"
He unclasped her hands and stepped away from

her. "It's not time. I want you to stay here."

She jumped off the fence and followed him

across the yard. "That's not fair. I want to go
home."

"This is your home."
"Stop lying." She grabbed his arm and stopped

him. "You know I have a mom and a home in
Moses Lake."

Having grown angry faster than usual, she

shook her head to emphasize her point. He stepped
away. She grabbed him. He shook off her hand. She
pulled on the back of his vest, dragging her feet.

He walked several yards, pulling her with him

until he'd reached the end of his patience with her.
Grabbing her wrists, he flung her away.

Marla Marie's arms stiffened at her side as she

balled her hands into fists. "I hate you."

He walked to the back gate at the side of the

house. She would never get her wish of returning to
her mom.

Right now, she was safe. There was no way she

could leave Bellevue without someone from
WAKOM stopping her. She was too young to take
the train by herself. Too young to legally drive. Too
young to convince someone else to help her.

Deep down, she understood her situation. She

never shared how she came to live with Rachel and

Skull to her teachers or other kids. He had to trust
that somewhere in the back of her mind, the fear of
returning to a shed, living on her own, was enough
to buy her silence.

He unlatched the gate and closed it behind him

to Marla Marie, calling him every bad name she
could think up in the spur of the moment. She'd
learned a few words since the last time she threw a
fit when he told her no.

He got on his motorcycle and started the

engine, drowning out the desperate cries of
someone who depended on him.

Right now, he could ride away.
In a few years, it wouldn't be as simple.
She'd know how to drive. She'd use her

sexuality to get someone to take her. She'd end up
hurt.

He was running out of time.
She needed to settle for life in Bellevue with

Rachel and Skull.

He shifted and sped through the stop sign

without stopping. Everything he asked of her, he
couldn't even do for himself.

Halfway to the clubhouse, Dutch changed his

mind. He turned around in the road and headed
back to his sister's house.

He'd spend one night at the house. Only one.
Somehow, he'd find a way to calm Marla Marie

down and buy himself more time.

Though he acknowledged his decision to spend

the night wasn't only for Marla Marie.

But his sister was wrong. He wasn't wandering

lost, looking for anything or anyone.

Chapter 9

MARLA SLIPPED DUTCH'S wallet out of his
discarded jeans. Standing still, she held her breath,
afraid he'd wake up.

After several seconds of only her heartbeat

filling the room, she tiptoed away from the bed and
scurried to her bedroom across the hallway.

Closing the door without letting the latch click,

she turned on the light and jumped up on the bed.
Thankfully, Skull and Dutch had fallen asleep soon
after they stopped drinking, and Rachel had gone to
bed early because she had to work at the
laundromat in a few hours.

She opened the wallet. A picture of Dutch

stared back at her, and she held his driver's license
closer. The plastic pouch covering the card was
dirty and scratchy, blurring all the details.

Slipping the card out, she dropped the wallet

and read.

Jack Owen
Nobody called him Jack. Everyone called him

Dutch.

5155 NE 124

Bellevue Washington
That was Rachel and Skull's address, but Dutch

didn't live here.

Six feet three inches. Two hundred and twenty-

five pounds.

She bit her lip. He weighed a lot.
She only weighed seventy-nine pounds.

Though, Alyssa weighed one hundred and two
pounds. She thought Alyssa was the perfect height
and weight. Everyone seemed to think Marla was
too short and skinny.

Turning the card over, she looked for more

information. He had to have something that would
tell her where to find her mom.

It was hard to remember how long her mom

usually stayed away. Long enough Marla had
worried about her returning, and short enough, she
always came back.

Three years was too long. By now, her mom

would probably be worrying about her. She might
even forget about her, or think she wasn't coming
back. She was only a little kid when Dutch took her
away.

This year, Rachel and Skull allowed her to

come to the house after school when nobody was
home. Before that, one of the women from the club
was allowed to pick her up at school. They usually
took her to the clubhouse until Rachel or Skull
showed up to take her back home.

She pulled out the money he had in the wallet.

It was more than she'd ever seen in her life. There
had to be over a hundred dollars going by how

many twenty dollars were in the stack. She set the
cash aside and pulled out a piece of folded paper.

There were numbers on the paper like a phone

number. Her mom never had a phone.

Looking in another slot, she pulled out a square

packet. She read the front. Magnum large-sized
condom. Lubricated.

She fingered the ring inside the package. Amber

had shown her and Alyssa a condom and told them
boys put it on their penis for safe sex.

Her face warmed, and she put the condom

back, looking through every slot in the wallet to
make sure she hadn't missed anything. There was
nothing else inside.

Disappointed, she put everything back the way

she'd found it and walked to the door. Listening for
any sound, she carefully left the room and tiptoed
across the hallway.

Dutch snored softly. Her eyes, unused to the

dark, made her blind to the room. She shuffled her
feet until she believed she was on the other side,
then reached out, feeling for the chair.

A hand grabbed her shoulder. "What are you

doing?"

Dutch's gravelly voice held anger toward her.

She dropped the wallet and turned. "I can't sleep,"
she lied.

"Go to bed and stop snooping around, and

maybe you'll fall asleep." He turned her toward the

door and gave her a push.

She planted her feet. "Dutch?"
The thought of him having a condom hurt her.

Was there someone else in his life he cared about
more than her? What if he stopped coming back to
see her and stayed away? What if she never got
back to Moses Lake to find her mom?

"What?" he mumbled.
"Where do you live?"
"You know where." He walked with her to the

bedroom door. "I live on the road."

"You're homeless?"
"I ride."
"But, this is your home, right?"
"If I had to pick a place, I suppose it would be

here." He pushed her out into the hall. "Now, go to
sleep. It's almost morning."

She went to her room, shut the door, and

walked in the dark to the bed. Afraid he would
leave while she slept, she stayed awake.

Fighting the urge to close her eyes, she'd almost

lost the battle when the shower in the bathroom,
next door to her bedroom, came on. Not knowing if
it was Rachel or Dutch, she got dressed and went
out to the kitchen.

She turned on the coffee maker and then

toasted bread, putting a thin layer of peanut butter
over the slice.

When footsteps reached her ears, she climbed

up on the barstool and waited to see who was the
first to get up.

Her patience rewarded as Dutch walked into

the kitchen without a shirt, carrying his leather vest.
She gazed up at him and tried to keep her eyes off
the scar on his stomach. He never liked when she
asked how he got it.

The scar had to hurt. Though, he moved around

like it never bothered him.

He eyed her toast. She ripped the piece in half

and handed it to him.

Dutch consumed it in two bites while looking at

the coffee maker. She swung her feet on the stool,
trying to find something to talk about that would
keep him from leaving.

The maker stopped gurgling, and she slid down

and hurried over, grabbing two mugs out of the
cabinet. She could show him how he wouldn't have
to do a thing around the house if he stayed.
Whatever Rachel and Skull wanted him to do, she'd
do for him.

He poured coffee in both mugs. "Are you

drinking coffee now?"

"I've always drank coffee." She carried it back

to the stool. "I like it."

Sometimes, coffee was the only thing in the

house when she was little. She learned to like it
cold by drinking out of the cups her mom left

around and had forgotten. Since moving in with
Rachel and Skull, she'd learned to drink it warm
and make it herself.

"You don't want milk or sugar?" He sipped from

the mug.

She shook her head, matching him drink for

drink. He leaned against the counter on the
opposite side of the kitchen.

His hair still wet from the shower, he ignored

the drips hitting his shoulders and running down the
front of his chest. She seldom had anyone to eat
breakfast with anymore. Over the last year, since
Rachel got a job, and Skull slept in, she would
make her own breakfast before school. Now that it
was summer, she usually sat in front of the
television and listened to the music channel while
she had coffee and peanut butter toast—her
favorite meal.

"Do you have a girlfriend," she asked.
"What kind of question is that?"
She shrugged.
"Well, it isn't any of your business." He drained

the rest of his coffee and set the empty mug in the
sink.

Grabbing his vest off the counter, he slipped his

arms through the holes. She caught sight of the
massive devil tattoo on his back before the leather
hid it from view.

"I'll see you the next time I'm around." He

stopped beside her. "Be good, Marla Marie."

She swirled on the stool, ready to run after him.

"What if I'm not?"

"Then, you better be afraid because it won't be

Rachel and Skull dealing with you. I'll come back
and punish you."

She tilted her head. "You'd come back?"
His gaze narrowed, and he ran his hand down

his beard, gathering it at the base of his neck.
"Don't push me."

"Don't leave."
"I need to go."
She sulked. "If you cared, you wouldn't leave

me."

"Rachel and Skull care about you. I'm not your

parent." He walked to the door.

She followed him. He was being mean.
"You're the one who took me away from my

mom." She stopped. "I-I could go to the police and
tell them what you did, and they'd arrest you."

He slowly turned around. She pressed her back

against the wall in the foyer as he appeared to grow
taller, broader, and stronger.

Dutch stepped in front of her. "Do you know

what I do to people who cross me?"

There were only two times he'd scared her.

Once when he caught her behind the pool hall in

Moses Lake and when he'd dumped her in Bellevue
with Rachel and Skull.

He took her chin in his hand and tilted her head.

She gulped. And, he scared her now.

"Trust me." His deep voice made her shake.

"You don't want to cross me."

He backed away from her, opened the door,

turned, and walked outside. Tears sprang from her
eyes and trailed down her cheeks.

Afraid of losing him forever, she ran to her

room and looked out the window. Outside, Dutch
put a bandana around his head and rode off. She
sank to the floor and buried her face in her hands.
Her heart broke into a million pieces.

"Marla?" said Rachel. "Did I just hear Dutch

leave?"

She raised her head and screamed, "Get out of

my room."

Rachel stayed in the hallway. "What

happened?"

"Go away." She jumped up and slammed the

door. "I don't want you."

Falling on the bed, she pressed her face into the

mattress. Somehow, she would find a way to leave.

She would find her mom.
There was nothing anyone could do to stop her.

She was going to grow up and then find her mom
by herself.

She didn't need anyone. Especially Dutch.

Chapter 10

RACHEL SAT ACROSS THE table from Marla.
"Because you skipped school, the principal is
suspending you for three days. That means you
have to stay inside the house. No talking to Alyssa
on the phone and no friends over to the house."

"Whatever." Marla scooted the chair to get up,

and Rachel banged the table with her fist, stopping
her. "What? Go ahead and take more things away
from me. I can't go anywhere anyway. You won't
even let me go to Alyssa's house anymore."

Two months ago, after Dutch had left, she'd

used the computer over at Alyssa's house to search
the internet for her mom's name, but there were
hundreds of women named Sue Smith in
Washington. She had no idea which one was her
mother.

She thought her snooping would never get back

to Rachel and Skull, but Alyssa's mom ratted on
her.

"Damnit, Marla. Why can't you see that I love

you? We love you?" Rachel leaned closer. "You
have a family here. We're only trying to do our
best."

"You're not my family."
Rachel's sad gaze fell to the table. "You have to

accept you belong to us now. You're our daughter."

"You're not my mom," she yelled.
Rachel stood. "I'm the only mom you've got."
Her cheeks stung as if slapped, and she stared

at Rachel. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing." Rachel walked away from the table

and went into the kitchen.

Not letting her walk away without answering

her, she followed. "I have a mom. She's in Moses
Lake. She lives on Dover Street. Her name is Sue
Smith."

She tried to think of more facts she'd

memorized. "My mom's got blonde hair, and...and
she's skinny."

Rachel stopped. Staring at her back, Marla said,

"She has a lot of friends. Boyfriends, because they
think she's pretty. And...and, she'd hate you for
taking her daughter and not giving me back."

Raising her hands, Rachel turned around. "She's

dead. Your mom would want you to stay with us."

Marla stared in horror at Rachel, shaking her

head in denial. It wasn't true. The police took her
mom. H-her mom came back and was looking for
her.

"Oh, God." Rachel's shoulders heaved, and she

sighed loudly. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't want
you to know. Not yet."

"No." Her heart pounded. "You're lying."
"Oh, God. What am I doing?" Rachel turned

and held out her arms. "Marla, I'm sor—"

"I hate you." She rushed to the front door, flung

it open, and ran.

Tears blinded her, burning her eyes. Pure panic

pushed her forward. Rachel was lying.

Her mom wasn't dead. She was gone. She'd

come back. She always came back.

Running down the road, she tried to escape the

information. She wouldn't go back to Rachel and
Skull. She'd find her mom on her own.

She ran off the road, jumped over the ditch, and

sprinted into the woods. Deflecting tree limbs with
her arms, she dodged around the thick tree trunks,
not thinking about where she was going but
knowing what she was running from.

She couldn't trust anyone. No one cared about

her.

A branch hit her face. She cried out and kept

going.

Her lungs burned. Her heart hurt.
She tripped, scraping her hand on the ground.

Pushing to her feet, she stumbled. For once, getting
back to Moses Lake wasn't her goal.

Her only need was to escape the lies.
She hated Rachel. She hated Skull. She hated

Dutch.

She fell to her knees, heaving through her sobs.

If it wasn't for Dutch, her mom would've come
back.

He'd stolen her, and then her mom couldn't find

her.

A low rumble vibrated the ground underneath

her, erasing the vision of her mom waiting for her in
the house, opening the door, and welcoming her
home. Of sitting on the floor, watching her mom
sleep on the couch. Of taking care of her mom and
making sure she was covered with the blanket that
always remained on the back of the sofa. Of the
few times her mom would hold her hand as they
walked to town. Of waiting outside for her mom to
come out of a friend's house. Of the way, her mom
would laugh and act silly, always in a better mood.

She pushed away the times she couldn't wake

her mom or the times they'd gone without food. The
secrets that she'd kept from her teachers. The men.
The needles. The drapes always staying closed.

"I see her," shouted a man.
Marla rubbed her arm across her eyes and sat

up. Every night, she wished her mom would find
her, and she'd belong to someone again.

But she couldn't depend on anyone. She was

alone.

"Marla!" Skull barreled through the underbrush.
Dead inside, she watched him pick her up as if

she wasn't there. She accepted his hug and his
clumsy hands brushing back her hair and looking at
her face.

More WAKOM members joined Skull in the

woods. Their attention on her.

All the voices blended into a low rumble, much

like the motorcycles they rode. Hollow inside, their
concern bounced off her. They were going to keep
her here. Having them take her back had nothing to
do with her and what she'd learned.

Skull put her on her feet and grabbed her hand,

leading her through the woods. His rough, strong
hand nothing like the thin, fragile hand of her
mother.

Chapter 11

DUTCH STORMED INTO Rachel and Skull's
house without knocking. "Where is she?"

Because of shit going down within WAKOM,

it'd taken him a week to get back to Bellevue after
Rachel called him about her blowup with Marla
Marie.

Rachel held her finger to her lips and

whispered, "In her room but don't go in there
yelling."

"She needs her ass whipped," he muttered.
"If anyone does, it's me." Rachel closed her

eyes and shook her head before looking at him
again. "I never meant to tell her about her mom, but
she kept mouthing off and..."

"Not your fault." He stepped around her. "I

should've told her a year ago when it happened. I
thought waiting until she was older, she'd
understand better."

"It was her mother," whispered Rachel. "You

know what it's like to believe in a parent. We never
gave up on mom when we were taken away from
her. We didn't care that she had no money or help
in raising us."

There was a difference. Their mom tried her

hardest to support two kids. Marla Marie's mom
was a heroin addict who put the drug before her

child's health and welfare. He'd protected a ten-
year-old child from any more harm coming to her
by a neglectful mom. If another man had found a
starving child as beautiful as Marla Marie, she
wouldn't be sitting in her room pissed off at the
world. She'd be a thirteen-year-old child who was
dealing with a past of rape, abuse, and not able to
see that she was lucky to be alive. At the very least,
she would've followed her mom's choices and stuck
a needle in her arm to escape the harsh life she was
given.

"I'm taking her away from the house for a

while." He looked at his sister. "I'll bring her back
tonight."

"Where are you going?"
"To do what needs to be done."
Rachel closed her mouth and slowly nodded.

His sister wasn't happy with how he chose to take
care of the problem, but she knew her place and
would allow him to do what he thought best
without giving him a fight.

He walked down the hallway, knocked on the

bedroom door, and opened it before Marla Marie
could answer. She sat on the bed with her eyes
closed. Her lack of response caused by the
headphones over her ears plugged into an old radio
beside the bed.

Striding across the room, he was halfway there

when she opened her eyes and reached up to

uncover her ears. Her lack of surprise or
excitement slowed him down.

It was as if she had no feelings at all.
No matter how she acted with Rachel and Skull,

she'd always welcomed him back.

He glanced at her bare feet. "Get your shoes on

and grab a coat. You're coming with me."

She unfolded her legs and slid off the bed. Her

jaded response at seeing him pissed him off.
Whatever was going through her head was going to
stop. She had a home. A family. There was nothing
going on in her life now, except news of her mom's
death, that would cause her to mope around.

His sister wanted to pussyfoot around Marla

Marie. Rachel couldn't compare their childhood to
Marla Marie's life and take pity on her. Marla
Marie needed discipline, guidance, and love. Now
more than ever.

Everything Rachel was doing was done for the

girl. Marla Marie needed to see what was right in
front of her face.

Once she was ready, he walked out of the

house. He handed her the helmet that he usually
carried on the back of his bike unless he traveled
through a state that required him to put the brain
bucket on.

She never eyed him curiously for letting her

ride. Besides the one time he'd brought her back
when she ran away after putting her with Rachel

and Skull, he'd always refused to let her ride on the
back of the Harley and had strict instructions that
nobody else in the club was allowed to take her for
a ride.

Big enough to hold on and follow directions,

she could go with him. He gave her instructions on
what she needed to do. Then, he straddled the bike
and flipped the footpegs down. She climbed up and
wrapped her arms around him. Making sure she
settled; he started the Harley and rode away from
Bellevue.

When he'd arrived, he had no plans on where to

take her. He only knew she needed a break from
living at the house where they tended to coddle her.
She needed a fast wakeup to see that she had a
better life with Rachel and Skull.

Over the first few miles, he paid attention to her

arms, her slight weight pressed against his back, her
short, slim legs molded around his hips. She seemed
too little to sit a motorcycle properly, and he
worried that she would let her mind wander and let
go for a second at her age.

A second could kill her.
Three hours later, after several stops to let

Marla Marie stretch her legs and dealing with her
giving him the cold shoulder, he arrived in Moses
Lake.

It wasn't until he was halfway through town,

next to McDonald's golden arches, that she

understood where he'd brought her.

Her arms tightened around him, and she was

almost able to touch her hands together in front of
him. Now that he was here, there was no protecting
her. She needed to see where she came from.

Going down the main street, he passed the pool

hall where the Moses Lake Chapter had their
clubhouse. An MC brother dipped his chin in front
of the building, and Dutch held out two fingers, not
here to handle business.

He was on his own time and had something

more important to take care of today.

As he followed the road with the field to his

left, Marla Marie's body stiffened behind her.
Despite her young age when he'd kidnapped her
away from everything she knew, she remembered
where she'd come from. She was back on familiar
terrain, probably remembering it as a child would a
favorite toy she liked to play with and always
thought was better than it was in reality.

Two more turns and he pulled into the driveway

of the house her mom had rented under the welfare
program. He turned off the bike. Marla Marie never
let go of him.

He patted her lower leg. "Hop off."
She slid off the seat and stood, staring at the

house. He had no qualms about trespassing because
three years ago, as soon as he'd settled Marla Marie
in with his sister, he'd approached the owner and

convinced him to sell the house for the amount of
money he flashed in front of him.

He had no plans for the place. At the time, he

wanted to protect himself. If the cops investigated a
missing child and contacted the house owner where
Marla Marie last lived, asking questions, he wanted
to be aware of what was going on.

Every few months, he had one of the WAKOM

members swing by and adjust the heater's
temperature and check the place for problems.

Besides that, the house sat empty.
Getting off the bike, he flipped through the keys

on his keyring until he found the right one. Then, he
handed it to Marla Marie.

"Go ahead and go in." He followed her at a

slower pace.

The front door gave her trouble, but she

managed to open it on her own. Looking back at
him, she hesitated at the threshold. He lifted his
chin, motioning her to go.

She stepped in alone. From the door, he

watched her stop in the living room. The furniture
that came with the house remained. The same
things she was used to seeing. The same belongings
she probably thought her mother had owned but
were no more than second-hand purchases by a guy
who wanted to make a buck or two a month renting
it out to poor people.

Suddenly, Marla Mae rushed out of the room.

He swallowed, recognizing that hopefulness in her
face. She wouldn't find her mom waiting for her in
the other room.

Several minutes passed, and Marla Mae never

came back. His boots thunked across the old,
scarred wooden floor as he searched for her.

She stood in the middle of what he assumed had

been her mom's room. There were still two shirts on
the floor in the closet.

He should've douched out the house three years

ago. There was nothing here that Marla Marie
needed.

"She's not coming back for you." He lowered

his voice. "Rachel was right. Your mom is gone."

Marla Marie's slim shoulders straightened.

"How?"

She was old enough to know the truth. More

importantly, she was mature enough to understand
the truths of her life.

"Your mom was addicted to heroin."
Marla Marie's brows lowered. He wasn't sure if

she'd learned about drugs in school or questioned
Rachel about some of the activities at the
clubhouse.

"It's a drug." He paused, giving her time to

understand in case it was news to her. "When the
cops took her from the house, she was put in prison
for two years. When she was released, she went

back to hanging with her friends and shooting up.
She died of an overdose."

She stared at the bed. Even though she was

silent, she heard him.

"You might not have known that was the reason

why she left you before, but she had a long struggle
with drugs, even before she had you."

Marla Marie walked past him and slipped into

the other bedroom. Whatever she expected to find
wouldn't be there. She couldn't ignore her
existence.

He followed her into the other bedroom. She

held a shirt in her hands but looked out the window
to the backyard.

"Your mom isn't coming back," he said, drilling

the fact into her head.

She dropped the shirt and turned around. "I

want to live here."

"You're going to get back on the motorcycle and

let me take you home. You've got two people who
want to be your mom and—"

"They're not my parents!" Her face scrunched

up in anger. "This is my home. I belong here."

"You're a kid."
"I'm thirteen years old. I'm old enough to stay

by myself." She stormed past him.

He clamped his hand on her shoulder, stopping

her. He hated to push her more, but she needed to
wake up and look around her.

Steering her through the house, he opened the

back door. Outside, he marched her across the
dried grass. Ripping open the door of the shed, he
thrust her inside.

His stomach curled, and he turned away at the

stench rolling out of the small eight feet by eight
feet space. Hardening his resolve, he stepped inside
with her.

"Look around." He eyed the filth spread to each

corner. "This is how you lived. This is how you
took care of yourself."

Rats had spread what little items she'd kept and

had obviously died in what they thought was their
utopia. The toilet paper he'd once found balled up
in the corner with her shit was long gone. Even the
face of a doll, half-chewed off by rodents, wasn't
left untouched.

"You have a nice room, a comfortable bed, food

in your belly, and a family back in Bellevue." He
put his hands on her shoulders, standing behind her.
"They want to love you."

"I don't love them."
"That's your freedom to decide who to love."

He exhaled. "But, you're a kid. How long do you
think you can live on your own before someone
sees you roaming around town or stealing food
before they call the cops? You'll find yourself in kid
jail or stuck with a family that only wants the
monthly check they get from the state for having

you in their house. You're growing up. Do you
know how many men are out there waiting to take
advantage of a pretty young girl like you?"

"Nothing is going to happen to me." She crossed

her arms.

"Nothing has happened yet, because I saved

your ass. On your own, I won't be there. Rachel
and Skull won't be there. The club won't be there."
He stepped outside, needing fresh air. "I'll be out
front, waiting at the Harley, when you've made up
your mind."

He walked away, leaving her to think she had

an option. Knowing that if she ran or made the
wrong choice, he would still put her on the back of
his motorcycle and take her back to Rachel and
Skull.

She was hurting. Probably worse than she'd

ever felt, and he could understand that. But she was
too young to make decisions she'd regret later.

An hour later, Marla Marie walked toward him

with her chin pressed against her chest. When she
reached his motorcycle, she looked up at him.

The unhappiness he'd put her through clung to

every inch of her. He could remember being her
age. One minute believing he could take care of
himself, and the next, wanting his mom.

He reached out and stroked her cheek. "You

won't always be sad," he said softly.

She swallowed and pressed her cheek into his

hand. He lifted his chin, motioning her to get on the
back of the Harley.

"Let's go home, Marla Marie."
She let him put the helmet on her and then

climbed up behind him. With her arms wrapped
around him, he rode off. Needing the open road to
clear his head.

Part Three

Dutch belonged to her.

Chapter 12

ALYSSA ROLLED THE PASSENGER side
window down and motioned her hand to hurry.
Marla ran barefooted over the wet grass, holding
her high heels in her hand. Excitement bubbled
through her, and she held her middle finger up in
the air, ready for a night of adventures.

She opened the door and climbed onto the seat.

"Go, go, go."

Gravel flew from underneath the back tires as

Alyssa stomped on the gas pedal of the Ford Truck.
Marla held on to the dash and slid her heels on.

"You're late. I was getting ready to call you,"

she said.

Alyssa glanced at her. "Amber's home and

wouldn't get out of the shower. Then, she wouldn't
finish with my straightener, so I could use it."

"I thought she was working the night shift."

Marla gathered her hair over her shoulder and ran
her fingers through the long strands. "What's she
doing home?"

"Sore throat or something. But I think it's an

excuse because mom and dad are at the clubhouse,
and of course, won't be home until early morning.
When I was leaving the house, I passed Caleb
driving up the driveway in that junker he bought."
She laughed. "Now, I'm really glad you got

permission to come with me tonight. I don't want to
be around them."

"It's going to be so much fun." She rolled down

the window and let the night air inside the cab.

Alyssa turned up the stereo. Marla grinned,

singing along with the song.

The party at the clubhouse gave them a reason

to see each other. For the last three months, it'd
been impossible to sneak away from the house if
Rachel and Skull were there. The only place she
could go was to her job at the feed store in town.
The whole situation was crazy.

Just because she'd stayed out all night with Rich

and Tony, she was grounded until school let out for
the summer. Rachel and Skull even refused to let
her get her driver's license for six months—which
meant she'd be halfway into her junior year in high
school before she was allowed to drive. All
because Rich and Tony were in their twenties and
too old for her to hang out with— much less stay
out partying all night. It was so unfair.

Alyssa leaned forward, peering into the

darkness. "Did I miss the road?"

She pointed. "It's right there. You really need to

get glasses."

"Ugh." Alyssa turned the truck, getting on the

road to the clubhouse. "I look awful in glasses."

"They're hot." She sat back on the seat and put

her feet on the dash. "Put your hair up and go for

the brainy look. Guys will love it."

"I doubt that." Alyssa glanced at her.

"Everyone is going to be there tonight."

"I know." She dug out a lipstick from the pocket

of her shorts and spread the tip over her lips.
"Remember, Dutch is going to be there, too. I'll
probably hang with him if you come looking for me
later."

"Are your parents going to let you leave the

clubhouse, or do you have to stay inside the whole
night?"

"I'm not grounded this weekend. They said I

could come to the rally if I followed all the rules."
She scoffed. "They'll be half drunk by the time we
get there and won't even know where I go or what I
do."

"True. They'll probably be with my parents."

Alyssa bounced in her seat. "God, look at how
many people are here. There must be close to six
hundred motorcycles taking up all the parking
space."

The yearly rally included three motorcycle club

chapters. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and
she almost bit her lip before she remembered her
lipstick. During her last phone call with Dutch, he'd
promised her that he'd come.

Rachel and Skull doubted that he'd show up,

but she was positive he'd do it for her, even for a
couple hours.

She hadn't seen him for six weeks. He'd skipped

the visit three weeks ago because she was grounded
and thought it would be easier if he stayed at the
clubhouse. God, Rachel and Skull pissed her off.

They always treated her like she was a kid

when she was sixteen years old.

She could tell Dutch thought her punishment

was ridiculous because when he heard why she got
grounded and for how long, he stormed out of the
house and bought her a phone.

He wanted her to keep in touch and tell him

everything she was up to and how she was doing
after discovering she was grounded. She called him
every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday with the cell
phone. Those were the days he made sure he was
off the road and available to talk with her.

She liked how Dutch told her to keep the phone

a secret. That way, Rachel and Skull couldn't take it
away from her if she got in trouble again.

It was lonely being grounded, she'd tried to call

him at different times and different hours, but he
always let the call go unanswered. She couldn't call
Alyssa because her parents wouldn't let her have a
cell until she got a job and paid for it herself. If she
called her at home on the landline, Rachel and
Skull would find out and ground her for longer.

She still wasn't sure what Dutch was doing

when he went away. Only knew it had to do with

traveling between the three chapters and doing
business for WAKOM.

"I wonder where Dutch is right now," she said.
"I can't believe you care. He's not going to let

you have any fun."

"Sure, he will."
Alyssa raised her brows. "He's overprotective.

Even worse than your parents."

"They're not my parents."
Alyssa glanced at her. "Adoptive parents or

whatever. That just makes how Dutch treats you
weird."

She kept her opinion to herself. Her friend

would never understand her relationship with
Dutch. He was the only person who knew
everything about her. Out of everyone in the entire
world, she belonged with Dutch.

"Park over there near the field. It'll be perfect if

we come outside. We can hang out behind the
truck, and nobody can see us." She split her hair
down the back with her hands and brought the
strands over her shoulders.

Once they parked and got out, Tony called her

name. She found him standing by his motorcycle.
Grabbing Alyssa's hand, she hurried toward him,
darting through the traffic pulling onto the property.

As she neared, she let go of her friend and

threw herself at Tony, hugging his neck. "I'm free."

Tony wrapped his arm around her, lifting her off

her feet. "Finally."

She kissed him on the lips. "That's all you can

say?"

"What else should I say?"
She wrapped her legs around his hips and

cocked her head while he held her. "I don't know.
Maybe you missed me, or I look pretty. You didn't
even try to sneak in the house to see me or call—
because I asked if anyone called the house."

"I ain't going around your old man and get shot

when he's pissed at me."

She stuck her lower lip out. "Now you have to

make it up to me."

"What do you want?" He turned her and

pressed her back against the side of the building.

"Well, you can start with..." Letting him hold

her, she twirled her finger in his hair. "Do you have
a joint?"

"For you?"
"Of course, for me. Rachel took the one I had

in my purse when I walked in the house that
morning...ages ago." She kissed him. "Please?"

"Inside my vest."
She slithered her hand underneath the leather

and found the hidden pocket. Removing a thin roll
of pot, she extracted it.

Then, she wiggled her way off him and landed

on her feet, stepping away. Grabbing Alyssa's hand,

she waved at Tony.

Tony glared. "You're a cock tease."
She laughed, shaking her head, and turned

around. She and Alyssa ran back to the truck and
hid on the other side, opposite the clubhouse's door.
She had no interest in Tony, except for fun.

He got frustrated with her always teasing him,

but she only liked him as a friend. He was the one
who knew where everyone partied and could buy
beer for her and Alyssa.

"Do you have a lighter?" asked Alyssa.
"Duh." She slid her hand in her pocket. "There

are only two things a girl needs. A lighter and
lipstick."

"Three." Alyssa giggled. "Dick."
"Here's to dick." She lit the end of the joint and

inhaled deeply, holding the smoke in while passing
to Alyssa.

Exhaling on a cough, she said, "Let's save the

rest until later. I need to go check-in, so Rachel and
Skull don't send fifty members out looking for me."

On the way to the door, she carefully put the

rest of the joint in her bra. There was no way
Rachel or Skull would find it there.

Inside the clubhouse, music blared. Her chest

vibrated, and she laughed, winding her way through
the crowd with Alyssa. Several of the men grabbed
her, and she wiggled out of their grasp, dancing
around them, giggling when they whistled at her.

Five minutes later, the warmth inside the

building had her sweating. She turned away and
wound her way through the tables set up and found
an empty one with extra chairs.

She plopped down and crossed her legs, lifting

her hair off the back of her neck. Alyssa pointed.
Several drinks were sitting on the table in front of
them.

Alyssa leaned closer and yelled, "Where are my

parents?"

"I don't know. Look for them." She, in turn,

searched for Rachel and Skull. "I don't think they're
in here, or if they are, they're behind that crowd
over there."

They both leaned forward, grabbing a cup, and

drank fast. She laughed, dribbling some of the
liquid onto her chin before the heat burned her
throat, and she coughed. The only way they were
allowed to party at the clubhouse was if they snuck
drinks.

She elbowed Alyssa and nodded toward another

drink on the other side. Alyssa grabbed it, taking a
drink before passing it to her.

A hand shot out and knocked the cup from her

grasp. "Hey. Watch it."

Dutch appeared beside her, grabbing her upper

arm and dragging her from the chair. He nailed
Alyssa with a look and ordered, "Stay."

Not having any option but to try and keep up

with him as he dragged her out of the clubhouse,
she almost came out of her heel as she stumbled
over the door jamb.

Glad to see him, she couldn't even drum up

enough anger toward him for pulling her away from
the party. She hurled herself at him and wrapped
her arms around his waist.

"You came back." She peered up at him. "Why

didn't you bust me out of the house, so we could
see each other?"

Grounded or not, she wanted to see Dutch. He

was an adult. It shouldn't matter if she was
forbidden from going out the last month.

He held her face, peering into her eyes. "What

else have you taken?"

"What have I...?" She laughed, used to hiding

all the fun.

But Dutch was different. He wasn't someone

who set rules and grounded her. She could tell him
everything.

"Aren't you happy to see me?" she asked.
He dug in the front pockets of her shorts,

pulling out her lipstick and throwing the lighter off
into the dark.

"Hey." She wiggled as his arms went around

her, and he dipped into her back pockets. "What
are you doing?"

He straightened, studying her. Before she could

grasp what he wanted with her, he slid his warm
fingers in the V of her shirt and reached inside her
bra. She slapped her hand to her chest, but he
retrieved the joint she'd stuffed in there for
safekeeping.

Dropping her hand, she glared. "That's mine."
"Who gave it to you?"
"No one."
Behind him, Tony slunk off into the darkness.

She wouldn't snitch. Not even to Dutch.

"Marla Marie." He growled, putting the joint in

his pocket.

The way he said her name, adding her middle

name, made her chest feel funny. When he was
around, he made her feel beautiful and wanted. She
couldn't remember why he called her Marla Marie
the way it rolled off his tongue, but he was the only
one in her life who used both her names as if it was
one, long, feminine endearment.

She stepped back into his arms. "How long are

you staying? Are you going to stay at the house?"

"I think you should go home."
She groaned. "Rachel and Skull are here. I

haven't been able to go do anything fun in forever."

"You're on the way to getting drunk."
Until he mentioned the drinks she'd consumed,

she hadn't realized how good she felt. She swayed

side to side, trying to move him but his feet
remained firmly planted on the ground.

She leaned close to him and caught herself on

his chest. "Don't tell Rachel and Skull. They'll
ground me again. I have to get my license."

"You should be grounded until you're eighteen

or thirty," he said.

"Don't be an old grouch." She ran her hand

down his beard. "You drank and smoked at my
age."

"I'm twenty years older than you."
She patted his chest. "Rachel told me some

stories. You were always in trouble, like me."

"She needs to keep her mouth shut."
She grabbed his hand, linking their fingers. Used

to him not answering her questions, she ignored his
crankiness.

"Will you go inside with me?" She tugged his

arm, surprised when he came with her.

Proud to have him beside her, she leaned

against him. They made their way inside. She'd lost
Alyssa to the crowd but knew she would be okay.
Everyone here was basically family, and they both
had mutual friends who had come to the rally.

"How long are you staying?" she yelled over the

music.

He held up two fingers. She frowned. His visits

were never long enough.

"Can we do something tomorrow? Just you and

me. I don't have to work."

He looked around the room, leaned closer, and

put his lips to her ear. "We'll see, but no promises."

His warm breath tickled her skin. She shivered

and slumped in the chair in disappointment. He
probably planned something with one of the women
here.

She hated when he spent time with them.
A scuffle broke out in the middle of the room.

She straightened, peering into the crowd. Skull was
known for fighting. Not at home, but at the
clubhouse.

Dutch reached over and planted his palm

against her stomach, pressing her back into the
chair as his gaze narrowed. A flutter traveled from
her lower stomach to between her legs, and she
gazed at the tattoos running up his arm before
disappearing underneath his leather vest.

Her muscles tensed as her breathing shallowed.

The fight forgotten, she squeezed her thighs
together, trying to capture the excitement and keep
it to herself.

Dutch turned to her, pulling her head toward

him. Near her ear, he said, "I'm taking you out of
here. Stick by my side."

She nodded, standing. He looped his arm

around her shoulders, cocooning her against his
side. She swayed, knowing the drinks were making

her unsteady. An insatiable desire to glue herself to
Dutch and never let go overcame her.

Once outside, Klew and Oughtsix approached

Dutch. He kept her at his side while filling them in
on what was happening. While he talked, a gunshot
rang out.

She flinched, grabbing onto him tighter. It

wasn't the first time someone's temper exploded
until a gun or knife came out—especially at the
yearly rally. Two years ago, Tony's dad got shot in
the arm. The next day, everyone seemed to think it
was funny, but it was scary to see blood
everywhere. There was still a stain on the floor by
the doorway, and the WAKOM members often
stood on the spot and slammed back a shot in
remembrance as if it was some great battle like in
the history books.

"God damnit." Klew smacked Oughtsix on the

chest. "A hundred dollars it was one of Falcon's
men who started the trouble."

Another shot echoed in the night. Dutch

stiffened before he yelled, "Hey, you. Get your ass
over here."

"Don't go back in there." She pushed at Dutch,

but he never budged.

Tony skidded to a stop beside them. "Yeah?"
"Watch her. Don't let her out of your sight, and

for fuck's sake, don't let her go in the clubhouse."
Dutch pushed her toward Tony.

Fear of losing him over something stupid, she

wished he'd take her away instead of going inside.
Just the two of them. They'd be safe.

"Dutch, no." She reached for him, but he'd

jogged to the door with Klew and Oughtsix.

She pressed her hand to her forehead. He

shouldn't have gone in there.

"It's probably nothing. An argument or

something." Tony lit a cigarette.

She held out her hand. He grinned and passed

her the cigarette. Puffing, she paced outside the
clubhouse. If something happened to Dutch, what
would she do?

Tremors swept through her. Her hand shook.

She'd never survive without him in her life.

A crowd burst out of the clubhouse. Tony put

his hand on the back of her neck and massaged the
tension, only setting her on edge. She wanted Dutch
to take care of her.

"Are you okay?" asked Tony, pulling her to his

chest.

She nodded. Only Alyssa knew how much she

loved Dutch. Their relationship was special, and
she wouldn't share her feelings with anyone, not
even Rachel and Skull.

A woman walked past her, brushing against her

arm. Marla dropped the cigarette and stubbed it out
with the toe of her high heel.

Spotting Dutch, she stepped toward him. The

woman cut in front of her and latched onto Dutch.
Shocked when Dutch put his hands on the woman's
hips, Marla couldn't move.

She always knew he fooled around with women

—what guy wouldn't when there was plenty of
them who hung around the clubhouse and catered
to the bikers?

But, she'd never seen Dutch touch someone

else. She raised her gaze to his face. He looked
straight at her as the woman stretched to kiss him
on the neck.

Marla's breath left her body. A ball of vomit

blocked her windpipe and she broke out in a cold
sweat.

The claws of jealousy squeezed her chest,

pushing her heart to the pit of her stomach as pure
hatred coiled inside her. And in the next second,
she was behind the woman, grabbing her hair
before she thought of what she was doing.

The woman screamed, tottering backward.

Dutch grabbed her, not Marla, and glared. "What
the hell, Marla Marie?"

The woman struck out, catching Marla on the

cheek with the flat of her hand. Infuriated, she
slapped out at the pain encompassing her. Dutch
belonged to her.

Chapter 13

MARLA MARIE DRY-HEAVED in the tall grass
outside the clubhouse. Dutch held her hair in case
she lost the contents of her stomach. More
concerned about the outburst than the sickness—
the damn kid guzzled enough alcohol for her
stomach to rebel.

She moaned, staying on her knees. He waited

several minutes, and when it seemed as if she had
things under control, he picked her up and set her
on the hood of a nearby car.

Then, he opened the door and searched the

interior until he found a pack of mints in the
console between the seats. He returned to her.

"Here, suck on one of these. It'll settle your

stomach." He handed her the tin.

"Whose are these?" She looked over her

shoulder at the car.

"Don't know. Don't care." He put his boot up on

the bumper in front of her. "Why'd you attack
Evie?"

"Evie?" She curled her upper lip. "More like

bitch."

He held in his amusement. The only thing Evie

had going for her was the ability to leave right after
he fucked her.

"You can't go around attacking people."

Marla Marie's spine stiffened, and she pointed

toward the clubhouse. "Then, tell her not to go
around touching you."

"I can touch anyone I want."
Her eyes rounded before they narrowed. "You

never touch me like that."

"Jesus Christ." He stepped a few feet away.

"You can't be saying shit like that."

"It's true." She pulled her feet up on the hood

and hugged her bent knees. "What does that bitch
have that I don't?"

"About ten years," he muttered, exhaling

harshly. "You shouldn't be offering yourself to
anyone, especially those assholes around here."

"You act like I'm a baby." She slid off the car,

gained her balance, and planted her hands on her
hips. "I'm sixteen."

To him, she was a child. He shook his head.

One that had a lot of growing up to do, despite
looking like a sex-craved woman in shorts that
showed her ass cheeks and wearing a tank that
appeared painted on.

Marla Marie walked up to him and slipped her

arms around him. He cupped the back of her head
and held her to his chest. He wasn't ready for her to
grow up.

He wasn't ready for another man to touch her.
He wasn't ready for her to stop depending on

him and put all her attention on someone else.

"I always want you to belong to me." She

rubbed her cheek against his chest. "I don't want
someone else to have you."

He closed his eyes. She would never know that

from the moment he decided to kidnap her from the
fucked-up life she'd led, she already belonged to
him.

Marla Marie was the reason he delayed all his

trips to Spokane. Being around her made him want
to settle in a house somewhere and bring her home.

His feelings toward her were anything but

parental. They never were.

There was something about Marla Marie that

gave him peace. He wanted to be the one who
would never let her down.

He couldn't take her from Rachel and Skull.

They were better parents. They were what she
needed.

Fisting her hair, he pulled her head back. His

body thrummed, looking into her eyes. Afraid he'd
hurt her if he acted on how he was feeling, his hand
shook. She was a little bitty thing, and the violence
in him would be too much for her to handle.

To see her around those boys, those men,

knowing she was ready to start something with
them, made him want to kill each of the fuckers.
None of them were good enough. Hell, he wasn't
good enough.

But, he refused to step out of her life.

"Why do you act that way about me?" he

whispered.

"What way?"
"Like you belong to me."
"Because it's the only way I know how." She

tilted her head. "Don't you want me?"

"I'll always want you. It's always been you and

me, Marla Marie." He raised his other hand and
cupped her cheek, strumming the pad of his thumb
against her soft cheek. "Just don't let this life make
you hard like me. Don't give your soul to the men
around here. They won't protect you the way I will.
They don't deserve you."

Her face relaxed, and she nodded. He brushed

his knuckles along her jaw, itching to bring her
closer, to inhale the sweetness underneath her rebel
soul.

"I'm going to find Rachel. Stay here. Don't

wander off." He stepped away.

She swayed, biting her lip. He strode toward the

clubhouse. At her age, he'd been knees down and
cock deep in any woman he could find.

This lifestyle would ruin her.
It was too late for him. He'd sold his soul to the

devil. Marla Marie still stood a chance of making it
out with her heart and her mind clear.

He pushed his way inside the clubhouse. A fight

still went on in the middle of the room. The others

formed a circle around the edges of those
participating, egging them on.

All the rallies ended up the same. They'd be

lucky if someone wasn't killed tonight.

Spotting Skip, he smacked his MC brother on

the back. Skip turned as if to hit him, and Dutch
held up his hand.

"Have you seen Rachel or Skull?" he asked.
"They were here somewhere before this shit

started."

He walked away, straight through the crowd,

making men step back and let him pass. Jogging up
the steps leading to the second floor, he peered
down, but he still couldn't make out his sister in the
crowd. On the landing, he went door to door,
looking inside the rooms in his search. Some of the
bikers took their party upstairs, needing more
privacy, while others fucked out in the open.

It was always one big fucking orgy the later it

got.

He swung open a door, went to close it at the

sight of four people, and stopped. Rachel had her
top off and was in the middle of giving Papa—the
club's chaplain a blow job. He looked around the
room, making out Skull on top of a woman,
pounding into her hard on the bed.

He stepped back, shutting the door. There was

no use trying to get Rachel to stop and take Marla

Marie home. He could see that his sister and Skull
still participated in the parties.

Heading downstairs, he found Ballistic, the V.P.

of the Spokane chapter. "Do me a favor and let
Skull know his daughter is with me when you see
him."

"You don't usually take young pussy." Ballistic's

overgrown mustache failed to control the sick grin.
"She's a wild one. Watch out, or she'll put scars
down your back with those fingernails—"

The knife in Dutch's hand stopped Ballistic

from saying any more. He walked him back to the
wall, pressing the blade against the man's skin. "If I
hear you looking or touching that girl, I'll kill you."

"Hey...I don't go for the kids." Ballistic hissed as

Dutch increased the pressure. "I'm good, man."

He shoved off Ballistic and headed for the door.

Outside, he peered through the dark, making sure
Marla Marie had listened to him and stayed where
he'd told her. Others had joined her. He slowed his
pace, taking in the scene.

Marla Marie hung on some guy from the club

he failed to recognize, probably a prospect or a first
year. Whichever patch he wore, he was too old for
her.

Another girl—Alyssa, danced on top of the car,

trying to get Marla Marie to come up on the vehicle
with her.

His attention went back to the guy with his

hands on Marla Marie and stopped in the field,
twenty paces away from them. It dawned on him
that the kid was Bridge's boy—he had to be
twenty-five or six by now. The reputation that
followed him around was that he fucked anything
with two legs.

He fisted his hands. Hadn't he told that fucker

to watch her earlier, and now he had Marla Marie
hanging off him?

He strode forward. Alyssa tried to signal Marla

Marie, but she was caught up in whatever Bridge's
boy said.

"You've got two hands, boy." He lit a cigarette

when everyone in front of him stopped talking.
"You've got a half a second to stop touching Marla
Marie, or you'll lose both of them."

Bridge's boy stepped back, raising his hands.

Marla, caught off guard, moved with him. The
other kids walked away, not wanting to get in
trouble.

"Dutch, this is Tony." She leaned against the

front of Tony. "He's one of my friends."

He knew exactly who the guy was, and it wasn't

the first time he'd tried to mess around with Marla
Marie. The last time, she ended up grounded,
thinking her life was over. And, he'd gone looking
for the boy, ready to beat the shit out of him.

He inhaled on the cigarette. "How's that little

boy of yours, Tony? He must be two, three years
old now."

"I don't know—"
"What's that girl's name that you got knocked

up and your daddy paid to send her away?" He
exhaled a stream of smoke toward him. "Do you
ever see your kid?"

Marla Marie let go of Tony. "You have a baby?"
"Nah..." Tony frowned. "I mean, yeah, but—"
"You left your child?" Marla Marie's nose

wrinkled, and she stepped away from Tony and
stood beside Dutch. "What an asshole move, dude.
You don't leave your own child. Ever."

"Fuck this, man. I don't need you bitching at

me." Tony walked off into the dark.

Dutch cupped the back of Marla Marie's neck

and brought her closer, kissing her forehead. He
knew the one thing that riled her more than
anything. She feared him leaving like her mother
had left her. The scars ran deep inside of her.

There was no way she'd tolerate someone who

doesn't take care of their offspring. She would rebel
against everything Rachel and Skull put on her, but
she drew a hard line about children being separated
from their mother that went decades past her age.

"Did you know that about Tony, Mar?" asked

Alyssa.

She shook her head. "No."

"What a deadbeat." Alyssa slid off the car.

"Let's go in and see what's happening."

Marla Marie slipped her fingers into Dutch's

hand. "I'm going to stay out here."

Alyssa glanced at Dutch. "Sure?"
"Yeah."
Alyssa stepped closer. "I'm still going to take

you home, right?"

"I'll take her," answered Dutch.
Alyssa frowned, gave Marla Marie a hug,

whispering something he couldn't hear, and then
walked off with the other two boys who waited in
the shadows. Dutch curled his arm, taking her into
the circle of his embrace.

"Hell of a night." He rested his chin on the top

of her head and closed his eyes.

"It's weird. I was excited to finally be able to do

something, except sit at home and go to work."

"How's work going for you?" He let go of her

and motioned with his chin for her to walk with
him.

She caught up to him and grabbed his hand. "It's

okay. Mr. Ferguson is nice. He makes the two boys
who work in the back lift anything over forty
pounds for me—even the dog food."

"You're too little."
She laughed. "I can lift forty-pound dog food

bags."

"Yeah?" He reached across his chest and

squeezed her bicep. "Huh."

"My favorite part is when the new rabbits come

in." She skipped a step to keep up with him.
"Sometimes, I think I want one for a pet since some
people keep them in their house."

"It'll shit all over."
"No, seriously, they won't. Supposedly, they can

go in a litter box like a cat." She paused. "But I
never want to have a pet."

"Why not?"
"Animals don't live as long as people. No matter

how much love and care I give one, it'll leave me
when it dies."

He understood her reasons. She'd lost her mom,

and since then, nothing was permanent.

"Besides, having you is better than any pet."

She gazed up at him. "You'll never leave me."

At the edge of the field, he turned. The slight

hill gave him an open sight to the clubhouse, and all
the motorcycles, cars, and people milling around
the building. Bringing Marla Marie in front of him,
he pulled her back against his chest and looped his
arms around her. Both of them standing on the
outside, looking in at a life they lived but would
never truly belong to.

She played with the linked bracelet around his

wrist. The peace she always brought him when she

wasn't trying to run away, argue, messing with other
boys, or getting drunk washed over him.

He unlatched his bracelet and slipped it on her

wrist, working several times to close the clasp with
his thick fingers. She held her arm up to look at it,
and the piece of jewelry slid almost to her elbow.

Before he could help her, she slid the chain off

and crouched in front of him. When it became clear
what she was doing, his balls tightened.

She'd put the bracelet around her slim ankle.

Chapter 14

THE RUMBLE OF A MOTORCYCLE approached
the house. Knowing Skull was occupied at the
clubhouse tonight, Marla tossed the cheese grater in
the sink and ran to the front door. She stepped
outside.

"Marla, shut the door before the flies come in,"

shouted Rachel.

She blindly grabbed for the handle and shut the

door, then skipped off the step toward Dutch,
excited to see him.

He shot her a grin and got off his Harley. She

hurried forward and held out her hand, carrying his
duffle for him. "You're really staying tonight?"

He looped his arm around her shoulders.

"Skull's not getting back until morning, so I'll sleep
here and leave for the clubhouse early."

She pretended it was about her, and not because

Rachel wouldn't have her husband around to
protect her. "I'm making tacos for you."

Out of all the food a person could eat, Dutch's

favorite was tacos. Rachel always made it a point
to make them if Dutch showed up on his birthday—
or around his birthday.

Since the ingredients were bought ahead of

time, she wanted to do most of the work herself.
Plus, it helped her pass the time until Dutch arrived.

"Sounds good. I'm hungry." He stepped inside

the house and pointed to the floor.

She dropped the duffle and then hugged his

middle. "I'm so glad you're staying tonight."

It was different when Dutch was around. She'd

rather spend time with him than with any of her
friends. Alyssa couldn't understand why she would
want to hang with someone old enough to be her
parent, but Dutch never seemed old, like Rachel
and Skull.

In the kitchen, Rachel set the last plate on the

table. "Make sure you put all the dishes in the
dishwasher when you're finished, and put any extra
meat in the fridge. Skull can eat what's left when he
gets home."

"I will."
Dutch sat down at the table. "Where are you

going?"

"The girls and I are getting together. We'll stay

at the clubhouse since we all plan to drink." Rachel
walked to the other side of the table. "I'll be back in
the morning."

Dutch cocked his head. "You won't be here

tonight?"

"We planned this two months ago. It's for

Diana. She's getting married next weekend. Skull
was going to stay home with Marla, but as you
know, WAKOM called him away. Now you can

watch over Marla and make sure no boys come
over, and she doesn't sneak out of the house."

"Seriously? Like, you think I'll leave with Dutch

here." She rolled her eyes. "Apparently, I'm the
only sixteen-year-old in the world who has to have
a babysitter."

"Because you're sixteen going on thirty."

Rachel leaned down and kissed the top of Marla's
head. "Don't stay up late. You have to be at work
tomorrow at noon."

"I know." Marla picked up a tortilla shell.

"Have fun."

"Okay, if you guys need anything, call the

clubhouse." Rachel walked out of the kitchen.

She added a spoonful of meat, cheese, lettuce

and added some salsa in the middle of the shell.
Biting into the taco, she sighed in pleasure. She
hadn't eaten all day in her excitement for Dutch to
arrive.

The front door shut. She looked over at Dutch

and caught him staring at her.

She quickly smiled and wiped her mouth.

"What?"

"Does this happen a lot?"
"What?"
"Rachel leaving you home alone all night?"
"Only once before, and it was because I was

grounded." At his continual frown, she said, "Geez,
not you, too. I'm old enough to stay on my own."

He blinked and grabbed the makings for a taco.

"I didn't know I was going to babysit."

"Funny. Ha. Ha." She finished her last bite

while he ate and made herself another one.

They finished the meal in silence. She forced

herself to eat more than normal because everyone
was always telling her she was too skinny. But at
five-feet, two-inches, she was shorter than
everyone else. Of course, she was going to be
smaller.

As she cleaned the table and loaded the

dishwasher, she said, "What do you want to do?"

"What do you usually do?"
She shrugged, picking up the bowl of extra

seasoned meat. "Listen to music or watch movies."

He walked out of the room. She quickly wiped

down the counters, knowing all her chores were
finished and she wouldn't have to do anything else
for the rest of the night but be with Dutch.

In the living room, Dutch aimed the remote

control at the television. Stretched out on the
couch, he made the house seem like a home, unlike
how she'd felt for the past six years, feeling like a
charity case and not fulfilling Rachel's dreams for
the perfect daughter.

She squeezed between his body and the back of

the couch, flopping her arm over his stomach and
resting her head on his chest.

Inhaling deeply, she wiggled to get comfortable.

"What are you watching?"

His free arm went down her back, and he used

his blunt fingernails to tickle her lower back. "Die
Hard is on. Have you seen it?"

"No."
He placed the remote on his stomach. She

watched the television, not really into action-type
movies, but she'd watch anything with him.

If she closed her eyes, she could pretend they

lived together, and every night, they snuggled on
the couch—watching whatever was on tv. She
wouldn't even mind making dinners for him or
doing his laundry.

"Who does your laundry when you're on the

road?" she asked.

His hand stopped moving on her, then started

strumming again. "No one. I drop everything that
got dirty at whichever clubhouse I'm staying at, and
the women there do it."

The thought of another woman holding his

clothes made her jealous. It was something that
she'd never done for him before.

"I'll do your clothes when you're here."
His chest vibrated underneath her cheek. "You

hate doing the dishes. Why would you want to do
my laundry?"

She shrugged. Only one shoulder moved

because the other one was trapped underneath her.

"Because it's your clothes."

"You're a good kid." Dutch's raspy voice

warmed her as his fingers drew slow circles on her
lower back.

She smiled, closing her eyes. Dutch was the

best thing in her life.

She often forgot that she had lived a completely

different life with a single mother and was left
alone a lot. Even when Dutch was on the road, he
always came back. Now that she had a phone, she
was in constant contact, talking as long as she
wanted—he never tried to cut the call short.

Sometimes, he'd even let her talk until she fell

asleep.

MARLA MARIE WHIMPERED, moving her knee
higher on Dutch's body. He stretched his ankles. His
boots restricted his movement.

She'd thrown her leg over him during the night,

waking him up. Dead tired, he'd only dozed since
she'd fallen asleep on him.

TV had sucked after midnight when the only

thing to watch was some cheap-ass vanilla porn on
cable, making him more miserable.

His cock throbbed with a stiff one he couldn't

shake with little Miss Marla Marie making all kinds
of moans and cries while rubbing herself on him.

He needed to get up and hit the road. Due to

arrive in Spokane tonight, he still needed to check
in with Woody.

Lifting his head up, he kissed the top of Marla

Marie's head. "Wake up."

"Mm..." She shifted, moving on top of him,

straddling his hips until the heat of her pressed
down on his cock.

He closed his eyes in sweet torture. Unable to

take much more, he slapped her ass.

She startled awake and blinked rapidly, looking

at him. Her lips curled upward before slightly
parting. Her pelvis ground against him, and her
eyelids fluttered before she let her head fall back to
his chest.

She raised her arms, tangling her hands in his

hair as her hips slowly rose and fell, rubbing herself
on the front of his jeans in her drowsiness.

He could smell the sweet scent of sleep on her

and got the warmth of her body against his. None
of that helped shake his morning hard-on.

He stretched. "Wake up."
She whined in protest, arching her back,

pressing her breasts against his chest. Pushed too
far, knowing she could hear him, he rolled her on
the couch and pressed his cock against her pussy.

"Don't start what you can't finish," he said on a

growl, enjoying having her under him more than he
wanted to admit.

She hooked her feet behind his calves and

cupped his cheeks with her hands before she
opened her eyes. "I'm old enough to have sex."

Jesus. H. Christ.
He pushed up, and she held on, taking him back

down on her. "You don't know what you're doing."

"Why don't we ever kiss?" She traced his lips

with her finger. "Kiss me. Kiss me like you do other
women."

His cock pulsed. Her words played in circles in

his head, and he couldn't make himself get off her.

Her legs tightened around his, and her hips

pressed forward. "Do you feel that, too?" she
whispered.

He licked his lips. Fuck him, he couldn't stop

himself from asking, "Feel what?"

"Between my legs." She swallowed. "It's all

fluttery. Is this what it feels like to have an
orgasm?"

"You know what an orgasm is?"
"Duh." She laughed softly, catching her bottom

lip between her teeth. The soft flesh slid against her
pearly whites, and she said, "I just haven't had one
yet. It's so hard to do."

"Have you tried?" He groaned, the question

coming out of his mouth without a thought.

She nodded. His muscles tensed, wanting to kill

the boy who'd taught her about pleasure.

"Amber, Alyssa's older sister, said I have to

keep touching myself." Her eyelids closed before
she gazed at him again. "Down there." She exhaled
softly. "I'm supposed to...touch myself until I find
something that makes me feel good." She breathed
harder. "But rubbing against you feels better to
me." She inhaled swiftly. "Your dick is hard. Do
you like it, too?"

His temple throbbed. She was too young for

him to show her how good it felt for both of them.
He'd hurt her, not only physically, but ruin her
damn life.

He lowered his head and captured her lips,

prepared to scare her enough to stop her from
experimenting with him and her tongue swept
across his, stopping him from pulling away.

Grinding against her, he let her deepen the kiss

—something someone else had taught her. He
wanted to push that memory out of her fucking
head and replace it with him.

She belonged to him.
He sucked, licked, opened her up wider. She

lowered her hands, grabbing on to his belt at his
sides, pulling him harder against her as her slim hips
moved more frantically.

Propped up on his elbows, he held her head,

owning her mouth. Taking the sweetness like a
drunk tasting his first sip after a dry spell.

She took his lower lip into her mouth. His cock

pulsed. He'd always been the one who went for a
woman's bottom lip, and the change left his balls
aching.

She moaned, throwing her head back. He

caught sight of her eyes before her lids fluttered,
nearly closing. He recognized what was happening
and brought his cock down on her. Only her shorts
and his jeans kept him from fucking her.

The harder pressure was enough for the

pleasure she sought to take hold of her. Her
breathing stopped, and for a second, he waited for
her next breath, afraid he'd taken her too far.

She moaned as her whole body tightened like a

vise around him. All he could do was stare in
fascination, swept up in the beauty she was
experiencing. He had no time to wish he was right
there with her, getting his nut off.

It was enough that her first time experiencing

the results of what her body could provide her was
with him. That no one else could take that from
him.

When her body came down and went limp, she

opened her eyes. An electric connection between
them shook through his body as if he was deep
inside of her, despite his cock still in his jeans,
pounding hard.

He smoothed the hair off her face. Everyone

who looked at Marla Marie saw a pretty teenager, a

bit wild and untouchable. A girl who held everyone
an arm-length away to protect herself.

But, in her, he'd seen the heart of his soul. The

one he never thought he had.

"I...I think it happened. That was an orgasm,

right?" she whispered.

He couldn't move. "Don't give that to anyone

but me."

Her heart beat wildly against him. "Can I do

that by myself?"

His chest seized, and he exhaled harshly. "Yeah,

knock yourself out."

A smile blossomed on her face at the same time

a door opened in the house. He pushed off her,
sliding his hand in his jeans and shoving his hard
cock to the side.

Rachel walked into the room and tossed her

purse onto the chair. "You're awake already?"

His sister took in Marla Marie's disheveled

appearance, sprawled out on the couch and his
tension-filled stance, and tightened her mouth
before walking out of the room without saying a
word.

Finding his pack of cigarettes, he picked them

up and walked out the front door. He needed to get
a grip. Lighting the smoke, he leaned against the
house and tried to forget what had happened, but
Marla Marie's orgasm fiercely clung to him and
refused to let go.

Chapter 15

RACHEL STORMED OUT of the house and
shoved him. Dutch braced, knowing she had the
right to rip him a new asshole.

"What is going through your thick head?" She

planted her hands on his chest and pushed him
again in anger.

Not budging, he wouldn't allow anyone—not

even his sister—to tell him how to live his life. No
one could stop him from having what he wanted.

He knew Marla Marie better than anyone

because she let him in.

"I saw the look on Marla's face." She clamped

her mouth shut and let out a muffled scream. "I
can't believe you. She's a child, Dutch. No one.
Absolutely no one has a right to put a hand on her.
You have no idea what you've done to her. Girls
don't get over being abused—"

"Shut your fucking mouth." He stepped

forward, making her back up. "I never abused her."

"What do you call that?" She pointed toward

the door. "She's sixteen years old."

"What happens between her and me is our

business. If she has a problem, she'll go to you. You
know how she feels about me from the day I
brought her to you."

"You gave her to me." Rachel poked him in the

chest. "She's my daughter."

The roar of a motorcycle approaching kept him

from telling her exactly what he'd done. He never
had any intentions of handing Marla Marie over to
Rachel and cutting her out of his life. He needed
someone to raise her, where she was safe and
loved. To give her some kind of normalcy.

Sure, he was thinking about Rachel at the time.

He wanted to do something for her to help her get
through the miscarriage. But, he never walked out
of Marla Marie's life.

He lived on the road. When he was free, he was

here, seeing after Marla Marie.

Not once had Rachel or Skull told him to butt

out of their lives. They welcomed him returning and
sorting out Marla Marie's problems and the trouble
she would get in. He was always the first person
they called.

Rachel couldn't kick him out of Marla Marie's

life now.

He stepped away, looking out at the street,

seeing Skull arriving. Fuck. Could today get any
worse?

"What am I supposed to do?" Rachel wouldn't

let what happened—what she believed happened—
go. "I'd kill any man who touched her or...or make
sure they spent the rest of your years in prison for

touching her. She's a child, Dutch. What you did to
her was a crime."

He wasn't even going to fight her on that. He

knew what he'd done.

"Marla Marie will belong to me for the rest of

my life." He lowered his voice. "You better get used
to it."

Rachel shook her head. "It's not right."
"Right or wrong, it is what it is, and I won't let

you tell me differently." His head cleared the longer
he stayed away from Marla Marie. He wanted
everything out in the open now. "She's sixteen years
old. She'll be graduating in less than two years. You
better wrap your head around the idea that she will
leave you."

"She's my daughter."
"She'll always be your daughter, but she's going

to grow up, and like you, like me, nobody is going
to tell her how to live her life." He exhaled. "Only
one thing would ever ruin the relationship you both
have together, and that's if you try and come
between her and me. If you do, all you're going to
do is lose her."

Rachel hissed. "You don't know that."
"When you calm down, I think you'll accept

that you know how Marla Marie's felt about me this
entire time." He turned when the motorcycle shut
off and raised his chin in greeting to Skull. "You
also know how I feel about her. I would lay down

and die before I hurt her, and leaving her would kill
her."

"That doesn't make it right," said Rachel behind

him.

He exhaled loudly. "A lot of things about this

life aren't right. The state should've kept us with
mom when we were kids instead of having us go
back and forth while trying her damnedest to keep
us all together. I shouldn't have spent time in prison
for the robbery at the gas station when that money
belonged to WAKOM to start with. You shouldn't
have to cater to Skull's ways and give your body to
other men. Marla Marie should've had a mother
that put her first."

"Those are circumstances, Dutch. You're

making a decision before my daughter is ready or
mature enough to know her own mind."

"That might be true for other girls her age, who

had a different past than Marla Marie, but she
knows her own mind. If she told me to leave and
never come back, it would take me a second to ride
out of here and never look back because I'd do it
for her."

Skull walked up the pathway, putting an end to

their discussion. What Rachel wanted to do with
the information, that was her right. But he wouldn't
let her opinion harm Marla Marie.

"Good ride?" he asked Skull.

"Sparky's out of commission for a while. He

took a slug to his thigh. Woody's got the doc at the
clubhouse now." Skull stroked Rachel's ass. "I got a
hole burning in my stomach. Is there any food in
the house?"

"Tacos." Rachel ignored Dutch. "I'll go warm

some up for you."

His sister went inside. Skull hung around on the

step with Dutch. The day was wasting. He needed
to get going.

"Is something wrong with Marla Marie?" asked

Skull.

He studied his brother-in-law. "Why would you

think that?"

"Pretty intense around here." Skull looked

down the driveway. "You two look like you're two
seconds from throwing punches."

"Nothing for you to worry about." He reached

back and turned the doorknob. "I'm going to grab
my stuff and get out of here."

He grabbed his duffle and looked around for

Marla Marie. Hearing the shower going behind the
bathroom door, he went into her room and found a
piece of paper and a pen.

Wednesday
5pm
Call me.
~Dutch
He paused, knowing she'd want more from him.

In a rush, he scribbled. Take it slow. Don't wear

yourself out, Marla Marie.

He walked out of the house without another

word to his sister. Whatever came his way would
come regardless of what he could do to stop it.

A vision of Marla Marie in the shower,

discovering herself, having an orgasm without him,
kept him riding in the opposite direction.

Rachel was right in the fact Marla Marie

needed to grow up.

But, God damnit, there would come a time

when he wouldn't have to hit the road, and he was
free to claim what had always been his.

Sirens invaded his thoughts. He looked in the

side mirror, and flashing red and blue lights grew
bigger in his view.

He squeezed the throttle, fighting the urge to

flee. Deep down inside of him, he knew there was
no chance of escaping. Not his feelings for Marla
Marie, and not from the crimes he'd committed.

Part Four

Promise.

Chapter 16

DUTCH SAT STIFFLY IN the plastic chair, feeling
the legs threatened to bend under his weight. The
position made his ribs ache. He was sure a couple
of the bones were broken from the fight he'd gotten
in two weeks ago when the fucking guards switched
his cellmate, and hierarchy needed proven once
again.

Currently, he was roomed by himself because

he'd started too many fights. A label he was glad to
wear.

He glanced at the door. Skull had promised to

bring Marla Marie to the prison. He'd kept her
away from his court appearances, afraid it would be
too much for her to handle. Instead, he used his
weekly call limit to talk with her.

But she was making everyone's life hell back in

Bellevue, wanting to see him face to face.

Knowing Rachel and Skull had explained to her

about his arrest, the outcome in court, and his
sentence, he needed to see her with his own eyes
and make sure she was okay.

The guard walked to the middle of the room,

standing by Dutch. "You'll have one hour to visit
with your loved ones. You will be allowed one hug
and kiss when they arrive, then you're to sit your
ass down. If you get up, you'll be escorted out of

the room. If you continue to show PDA, you'll be
escorted to your cell, and future visits could be
canceled. If any fights break out, your privileges
will be taken away, and you'll have to go in front of
the board to have them reinstated. Remember, this
is a family visitation. There will be children in the
room."

For how much he wanted to see Marla Marie,

she shouldn't be here. She shouldn't see him in a
place like this.

The door opened, and people paraded in. He

kept his focus on the door and ignored the prisoners
greeting their family members.

Marla Marie stepped inside and quickly pressed

her back against the closest wall, afraid to go near
the prisoners. His thighs hardened, wanting to go
and protect her, take her out.

He waited until she spotted him and motioned

her over. She pushed off the wall as if she would
take off running but slowed herself, taking a wide
berth around the others.

When she reached him, he stood from the chair.

She latched herself to his waist, and he cupped the
back of her head to his chest. His throat tightened.
All the pain from his beaten body ignored, he took
her hug because it was the best damn thing he'd felt
in several months.

He cleared his throat. "Sit down, Marla Marie."

She sat down. He reached over and dragged her

and the chair closer until she was right in front of
him.

"Just look at me, forget about the others in the

room, okay?" he said, looking her over.

"It's scary in here," she whispered.
"Ah, it's not too bad. It's just different."
"When can you leave?"
"Rachel and Skull explained everything to you."

He leaned forward, holding her hands. "You know
that I need to stay for five years."

Tears ran down her face. He wanted to wipe

them away but refrained from doing so because he
needed to follow the rules. Marla Marie wasn't the
only person who came to visit him. Those in
WAKOM Motorcycle Club came by each week.

"I'll be twenty-one years old by then. You'll be

forty-two."

"That sounds about right." He lowered his

voice. "During the time we're apart, you can write
letters, and I'll write you back."

"Promise?"
"Promise." He dipped his chin. "But I don't

want you coming here."

She shook her head. "I want to."
"This isn't forever."
"It seems like it." Her forehead wrinkled. "Can't

I tell someone that you're innocent? I can tell them

you were with me or that you were at the
clubhouse."

"You know that's not how this works." He

squeezed her hands. "I want you to keep going to
school, go to your job, and I'll make sure I let Skull
and Rachel know how I'm doing. They'll give you
the messages."

"But I want to see you."
"You're a kid, Marla Marie. Enjoy your years,

and when I get out, you'll be all grown up. Then, if
you want to spend all your time with me, I'll let
you."

"I hate this." She raised her shoulder and wiped

her cheek on the sleeve of her shirt. "It's going to
take forever."

"Yeah, it'll feel like that for a while." He let his

head fall before meeting her gaze again. "Now, tell
me about work."

"It's the same thing all the time. Nothing has

happened," she muttered.

"No new rabbits?"
"It's winter."
"Any snow on the ground?"
"Not now, but last week we had a snow day, but

it all melted by noon." She inched forward on her
chair. "Alyssa is learning to drive in the snow. Her
dad took her up in the mountains."

"Yeah?" He latched on to the change of subject.

"How'd she do?"

"Okay, I guess. She said it was scary but fun."
"Ask Skull to teach you to drive next winter if it

snows." He raised his brows. "Did you take your
driving test yet?"

She shook her head. "I...just couldn't. But I will.

Soon."

Rachel had told him that Marla Marie kept to

herself after he was arrested. She'd wallowed in
melancholy, distancing herself from her friends and
basically going to school and work, then coming
home to her room.

"Once I'm able to drive, I can come here more

often. I've been saving my money from work so I
can buy a used car." She glanced around the room.
"Do they really lock you in a cell, or can you walk
around?"

"During the day, I can walk around with the

others on my block. At night, they lock the door to
my cell."

She nodded, chewing on the corner of her lip.

"Is the food good?"

"I won't starve."
"I hate this."
"I know you do." He stroked her hands with his

thumbs, catching another prisoner eyeing Marla
Marie.

The man sat with an older guy, probably his

dad. Movement under the table grabbed his

attention. The inmate rubbed his crotch, practically
salivating while looking at Marla Marie.

Dutch let go of her hands, reached down, and

grabbed the leg of her chair, turning her sideways to
block the guy's view of her.

"What are you doing?" She grabbed onto the

table, skidding the chair legs back to face him.

He stopped her from moving. "Listen, Marla

Marie."

She frowned and whispered, "What?"
"This is no place for a girl like you." He took in

the inmate's details, remembering him. "I'm going to
stop doing visitations."

"No. Please." She grabbed his hand. "I have to

see you."

"I can call you once a week."
"It's not the same." Her face reddened. "How

will I know if you're okay? What if you need
something?"

"I'll tell you over the phone, and Skull or

someone from the club will check in on me. I'll
make sure they let you know what I look like and
how I'm doing. Anything you want to know, you
can ask them."

Her hands trembled. "No. I have to see you."
Needing to distract her from what was

happening behind her, he leaned closer. "Why?"

"Because...because then I know you haven't left

me."

Unable to deny her something she needed,

knowing the vulnerabilities of her upbringing and
her fear that her circumstances could change at any
second, she held on to the promise that he would
never leave her.

He shushed her as tears filled her eyes. "We'll

work something out, yeah?"

She nodded fervently. "Anything. Please, don't

keep me from coming to see you."

Avoiding the problem, he concentrated on

getting her out of prison without doing more
damage to her.

By the time the hour of visitation ended, he was

ready to kill the guy who whacked off while
fantasizing about Marla Marie. He was sure the
guards were aware of his actions and had let the
guy continue masturbating.

"They're going to make me leave, and I'm not

ready to go." She put a death grip on his hands.

"Stand up, and you can hug me." He brought

her close, wrapping his arms around her.

She refused to let go. He pried her off him and

put his lips on her ear. "Go straight out to Skull.
Don't talk or look at anyone else."

Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she nodded.

"Promise to call me."

"Promise."
"I'll write to you." She stepped away and

stopped. "I'll get my license, and then I can come

back."

He lifted his chin, not taking his gaze off her.

Watching her leave made him feel as though
someone had stolen his heart.

Marla Marie walked out of his view. Clenching

his teeth, he swung his gaze to the jerkoff who liked
to beat off to children.

The man smirked, having seen Dutch and Marla

Marie's goodbye. Not backing down, he waited
until the inmate stood by the door, ready to go back
to his block.

He stepped in line behind him.
As they stood at attention, waiting for the guard

to lock the gang-chain around each of their wrists,
Dutch whispered, "You're a dead man."

The first chance he had, he'd kill the

motherfucker.

Chapter 17

SKULL WALKED INTO THE house. Trudging
behind him, Marla veered to the hallway. She
thought they'd never leave the clubhouse.

"Don't forget to bring your dirty clothes to the

laundry room. I'll start a load for you," said Rachel
behind her, shutting the door.

"Fine." She stood in her bedroom and looked

around at the scattering of clothes everywhere.

If they would've let her stay home today, she

could've done the washing. She hadn't wanted to go
hang out at the clubhouse. There was nobody her
age there, only the adults.

Scooping everything up in her arms, she

dumped them in the empty basket and carried her
laundry to Rachel.

"Good Lord, Marla. When is the last time

you've done your laundry?"

"I don't know." She dumped everything into the

washing machine.

"Hang on." Rachel moved in front of her,

reaching inside and pulling out a sweater. "You
need to separate them.

"It doesn't matter," she mumbled.
Rachel sighed and took the basket out of her

hands. "I'll do it. Go ahead and make sure your
homework is done. Tomorrow's a school day."

"It's done."
"Then, go copy your work schedule for the

week. Make sure you put it on the fridge, so we
know where you'll be."

"Fine." She walked back to her room.
Digging through her backpack, she found the

paper she needed and sat down at the desk to
search for a pen.

The phone rang. She jotted down the days and

hours she'd need to go to the feed store. At least
she'd have twelve hours of pay on her check this
week. It would only take her two more months to
have enough money to buy the used car she'd
already checked out at Bellevue Auto.

"Marla," yelled Skull.
"Yeah?"
"Phone."
She put the pen in the drawer. "Who is it?"
All her friends knew to call her cell phone, but

lately, only Alyssa stayed in contact with her.

"It's Dutch. Hurry up," said Skull.
She jumped from the chair and grabbed the

cordless phone in the hallway. "I've got it. You can
hang up."

Inside her room, she closed the door. "Dutch?"
"Yeah."
She sagged in relief, plopping down on the edge

of the bed. "What happened? Are you okay? Are
you in trouble? You didn't call on Wednesday."

"Slow down." He paused. "I'm good. I got in a

little scrap, and they kept me from the phones."

Her heart raced. "You're okay."
"I said I was."
She wanted to know more. Every time she went

to visitation, he seemed to have gotten in a fight.
There were always cuts and bruises on his body,
even though he ignored all the injuries.

It wasn't like he was fighting at the clubhouse.

He was in prison. Anything could happen.

"Ready for school tomorrow?" he asked.
"Yeah." She looked around her room. "I spent

the day at the clubhouse."

"What's going on there?"
"Nothing." She leaned back and placed her

head on the pillow. "Rachel and Skull wanted to go
and hang out with everyone. Nobody was there that
I wanted to see, so I spent most of the time sitting
outside."

"Is it sunny?"
Sometimes, his questions seemed silly until she

remembered that he wouldn't know what the
weather was like or why the WAKOM members
gathered at the clubhouse.

She closed her eyes, imagining what it would be

like for him not to see the outside world. "Really
hot. Around eighty-five degrees."

"What were you doing outside?"
"Getting a tan."

"What were you wearing?"
She put her left hand on her stomach. "A tank

top—the red one with spaghetti straps. A pair of
cutoffs with a pair of Vans. So, I'll probably wake
up tomorrow with another line mark on my
shoulder, but it gets rid of the tan marks on my arm
when I wear T-shirts at the feed store."

He grunted. She opened her eyes and stared at

the ceiling, remembering the way he'd get tan on his
arms without even trying. The long hours on the
road, wearing a leather vest, the sleeves of his T-
shirt would blow up to his shoulders in the wind,
showing off his muscles.

She bet he missed his Harley.
"Skull brought your motorcycle home. It's in the

garage," she said.

"Is he starting it?"
"Twice a week."
"Good."
She swallowed, hating how every time she

walked into the garage, she got excited, thinking he
had come to the house to see her.

Then, she hated how she forgot that he was in

prison. Sometimes, it made her feel as if she was
going crazy and losing her mind. "I wish—"

"Hey, listen to me, Marla Marie." He paused.

"You can start the bike every day for me and use up
the gas in the tank. I don't want it sitting there
getting stale."

She sat up. "I don't know how."
"I'll tell you."
She scrambled off the bed, grabbing the pen

she'd put away and a piece of paper. Adrenaline
filled her as she wrote down the directions exactly
as he gave them to her.

"Okay, I got it. And, if I can't figure it out on

my own, I'll ask Skull to show me." She put the pen
down.

"Do me a favor, okay?"
"I'll do anything for you."
"I know you would." His voice softened. "Think

of me when you're sitting in the seat. Don't forget
me."

"Never, Dutch." She straightened her shoulders.

"I'll make sure I do it as soon as I get home from
work."

"Keep the garage door open when it's running."
She smiled at his worry. "I know."
"Fuck, I miss you."
Her stomach ached. She folded her legs and sat

on the floor, hunching her shoulders. He hated it
when she cried and held the phone's mouthpiece up
higher so he couldn't hear the sobs that wanted to
burst out.

Not often would he admit it was hard for him to

be away from her or that he missed riding for
WAKOM. She understood how difficult it was for
him to be locked up, away from everyone.

"I'll see you this Sunday," she said.
"Nah...stay home. Finish the school year."
"But that's six weeks away."
"I ain't going anywhere, Marla Marie."
"I know that, but I want to see you."
"This summer." He cleared his throat, trying to

cover the rowdy noise in prison—but she heard it.
"Hell, you're almost a senior. You should
concentrate on getting that car you've got your eye
on."

"That can wait."
"No. I want you to work, Marla Marie. Once

summer comes, see if you can earn money full
time. You'll need insurance and gas money." His
voice came louder into her ear. "I need to end the
call. Remember, do what I said. Tell Skull, I told
you to start my bike every day."

"Okay. Okay." Her fingers ached as she gripped

the phone. "But, you'll call, right?"

"I promise."
"You won't stop?"
"Never."
Her exhale wheezed out of her chest, and a sob

escaped. She wanted him to stay on the phone.
Once he was gone, she wouldn't know how he was
doing.

"I need to go, Marla Marie. Take care of

yourself."

"You, too," she whispered.

He hung up. The bond they shared stretched

thin over the distance they were forced to live. She
wasn't sure how to convince him that it was
important that she go to the weekly family visits at
the prison for both of them.

That the only reason she tried not to get into

trouble was that she wanted to be able to go see
him.

She carried the phone back into the hallway and

put it on the charger.

Rachel stuck her head out of the laundry room.

"Do you want everything thrown in the dryer?"

She nodded and dragged her feet back to her

room. Shutting the door, she climbed up on the bed
and hugged the pillow. It seemed like a lifetime
until Dutch would get released from prison.

By the time he gained his freedom, she was

going to be twenty-one years old. She squeezed her
eyes closed at the pain, crippling her.

As soon as she bought her car, nobody could

keep her away from visiting Dutch.

Chapter 18

MARLA TURNED AWAY FROM the hands
groping the inside of her thighs. "Don't touch me
like that."

"Miss, if you refuse the search, you'll be

escorted off the premises." The female correction
officer at the door raised her brows. "Should we
proceed?"

Pursing her lips, Marla nodded. The officer

permitted the male guard to continue with his
inspection.

Marla looked up at the ceiling, gritting her

teeth. She hated the ritual of getting in to see
Dutch. After coming to the prison almost every
month for the last four years, she never once broke
the rules. Everyone at the prison should know she
never wore jewelry, carried a weapon, smuggled
drugs, or brought outside materials into visitations.

She'd never risk doing something foolish that

would keep her from seeing him. The people
working in the prison were just assholes.

The guard squeezed her ass out of view of the

officer. She curled her fingers into a fist at her side,
wanting to punch him in the face.

The guard stood, brushing against her back.

"She's clean."

She stepped away and glared at him. Dick.

Escorted out of the room, she lined up with the

other visitors. She glanced at the clock above the
door. One more minute, and she'd see Dutch.

Nervous energy, coming from the others waiting

to go inside, spread to her. They were all here for
the same reason. Someone they loved was
sentenced to prison for a crime they'd committed.

On her eighteenth birthday, when Rachel and

Skull could no longer keep her from coming to
visitations more often, she started driving herself.
Dutch hating her coming, but he never refused to
see her. That gave her hope.

He needed to see that she still loved him. It was

one thing to hear on the phone and another to hold
her and kiss her. She could imagine how horrible his
living conditions were. Visitations gave him the
strength to keep serving his time. There was hope
that he could get out early if he refrained from
getting in trouble.

She grew frustrated at the injustices.
Nobody should get five years of their life taken

away for having counterfeit money on their person
when pulled over by cops. Dutch wouldn't tell her if
he knew the cash was fake. And even if he had
known, he hadn't killed anyone, and nobody got
hurt.

She'd walked away from the first visitation

knowing that, wrong or right, he was in prison
because he was a WAKOM member, and whatever

his job was within the club, he would serve his
time.

"Go inside single file, slowly. Remember, this is

a family visitation. If there are any problems, you
will be escorted out of the room." The door opened,
and the guard continued to warn everyone about
the rules.

She tuned him out, knowing every rule by heart,

and stood on her tiptoes, trying to see around those
in front of her. All she wanted was a chance to
make sure Dutch was okay.

Once she crossed the threshold, she hesitated,

scanning the room. She found him sitting in the
back corner. Her gaze connected with his. She
swallowed, wanting to cry out in relief. Every
second apart from him, she worried that something
would happen to him.

Prison was a dangerous place. Every single

person around him was a criminal. He had no
choice but to co-exist with them. He couldn't go
anywhere.

The walk across the room a simple reaction at

seeing him. She arrived at the table within touching
distance.

Although hugs and short kisses were allowed at

the beginning of the visit and when leaving, she was
afraid of overreacting and unintentionally breaking
a rule.

He stood. She stopped in front of him, certain

the imprint of her heart pounded against the front
of her shirt with each beat.

"Marla Marie." He opened his arms.
She slowly walked into his embrace. He caught

her the moment her knees weakened at the relief of
holding him.

Then, his arms were gone. "Give me a kiss."
She lifted her chin. His lips touched, and the tip

of his tongue skimmed hers before he stepped back,
licking his bottom lip.

"Sit." He sat.
She pulled the chair closer to him and reached

for his hand. They could hold hands the entire time.
It wasn't against the rules.

"Everything okay at home?" He spoke, but he

was thinking of something else.

He kept looking through her as if he could see

something she wasn't aware of doing. She
swallowed, wishing she knew what was going on
with him.

"I've put a deposit down on an apartment." Her

tongue stuck to the top of her dry mouth. "I can
move in on the seventeenth of next month."

"Rachel doing okay with that?"
"I think so." She continually rubbed his hands,

wanting to get as much of him as she could. "She
went through her kitchen and gave me everything

she wasn't using or had doubles of—that was nice
of her."

Her relationship with Rachel and Skull had

changed since Dutch left. They stepped back from
punishing her for the rules she broke and let her do
what she wanted. Though, without Dutch, there
wasn't anything she wanted to do.

"Did you talk to Skull about withdrawing some

of my money? You can get some furniture and have
a little cushion to help with rent."

She shook her head. "I'll be okay."
"Marla Marie..." He squeezed her hands. "Take

it."

She could move out of the house on her own.

Because of what happened to Dutch, she'd saved
all her money from her job. The only place she
went was over to the gas station, where Alyssa
worked, to talk with her during her lunch hour—
which was free.

But it was time for her to move out. She had

always imagined that she'd be sharing her life with
Dutch, but she was doing it alone.

Rachel and Skull spent most of their time at the

clubhouse, and she worked at the feed store full
time in the office now. There was no reason why
she needed to burden them anymore.

Her life had grown stagnate as if she was having

a mid-life crisis, and she was only twenty years old.

She nodded, agreeing to take some money, only

to appease Dutch. There was always second-hand
furniture that would do until she saved up for new.

"Only three-hundred and fourteen more days."

She closed her eyes an extra second and looked at
him. "I can't wait until that day comes."

He looked down at their clasped hands. "Don't

waste your life waiting for me."

She leaned closer and whispered, "Of course,

I'm going to wait for you. I'm yours. We made plans
for when we can be together again."

He looked around the room, working his jaw. It

scared her when he talked like there wouldn't be a
future for them. The closer to release, the more
times he'd bring it up. Usually, she talked him
through it and gave him something to hang on to.

She understood how hard it was for him to feel

connected to the outside. Prison life had done its
damage on him.

He met her gaze and pulled her hands closer to

his stomach, not letting her go. "I don't know where
I'm going when I get out of here."

She shook her head. "Then, I'll go wherever you

go."

They'd talked about hitting the open road, but

she knew he'd never leave WAKOM. She was fine
with whatever he decided to do. She only wanted to
be with him.

Their relationship, since admitting their feelings,

was not a normal evolution.

She'd loved him since childhood. Though he

could finally admit that he always felt that
connection they shared, they had never been able
to explore their relationship's sexual side. It was
something she looked forward to doing because,
without it, something was missing between them. A
need they both craved and was denied to them.

"God damnit, Marla Marie." His mouth

hardened. "You're not a kid anymore. Take a look
around. You deserve better than this, waiting
around for shit you don't know."

"Don't talk like that. You're worth it to me." She

whispered, "I love you."

He stilled, and his mouth hardened. His intense

gaze became violent as he looked at her. She
pressed her back against the chair. She shouldn't
have come.

He was having a bad day. Something must've

happened.

He was talking crazy. There's no way he meant

for her to move on with her life.

"Open your eyes." He stood, breaking the rules.

"You love me because I made you love me."

She shot to her feet, more concerned about

what he was saying than doing. "That's not true."

"Go away, Marla Marie. Live your life." He

flung his arms out to his sides. "You're free."

"No. Don't do that to me. Don't do that to us."

Her voice raised. "You don't know what you're
talking about. I don't want to—"

He grabbed her upper arms, dragging her

forward, and captured her mouth. She choked as he
thrust his tongue into her mouth. Pushing at his
chest, she needed to stop him before the guard
noticed him breaking the rules.

Hard and violent, he sucked the life out of her

body. Her knees bent, and he hauled her up to her
toes, kissing her brutally.

A whistle pierced her brain. She pushed against

him, needing him to stop. Blatant signs of affection
were against the rules.

He was ruining the visit. The guards would kick

her out.

If he wouldn't stop, they could ban him from

seeing her. She cried into his mouth, begging him to
stop.

He pressed her lips against her teeth, numbing

them in pain. She couldn't catch her breath. Inside,
she screamed. He couldn't do this to her.

He couldn't do this to them.
Then, he was gone. His lips. His hands.
She stumbled backward, bumping into the chair,

staring at the horror in front of her as two guards
grabbed Dutch, struggling to put handcuffs on him.

Dutch took a step back, his gaze never leaving

her eyes.

She scrambled forward. "No...no...you can't. He

didn't mean it. He won't touch me. Let him go.
Please, don't do that. We'll follow the rules."

"Miss, you must come with me." Another guard

pulled on her arm. "Quietly, please."

"Don't touch me." She slapped out, trying to get

to Dutch.

If they would listen to her and understand that

Dutch was only being Dutch. He was a little rough
and demanding, but she could calm him down. She
only needed a second to talk to him.

"Marla Marie," barked Dutch.
She froze, gasping for breath at his voice.
His gaze hardened. "Go. Be free."
Unable to move, she watched them take him

out of the room until the door closed with a loud
clunk, shutting him out of her life.

The guard's grip on her upper arm tightened.

Her feet moved under pressure. She walked,
pressing the tips of her fingers on her bruised lips.
Out of the gray world. Out of the barren walls. Out
of the sadness.

Chapter 19

TWO PEOPLE WALKED OUT of the post office
and went separate ways. Marla waited in her car
until they were far enough away from the building.
Then, she opened the door. Hurrying toward the
dropbox to the left of the entrance, she focused on
the four granite steps.

One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
She opened the lid of the blue rectangle box,

dropped in the letter, and rushed back to her
vehicle. Inside, she looked at the clock in her car
and then up and down the street.

Right on time, a postal worker came outside,

carrying a large, white plastic bin with the key in
her hand leading the way. Marla's heart pounded.
There was still time to take the letter back.

She could rush forward and snatch the letter

from the postal worker. Of course, it was a federal
crime, but maybe time spent in prison would be the
best thing for her.

Gripping the steering wheel, she witnessed the

postal employee clean out the outgoing mail and
carry the full bin inside.

The door shut. Marla exhaled and slumped in

the driver's seat, letting her forehead hit the steering
wheel. What had she done?

She couldn't take anything she said to Dutch in

the letter back.

In several days, he'd receive the

correspondence in his cell, rip it open, and read
everything she wrote.

After almost a year of moping around, feeling

as if she'd die without Dutch, and writing him twice
a week, begging him to write back, he'd given her
no other options.

He wanted her gone. He'd set her free.
And that's what she'd done. But, not before she

accepted the deed for the house her mom had
rented when she was a child.

A deed Dutch couldn't even give to her himself.

No, it was Skull who'd handed her the answer to
her problems and the ticket to her freedom.

At first, it'd angered her that Dutch never told

her he'd purchased the house years ago when she
was only a child. They had no secrets between
them.

Or, so she'd thought.
When she couldn't function after Dutch told her

to go away, she'd lost her job. Realizing she needed
a way to make a living, she set her search for
employment in Moses Lake. While she hadn't

found a job yet, moving was the restart she needed.
It was the only way she'd survive.

She started the car and backed out of the

parking spot. Being back in Moses Lake would
allow her a break from everything she knew.

The Bellevue Chapter members would no

longer be around, protecting her. Rachel and Skull
could finally move on with their life without having
her under their feet.

Away from Bellevue, she wouldn't run into

Dutch all the time once he was released.

He was due to walk out of prison in three

months, and she was determined not to be there.

Seeing him, knowing he wanted her out of his

life, would be too much.

She drove through town and headed home.

With the help of Alyssa and her boyfriend, King,
she'd cleaned her childhood home from the years of
neglect and painted the inside walls. Then, they
helped her move her meager belongings in.

Rachel and Skull offered to help, but she

needed to do this on her own. They would never
understand that having them with her reminded her
of Dutch.

Several motorcycles pulled out in front of her.

She slowed, giving them enough space, and glanced
to her right. A familiar pang brought her to a
complete stop.

The Pool Hall.

Only ten years old the last time she'd been

there, her life had changed that night when she
decided to steal food to feed her hunger.

A car honked behind her. She startled, flipping

on her turn signal and pulling off the road. Parked
in front of the building, she took in all the details
she'd missed when she was younger.

The green neon sign hanging over the front

window. Someone had spray-painted an E over the
A in Hall.

Motorcycles lined the left side of the parking

lot, three rows deep. On the opposite side of the
building, a cluster of teenage boys hung out,
smoking cigarettes. Every once in a while, one
would point toward the bikes, and their
conversation became animated.

She glanced at the door, recognizing the paper

taped to the wood. They served alcohol. Only
people twenty-one years and older permitted inside
the establishment.

Taking her keys out of the ignition, she grabbed

her phone and purse. She pushed through the door
before she realized what she was doing.

An overweight man wearing a familiar leather

vest with a WAKOM patch lifted his chin behind
the counter. "There's an opening on table three if
you want to get in on a game."

"Uh, no..." She approached the counter and slid

onto a stool. "Can I have a hamburger and fries?"

"Sure thing." The employee walked toward the

back door.

She swiveled on the barstool and gazed at the

loud, rough crowd. These were the kind of people
she was used to being around. She understood their
way of life and the way they communicated.

A bubble of excitement she hadn't felt in a long

time filled her chest. Maybe the place would
change her future a second time. Being here gave
her the hope that somehow, her life would get
better.

Being here made the loneliness subside.
A middle-aged biker approached the counter

and banged his fist down. "Hey, Rubble, get me a
fucking drink."

Marla turned around and braced her elbows on

the counter.

"Where the fuck are you? I'm up next and need

a drink," bellowed the biker.

Marla slid off the stool, walked around the

counter, and looked at the man. "What do you
drink?"

The biker's gaze narrowed, and he cocked his

head, not knowing what to make of her jumping in
where Rubble obviously worked. "Whiskey and
coke."

"Ice?"
"Hell, no."

She smiled. The man would never know how

comforting it was to be barked at.

It took her twenty seconds to find what she

needed, and poured the drink into the glass in front
of him. As he reached for it, she said, "You'll owe
Rubble."

"Fair enough."
He turned to leave, and she said, "But I'll take a

tip."

His cheek twitched in amusement, and he

returned to her, holding up his arm and waving off
the men at the table calling his name to finish his
turn. "You're a bossy little thing."

She raised her brows and crossed her arms,

waiting.

He flipped her a twenty-dollar bill. She grinned.

Bikers were easy to handle. Much easier than
trying to keep her temper while dealing with
average citizens with overdue payments at the feed
store.

She stepped over and put the cash on the till,

setting a mug upside down on top in case it blew
off, and Rubble wondered why he was short a few
dollars.

Now, he'd get a little extra. A whisky and coke

couldn't be that expensive.

Turning, she almost ran into Rubble. He

frowned at her, holding a plate with a hamburger
and fries piled on top.

Her stomach growled, remembering how

wonderful the food tasted when she was starving at
ten years old.

"Mine?" She smiled.
He nodded.
She took the plate from his hands, grabbed a

ketchup bottle on the counter, walked around the
end, and found an empty stool. Eating slowly, she
enjoyed every bite. Every dip of her fry in ketchup.

Rubble probably wasn't a cook here when she

was here last time, but he was good. The food
tasted exactly as she remembered.

"You know your way around a kitchen." Rubble

eyed her from a few feet away. "You're not scared
of the men."

She shrugged, finished chewing, and swallowed.

"I know bikers."

"That so?"
Now was as good of a time as ever to finish

what she came here to do. She set her hamburger
down and brushed off her hands.

"Are you hiring?" she asked.
"Depends." He lowered his chin and studied

her. "Can you keep the customers in line when
there's twenty of them yelling at you?"

She broke out in a grin that warmed her chest.

"In my sleep."

"How many drinks do you know how to make?"

Without hesitating, she shrugged. "Only the

important ones. As long as you have beer, whiskey,
rum, I can satisfy any man here."

Rubble nodded in appreciation. Like, she'd

thought, bikers were easy.

"Then, you're hired. Start tomorrow. Come in at

six o'clock and work until we close at two in the
morning. You'll be in charge of all drink orders and
give me a hand if things get too busy or a fight
breaks out, and I'm occupied." He lowered his
voice. "Are you twenty-one?"

"As of three weeks ago," she said, sitting taller

on the stool.

He harrumphed. "You look younger."
Not to be discouraged, she reached over the

counter and shook her new boss's hand. Then, she
poured more ketchup on her plate and enjoyed the
rest of her dinner.

Now that she had a job in Moses Lake, she

could settle down.

She'd come back home.
Alone once again, she would depend on herself.

Just like she had pre-Dutch.

Chapter 20

THE DEW ON THE GRASS soaked the toes of
Marla's sneakers. Marla stood in front of the
unlocked shed door. After six months of living at
the house, she was determined not to let another
day go by without finishing the last job on her list.

She set the broom and shovel against the

outside of the shed and pulled on her rubber gloves.

Going inside was much more complicated than

putting up with the nauseating odor she'd prepared
for and expected. At one time, the shed was her
haven away from all things bad and scary.

To go inside, she had to step into her past. A

past she was determined to overcome.

She slowly opened the door. Holding her breath,

she waited to see if anything would scurry out.

Her stomach rolled. The last time she'd gone

inside the shed, she ran there, seeking safety. A
place that would protect her from the truth—that
her mom was dead. News that Dutch had given her
and had expected her to accept.

She shivered, hoping the rodents had given up

and found another home.

Grabbing the broom, she stepped inside, being

careful where she planted her feet. She wielded the
broom, striking out into the air, knocking down
cobwebs. As she cleared the area in front of her,

she concentrated on the low rafters, then the
corners.

Once she was sure the spiders were out of the

area above her head and on the ground, she hurried
outside, walking into the middle of the yard.
Inhaling deeply, she could still smell the decaying
odor left over from her childhood. The scent
probably clung to her nostrils.

Pacing back and forth, she talked herself into

going back inside. The worst part of the job was
still to come.

Last weekend, she'd dug a hole to the right of

the shed and hoped it was big enough to dump the
filth and debris in.

She raised her arm to wipe the perspiration

from her forehead, remembering the germs and
whatnot rotting away inside and stopped before she
touched her face. She felt filthy and contaminated,
and she'd only begun cleaning.

With tonight a workday at the pool hall, she

forged forward with the shovel in hand. There was
no easy way to clean the shed out but to remove
everything on the dirt floor.

Four hours later, she dumped the shovel and

broom by the back door and peeled off the dirty
gloves, letting them fall to the ground. She'd worry
about throwing them away on another day after she
took a shower and scrubbed herself clean.

Stripping her body inside the house, she carried

the filthy clothes straight to the garbage. She
wouldn't miss them. They were old and not
something she'd wear in public.

In the shower, the water ran cold before she

could pull herself out. Glancing at her cell phone,
she had enough time to get dressed and eat a
sandwich before she needed to leave for work.

Surprised that cleaning out the shed had taken

up most of the day and the whole time, she'd only
thought of Dutch two or three times.

Chapter 21

FALCON WALKED INTO the pool hall. Marla
stepped away from the tap behind the counter and
retrieved a bottle of whiskey from the shelf. Since
the first night of work, she'd always catered to the
Moses Lake Chapter president, knowing exactly
what he wanted each time he stopped in.

She grabbed a glass and hurried across the

room, setting the bottle down in front of him. For
some reason, Falcon always needed an unopened
bottle, which he'd carry with him all night if he
stayed.

It wasn't any of her business why he had the

odd habit, and she knew better than to ask. Falcon
went through at least fifteen bottles a month.
Though he rarely finished a whole one.

She had her own assumptions. The main one

being Falcon was paranoid and believed someone
would poison him.

Since WAKOM Motorcycle Club owned the

pool hall and used it as a clubhouse, Falcon could
do what he wanted.

"Are you having a good night, Marla?" Falcon

pulled the bottle toward him, always pouring it
himself.

"A busy one." She looked over her shoulder

before meeting his gaze. "There's a hot game going

on over at Table Six. Others say it's close."

"Tell them to put a hundred on Malcolm."

Falcon leaned to the side and took out a wad of
cash from his pocket. "Give me a kiss for luck."

She laughed, leaning over and kissing his

whiskered cheek.

"That's all you got to give a man?" Hooking her

leg with his hand, he kept her close.

She liked Falcon. He was harmless, and as she

had found out, he enjoyed teasing as much as her.

She leaned down and put her lips beside his ear.

"No man can compete with my two fingers."

She held up two fingers on her right hand and

bent them in a wave as she walked away in
amusement. Falcon wasn't expecting anything from
her. She'd discovered he was safe to tease, just like
she would with her friends back in Bellevue.

Most of the members avoided Falcon. She

suspected they couldn't understand his sense of
humor. Despite never smiling, he was a funny guy
who loved to flirt. Of course, the bikers being men,
they wouldn't get a chance to see Falcon flirting.

Rubble walked out of the kitchen, carrying

three plates. "More food is ready. Can you grab the
orders?"

"Sure." She retrieved four plates and walked

them out. ""Who ordered a cheeseburger with
jalapenos?"

Axel walked toward her. She used a nearby

table and set the plates down in her right hand,
leaving the order behind.

"Thanks, babe." Axel tossed down a five-dollar

bill.

"My pleasure." She left the money there.
None of the bikers would steal from her. In that

respect, the Moses Lake Chapter was the same as
the Bellevue Chapter.

She called out the other orders. When they

were all picked up, she gathered her tips and
shoved the cash in her pocket. She made better
money here than at the feed store, and time went
by faster.

"Marla!"
She turned at the loud female voice and found

Alyssa pulling King through the room. Shocked to
see her best friend, she headed toward the door.
"What are you doing here?"

Throwing her arms around Alyssa, she swayed

side to side, happy to see her.

"King's meeting some guy here at ten o'clock to

look at a motorcycle." Alyssa pushed King away.
"Go, do your thing, honey. I'm going to hang out at
the counter and bother Marla.

She pulled Alyssa with her over to the counter.

"Sit and fill me in on what's been happening back
home."

"Same thing that I tell you in our texts."

She rolled her eyes. Texts and talking face to

face were two different things.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.
"I could eat. What's good?"
"The burgers." She stepped back. "I'll get the

cook going on one for you. Will King want one?"

"Probably."
"I'll make it two."
When she came back from the kitchen, Falcon

had zeroed in on Alyssa. Having no time to warn
her friend, she picked up the washcloth and wiped
down the counter while keeping an eye on the two
of them.

Alyssa was tight with King and on the verge of

moving in with him. She wouldn't want Falcon
ruining that for her friend.

"You're a long way from home." Falcon sat

down on the vacant stool. "Did your dad come with
you?"

"No. I'm with King." Alyssa half turned, found

King, and pointed. "He's meeting a guy named
Malcolm. Something about a bike for sale or parts
of a bike for sale."

Falcon nodded. "Yeah, I know which bike he's

taking a look at. It might be a while until Malcolm
is free. He's playing a high stacks game."

"No problem. We've got time to stay for a

while." Alyssa took a sip of the water Marla set in
front of her. "So, how have you been? I don't think

I've seen you in a couple of years. Were you at last
year's rally?"

"I was there, but only for a few hours, and then

business took me away." Falcon whistled softly.
"Damn, you were just a little girl the last time I saw
you, and here you are, all grown up and looking
good."

"I wasn't quite that young." Alyssa laughed.

"Are you coming to the rally next month?"

Eavesdropping on their conversation made

Marla homesick. She loved attending the rallies
when the three WAKOM chapters came together. It
was like a reunion, being able to see people she'd
met once a year.

"Yeah. It should be good," said Falcon.
"I keep trying to convince Marla to come, but

she keeps making excuses." Alyssa brought her into
the conversation.

Her heart sank. Since she'd worked at the pool

hall, she'd kept her association with Dutch, Rachel,
and Skull to herself. Most of the Moses Lake men
who'd attended the rallies in the past no longer
recognized her now that she was an adult. Plus,
when Dutch was free, she always kept her distance
from everyone else, preferring to be with him than
in the middle of the action.

Falcon frowned. "Is your dad a patched

member?"

He knew she wasn't married or claimed by any

of the bikers. Feeling like she'd deceived him, she
shrugged, trying to play it off as not that big of a
deal. "Sorta."

"Who?"
She swallowed, knowing he'd ask. "Skull from

the Bellevue Chapter."

She might as well be upfront. WAKOM

expected loyalty from everyone around them, and
she knew better than to keep information from a
member when they asked, especially a president. If
she got lucky, he hadn't personally met Rachel and
Skull and wouldn't ask if she was the child they'd
received eleven years ago.

Falcon studied her, not saying a word. Put on

the spot, she fled and went to check on Alyssa's
order.

In the kitchen, she stuck out her lower lip and

exhaled, blowing her hair off her face. Tonight
certainly turned out differently than she'd imagined.

She loved seeing Alyssa and missed her terribly,

but she also knew that someone connected to the
Bellevue Chapter also brought her past with them.

The door opened behind her. She jumped, ready

to get out of Rubble's way, and Falcon cornered her
in the kitchen.

He walked straight up to her, forcing her to lift

her chin to see him. "You belong to Dutch."

The remaining pieces left of her heart, after

Dutch forced her out of his life, rattled inside of
her, making the pain even worse.

Her eyes burned. She opened her mouth to tell

him she no longer was involved with Dutch, and a
sob escaped. Like a dam bursting open, she tucked
her chin, pressing her hand to her chest to keep all
the emotions from spilling out on Falcon's feet.

"Aw, fuck." Falcon grabbed her and pressed her

into his chest. "Don't cry."

The embrace was awkward. Embarrassed and

devastated, she felt herself slipping back into her
depression.

She hated how she felt. Dutch had promised

never to leave her, and she was foolish in believing
a man like him would ever settle for a girl like her.
No matter how grown-up she became.

To her horror, her feelings were deeper and

more permanent than how Dutch thought of her. To
him, he finally figured out that she was a charity
case. A child he took pity on.

Falling in love with him, she hadn't known any

differently that caring about someone felt a lot like
love. She took his help, comfort, affection, and
attention and believed without any hesitation that
his feelings were as deep for her as her's were for
him. That what they had together would last
forever.

What sucked was that she still felt like their

bond was the most perfect thing in her life. In her
heart, she would always belong to him.

But, he'd let her go in the most painful and

humiliating way.

"Come on now, wipe your tears." Falcon forced

her to stand on her own and held out the front of
his T-shirt. "Dry your face."

"I'm sorry." She willed the tears to stop. "I don't

mean to cry."

Sometimes, it felt like she would drown from all

the tears she'd shed over the last year and a half.
Though Falcon was the only one beside Alyssa
who'd witnessed her breaking down.

"I wasn't keeping our relationship, our old

relationship, from you on purpose." She sniffed,
shaking her head. "I just want to put him behind
me."

Falcon refrained from commenting.
"I love working here." She blew out her breath.

"If you want me to quit, I will."

"You're not quitting." Falcon ran his hand

across his jaw. "You know he's out of prison, right?"

She nodded. Knowing he was free and she

wasn't with him hurt worst of all.

She'd hoped and set her mind on him coming to

see her once he found out she'd taken the deed for
the house that he'd offered her. But, he never came.

"Are you okay to finish working tonight?"

"Yeah." She mustered a broken smile. "No

problem. I'm fine. That was...I think I'm going to
start my period."

He chuckled. Her face flushed. She wasn't even

the type of woman to use being a woman as an
excuse.

"I'm going before I make a bigger fool of

myself." She walked out of the kitchen, not even
remembering why she'd come into the room.

As soon as she stepped behind the counter,

Rubble yelled, "Take your break."

"It's okay. I'll work through." She looked for

Alyssa and found her beside King, standing next to
pool table number three, gazing at her with a
worried expression.

"Get the hell out of here." Rubble pointed.

"Now."

"Okay. Okay. I'm going." She hurried across the

room, sided up to Alyssa, and asked her to go out
back with her.

Once she was outside, she groaned loudly in

frustration. "Falcon knows."

"About?" Alyssa rubbed her arms against the

chill in the night.

"About Dutch." She paced beside the picnic

table—probably the same one she'd stolen food off
of as a child. "I'm surprised he didn't fire me on the
spot for keeping information from him."

"It's not a requisition to divulge all your history

before working here." Alyssa sat down on the
bench. "He asked. You told him. Things should be
fine. It would be different if you'd lied."

She sat down beside her friend. "I don't even

know why my connection to Dutch makes a
difference to anyone else. It's over."

"Is it?"
She frowned. "You know it is."
"Just wondering if he's made contact with you,

and you haven't told me."

"Trust me, it would be the biggest surprise of

my life if he did. I'd tell you." She held her hands
out in front of her. "I'm shaking."

"Here." Alyssa opened her purse and took out a

pack of cigarettes. "It's not weed, but the nicotine
will help you relax."

"Thanks." She lit the end of the cigarette and

coughed.

Alyssa leaned sideways and nudged her arm.

"You've been a good girl lately."

"Too good." She scoffed. "I haven't had a drop

of alcohol since reaching my legal age or smoked
any weed since I was sixteen years old. You should
see the house now. It's so clean because if I'm not
working, I'm at home."

"You haven't made friends you can go out with

here?"

"Haven't looked, really. Besides, you're my best

friend. Going out with others wouldn't be the
same." She exhaled on a sigh.

Most days, she imagined her life continuing like

it was. She worked. She slept. She cleaned.

There was no Dutch. No one to hear her

dreams. No one to encourage her or tell her she was
doing a good job. No one to listen to her.

"I think I have Stockholm syndrome," she

muttered.

"What's that?"
"Google it when you get home. It'll probably

make you laugh or cry." She finished the cigarette.

Alyssa had been right. She felt a little steadier,

although weak and dizzy.

Would she always feel less than her whole self

without Dutch? She hadn't found the answers to
any of her problems moving to Moses Lake. Now it
seemed like she'd added on to the stress by moving
here.

The future looked depressing and lonely.
She had no desire for someone else to take

Dutch's place. No one would ever understand or
know her the way he had. She would always fear
telling someone else her past.

How would she explain that a biker stole her,

gave her to his sister, and she'd fallen in love with
him—a man twenty years older than her who ended

up going to prison before they could even have
sex? And that she'd always love him?

Not to mention, she would never answer

someone who asked why she never went to the
police once she got old enough to know what Dutch
had done to her.

He'd bettered her life when he gave her to

Rachel and Skull. She couldn't imagine having
never grown up with the WAKOM members as an
extended family.

She could never imagine not loving Dutch.
"I've seen him, you know," said Alyssa.
"I thought you would." She stood, not wanting

to know anything about what Dutch was doing now
that he was free. "I need to go back to work."

If Dutch went on with his life, it would destroy

her.

"Do you want me to call you when we get back

to Bellevue?"

Quickly, she hugged Alyssa. "Yes, please do."
"God, I miss you. I'm sorry coming here caused

you to deal with your connection to Dutch and
people in Bellevue. I know you wanted to make a
clean break."

"I did. I do. But that doesn't mean I don't want

you in my life. I miss you more than you'll ever
know." She gathered all the strength she could
muster and went back to work.

Every time she glanced at Falcon and Rubble,

she caught them looking at her. She had no idea
what was going through their heads.

She counted the hours, the minutes, the seconds

until she could go home.

Chapter 22

BLOOD COATED DUTCH'S face, blurring his
vision. He swung his arm. His fist made a
connection with a pop.

Tackled from the side, he landed on the table

and rolled to the floor. Striking out, he wasn't
finished with Poker. He'd break his fucking jaw to
keep the fucker from opening his mouth again.

"Jesus, will you stop." Skull roared, throwing

his body on top of Dutch.

"Get off me." He bellowed, swinging his fists.
Skull's body rolled off him with an oomph.

Dutch turned to push off the floor, and someone
behind him put him in a headlock, dropping him to
his knees.

"You're done causing damage to any more of

my members." Woody's arm tightened, cutting off
Dutch's breathing. "I'll drop you right here and let
every fucking member have a chance at you."

His chest heaved. He wasn't done.
Nobody could speak Marla Marie's name and

walk away alive. Brother or no brother.

"Everyone, get out of here," shouted Woody.
Spots invaded Dutch's vision. Rage boiled

inside of him. Prison had taken everything from
him. He'd walked out with nothing, not even his
freedom.

Taken off the road, Woody had him staying in

Bellevue. He'd put fourteen fucking miles on his
Harley since arriving. He couldn't live cooped up in
one place.

None of the women available at the clubhouse

replaced Marla Marie.

The drinks, the drugs, the fights only

temporarily numbed him.

Every time he fucking turned around,

something reminded him of what he'd lost. Even the
clubhouse was filled with memories of Marla
Marie. He couldn't go around Rachel and Skull's
house because he expected her to be there. Every
time he walked out of the clubhouse to get on his
Harley, he expected to see her standing beside his
motorcycle, bouncing up and down in excitement.
The women hanging around touched him, and it
was Marla Marie's hand he felt on his skin. Marla
Marie's pussy, he imagined around his dick. Marla
Marie's breasts, warming his chest.

He'd spent the last five years keeping to himself

in prison, on guard, and fighting to keep the other
gangs away from him. He wanted to sit in silence
and have Marla Marie at his side, understanding his
need to just fucking be—no questions, no irritating
jabbing, no demands.

He couldn't sleep.
Hell, he couldn't breathe.

Woody let go of him. Dutch sagged forward,

gasping for air.

It took him two attempts to gain his feet under

him and stand. Even then, the room spun,
threatening to knock him back down.

Skull slapped him on the back. He rocked

forward onto the toes of his boots before landing
flat-footed. He needed a drink.

Woody threw a towel at him. He caught it

before it bounced off his chest to the floor. Wiping
his face, he could feel the trickle of blood running
down his forehead where Poker busted a damn beer
bottle against his head.

"You need to stop fighting." Wood widened his

stance. "I look around at my men, and half of them
are wearing damage that came from you."

"Then, send me back on the road." He tongued

his lower lip, swollen and sore. "If the cops want to
come after me, they're going to nail me if I'm riding
around Bellevue or out on the interstate."

"That risk is too big for WAKOM."
"Come on, man." He held the towel against his

forehead. "If that was the case, the whole club
would be sitting in prison. I took their interrogations
and kept the club free. Five fucking years, fighting
to stay alive in prison, so everyone else could sit
pretty at home."

Woody exhaled heavily. His president knew

what he'd done. His loyalty wasn't in question. It

was the second time in his life he could've caved
and handed over names in exchange for a lighter
sentence or no sentence at all. He'd paid his dues in
blood.

"We've regrouped and changed things since

you've been here." Woody met his gaze.

"You're still laundering money. It can't change

that much that you'd take me off the road."

Woody sighed. "The Feds will be watching

you."

"Who's riding between the chapters now?" he

asked.

"Allman."
"Keep him on the road, but let me be in charge

of communication." He gritted his teeth as nausea
hit him. "I'll take the brunt of the danger off him if
the Feds are watching. It's harder to catch two of
us, and he'll have the package."

Woody looked at the vice president, then

walked off. Dutch let his chin fall to his chest. He
was going to throw up if he couldn't get a drink
soon.

"Here, brother," said Skull.
He cracked his eyelid open and took the bottle

offered to him. Putting the whiskey bottle to his
lips, he chugged until he had to breathe.

"Still bleeding?" Skull grabbed Dutch's hair and

yanked his head up. "I'll grab the kit, and we'll see
if the tape will keep it closed for you."

Dutch moved over and righted an overturned

chair, sitting his ass down. Cradling his head in the
towel, he leaned over and planted his elbows on his
knees.

He wasn't willing to throw his life away. Marla

Marie was out there alone because of him.

He'd sent her away after watching her waste

away while he sat his ass in prison. Every visitation,
she lost her spark. It was only a matter of time
before the damage he'd caused scarred her for life.

The only option he had, sitting in prison, was to

send her away. Let her get a taste of life and rely on
her friends, on Rachel.

He should've known she'd fall back on relying

on herself.

She left Bellevue and never looked back.
Sitting in a house that only brought pain, Marla

Marie took the deed for her childhood home that
he'd bought for her. He never planned for her to
live there again. Hell, he'd bought the house
because he was trying to keep one step ahead of
the cops if they investigated a missing child.

He wanted to convince himself that he'd bought

it for Marla Marie because he felt like he owed her
something from her past since she lost everything,
including her mom.

He assumed someone had hired her in Moses

Lake because she stayed away from Bellevue.

In six months, she'd called Rachel and Skull

once. Fucking once, to tell them she was doing fine.
But she wouldn't come back. It was too painful.

He knew her reasons.
It was because of him.
Footsteps echoed in the clubhouse. He raised

his head, and Woody approached him, pulling up a
chair.

"You can go back on the road. Any

communication between the chapters that can't be
done over the phone will be through you. Allman
will continue carrying the money." Woody
motioned for Skull.

His brother-in-law came with the First Aid kit.

Adrenaline filled Dutch. His route would take him
to Moses Lake. It would take him ten minutes from
the pool hall to get to Marla Marie's house.

"When do I start?" he asked, ready to ride.
"We've got the rally on Saturday and Sunday,

and you'll need to hit Moses Lake on Monday."
Woody studied him. "You'll have to be in Spokane
by the following Wednesday, back here by Friday
the twenty-first."

That gave him four days to get in shape to ride.

Most importantly, it would give him nine days to
stay in Moses Lake before he had to leave.

"I'll be ready," he said.
"Keep your head." Woody wouldn't let go of

the conversation. "I know you're dealing with shit

being back on the outside, but put that all behind
you. Keep your ass safe. I'd hate to lose you again."

"Yeah." He'd be ready.
Skull hovered over him, taking the towel from

him. "Hold still."

He closed his eyes. Sitting in the chair, letting

Skull tape him up, he had a hard time sitting still.
He wanted to be on the road. He needed to see
Marla Marie.

Five minutes later, Skull finished. "That should

do it if you stay down for a while. Don't go jump in
the shower yet. Give it a few hours."

The men Woody kicked out earlier trickled

back inside, giving Dutch a wide berth. He stood,
testing out his head. He'd need to keep his distance
from the others until it was time to ride out because
if one of them opened their mouth about him
robbing the cradle or missing the sweet honey he'd
had running around years ago, he'd kill him.

"Good?" asked Skull.
"Yeah." He handed over the bottle. "Tell Rachel

I'll stop by the house before I ride out on Sunday."

If he was going to set things right, he needed to

have a talk with his sister.

Skull scratched his jaw. "I take it you're going to

hunt down my daughter."

"She belongs to me."
"Not anymore."

"Bullshit." He lowered his voice. "I sent her

away because it was what she needed."

"What do you think she needs now?"
He reached into his vest pocket, retrieved a

cigarette, and popped it into his mouth.

Looking Skull square in the eyes, he said, "Me."
Marla Marie would never admit it to anyone,

but in her heart, she knew he would always be in
her life. He'd made a promise, and barring prison or
death, he wasn't going to leave her.

Walking out of the room, he went upstairs and

shut the door to the bedroom. Anxious for the days
to roll by, he went through his duffle bag, making
sure he had everything he'd need for the trip.

He found the last letter Marla Marie sent him

before he was released from prison and carried the
envelope to the bed. Many times he'd thought about
opening it. But he knew if he didn't like what was
inside, he couldn't do a thing about it in prison.

Then, when he got out, Woody kept him in

Bellevue, and he couldn't face what was inside.

Slipping his finger underneath the corner, her

ripped open the flap and pulled out the letter.

Dutch,

When you're released, you'll find out that
I've decided to take the deed for the
house you gave me. I can't walk away

without telling you thank you. Thank you
for seeing that I needed help and
stealing me away from a life that
would've hurt me. Thank you for giving
me to Rachel and Skull, making sure I
had a family life surrounding me. Thank
you for being the one constant person in
my life.

Most of all, thank you for your time.

When you get out of prison, you're free.
Ride safe, and I hope once in a while,
you'll take a second and smile when you
think of me.

I'll do the same when I think about you.

Marla Marie Smith

Part Five

As he stepped forward, he went back in time,

careful not to make any fast movements or scare

her into fleeing.

Chapter 23

THE TWO GLASSES OF rum and Coke ruined
Marla for any attempt at playing pool. She swayed
to the music, having given Clyde her cue stick
fifteen minutes ago.

She couldn’t give the men any competition. At

the most, she was their entertainment as she tried to
make the ball go into the pocket. If she only had six
inches more in height, the game would be easier.
Half the time, she couldn't even reach far enough
on the table to take a shot.

"Hey, Marla, grab me a beer," shouted Buck.
"Get it yourself." She grinned, or she thought

she had. "I'm not working tonight."

"Ah, come on, sweetheart." Buck held out his

arms. "Don't treat me like that."

Rubble moved between them and handed Buck

a drink. If she gave these men an inch, they'd take a
mile.

Mike looped his arm across her shoulders and

held out a joint. "Are you going to the rally this
weekend?"

A pang tightened her chest. She was aware of

everyone's excitement to travel to Bellevue and
attend the yearly rally with the other Chapters of
WAKOM Motorcycle Club. If she was honest with

herself, she wanted to see Rachel and Skull and
catch up with Alyssa and her old friends, too.

She shook her head at the offer of weed.

Having enough alcohol in her, she didn't need a hit.
"No, I'm not going—"

"Hey now, having to put up with all of us and

serving us food and drinks, you're family now. Hell,
you do more for me than my old lady." Mike kissed
her head. "I'll find someone who can take you."

She couldn't go. No matter how much she

wanted.

"Thanks, but I'm busy that weekend." She

finished the rest of her drink. "I better head home.
I'll see you tomorrow, Mike."

Taking Alyssa's advice, she tried to fit in. In the

last week, she'd come over to the pool hall twice to
eat dinner when she wasn't scheduled to work—
and she limited herself to two drinks.

Tipsy enough to slow her thoughts but still able

to walk and see herself home.

Rubble came and took the empty glass out of

her hand. "Do you want someone to take you
home?"

"Nope. I'm fine." She squeezed Rubble's arm.

"I'll see you tomorrow at six o'clock."

As she wound her way to the back door, she

made her excuses to the other men and left with a
smile on her face.

The fresh air hit her face. She inhaled deeply

and checked her pocket to make sure her house key
was still there.

The sun hovered on the horizon. She'd left her

car at home and walked the familiar path through
the field earlier. Knowing if she headed home
before seven-thirty, she'd have forty-five minutes
before it got dark.

The walk was therapeutic and gave her time to

slow down and clear her mind.

Besides, the longer she put off going back to the

house, the better.

Finding a routine was hard when she was set in

a rut. But she was trying to be around others on her
time off. She just had to push herself to go
somewhere else but the pool hall.

For now, she found comfort in being around the

bikers and in a place where she worked. She could
hide how lonely she'd become.

She'd thought Moses Lake would make her feel

like she belonged, but it wasn't any different than
Bellevue. Any connection she had here had
disappeared after finding out her mom had died
when she was thirteen years old.

She entered the field, taking out her phone, and

quickly texted Alyssa that she was going home. A
promise she'd given Alyssa weeks ago in case
anything happened to her—though she felt safe in
Moses Lake.

Alyssa texted her back, and she smiled. It felt

good to know someone cared, and she promised to
call Alyssa as soon as she set foot inside the house.

The weeds tickled her legs. She veered to the

left, toward the crossroad, knowing if she continued
walking straight and ran across the highway, she'd
slog through two inches of mud and muck.

Her phone beeped. She looked at the screen.

Rich was calling her again.

She ignored the call and let it go to voicemail.

While it was nice to catch up with him, she wasn't
interested in him traveling to see her and take her
out to dinner.

Rich would never be more than an old friend.

She had no interest in getting involved with another
biker.

Everyone she grew up with was only a reminder

of her past. She needed to keep moving forward.

Plus, she was scared that Rich would bring up

Dutch. There would always be questions.

She argued with herself often that coming here,

living in the house, secluding herself at home,
working at the pool hall, she'd surrounded herself
with a life that involved him.

That she never wanted to forget him.
Maybe it was true. Maybe everything she'd

achieved had set her up for a disappointing and
lonely life.

Maybe she wanted to pretend that everything

that surrounded her reinforced her feelings. That
Dutch was the only man for her.

She hadn't worked out the answers to all her

questions yet. Maybe someday, she would.

Hurrying out of the field, she jumped the ditch

and walked onto the road. Looking both ways for
traffic, she crossed the highway and headed down
the last stretch to home.

To others, walking home alone at seven-thirty at

night while the setting sun warmed her back
wouldn't be an achievement. To her, it was a sign of
taking care of herself. Something she couldn't
manage to do when she was ten years old and
scared to death Dutch was going to leave her, but at
twenty-one years old, she was killing it.

She retrieved the key out of her pocket at the

front door and slid it in the doorknob. Lifting her
foot to kick the bottom of the door, she stopped
when the wood gave way, smoothly swinging open
on its own.

She looked behind her, suddenly nervous.
The door had always given her problems. It was

even worse after having been vacant for so long.

Her pulse accelerated. Had someone fixed her

door?

Without any thought, she walked into the

house. "Dutch?"

She hurried through the kitchen. "Are you

here?"

She searched the living room. Not finding him,

she changed direction and rushed into the bedroom.

"Du...?" She slammed to a stop.
He wasn't here. She went back through the

house to shut the front door. For a minute, she
thought he'd returned to her.

She pressed her hand to her chest. The alcohol

had gone to her head, or she was losing it.

Dragging herself to the couch, she sank down

where the cushion indented and curled her legs
underneath her.

She couldn't keep living each day waiting for

him to return.

Dutch was gone from her life. Wishing him

back wouldn't make him show up.

Lifting her phone, she pushed the contact

number for Alyssa.

Her friend answered on the first ring. "You're

home?"

"Yeah."
"What's wrong?"
Just like that, Alyssa knew she wasn't okay. She

was falling apart.

"You know the front door of the house? The

way it always sticks?" She leaned against the arm
of the couch, not waiting for Alyssa to answer. "It

doesn't stick anymore. That's weird, right? I mean, I
unlocked the door, and it opened on its own."

"Creepy. Do you think the house is haunted?"
She rubbed her forehead. "No, I thought...well,

I thought Dutch was here."

"Oh, honey."
She hated the pity in Alyssa's voice. By now,

she should be used to living without him.

"Will you tell me what he looked like when you

saw him?" She pulled her legs up higher. "I just
need to know if he's okay."

She lied to herself and Alyssa. It killed her not

to know how he was doing, but she also knew
Alyssa wouldn't tell anyone that she'd asked about
Dutch.

"Well, I hadn't seen him since we were sixteen

years old." Alyssa paused. "He looks older. Not
old-old, but he does have wrinkles on his face. His
beard has some gray in it now. Not much, but
some."

She swallowed. He'd started getting gray in

prison. At first, she hadn't noticed, but toward the
end, it became more pronounced since he let his
beard grow wild and long.

"He was okay, though, right?" she asked.
"I guess. He was partying at the clubhouse."
She closed her eyes. There were women there

who would jump at being with him. Especially
knowing he spent five years in prison.

"Was he with anyone?" she whispered.
"Marla." Alyssa sighed. "You don't need to put

yourself through this."

Emotions clogged her throat. "Tell me. I need to

know."

"He was...pretty far gone. Drinking and

whatever else he was on."

She grimaced. "He was with a woman."
"Yeah," whispered Alyssa. "But, you know, it

probably didn't mean anything. The bikers screw
everything with two legs and are always switching
around. He was toasted. I doubt if he even knows
what he did that night."

She caught the sob before it broke free. Out of

all her worries, she could never imagine Dutch with
anyone else. She imagined him exactly like he was
the last time she saw him when he broke her heart.

She wanted to believe he was mean and angry

because he hurt as much as her that they had to
stay apart. But she'd been wrong.

He'd sent her away. Not for her to be free, but

so he could move on with his life after he got out of
prison.

"I feel awful. I shouldn't have told you," said

Alyssa.

"No." She cleared her throat. "I asked you to."
"I know, but—"
"It's not you." She put her head down on the

couch. "I'm just... empty. I should go to bed."

"Are you going to be okay?"
"Yeah." She closed her eyes. "Eventually."
"Call me tomorrow?"
"I will."
"Okay. Call if you need me sooner."
"Mm-hm." She swallowed. "Bye."
She disconnected the call and dropped the

phone to the floor. Curling into herself, she stayed
on the couch.

Dutch had really left her. He wasn't coming

back.

There was only one thing left for her to do.

Chapter 24

DUTCH WALKED INTO THE pool hall to meet
with Falcon. Already in a bad mood, he wanted to
finish business now and go back to Marla Marie's
house and wait for her to arrive home.

He'd gone straight to her place upon arriving in

town. Purposely seeking her out first thing when he
rode into Moses Lake before it got too late,
knowing she probably had to work tomorrow
morning.

"Dutch." Rubble approached him. "Good to see

you, man."

"It's been a while." He clasped the offered

hand. "Falcon around?"

Rubble looked around. "Not yet. Do you want

something while you wait?"

"Nah, I'm good." He took a pack of smokes out

of his vest. "I'll hang around until he gets here."

"Yell if you change your mind." Rubble

punched Dutch's shoulder. "We'll get you hooked
up."

"Thanks, brother." He wandered over to the far

corner, spotting Mike and Clyde, two longstanding
WAKOM members.

It took a few seconds for Mike to see him

standing back from the table, and when his MC
brother recognized him, he whooped and came

straight to him, crushing him in a bear hug, slapping
his back. "You dirty motherfucker. Are you out or
on the lamb?"

"Sons of a bitches opened the gate for me." He

chest bumped Mike off him. "I see nothing has
changed for you. You're still losing your money,
pretending you can shoot a straight game of pool."

Mike laughed. "Yeah, I still can't play worth

shit. Malcolm cleans me out weekly. The asshole."

Clyde and Buck came over to welcome him

back. He bullshitted with them while biding his
time, waiting for Falcon. Newly patched members
loitered in the building, and the unfamiliar faces
drilled in the fact that he'd missed out on five years
of changes within the chapters.

"Hey, babe, bring my brother a beer," shouted

Mike, motioning across the room.

"I'm good, man." He hadn't planned on

drinking.

"Hell, you'll be better with a drink." Mike

laughed.

As soon as the meeting was over, he wanted to

go back to Marla Marie's house and see her. To do
that, he needed to be cold-stone sober.

"Are you back on the road?" Clyde leaned

against the pool table. The game, now forgotten.

"For as long as they'll let me. I missed it." He

stepped over and put his cigarette out in an ashtray

on a nearby table. "Nothing beats the blur of the
asphalt underneath me."

"Better than sex." Mike grinned.
Buck slapped Mike's back. "That's what the

women you fuck say, too. You're doing it wrong,
man."

The tinkle of glass shattering brought Mike to

attention. Dutch followed his MC brother's gaze
and went rock hard.

Marla Marie stood empty-handed, staring at

him. He stopped breathing. She was here.

His body pulsed—it was the only sign that he

was alive.

The connection they shared sparked over the

eight feet separating them. His body leaned
forward, but he couldn't move, afraid he imagined
her here.

Fuck, she was more beautiful than ever.
He would've known her anywhere. Those blue

eyes, staring up at him, were everything to him.

He soaked her in. There were little changes

over the last two years that he failed to pinpoint.

Always tiny, her body had changed. A slight

curve at her hips and her breasts were rounder, but
maybe that's because she had on a pair of cutoffs
and a tank top, leaving nothing to the imagination.

But that was Marla Marie. He knew what she

felt like underneath his hands. Without hearing her
talk, he knew what she sounded like. All the soft

sighs and quick breathing, they were planted deep
inside of him.

All the color drained from her face. Broken

glass surrounded her on the floor.

He jerked his gaze back to her eyes. The

prettiest eyes now held a million secrets and a
lifetime of pain. He'd missed out on nineteen
months and six days of her life, and he couldn't get
that back.

Her mouth opened. His chest squeezed tighter

than a vise as she sagged in front of him before
catching herself.

He stepped forward, needing to touch her. Like

a deer, she spooked and fled. He couldn't let her get
away. He had to talk to her. She needed to
understand.

"Dutch," bellowed Falcon.
His gaze snapped to the president. Irritated at

the interruption, he needed to go to Marla Marie.

Falcon motioned his hand in the air. "Come

with me."

He hesitated. Marla Marie needed him more

than the club. He needed her more than WACOM.

"Now." Falcon glanced toward the back of the

pool hall. "She'll be okay until we're finished."

Rage filled him at the idea that Falcon knew

what was good for Marla Marie. She belonged to
him.

The men in the pool hall went back to their

games, clearing his path. He strode toward Falcon,
following him out the front door. What he had to do
needed no witnesses.

As soon as the door shut, he rounded on Falcon.

"What the fuck have you done to her?"

Falcon held up his hand. "Cool off."
"This has nothing to do with the club. That's my

woman." He fisted his hands. "I'm one second away
from killing you."

"You wouldn't get the chance." Falcon calmly

leaned against the wall of the building. "At least ten
brothers are watching us right now."

His spine stiffened. Nothing would stop him

from going after anyone who has harmed Marla
Marie.

"Just so you know, nobody has touched her."

Falcon pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered
him a smoke.

Ignoring the offer, he fumed. "She's working

here?"

"For the last six months or so."
He stepped away and came back. "You knew

who she belonged to."

"Not right away. I remember her as a child.

She's a woman now." Falcon's gaze softened.
"When I found out, I let those know who she
belonged to, so they could keep an eye on her."

That was the problem. He didn't want anyone

looking, touching, involving themselves with her.

"Is she okay?" He hated asking, but he couldn't

process that she was here, under WAKOM
protection.

"Depends on the day." Falcon crossed his arms,

holding the cigarette between his lips. "She puts on
a brave face, but one mention of your name or the
club, and I can see the light go out in her, and
reality hits."

Yeah, that was his Marla Marie. She was the

bravest person he knew. All the men who'd killed
and lived through hell had nothing on his girl.

"I need to find her," he said.
"She's around." Falcon stepped toward him.

"Rubble went after her."

He'd failed. His plan was never to come here

and surprise Marla Marie in front of everyone. He
wanted to talk to her at the house. Alone, where he
could help her understand why he'd sent her away
from him.

"I imagine you want to get out of here." Falcon

lifted his chin. "Let's take this upstairs and finish
business first."

He followed Falcon into the pool hall, looking

for Marla Marie every step of the way. Not seeing
her only made him more anxious to find her.

He hadn't felt as powerless since he was locked

up in prison.

Sequestered into one of the bedrooms upstairs,

he remained standing, ready to get what he came
here to do done for the club.

"Allman will be here on Thursday with the roll.

He's transporting seven and a half bricks," he said.

Falcon cocked his head. "That's a quarter more.

How long do we have to clean it all?"

"Woody needs it done in two weeks, and then

the transport will be ready to take to the Spokane
Chapter."

Falcon whistled. "That's a lot of dough."
That wasn't his problem. He'd delivered the

information and done what he came here to do. The
rest would be up to the individual presidents to
make sure their men got the job done.

There were a lot of men wearing the WAKOM

patch. The members needed cash to support their
families. Laundering dirty money took time but
kept the club afloat. None of them would turn
down the extra change in their pockets.

Falcon jotted down the dates on a piece of

paper and shoved it in his pocket. "While you were
locked up in prison, the route to here had
problems."

"I heard."
"Good." Falcon stepped toward the door.

"What day are you due in Spokane?

"When I get there."

Some information wasn't shared with the

individual chapters. Woody was the president of the
mother club and set the rules. Because Dutch was
in charge of keeping in contact with each chapter,
he was the only one trusted with the information.

Everyone knew he held all the information. It

made his job more dangerous. Having three
chapters, there was always a risk. One group could
get the idea to cheat another or work with another
motorcycle club.

The information he carried would be divided

into three, with each chapter getting only the
information required to do the job.

It made Dutch the most loyal person in

WAKOM and yet the member with the most to
lose.

That title came at a price, and he'd paid

numerous times throughout his life.

He wouldn't allow Marla Marie to be something

he loses.

In the hallway, Falcon stopped. "Marla will be

behind the building. I don't think she'll leave
because she's supposed to work tonight. Why don't
you take her home? Rubble can handle the place
for one night."

He dipped his chin in thanks and strode past

Falcon.

On the main floor, he ignored the others as he

went out the back door. His balls throbbed at the

sight of Marla Marie sitting on the picnic table,
gazing out at the field with her back to him.

Over the years, she'd gone through four stages

of loving him.

First, a shy, non-talking child, desperate for

love, that clung to him with a strength that rivaled
any man in WAKOM. As soon as he had her
settled, she'd stepped into being a rebellious
teenager who wouldn't let anyone tell her how to
live her life. He was right there for when she
graduated to the third stage and blossomed into a
curious, sexually charged young woman that
refused to let him push her away. Then, during the
worst part of his life, he sat in prison and watched
Marla Marie become a loving, devoted woman who
belonged to him.

As he stepped forward, he went back in time,

careful not to make any fast movements or scare
her into fleeing.

Prepared for the stages Marla Marie would go

through, again, as she rediscovered her love for
him, he was prepared to fight for her for the rest of
his life.

Because there was no way in hell, he was going

to lose her.

Chapter 25

MARLA KNEW DUTCH HAD followed her when
the back door of the pool hall closed. She
shuddered, sensing him near, looking at her.

There was never a time when she couldn't feel

him when he got close to her.

Some people went a lifetime, searching for love,

needing validation of their feelings, wanting to hear
someone tell them they were loved.

She never had to ask because she had always

known Dutch loved her.

He could send her away, never see her again,

and the distance would never sever the bond they
had between them.

Except, when he'd forced her away, it was no

different than him leaving and never coming back.

"You look good, Marla Marie," said Dutch.
She stared at the tall, green grass swaying in the

breeze. There was nothing to say to him.

He'd forced her out of his life for almost two

years. Every day became more painful than the last
without him.

She'd lived a colorless life without him, only

going through the motions. Nothing brought her
excitement or made her hope for tomorrow.

Tingles rolled down her spine, preparing for

him. He rounded the picnic table and sat beside her,

leaning against the edge of the table. Far enough
away, his body never touched hers, but his warmth
spread, encompassing the side of her.

"I swung by the house. You weren't there, so I

came here to deal with business." He stretched his
legs out in front of him. "I wasn't expecting to see
you here."

Her eyes blurred, but she refused to blink and

take her out of the bubble she'd created. If she
pretended he was back in prison, and she only
imagined hearing his voice, she'd stay stronger. She
wouldn't allow him to break her again.

"You're not going to talk to me, huh?"
She pressed her lips together. The urge to ask

him why he was here almost impossible to stop.

"That's okay." He leaned forward. "I remember

another time when you refused to talk."

Seeing him in her peripheral vision was the

hardest thing she'd had to do. Her body ached at
the painful hold she had on herself not to turn and
fall into his arms.

"Falcon's giving you the night off. He knows

there are things I need to talk to you about. Go
ahead and grab your stuff, and I'll take you home,"
he said.

She used that as an excuse to walk away from

him. Rushing into the building, she ducked into the
small room where she kept her purse and turned in
a circle, seeing if he followed her. When she

declared herself alone, she sucked in vast amounts
of air.

"Shit." She grabbed her head, panicked.
Dutch came back. He was here. What was she

doing?

He would follow her home. She couldn't take

having him around.

She bent at the waist, feeling as if she would

vomit. God, she wanted him.

Every single day, she missed him.
Even though they were broken up, having him

here with her gave her a rush as if she belonged to
him. She belonged to this world. Where she
deserved to be happy and loved.

Before she fell apart, she grabbed her purse and

found her keys. Maybe he expected her to leave
out the back door, but she'd parked in the front.

What if he'd come to explain why he doesn't

want her? What if he came to kick her completely
away from everything WAKOM?

Nervous panic trilled through her. Maybe, she

could get home and lock the door before he
realized she'd left. She didn't want to hear what he
had to say.

She wouldn't allow him to hurt her more.
In the main room, Rubble reached out and

grabbed her arm, stopping her from leaving. "You
okay?"

She nodded, knowing if she opened her mouth,

she'd cry.

"Go home, honey. Take care of you and come

back tomorrow."

She left the pool hall and rushed to her car,

sliding into the driver's seat. It took three times to
get the key into the ignition because her hands
trembled.

She couldn't tell what time it was or how many

hours she'd worked. The sun was still out. Dutch
had all night if he wanted to talk.

Speak of the devil.
Dutch walked out of the building and to his

Harley. His long stride caused an ache between her
legs.

There were many fantasies wrapped around

him. Things she never got to do with him because
he sat in a prison cell.

A raspy moan escaped her chest. She had to

stop thinking like that.

Alyssa had mentioned Dutch hanging out with

the women in the club.

While she'd pandered away her days and nights

alone, obsessed with him, he'd tried everything
possible to forget her.

Or, maybe he hadn't had to try at all.
She put the car in Reverse and backed out of

the parking lot. Driving out of town, she refused to

look in her rear-view mirror. She knew he was
there. The roar of his bike penetrated her car.

Once she arrived home, she ran to the house.

Inside, she locked herself behind the barrier and
backed away from the door. What other option had
Dutch given her?

He told her to go. He set her free.
He couldn't come back and invade her space.

How was she supposed to handle him being around,
only to lose him again?

The doorknob rattled, then stopped. She bit into

her lower lip, holding her breath, knowing Dutch
wasn't the type of man to let a piece of wood stop
him.

The door swung open. Dutch stepped inside,

holding up a key.

She swallowed. Of course, he would have an

extra key to the house.

She should've changed the locks.
But if she'd done that, he wouldn't have been

able to get inside if he came back.

He looked around the room before landing his

gaze on her. "I could use something to eat."

"You should've stayed at the pool hall," she

said, breaking her silence.

He strode forward. She backed away from him,

bumping into the wall.

Her pussy quivered in awareness. He lowered

his head, putting his lips to her ear. "It's not food

I'm hungry for."

Her back slid against the wall, and her eyelids

failed her, closing when his tongue pulled her
earlobe into his mouth.

He picked her up and carried her into the

bedroom. As soon as she hit the mattress, she got a
burst of energy and scooted to the edge of the bed,
intent on leaving the room.

He pushed her back down on the mattress. She

exhaled harshly. "You can't walk in here and—"

"You want to see what happens every time I

think about you." He unlatched his belt, undid his
fly, and pulled out his cock.

She stared at the angry hardness in his hand,

paralyzed to move. There were times while she was
growing up that she'd had the chance to see men
naked, but none of them had been Dutch.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.
"Doing what I've wanted to do for a long time."

He stepped up to the bed and grabbed her ankles,
pulling her until she fell flat on her back.
"Remember the orgasm you had, rubbing against
me?"

That morning when she was sixteen years old,

alone with him at Rachel and Skull's house, had
replayed in her head every time she touched
herself. She panted. Her experience was the most
important thing to her because, for the last five
years, that's all she had of Dutch.

"That was the sweetest thing in my memories,

and every time I beat myself off, it was your pretty,
little face in front of me." He gripped the hem of
her shorts and yanked.

She gasped at the sudden rush.
His gaze lowered, and he growled. "That

orgasm you had with me and the ones you've had
without me will not come close to what you're
going to have tonight."

Her heart thrummed—half in fear, half in

pleasure.

She'd seen how big his cock was moments ago,

and then he threatened her with it. He had her
confused and unprepared. She'd gone to work that
evening, never imagining him walking into the pool
hall.

He pushed up her tank and kissed her stomach.

His whiskers brushed her abdomen and the tops of
her thighs. While he circled his tongue along her
skin, his fingers hooked the sides of her thong and
dragged the material down her legs.

Losing control, she tried one last time. "You

can't come back and—"

"Can." He nuzzled her pussy, parting her lower

lips with his tongue.

Her thighs quivered, hugging Dutch's head. Her

arousal heightened with each sweep of his wet,
warm tongue.

He moved, going between her legs, taking more

of her in his mouth. Weakened, she reached for
him. He clasped her hands and pinned them to the
bed, settling her. Having that touch was more than
she'd had in so long.

Her chest heaved up and down. She cried

inside. "Dutch..."

He held her down, keeping her from sitting up

and crawling into his lap. His mouth like a prison.
She couldn't escape.

She needed him.
She wanted this.
Both wishes went against everything he wanted

for her. She thrashed on the bed, caught up in the
whirlwind of emotions, both physical and mental.

She needed more.
She wanted all of him.
Warmth spread throughout her. Every muscle

spasmed, bucking her on the bed.

She needed to come.
She wanted him to stay.
Her next breath wasn't promised. She squeezed

Dutch's hands as if she could drag him into her to
hold forever.

He lifted his head and crawled up beside her.

She turned to cling to him, and he picked her up,
rearranging her spiraling body until she straddled
his head.

"I want to see you." He hooked her thighs and

pulled her down until she was sitting on his face.

The suction of his mouth in that position

crumbled her. She moaned. Her hips moved on
their own. She reached down and grabbed his hair,
fisting the strands and not letting him leave her.

He used his tongue to lick between nipping and

sucking her. She rode his mouth, urged on by her
arousal.

Her wetness mixed with his beard. The

sensations were more exotic than her fingers.

He untangled her hands from his hair and

threaded his fingers through hers, bracing her. With
most of her weight supported by him, her pussy
warmed, and the insistent need to orgasm rushed
through her.

As if starving, Dutch never stopped assaulting

her. He stroked and munched and rubbed her
sensitive clit.

Her toes curled, and she squeezed his hands.

Their connection traveled through her, electrifying
her.

She held on tightly, keeping him with her.

Floating between the shock of having him back and
wondering if he was a delusion, she became
desperate and needy.

She panted, grinding against him, rubbing

against his face. His beard—just the right amount

of roughness. His chin—caused wonderful
pressure.

She moved and moved. Her body refused to

stop. As if an orgasm would make him a reality, she
desperate rode his face.

Pleasure reached up inside of her and exploded.

She moaned. The sound coming from the deep
hollowness inside her soul, crying for attention and
love. Echoing in the stark bedroom.

The tension in her spine snapped, and she

bowed her back, hanging her head. Her arms shook,
and if not for Dutch holding her up, she would've
collapsed on top of him.

She struggled to fill her lungs around the racing

of her heart.

Dutch let go of her hands and spanned her

waist, lifting her up and moving her down to his
stomach.

His cock pulsed hard against her ass. Unable to

move, she stared at him in question.

"Tell me if you gave your pussy to anyone while

I was gone." His deep voice rattled her.

Had she...? Was he...?
"Marla Marie?" He rubbed her thighs. "My

cock is behind you. Feel what I have for you."

She reached behind her and gripped his dick,

running her hand along its length and testing the
width.

Her tongue stuck to the roof of her dry mouth.

She'd never had anything inside of her that big or
that long.

"You want it?" He squeezed her thighs. "You're

going to have to put yourself on me. I don't want to
hurt you by doing it myself."

She twisted, looking over her shoulder. His cock

looked even angrier. Long swollen veins lined the
length of him, and the bulbous head stared up at her
with its one eye, tempting her, teasing her.

Dutch's stomach tightened, and he groaned.

"Give my cock a little taste of your pussy."

She raised her ass off him and scooted back,

looking down, between her legs. Her inner thighs
were coated with her own pleasure and Dutch's
saliva.

He reached between her legs and fisted the base

of his cock. "I'll hold on to it until you want me to
move my hand. You can take that much until you're
used to me."

With him taking away four fingers worth of his

cock, she grew more confident that she could put
what remained inside her.

Moving until she aligned with him, she held on

to his shoulders and backed up until the tip of him
pressed against her pussy. Holding her breath, she
kept pushing until she thought most of him was
inside her.

Dutch's upper body expanded with each ragged

breath. She looked at him to see if she was doing it
right, and his eyes stared back at her with the lids
half-covering his eyes. It was the closest she'd been
to him since seeing him in prison.

The wrinkles on Dutch's face that Alyssa had

told her about were there. At the corners of his
eyes and the corners of his mouth, peeking out the
top of his beard. As were the gray strands in his
beard that had multiplied. There was a new red scar
on his forehead, and she had no idea what had
happened to cause it.

Without letting go of his dick, he used his

thumb on her clit. Her pussy squeezed down, and
she winced.

"Relax." He circled his thumb lightly on her.

"You have a little more you can take."

Her gaze jerked to his, and she swallowed.

"More?"

"When you're ready."
Her heart was going to fly out of her chest. She

looked down at where his body connected to hers
and pushed her body down. Her pussy spasmed,
tightening, stealing her breath.

"Fuck," he muttered. "I could come inside of

you."

That wasn't what she wanted. If they were

going to have sex, she wanted to do what the other
women had done with him. She doubted if any of

them were scared to have sex with him because of
his size.

Puckering her lips, she exhaled slowly until her

pussy relaxed. "Let go."

His gaze narrowed, and for a second, she

thought he wasn't going to do what she asked, and
then he took his hand off himself and held her hips
without pushing her to take more of him. And, if
she could've concentrated more, she would've
pointed out that he held her up, so she couldn't slip
down on him too fast.

Going slow wasn't working. She couldn't seem

to slide or push down anymore.

Breathing as best she could, she thrust onto him

and stiffened. A brief burn paralyzed her. His hands
tightened on her and his thighs constricted
underneath her.

As soon as the pain came, it went. She opened

her eyes and found him watching her. The
closeness too much for her, she lowered her body
to his chest, feeling his arms wrap around her.

She buried her face in the spot between his

neck and shoulder and slid her arms down until she
could hug his upper body.

Warmth like nothing she had ever experienced

before filled her, and Dutch shuddered on a groan
without her moving. She stayed fully impaled on
him.

His body eventually relaxed, and he stroked her

hair. She had no idea how long they laid there. By
the time he rolled her to her side, his cock had
slipped out of her.

He got up from the bed and walked out of the

room. She stared at the wall. Afraid he would keep
walking until he reached his Harley.

She never ran after him. She never called his

name.

He'd taken her virginity, or maybe she'd given it

to him. In the emotional upheaval of him returning,
she couldn't decide who was responsible.

She only knew that things had changed between

them. Being with him was no longer easy and
comfortable the way it was in the past.

Sex had entered their relationship. And she had

no idea if he planned to be a part of her life.

Chapter 26

DUTCH RETURNED TO THE bedroom and
slipped a warm, wet towel between Marla Marie's
legs, wiping his come off her and soothing any pain
she must've taken from him.

There was a light smear of blood on his dick

when he'd washed. Not shocked to find out she
hadn't been with anyone but him.

He'd hoped to dodge hurting her, but it was

unavoidable. A necessary part of becoming
sexually active, and he sure in the hell was going to
have sex with her again.

Already, he wanted her.
He leaned over and kissed the rise of her bare

hip. "Are you hurting?"

She never moved or answered him. He'd given

her time to get over her shock of him returning.

"Marla Marie, answer me."
"Why?" She rolled over onto her back and sat

up. "You're going to leave again."

"I'm not leaving. Not yet." He sat on the edge of

the bed. "I have nine days before I have to get back
on the road."

"Nine days, ten years, an hour." She stood and

walked out of the room. In the hallway, she said, "I
can never trust you again."

The bathroom door shut. He walked to the

kitchen. She was wrong.

Her mother had a habit of leaving her, but he

never would. Circumstances kept him away, but he
would always come back.

Finding coffee in the cupboard, he made a pot.

While he waited for her to shower, he looked
through her kitchen, finding only enough food to
barely keep her alive. Nothing to sustain her, but a
half-eaten brick of cheese, saltine crackers, and a
box of Cheerios that he wondered how she planned
to eat because there was no milk in her fridge.

Marla Marie entered the kitchen, wearing a

long T-shirt he recognized as one of his she'd taken
years ago and her damp hair falling down her back,
wetting the material covering her butt. She headed
straight to the cupboard and took the only mug.

He leaned against the counter, taking in the

changes. She'd grown more beautiful over the
years. There was a confidence in her sexuality that
now surprised him, knowing he was the first to
have her pussy.

She always craved attention and was free with

her affection through her teenage years. It killed
him, sitting in prison, thinking she could give
someone else what she'd always saved for him.

She belonged to him regardless if she had

turned to sex to fill the years they were separated,
but he was a man and had to admit that knowing

she hadn't been with someone else bolstered his
ego.

Rachel always worried about Marla Marie

being too wild and careless, especially with him.
Considering the lifestyle she'd grown up in, she
could've easily had any man she looked at.

She stared at the coffee maker. He tagged her

arm, bringing her up against the length of his body.

She met his gaze. "Why are you doing this to

me? Haven't you hurt me enough?"

"I hurt you for your own good."
She shook her head. "You cut me out of your

life."

He held on to her when she tried to push herself

away. "You couldn't keep coming to the prison. It
was killing you."

"No, it killed me to see you in prison." She

shoved against him, and he let her go. "You
promised never to leave me."

"I never did."
"You're so full of shit." She clamped her mouth

shut and shook her head.

"What?"
She glanced at him. "All I ever wanted was

you."

"I know that."
"You set me free." Her eyes welled up with

tears. "You talk about me not handling all the prison
visits—"

"You stopped living. You weren't going out with

your friends. You wouldn't talk to Rachel and Skull.
You were losing weight—weight you couldn't
afford to lose."

"What you did by breaking up with me hurt

more than anything I've experienced in my life."
Her voice cracked, and she swallowed. "I thought I
was dying not having you in my life. Now, you
show up and have sex with me. I can't do it."

"You want me to go?"
She stared at him, opening and closing her

mouth. He never gave it a thought that she'd not
want him in her life.

He'd expected her to be pissed. But Marla

Marie was his.

"Yeah, I do," she whispered.
"You don't."
She pressed a hand to her heart, but he could

see her trembling. "I know you were with other
women when you were released. I wasn't the first
person you wanted to see or the second."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered.
She scoffed. The lifestyle he lived afforded him

many benefits. One being sex was thought of as a
recreational activity. What happened in the
bedroom with Marla Marie wasn't the same.

"Do you think I could come to you after being

in prison for five years, knowing I'd hurt you the
minute I was out? Not only would my size scar you,

but I wanted you too much. I would never be able
to do what we did earlier," he said.

"That wasn't your decision to make." She rolled

her shoulders inward. "I would never have a
relationship like Rachel and Skull and allow you to
be with other women.

"I don't want that." He exhaled loudly. "What

we have between us doesn't compare to their
relationship, or anyone else's, for that matter."

"You told me I belong to you."
"You do."
She snapped her gaze to him. "You broke the

rules at the prison on purpose. You broke your
promise to me."

"Marla Marie..."
"You need to leave." She hugged herself.
He had nine days with her. Lifting her chin, he

kissed her softly. "I'll be at the pool hall if you need
me."

She stared at his chest. Checking his back

pocket for his pistol, he stepped away from her.

Turning her back toward him, she held on to the

counter. He let himself out.

He'd be back. It wasn't over.
Knowing her better than she knew herself, he

expected her to go through the four stages of loving
him all over again. He wouldn't be surprised if the
next time he came to her, she ripped him a new
asshole.

Chapter 27

MARLA EXPECTED DUTCH to be at the pool
hall, knowing he was in town for a while. She'd
spent all day preparing herself for the next time she
would come face to face with him.

She stared at the back of his head as he talked

to one of his MC brothers. She was scheduled to
work until two o'clock in the morning. That was
eight hours of having him nearby. Eight hours she
would be reminded of having sex with him.

Rubble lifted his brows and studied her without

asking any questions about her leaving early
yesterday. "Looks like a long night. There's an
intense challenge going on at Table Four."

She glanced across the room, surprised to find

Dutch heading toward the pool table with a cue
stick in his hand. But then again, he never played
when she was around because he stayed with her.

Exhaling slowly, she willed herself not to be

jealous of him hanging around the men. She bit the
inside of her cheek, looking for the regular women
who hung out at the pool hall. They were always
hooking up with the bikers. Not one of them better
think of touching him around her.

"No worries." She walked around Rubble and

stopped at the end of the counter. "I'll make sure
the drinks keep flowing. Where do you need me?"

"Go ahead and check the ketchup bottles."

Rubble moved away from her. "I'll carry the racks
in."

The pool hall opened at five o'clock every

evening, while she started at six o'clock. That gave
her and Rubble time to get things moving by the
time the crowd arrived around eight-ish. From then
on, she normally stayed busy, barely getting a
moment to stand still.

Tonight, she needed the distraction.
Gathering four new bottles from underneath the

counter, she worked from one end of the bar to the
other. The condiments stayed off the tables. If the
customers wanted one, they usually grabbed one as
needed. That way, the tables were easier to clean
throughout the night.

Tyler walked toward her and leaned against the

counter. "Have you seen Piston?"

She made a quick sweep of the room. "No, but I

haven't been here long. Have you checked with
Rubble?"

"Not yet." Tyler took an envelope out of his

back pocket. "I need to take off. Can you do me a
favor and give this to him when he shows up?"

"Sure." She took the packet. "I'll put it in the

"Thanks, doll." Tyler knocked on the counter

before he left.

She went to the cash register and slid the

envelope under the drawer for safekeeping, then
went and checked the napkin dispensers.

"Beer!"
She gazed across the room and found Shifter

raising his hand. Grabbing a cold Coors out of the
fridge, she popped the cap and took his drink to
him. Most of the customers had their preference for
what they liked to drink. She tried to cater to them.
The extra attention she gave was returned to her in
the form of bigger tips.

Walking past Dutch, she focused on Shifter.

"Here you go."

He grunted his thanks. "Keep them coming,

sweetheart."

All men tended to drink more if they were

losing. Though she suspected if they concentrated
on the game and not the beer, they'd do better.

"Sure thing." She scurried out of his way.
Dutch stepped into her path. She lifted her chin.

"Do you need a drink?"

"Already got one." He held a beer in his hand.

"I want you."

"I'm not yours, Du—"
He cupped the back of her neck and captured

her mouth. It wasn't a soft, passionate kiss like last
night. He was claiming her in front of the men. His
roughness reminded her of the way he'd kissed her

at the prison, right before he told her to get out of
his life.

She pushed against him, breaking the kiss. His

smirk poured salt into her wounds. He knew damn
well what he was doing, and after everything he'd
put her through, he had no right.

Turning, she grabbed the closest biker standing

near her and raised up on her tiptoes, and kissed
him as passionately. Taken by surprise, Mike only
stood there with his mouth open.

The clatter of balls clanking together ceased.

She dropped back on her heels and strode toward
the counter.

As she passed Rubble, he said, "Girl, you

shouldn't have done that."

Turning toward her boss, she crossed her arms.

"He can't kiss me whenever he wants. I don't
belong to him."

"If you say so." Rubble lifted his chin,

motioning across the room.

She looked back at Dutch and found him

standing with Mike, his arm thrown around the
other man's shoulders as if they were long-time
friends. She wanted to smack him.

Did he have no feelings? How could he stand

there watching her kiss another man?

Groaning, she turned her back to him and went

and picked up the food waiting to be served. The
longer she had to put up with Dutch being here, the

angrier she became. By midnight, she was positive
he was using her. He had no intention of getting
back what they'd shared most of her life. He'd
fucked her, and now he was good to go on. His
curiosity or itch or claim was satisfied.

The fact that she walked around with a constant

flutter happening inside of her and her pussy wet
thinking about him only made her angrier.

So, when Dutch slapped her ass as she carried a

pitcher of beer and four empty mugs on the tray to
a few of the men, she set the beer on the closest
table, turned around, and smacked him across the
face.

Fire lit his eyes at the violent contact. She

backed up as he stalked forward. The bundle of
emotions she held on to all night exploded.

Dutch picked her up. She vibrated, reading his

mind, knowing that look.

He carried her down the hallway and out the

backdoor. In the pitch blackness, he put her on top
of the picnic table. She clung to him, kissing him
deeply. Taking what she was too shocked to do last
night.

All the anger and confusion came out in

desperation to touch him and reassure herself he
was here.

He unbuckled his belt while thrusting his tongue

into her mouth. She reached down and undid the
snap on her shorts. Frustrated at the material being

in her way, she scooted off the table, pushing him
back with the kiss.

Dutch stood her up, pushing blindly at her

shorts, trying to rid her of them. She moaned
impatiently.

Against her lips, he mumbled, "Kick them off."
She lifted her foot, jerking out of the material,

then managed to get her other leg free. Wrapping
her arms around his shoulders, she raised her knee,
trying to climb his body, seeking the hard heat
pressed against her.

He turned her around, bending her toward the

picnic table, and rubbed his cock against the crack
of her ass.

She panted, her head falling back while

goosebumps covered her flesh.

Dutch licked a trail from her neck down to her

shoulder.

Her spine arched, pushing her hips back,

grinding against his cock. He grabbed her hair,
arching her more, and returned his lips to her ear.
"I'm back. I'm not leaving. You don't fucking kiss
other men."

His teeth sank into her neck, and she moaned.

"I'm not yours to boss around anymore."

"Bullshit." He slid his cock deep inside of her.
There was no mercy, no tenderness, only raw

power, showing her that he wasn't playing around.
The pain she'd expected, needed, wanted, wasn't

there, only an extreme fullness. It felt different than
last night.

Almost as if she could feel him filling her clear

up to her throat, making it impossible to argue.

Clawing at the surface of the picnic table, she

bucked against him, taking him deeper. Trying to
inflict some kind of pain on him.

She wanted to show him how much she hurt.

How living with a piece of her heart gone was
impossible. That she'd lived her life believing he
would always love her.

And during the hardest time of his life, he'd

stopped.

He'd left her.
But she couldn't hurt him. He gave back as

good as he got. He pounded into her, gripping her
hip and pulling her hair, not letting her get away.

"Do you feel me?" He thrust hard into her and

withdrew before plunging deeply into her pussy.
"All of me."

She moaned with each movement, blind to the

night. Pushed to the tips of her toes, her palms slid
on the rough wood of the picnic table because of
their height difference.

She rocked back as hard as she could without

much leverage to make it more substantial. "You.
Can't. Hurt. Me. Anymore.

"Damn you." He let go of her hair, put both

hands on her hips, and bent his knees more,

slamming her back against him. "Hurt me if you
want."

He grunted. She ground against him. Her pussy,

now tender from the abuse, squeezed down in
pleasure as if her body sided with Dutch.

He fucked her, withdrawing and thrusting hard

and cruelly. "You never stopped being mine."

"You stole me." She gasped. "You gave me

away."

He rutted into her with short, fierce strokes.
"You made me fall in..." She moaned. "Love

with you. Promised never to leave me."

"I didn't want to send you away." Buried fully

inside of her, he curved his upper body over her
back, wrapping his arms around her, imprisoning
her so they both couldn't move apart. "You will
always be mine, Marla Marie. Fuck me, I can't give
you up. Ever."

Her orgasm sucked him in harder. As if it was

her one last desperate attempt at keeping him.

Her legs weakened, and she hung from his

arms. His heavy breathing tickled her neck. She
closed her eyes, not feeling any better but sexually
exhausted.

"Don't push me away," he whispered against her

ear.

"You had five years in prison to tell me how

you were feeling and why you'd made the decision
to keep me away from you." She sniffed. "I've had

almost two years believing I'd lost you. You didn't
only hurt me, Dutch. You destroyed me."

His cock slipped out of her. She pushed against

him, needing to step away.

Her heart couldn't heal with a few chosen

words and having sex.

Not even for Dutch.

Chapter 28

FALCON GAZED AT THE pool game playing out
in front of him. Dutch sat across the table from the
Moses Lake Chapter president, lifted his beer, and
bided his time.

Over the last week, he'd let Marla Marie have

her space. He'd refrained from using his key to gain
access to her when she locked the door. When she
ran across the field after showing up at the pool hall
on her day off and found him there, he'd let her run
away.

She was going through her rebellious stage.
He wouldn't be surprised if she had a quarter

ounce of pot in her purse and got drunk every
night, shut up in the house alone. It was how she'd
coped as a teenager when things weren't going her
way.

But things were different now. She was an

adult.

She could mope and cause all the hell she

wanted. Nothing was going to change his mind. He
was never going to let her go.

What he'd said at the prison was to get her to

live her life instead of stopping. Instead of going
out and partying like other girls, leaving their
teenage years behind, she'd stepped right into

adulthood—becoming a homeowner, working a
full-time job, and supporting herself.

Falcon eyed him. "You look like hell."
"I've been better." He finished his beer, turned

his head, and yelled, "Marla Marie."

Thirty seconds later, she brought him another

beer. He hooked her waist, bringing her down on
her lap.

She pushed against his chest. "I need to work."
"Take a break." Falcon fought a grin, backing

Dutch. "How are things going?"

"Fine." She held herself stiff on his lap.
Dutch rubbed her thigh, letting his fingers slide

up the inside of her bare leg. He wouldn't be against
taking her out back and letting her work off some
of the hostility she held on to so tightly.

"You missed a good time at the rally." Falcon lit

a cigarette. "I talked to your mom and dad. They
asked how you were doing."

She whipped her gaze to Dutch. "Do they know

you're here?"

"Yeah."
Her shoulders fell before she turned back to

Falcon. "Maybe I'll go next year."

"You will," muttered Dutch for her ears only.
There was no reason for her to distance herself

from the family. Next year, he planned to go to the
rally, if for no other reason than he wanted to do
something that he knew Marla Marie enjoyed.

Seeing as he was the reason why she missed out

on what she enjoyed doing over the last five years,
he wanted to make it up to her.

To start, he had a surprise for her that should

arrive at any time.

"The older I get, the more I hope I'm around in

a year." Falcon tilted his head back and blew a
stream of smoke up into the air.

"You're not that old." Marla Marie tone

softened. "Dutch is old."

"Hey." He spanked her ass, making her jump on

his lap.

Secretly glad she was taking her shots at him.

Things were moving right along the way they used
to.

She turned to him. "Who's older?"
"Falcon." He brought her closer.
She rolled her eyes. "I need to go back to

work."

"Give me a kiss."
She scooted, and he brought her back. "Dutch,

I'm working."

"So." His hold on her softened. "Do you think

Falcon is going to say I can't take you out back and
slip my cock in you?"

"He'll fire me."
"He ain't going to fire you," he said.
She pursed her lips and leaned in. He put his

finger on her chin. "Open."

Her mouth relaxed, and he took a kiss from her.

His balls constricted at the way she took his bottom
lip.

The only girl...the only woman who'd done that

to him before.

She nipped him with her teeth and jumped off

his lap, catching him off guard. He ran the back of
his hand over his mouth and stared at the swing of
her ass as she went to help Rubble.

He'd like to take her feistiness outside and bite

her back.

"Damn, man." Falcon leaned back in his chair.

"She's a whole other woman when you're here."

He lit a cigarette and tongued his bottom lip for

damage. "I'll be leaving soon."

"Figured." Falcon lowered his voice. "I'll watch

out for her."

"'Preciate it." He looked the president in the

eyes. "How secure is the club, right now?"

"Security gets pumped up when Allman

arrives." Falcon looked around the room. "To keep
up appearances, we keep the pool hall open, but the
men take shifts, keeping an eye on the bitches that
spend time here. Our reputation keeps the riffraff
out, most days."

"It's the other days I worry about. Not being

here, I don't want Marla Marie put in a dangerous
situation."

"She can handle herself."

He looked over at her. It was a risk he wouldn't

take. If something happened to him, he needed to
know she was safe.

"You've got nothing to worry about," said

Falcon.

He stood, needing some fresh air. "'Preciate it

all the same if you watch out for her."

Falcon dipped his chin, giving Dutch his word.

That's all he could ask for without taking himself
off the road and watching her every second of the
day.

He stepped around the table, headed for the

back hallway, and Falcon called his name, stopping
him. "Yeah?"

"How old are you anyway?"
He counted, having not kept track in years. For

the last five years, the remaining days of his
sentence were the only numbers he'd kept in his
head.

It was June. He grunted, never realizing his

birthday and come and gone while in prison. Marla
Marie hadn't been there to make a big deal out of it
like she usually had.

"Forty-two."
"Motherfucker." Falcon laughed. "You've got

three years on me."

He walked away from the table, feeling his age.

Before he made it halfway across the room, a

familiar squeal reached him. He stiffened, turning
around, keying in on Marla Marie.

She jumped up and down, then rushed to the

door. Dutch relaxed, enjoying the sight of Marla
Marie's happiness over his surprise.

Alyssa hugged her, both girls beaming and

talking a mile a minute. He changed his mind about
going outside and sat down near the back wall. That
smile on Marla Marie's face put him in a better
mood.

His girl was happy.
It hadn't taken him long to convince Alyssa

over the phone that Marla Marie needed her and
he'd pay for her gas if she came to visit.

Standing behind the two girls, King threw up

two fingers at him. He lifted his chin in thanks for
helping bring Alyssa to Marla Marie.

Satisfied that his woman's mood had shifted, he

walked outside, leaving them to catch up. Behind
the building, he walked around the picnic table.
Being back in Moses Lake reminded him of the
first time he caught sight of Marla Marie as a
scrawny girl with wild, dirty hair, half-starved, and
eating scraps like a stray dog.

Now she was working at the pool hall, all grown

up and beautiful.

But it was taking longer than he'd hoped to

erase the hurt he'd caused her.

He was running out of time. He had to be on the

road in three days.

The back door of the pool hall burst open.

Marla Marie and Alyssa, followed by King, spilled
out.

"Your boss, what's his name? Rubble? He seems

nice." Alyssa reached for King and cuddled against
his side.

"It's been great working here. Everyone is

laidback. We try and take our breaks when there's a
lull."

"There are some familiar faces hanging around

tonight." Alyssa reached for Marla Marie. "Oh, I
haven't had a chance to tell you about the rally.
Guess who is pregnant?"

"I have no idea."
"Cheryl." Alyssa flapped her arm. "You know,

the woman I told you was always hanging around
Tony."

"Is he going to settle down with this one?"
Alyssa blew a raspberry. "I doubt it."
Dutch stood outside their circle, taking in the

lively talk. After walking out of prison, the only
thing that had made him feel connected to his own
club was his desire to get back to Marla Marie.

Club members had gone on with their life,

changed women, changed jobs. Guys his age were
settling down. The younger men were proving their
worth.

All he had was the open road. And that road

could take him to Marla Marie.

"Hey." Alyssa motioned in Dutch's direction. "I

didn't know you were out here. Come join us."

Marla Marie turned and lost her smile at the

sight of him. Fuck.

He walked over to the picnic table, preferring

that Marla Marie had her time with her friends
without him ruining it by confusing her more. "How
are you guys doing tonight?"

"Perfect." Alyssa squeezed on King. "Thank

you so much for asking us to come."

"Not a problem." He sensed Marla Marie glance

at him with a frown. He hadn't told her what he'd
done.

"So, we have some news." Alyssa grinned.

"King and I found a house to rent. We're going to
move in together."

"That's great." Marla Marie hugged her friend.

"I'm so happy for you. For both of you. Where is
it?"

"In Bellevue, about two blocks from my

parents' house."

As they talked about everything they'd need to

get and the dates when they were moving, Dutch lit
a cigarette, detached from the conversation. These
were Marla Marie's friends.

His home was the open road, and for the first

time, he was reluctant to leave.

As Marla Marie talked, she slipped her fingers

into his hand. He held on to her. She had no idea
she'd fallen back on old habits, and he wasn't going
to bring attention to her reaching for him.

"Oh, I ran into Rachel at the clubhouse when I

went to meet King before we headed over here."
Alyssa dug in her pocket. "She mentioned you left
this on the dresser when you moved out and
wanted me to give it to you. She thought you might
be missing it."

Alyssa held out her hand. Marla Marie was

handed the bracelet he'd given her years ago, and
she always wore around her ankle until she started
to go to visitations at the prison. They wouldn't
allow her to wear jewelry, and he remembered her
being upset about leaving it at home.

Marla looked up at him. His gut tightened. She

better not try and give it back.

Realizing she still held his hand, she let go of

him and put the bracelet in her pocket. "I hate to do
this, but I need to go back to work. Are you guys
riding back tonight, or do you want to come to the
house and stay. There's a couch. I can give you a
blanket."

"Falcon's letting us crash upstairs. We're going

to get out of here early and hopefully miss the
traffic," said King.

"Oh, okay." She walked toward the door. "I'll

catch up more through the night when I can. I want

to know everything that's going on with you."

Alyssa followed her, taking King with her. He

stayed outside.

Happy that Marla Marie had her friends around

her when she needed them, he exhaled slowly.
There was a place for him in her life, but she'd need
to see that for herself.

The time crunch on his travels was winding

down. He could only hope that she looked forward
to him returning and wouldn't give up on him
completely.

The door reopened, and Marla Marie walked

back to him. Standing in front of him, she threw her
arms around his waist and hugged him. He cupped
the back of her head and closed his eyes.

This was his girl. The one who always

understood what he was going through.

There was no rushing her through accepting his

love. She'd do it when she was ready.

Part Six

"Do you know how much I love you?"

Chapter 29

MARLA MARIE MOPPED the small kitchen in
her house and set the broom by the back door in
the bucket. All her nervous energy made it
impossible to sit around. Dutch had promised to
return in eight days, and it happened to be her day
off.

She had no idea if he'd show up or if he'd

decide to keep riding and stay away.

The nine days he'd stayed in Moses Lake and

hung around the pool hall, upturning her life, had
made all her insecurities come to the surface.

She wanted to believe him when he explained

that it was never his intention to leave her
permanently, but she'd also believed her mother
every time she left the house, promising to return.

Looking around the clean room, she sighed.

Maybe it wasn't smart to move back here to the
place that held all her memories of the time when
she was left on her own.

She swallowed, knowing that wasn't true. There

was one good memory, and that was when Dutch
stole her.

He'd changed the course of her life.
She couldn't imagine not having him by her

side, loving her.

But, she'd put him through hell since he

returned to her. Testing his every word, paying him
back for all the pain he'd caused her. Denying him
when all she wanted was to be with him.

Every day was like a teeter-totter. Her trust

went up and down daily, sometimes multiple times
a day.

A low rumble filtered through the open window.

She hurried to the sink, looking outside while she
washed her hands.

She was around bikers and motorcycles every

day, but she knew who was coming before Dutch
rode into sight.

Lightheaded and weakened, she held on to the

counter. He'd returned to her.

That small inkling of doubt she subconsciously

held on to disappeared. Dutch hadn't left her.

Dutch turned around in the yard and backed the

bike up against the front of the house by the door.
She walked slowly, trying to calm her racing heart.

Opening the door, she stepped outside. Dutch

lifted his head and got off his Harley. Road-weary
and windblown, he never looked better.

He wore his hair longer now than before prison

and had kept his beard untrimmed. Her stomach
fluttered. She liked the hardness, knowing the man
underneath was a gentle bear who had consoled her
from the time she was ten years old.

He grabbed his duffle off the back of his seat

and walked toward her. His gaze traveled up her
body before his head dipped, and he locked in on
her feet.

She hadn't taken time to put on any shoes.
He stopped before he reached her. "You're

wearing my bracelet on your ankle."

She circled her fingers around her wrist. "It still

doesn't fit me."

"I like it where it's at." His gaze softened.

"You're a pretty sight after a long ride, Marla
Marie."

"Do you want to come in?"
"If I do, I'm staying."
She swallowed hard. "Forever?"
"I always told you I wasn't leaving."
He'd made good on his promises. He'd returned

to her, and she was willing to start over. This time
with them both being adults.

She stepped back, pushing the door open. He

walked toward her, slipped inside, and dropped his
bag.

She had a simple casserole cooking in the oven

in hopes of him arriving. Dinner together would
give them a chance to sit down and talk. She could
tell him what she was thinking and apologize for
how she'd treated him since he came to Moses
Lake.

Instead, she walked to him and put her arms

around his waist, and breathed life back in her
body.

He tilted her head and leaned down, kissing her

deeply.

Flush against him, the open road, clinging to his

clothes, his hair, his beard, filled her nostrils,
intoxicating her.

"Missed this." His hand slid to her ass, palming

her.

She inhaled a ragged breath. Her whole body

quivered with him touching her.

"You're really staying?" She wasn't thinking

straight.

He'd already told her. She needed to believe in

him.

"Until I have to go back on the road, but I will

always return to you." His head tilted.

She pushed up on her toes. God, she missed

him.

He took her mouth, pressing his knee between

her thighs. She clamped down on him.

A groan tumbled from his lips. She pushed her

breasts against him, rubbing and craving the
friction.

Dutch picked her up by the ass, setting her on

his thigh while trailing kisses from her mouth to her
neck, drawing circles with his tongue against her

skin. Her pulse pounded, centering between her
legs.

She held on to his shoulders, digging her nails

into his leather vest. He could take her from kiss to
orgasm so quickly.

Her head went back, giving him more access to

her neck. She rode his thigh, feeling the heat
coming off him.

He pulled his mouth off her, squeezing her ass,

moving her back and forth against his leg. "Your
pussy is wet for me."

"Because I want you." She brushed back his

hair. "I'm tired of touching myself while thinking
about you. I want you. All of you."

He carried her to the bedroom. Her pussy

spasmed at the loss of pressure from his body. She
worked on getting her shorts and panties off as
soon as her feet touched the ground. Once she was
free, she pulled her tank over her head, having gone
braless.

Then, she helped him with his belt, sneaking

chances to rub the front of his jeans. His cock
bulged the material clear down to his thigh.

He chuckled. "Are you playing or working on

getting my jeans off me?"

"Both." She raked her teeth over her bottom lip,

going back to his buckle.

He pushed her hands away and deftly undid the

front of his Levi's, shoving them down to the top of

his thighs. "Let me have you, and then you can play
with me anytime you want."

A shiver went down her spine. To have him

with her and be able to feed the cravings she got
around him excited her.

She moved to kneel on the floor and help him

untie his boots, and he dragged her to her toes and
kissed her. "Leave them."

He put her on the bed. Having him loom over

her, big and broad, brought her comfort.

Her nipples peaked. Dutch's gaze caught her

reaction, and he lowered himself, taking her breast
in his mouth.

Settled on the bed, she cradled his head,

running her fingers through his hair. The adrenaline
of having him back had her touching him all over.

His beard caressed her chest to her lower

abdomen. She lolled her head back and forth in
pleasure. The warm sensation coating her.

He moved to her other nipple, sucking, lapping,

nipping until the small bud pulsed heavily. She
squeezed her knees closed at the pull of pleasure he
created in her.

It wouldn't take long, and she'd orgasm.
Dutch put his knee between her legs, opening

her up, and pressed his thigh down against her
pussy. She latched onto him, humping his leg
shamelessly.

The way she felt. The way her body acted. The

way she craved him. Nothing mattered. She could
do what she wanted. What her body wanted.

Having Dutch here with her, knowing he

planned to stay, she wanted to rub her pussy all
over his body. She thought of a million things she
could try, what she'd fantasized about, and even
things that scared her but titillated her just the
same.

Dutch would never judge her. What she

couldn't dream up herself, he'd teach her.

He lifted his head from her breast and gazed

down her body. "Hungry little pussy."

She reached down and fisted his cock. There

was nothing little about him. She'd taken all of him
the last time they were together, and she'd been
amazed there was no pain involved, only extreme
pleasure.

A drip came out of the tip of his cock. She used

her fingers to smear the pre-cum around the head.
Her hips pumped off the bed, sliding her wetness
onto his jeans.

Dutch slid his hand between his thigh and her

body, slipping a finger inside of her, and found her
clit with his thumb.

"Jesus," he mumbled, staring at where his finger

disappeared inside of her.

His cock filled her palm, hot and hard, pulsing

with the same level of pleasure radiating through

her body.

"I want your cock in me." She panted.
He removed his hand and shifted until he was

between her legs. She lifted her feet, hooking her
ankles around his hips.

"Ready?" Dutch hovered on top of her.
She nodded, spreading her fingers over his

shoulders.

He pressed the head of his cock against her

opening. Instead of tensing, she moaned. He slowly
slid inside her, stealing her breath. His size more
than filled her, stretching every inch of her pussy.

"We're made for each other." Her heart raced.
His cock pulsed. Her neck arched in pleasure.

There was something in there that was a hot button
for her. It was as if he'd touched her clit. A jolt of
ecstasy exploded like a micro-orgasm.

"I could stay right here, watching you with my

cock inside of you, every minute of the day." He
kissed her lips.

She trailed her fingers over his chest and

grabbed onto his hips, keeping him tight against her.
"Do you like it?"

His gaze softened. "More than my Harley."
Amusement tickled her arousal. "You say that

now," she teased.

"I'll say it every God damn second, Marla

Marie."

He slowly withdrew and thrust back in. She

groaned as he pumped, moving them both atop the
bed.

Her inner thighs quivered at the caress. Back

and forth.

Dutch plunged into her and ground against her

clit. She sucked in a breath at the added friction.
Liking it, she met him halfway, working with his
body until she discovered exactly how to move.

His movements sped up. Her adrenaline shot

through the roof. Gyrating underneath him, she
raised her head off the bed and licked his nipple.
The tiny nub fascinating her.

She tried to suck on him like he'd done to her,

but she kept losing the nipple from her lips as he
pounded into her.

Gasping, she gave up and arched into him. He

lowered his body, brushing the hair on his chest
against her breasts.

Her ass clenched, and she held on to his arms.

"It's happening."

"Give it to me." He pushed up onto his hands,

giving her more of him.

She scooted along the bed as he pounded into

her. Unable to stop, she orgasmed, reaching for him
and coming away with a handful of his hair.

He slammed into her, stilled, and groaned like a

warrior who'd won the battle.

Trying to gain her second breath, she pulled him

down on top of her. He rolled with her, cradling her
to his chest. She closed her eyes, feeling his heart
race against her cheek.

Several minutes passed, and she inhaled deeply,

completely satisfied. "If you're going to live with
me, can we do this all the time?"

His chest rumbled. "What do you think?"
She smiled, knowing his answer.
"How long do you have until you have to hit the

road?" she asked, already dreading him leaving.

"Twenty-one days."
Never had he given that many days to her,

back-to-back. She tilted her head and looked at
him. "Thank you for coming back to me."

He kissed her upturned lips. "Always told you I

would."

His cock slipped out of her. She groaned,

already missing having him inside of her.

He brushed her hair off her face. "Don't move.

I'll get you a towel."

"Okay." She kissed him again.
He left the bed. She stayed stretched out,

knowing she'd make a mess if she stood up and
their combined pleasure slipped out of her. It
dawned on her that he'd never offered to use a
condom any time they were together.

Dutch returned to the bedroom. She opened her

legs, letting him clean her.

"Why don't you ever use a condom?" she

asked.

He glanced at her. "You're on the pill."
"How do you know that?"
He tossed the towel to the floor and crawled

back up in bed with her, pulling her back against
him. "Because I had Rachel take you to the doctor
and get you on the pill when you were sixteen."

She lifted her head. "You did?"
"I knew if you ever tried to rub up against me

again, I wouldn't be able to stop from doing more."

"We missed having the next time because you

were arrested and went to prison," she whispered.

He kissed her softly. "We'll make the time up."
She warmed, cuddling against his chest.

Knowing he wanted her clear back then as much as
she'd wanted him thrilled her.

Chapter 30

NO ONE HAD ANY DOUBTS Marla Marie
belonged to Dutch tonight. He stroked his finger
against the jeans covering her pussy. With his back
to the corner of the pool hall and Marla Marie
straddling his lap, nobody could see what his hands
were doing.

But they knew.
Marla Marie was a sexual woman who'd gained

her freedom. She craved constant attention from
him. The second he told her they could touch each
other whenever they wanted, she'd taken that as
permission to push him until he lost control.

She raised her head, taking her mouth off his

neck. Rubbing the spot she'd sucked on with her
fingers, she grinned.

"You have a huge hickey on your neck." She

rubbed her lips together, caught up in the pleasure
she got from him, rubbing her. "You're officially
mine."

"That happened a long time ago." He inhaled

deeply. "I'm going to have to get up."

"Why?"
He took her hand and put it on the front of his

jeans. "There's no more room in there."

She arched an eyebrow. "Maybe I want to keep

you that way all night."

"Then, you'll pay when I get you home."
She lowered her eyelids and shrugged, failing to

hide her grin. The little minx was probably going to
give him a heart attack. She'd skipped the years of
exploring her sexuality because he was sitting in
prison. Apparently, she wanted to gain that time
back now.

"Order us up something to eat while I walk out

back and have a cigarette." He kissed her and
scooped her off his lap, setting her on her feet.

He walked off, clenching his teeth in

uncomfortable pleasure. The fresh air would do him
good if he was going to last.

Outside, he joined Buck and Falcon, glad for

the darkness. Lighting a smoke, he lifted his chin to
the others.

"You've got your hands full." Buck lifted his

beer bottle. "I haven't seen Marla that happy
before."

"She might kill me, but I'll die with a fucking

smile on my face." And, that was the dream for
every man in the club.

Falcon leaned against the end of the picnic

table. "What are you going to do about the patch
you're wearing?"

He still belonged to the Bellevue Chapter. Now

that he was living in Moses Lake, he had to decide
if he would ask for a transfer. Since he was keeping
his job, running communications between the three

chapters, he would continue to answer to Woody.
He wasn't sure how Falcon felt about his loyalty to
the other president, even though both clubs were
governed by the mother club.

"I've been on the road and haven't had enough

time to decide," he said.

"Why don't you sit in on the meeting tomorrow

at three o'clock." Falcon paused. "We're having
general business before the officers sit down
privately. You can get a feel for the members."

"Yeah, I might do that. Thanks."
"Well, whenever you want to discuss your

options, let me know." Falcon pushed off the table,
slapped both men on the shoulder, and went inside.

Buck held out a joint. Dutch took a hit and

passed it back. "Good shit."

"Yeah." Buck stretched his arms. "I heard

you're related to Skull."

"Brother-in-law."
"No, shit?" Buck chuckled. "I know your

sister."

He knew where the conversation was headed.

Many of the men had no problems switching ladies
for the night. At one time, he had no problem
seeking pleasure from anyone who offered, but that
was then. "Touch Marla Marie, and you're dead."

Buck's amusement faded. "Keep her happy,

man."

His MC brother slapped Dutch's arm and went

back inside. He finished the cigarette he'd started.

Peering across the darkness, knowing a field

and the highway separated him from the house, it
seemed like a lifetime had passed since Marla
Marie ran away from him, and he'd tracked her
down.

He still questioned if he was doing the right

thing by her.

He'd given her time to learn on her own what

she wanted in life, and she'd stayed loyal to him—
something he hadn't expected but would admit he
knew she would do all along. That's why he'd given
her freedom.

It would've killed him if he'd lost her.
Tossing his cigarette to the ground, he stubbed

the coal out with his boot and went inside. He
found Marla Marie behind the counter, talking with
Mike, who sat on a barstool.

He took the seat beside his MC brother.
"We were just talking about you." Marla Marie

retrieved a plate with a hamburger and fries and set
the food down in front of him. "I told him the very
first time we met, you served me this very same
thing."

Every detail of their past was fresh in his mind.

He picked up the burger. "Where's your food?"

She held up a cup with a straw. "I eat burgers all

the time, so I got a milkshake."

"They should pay you for working tonight," said

Mike.

"I only fetched our food." She laughed. "Dutch

doesn't even have to tip me."

"You'll get your tip tonight." He cocked his

brow.

Mike chuckled and got off the stool. "I'll let you

folks eat. I need to see if I can kick someone's ass
in pool."

"I'd see if Jeffrey wants to play you." She stole

a fry off Dutch's plate. "Just sayin'."

Once Mike walked away, she whispered,

"Jeffrey sucks at pool. I even beat him."

He eyed her dipping her fry in the chocolate

milkshake, and shook his head. That was the
craziest thing he'd ever seen. But at least she was
eating.

"We've never played pool together." She dipped

another fry, coating it with ice cream. "Do you
want to play a game when we finish?"

"No." He stretched over the counter and kissed

the dot of ice cream off her lip. "I plan on taking
you home and getting you all worked up the way
you've done me tonight."

She giggled, picking up the milkshake and

smiling with the straw in her mouth. "Oh, sounds
fun."

Little flirt. He finished his meal in record time.

Looping his arm around her shoulders, he

walked her out to his Harley. He handed her the
helmet.

She latched the strap through the D-ring. "Is it

weird having me on the back of your motorcycle?"

He sat the bike and scooted back, patting his

lap. "Let's try it with you in front like you did when
you were little."

"I get to steer?" She put her foot on the peg.
He stopped her from getting on that way and

picked her up, putting her on his lap, facing him.
"You're not a kid anymore. You can face me."

"Backward?" She gawked at him.
"Cuddle up, Marla Marie."
She wrapped her legs around his waist and slid

her hands around his back. Small enough, her
helmet stayed low enough, he could see over the
top. He started the engine and pulled out of the
parking lot.

Marla Marie held on, squealing when he revved

the engine. She couldn't see how slow they were
going. She just enjoyed the ride.

And, he was happy to share what he loved with

her.

Chapter 31

A CHILD'S CRY PERMEATED the darkness.
Dutch opened his eyes, listening for the sound that
woke him up.

Against his side, Marla Marie twitched. He

raised his head as she cried out.

He turned to his side without displacing her and

rubbed her back, hoping to soothe her back to
sleep.

She jolted at his touch, sitting up in bed. He

caught her hand. "Hey, you're dreaming."

She sniffled, inhaling a shaky breath. He sat up

with her. "Do you want me to turn on the light?"

"No." She buried herself on his chest.
He grabbed the pillow and shoved it under his

head, and wrapped his arms around her. Stroking
her head, he stared straight up at the ceiling, trying
to focus in the dark.

She fidgeted. He gave her several minutes to

calm down, so she could sleep, but she kept
moving.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked.
"No." She sat up and slipped out of bed.
He got up and flipped on the overhead light.

Marla Marie left the room naked. He followed her
into the kitchen.

She opened the fridge, stared at the contents,

and then shut the door.

"Marla Marie?" He held out his hand. "Let's go

back to bed. It's four o'clock in the morning."

She slipped her fingers into his palm and went

with him back to the bedroom. He waited until
she'd settled on the bed and covered her up before
he shut off the light and joined her.

Snuggled up against him, she fell asleep. But

her odd behavior continued to bother him.

He stayed awake until the sun came in the

window. Slipping out of bed, he grabbed his jeans
and went to make coffee.

In the kitchen, he rubbed his hand over his

head. He knew everything about Marla Marie but
having her dreams cause her pain bothered him.

He wanted to know what happened in her

thoughts. She'd always had an irrational fear of him
leaving her. While he was in prison, she'd suffered
alone. But he was here now.

If she held on to any worries, he could help

calm her enough to sleep.

When the coffee finished dripping into the pot,

Marla Marie walked out of the bedroom with a
blanket wrapped around her.

She kept walking until she reached him and

leaned against his bare chest. The warmth from her
sleepy body penetrated the early morning chill. He
tipped her face and kissed her softly.

She blinked her eyes open and smiled.

"Morning."

"Mm-hm." He ran his hands through her hair,

pushing the strands down her back. "Want some
coffee?"

"Sure." She yawned, not moving away from

him. "I have to work tonight."

"There's a club meeting this afternoon. I'm

going to sit down with them. Afterward, I'm going
to see if someone has a truck I can borrow."

"What for?"
"We need a lawnmower. The grass in the yard is

past my knees."

She continued to study him. "Are you thinking

about changing chapters?"

"Thinking about it."
She raised her brows.
He waited for her to comment, and when she

refrained from saying anything, he said, "What do
you think? Should I make the move permanent?"

"Well..." She moved away and turned around to

grab two coffee mugs they were now in possession
of, thanks to borrowing one from the pool hall. "If
you want."

She glanced over her shoulder, biting her lip to

contain how much the news made her happy. He
winked. Though he would decide on his own, he
understood what the idea of him wearing a Moses
Lake Chapter patch meant to her.

It was a sign that he planned to stay.
She poured them each a cup of coffee and

handed him one. He took a drink and lit a cigarette.

"You got up early." She eyed him over her mug,

holding the blanket around her with one hand. "I
didn't even feel you move out of bed."

"You were sleeping hard." He paused. "What

was going on with you last night...this morning?"

She shrugged and took another drink before

meeting his gaze. "Just dreaming."

"About?"
She shook her head. "I can't remember."
He pulled the ashtray closer, flicking his ashes

in the small glass dish. Forcing her to talk about
what had scared her could make it worse for her
tonight when she got into bed and tried to sleep, so
he let it slide.

The blanket slipped, baring her breast. He took

in her nipple, all rosy red from him sucking on it
last night after they got home from the pool hall. He
wondered if there were other parts of her the same
color.

"Turn around, Marla Marie," he said softly.
She slowly turned. He stubbed his cigarette out

and took one more drink of coffee before putting
the mug in the sink.

Giving her all his attention, he said, "Drop the

blanket."

She let the cover slide down her back and

stopped. He cleared his throat, and she looked over
her shoulder.

"All the way to the floor." He tilted his head,

taking in every inch of skin that was shown to him.

Once the blanket cleared the roundness of her

ass, his cock pulsed to life. She had a slight blush to
the two round cheeks.

She turned back around, staring at his abdomen.

"Are you going to take off your jeans?"

"It's more fun when you do it for me." He

braced his hands on the counter and dipped his
chin.

She stepped in front of him and worked the

front of his pants open. Looking up at him, she
grabbed the material at his hips and dragged them
down his legs.

While she kneeled, he hooked her chin, rubbing

the pad of his thumb over her lips. She opened her
mouth, and he dipped inside, stroking her tongue
until she sucked on his thumb.

Her eyes closed briefly before gazing into his

eyes. His cock hardened in front of her. Removing
his thumb from her mouth, he fisted the base of his
dick and rubbed the head over her lips.

Her tongue came out. His ball sac constricted.
"Have you done this before?" He tapped her

lips.

She shook her head, grabbing onto his thighs for

balance. A drop of cum glistened on the end of his
cock. He rubbed the liquid over her lips.

"Open your mouth wider." He pressed against

her mouth. "Suck on it like you did my thumb, and
don't bite."

Her eyes rounded the deeper he invaded her

body until she had the whole head in her mouth. He
held on to his dick, letting her get used to him, and
caressed her jaw, keeping her relaxed.

The warmth of her tongue and the slight suction

of her mouth took more of him.

"Easy," he murmured.
She took her hand off his thigh and put it over

his. He wrapped her fingers around his cock,
showing her what to do.

Then, he braced himself with the counter and

let her learn on her own.

She took her mouth off him, wet her lips, and

took him back in. Bobbing her head slowly, she
peered up at him. Encouraging her, he widened his
stance, making it easier for her. She was a little
bitty thing.

The picture of her enjoying his dick distracted

him. Her other hand snuck up his leg, and her
fingers tickled him under his ball sac. His toes
clenched against the linoleum.

She sucked harder while cupping his balls,

tugging gently, rolling, weighing. He grabbed the

hair at the top of her head on instinct and groaned.

Her eyes lit up. Moving slowly, he watched her

milk him deeper into her mouth.

Her fingers wandered, touching, pressing,

scratching her nails against his skin. His hips shot
forward.

"Fuck."
As if rewarded, she took her mouth off him and

lowered her head. Using her tongue, she tried to
catch one of his balls and suck it into her mouth but
gave up and went back to his cock with more
determination to take his length inside of her.

An impossible task.
He kept his movements short and steady,

making sure she wouldn't gag. He hissed as his
breathing struggled through his tight chest. His
heart hammered inside of him, trying to burst out.

Barely having a warning, the base of his spine

vibrated. "I'm going to come in your mouth if you
keep that up."

She mumbled something he couldn't

understand, and the extra sensation sent him flying.
He climaxed hard. He tipped his pelvis back, and
she grabbed his ass, holding him inside of her as he
shot his load, again and again.

Marla Marie's mouth came off him with a soft

pop, and she swallowed. Wiped out, he picked her
hand off his thigh and pulled her to her feet.

She leaned into him, and he draped his arm

around her, catching his breath. Resting her chin on
his chest, she smiled up at him—pleased as a kitten
with a bowl full of milk.

"Grab your coffee." He waited for her.
She held it to her mouth. "It's cold."
"Pour us another one."
She quickly filled both the mugs. He took her

into the living room naked. There was no use for
clothes. He hadn't had his turn at her yet.

Stretching out on the couch, he leaned against

the arm and patted his thighs. She sat on top of him.
The dampness of her pussy wet his leg. He needed
to recover, and the wait would do her good.

"I've seen other women suck off men at the

clubhouse." She glanced at his cock. "None of them
were as big as you."

His recovery time shortened the more time she

spent scoping out his dick. He took in her ease at
being around him naked. There was no
embarrassment from her, nothing hidden from him.

Her hand slipped between her legs as she held

the coffee mug in the other. He took a drink from
his cup. Nothing was taboo to her. She had no
hesitation, rolling with the feelings she'd got from
blowing him off.

She grew up within the club, probably seen

everything imaginable. Through everything she

could've tried or experimented with, she'd stayed
loyal to him.

He came with experience. There was nothing he

hadn't tried, but all he wanted was her. He'd wasted
years waiting for her to grow up, and here she was
with him.

Uninhibited, openly curious, and making up for

lost time.

She used her middle finger, sliding it slowly

over her pussy. "Alyssa has more experience than
me."

He wasn't surprised. Alyssa's older sister Amber

was passed around at the clubhouse the moment
she turned eighteen years old.

"I used to pretend that I knew as much as she

did." She took her gaze off his cock and glanced at
him. "I used to tell her things."

"What things?"
"Things that I imagined you doing to me." She

stopped touching herself and placed her hand on
her thigh, emitting a soft laugh. "I should probably
tell Alyssa I lied. Some of the stuff was pretty out
there. It was like the crazier things I made up
became more real in my mind. I would pretend they
really happened."

She leaned over and set the mug down on the

floor, then turned until she faced him, straddling his
thighs.

The lips of her pussy glistened. He stretched his

arm out and slid his finger through the wetness. Her
nipples peaked.

"Tell me this big lie. What were we doing?" He

tipped back the mug and finished the coffee, setting
the cup down beside the couch.

She fiddled with his dick, bringing life to it.

After several long seconds, she whispered, "Like,
one time, I told her you'd come over to Rachel and
Skull's house, and we were eating dinner. You were
sitting across from me." She rolled her eyes. "This
is so stupid."

"Go on."
She inhaled deeply. "It was right after I had my

first orgasm. Do you remember that?"

"Can't forget."
She was sixteen and inexperienced. He was

happy she'd come to him and felt unashamed about
how her body was feeling. It took everything in him
not to do anything, and he held that memory with
him through the years.

"Well, I told her you, um, stretched your leg out

under the table while we were all eating dinner and
rubbed your toes between my legs. And I had an
orgasm. It was all secretive and sexy because
neither of us showed any expression over what was
happening under the table." She slid her hand up
and down slowly the length of his hard cock. "I told

her that right after everyone heard about you
getting arrested."

Her brows lowered, and her hand stilled on him.
He watched her, trying to understand what was

going through her head. She seemed caught up in
that time. A time he'd missed with her.

She looked him in the eyes. "I don't think I told

her because I wanted to brag about being more
experienced. I felt like I had lost you, and telling
her that lie made me feel like I still had you."

"Kids lie for all kinds of reasons. It doesn't

make it wrong," he said.

She leaned over and kissed his chest, pressing

herself against his cock. "It's silly, really. I hadn't
even thought of that until now. Alyssa probably
laughs about it, considering I doubt if anyone could
have an orgasm like that."

He hooked his hands under her armpits and

dragged her off his body. "Come on."

"What are we going to do?" She grabbed his

hand when he stood.

"Shower." He led her to the bathroom.
While he couldn't take her memories of him

being in prison away from her, he could prove her
wrong and turn her lie into the truth.

Chapter 32

THE SIGHT OF DUTCH, butt naked, squirming on
a small wooden chair at the table, was too cute.
Marla covered her mouth with both hands, trying
not to let her laughter slip out.

"Stop laughing." Dutch groaned as his knee

thumped against the table again. "I bet your lie
didn't include a round table with a pedestal between
us."

His foot bumped into her shin. "Found you."
"This isn't going to work," she mumbled through

her hands.

"Scoot your chair over."
She lifted her butt, moved to the side, and sat

back down again. His foot landed on the chair
between her thighs.

Looking down, all amusement left her. He had

big feet.

"Don't look under the table." Dutch crossed his

arms over his bare chest. "Look at me."

She shivered, mainly because she had no idea

what to expect. Dutch had taken her crazy teenage
lie and wanted to make it a reality for her. He was
determined to give her an orgasm using only his
toes.

"I don't know where to put my hands." She

rubbed her stomach.

His wet hair from the recent shower fell over

half his face. "On top of the table."

He moved his foot, pressing the flat of his sole

against her pussy. Her spine straightened at the firm
contact.

The corner of Dutch's mouth lifted. She clasped

her hands together on the top of the table to keep
them in sight. She could sit here all day and look at
Dutch when he was enjoying himself. There was an
ease about him when he was naked with her. A
younger, devilish temptation.

He slid his foot up and down. She inhaled

deeper, letting her breath out slowly.

The fact that he was sitting there, moving his

foot blindly, while aloof and acting like he was
innocent, only made her love him more.

She squirmed, tilting her pelvis. His big toe

slipped between her folds and skimmed her clit. It
was hard for her to sit still.

The lure to look under the table and see if he

was hard added to the excitement. She couldn't tell
if he was getting off on playing with her or not.

It was all crazy.
The idea.
The lie.
Even Dutch thinking her overactive childhood

imagination mattered now that she was an adult and
he was with her. None of that mattered.

She closed her eyes, sagging in the chair at the

warmth of pleasure wrapping around her despite
her body breaking out in goosebumps.

His toes wiggled in her wetness. Uncoordinated

movements with no set path.

All she could do was sit there and wait to see

how he would move, where he would move, and
what he'd do next. It was the mystery and
exploration that turned her on.

There was such determination etched in Dutch's

dark eyes, she scooted her ass to the edge of the
chair to help him.

The shift let him align his foot on her. He

stroked her as if it was his finger and not his toe,
dipping into her vagina and returning to her clit. He
slowly rubbed her in a circle, aided by the wetness.
She grabbed onto the seat of the chair and arched
her back, moving with him.

Her legs shook. She stared at Dutch. How could

he make everything so right for her?

He removed his toes and pressed the sole of his

foot against her sex. Moving against her, open as
she was, he knew exactly what to do to push her
higher. She humped his foot, grinding her ass
against the chair.

All the while, Dutch refused to take his eyes off

her. She sucked in her bottom lip. His foot was
impossible to ignore.

An extension of him, he showed her, touched

her, took care of her.

"Touch your tits." Dutch's chest muscles

twitched.

As if that was what she needed, she pinched her

nipples, pulling slightly, trying to mimic what Dutch
could do with his mouth.

It wasn't the same.
"I want you." She moaned, gyrating on his foot.
"Not until you come."
She groaned, squeezing her whole breast.

Needing to feel his hands on her.

The sloppy wetness between her legs and the

friction of his foot against her made enough noise in
the quiet house she hadn't paid attention to Dutch's
breathing. Until now.

Though he hadn't moved his crossed arms or

looked away from her, there were subtle signs that
he was affected by what he was doing.

A single drop of sweat rolled down his temple.

His jaw had slightly opened his mouth. His heavy
breathing was humming to her ears.

"Dutch...?" She pressed against his foot. "Are

you hard?"

She couldn't see underneath the table. For the

first time, she could imagine them sitting at the
table with Rachel and Skull, hiding their
relationship, their feelings. Just the two of them

together against the world, seeking the bond that
had always been there.

He never let up. "Yeah."
"C-can we have sex?"
"Not yet."
She vibrated. "You're killing me."
As if teasing her, he changed methods, using his

toes again. Her right leg jolted as he hit the right
spot.

Her breasts forgotten; she grabbed the table

with both hands. Her body bowed, arched, rubbing
against his toes.

His toes spread over her clit, and he shook his

leg, creating vibrations on the swollen nub. Her
lower stomach coiled.

She held her breath to keep her orgasm at bay

and enjoy the pleasure longer, but her body
exploded. Gasping air that wasn't there, her head
hit the back of the chair. Her body quivered.

"Marla Marie?"
She opened her eyes, righted her head, and

looked at him. "Hm?"

"Come here."
On trembling legs, she pushed out of the chair,

weak from her orgasm and still shaking.

Dutch shoved the table away. She climbed up

onto his lap and slid down on him with ease. She
moaned, looping her arms around his neck. He
spanned his hands on her waist and slid her up and

down, grateful for his strength because she couldn't
support herself after he'd brought her pleasure.

He gazed down where their bodies connected.

"Any idea or fantasy you want, I'll give to you."

"Mm." She kissed his cheeks, his forehead, his

lips.

He was only challenging her. She had a lifetime

of things she wanted to do with him.

His thighs tightened under her ass each time he

plunged deep inside of her.

"Give me your mouth."
She slid her tongue between his lips, then

sucked on his, caressing the velvety surface.

Dutch lowered his hands to her ass, grinding her

down as his movements jostled her. He groaned
into her mouth. She swallowed the sound, feeling
her arousal return with a vengeance.

While he shot his come inside of her, she

slipped her hand down her stomach and rubbed her
clit, finding pleasure for the second time.

He chuckled on a sigh, his legs stilling

underneath her. She lazily bit his lower lip.

"That..." She pressed her forehead against his.

"Was totally believable. If we would've had
company, they would've never known what we
were doing underneath the table."

"Bullshit." His upper body quaked in

amusement.

"No, it was totally doable."

"Doesn't matter," he mumbled. "I'd fuck you

anywhere. The hell with everyone else."

Her laughter died on her lips, and she warmed

all over again. She never doubted his ability to love
her, no matter how ridiculous she'd acted in the
past.

Not once had she ever held back or not gone to

him because of his age and fearful that she asked
him for too much.

Dutch's unconditional love gave her the

freedom to be who she was. That love never
wavered, even when they were apart. She could see
that now.

She placed her head on his shoulder and held on

to him. He had things to do today, and she needed
to go to work later.

He reached up and cupped the back of her

head, in no hurry to start their day. She closed her
eyes. All her fantasies paled compared to reality.

Chapter 33

FALCON EYED DUTCH. "What's wrong with
you?"

Nothing was wrong. Hell, he felt better than he

had in years. Except, he must've pulled a damn
groin muscle stretching his leg under the table that
morning, fulfilling Marla Marie's old fantasy.

He pulled up a chair and sat. "I'm going to talk

to Woody when I get back to Bellevue."

"You've made a decision?"
"Out of respect, I'd like to talk to him first. But

I wanted you to know I'll have an answer for you
by the eighteenth."

Falcon nodded. "That works for me."
He shook Falcon's hand. "I'll also take you up

on the offer to sit in on the meeting today."

"Good to hear." Falcon gathered his beard in his

hand. "I'll fill in Buck and let him know."

The president of the Moses Lake Chapter stood

from the table, ending their discussion. His plans
for the future mapped out, Dutch walked over to
see about borrowing Mike's truck later in the day,
and one of the women hanging around the pool hall
stepped in front of him and started playing with the
front of his vest.

"I'm bored." She pushed her breasts against

him. "But you look like you could keep me

entertained."

In his condition, he couldn't even get his dick

up.

"Pick another biker, babe." He raised his head

and spotted Marla Marie standing at the end of the
counter, glaring in his direction.

The woman slithered her arms around him and

cupped his ass. He extracted the woman from his
body and set her away from him.

Marla Marie was across the room, taking a pool

cue out of Kimball's hands and swinging the stick in
the air the closer she got to the woman in front of
Dutch. "Keep your hands off him."

Dutch pitched forward, catching Marla Marie

around the waist, and grabbed the stick. "Whoa."

Marla Marie pointed at the woman. "Did you

see what she did?"

The over-friendly woman slinked off to the

back of the room. Marla Marie huffed. He tried to
keep his amusement in check.

Not only was Marla Marie pissed off, but she'd

also moved on to loving him again. This wasn't the
first woman she'd tried to attack for touching him.

He remembered when a pintsize version of

herself went at one of the chicks in Bellevue.

"God." She pushed against his chest in anger

and stared at him. "Did you like what she did to
you?"

"Nope." He rocked back on his heels, taking her

all in.

There was his girl, planted firmly in stage four.

Loyal, loving, and possessive.

"Then, what's that smug look on your face?"

She poked him in the chest. "Don't think you can go
from my bed to her. She's a skank."

He captured her mouth, prying her lips open

and staking his claim the way he'd wanted to do the
first time she'd gone head-to-head to keep women
away from him. Her resistance waned, and her
tongue met his.

Marla Marie molded herself to him, expelling

all her worked-up adrenaline. His cock pulsed,
letting him know he wasn't out for the count today.

She pulled back, holding his face. "You

should've let me reach her. I would've kicked her
ass."

"I know you would've." He looped his arm

around her.

But, he wasn't willing to let her get hurt again

because of him. He could keep the other women off
him. He had no use for them anymore.

"I need to talk to Mike before the meeting

starts."

"Well, I'm staying with you until you walk

inside the room. I'm not going to let that bitch get
close to you." She slid her hand into his back
pocket.

That was fine with him. He had more important

things to do today than let others distract him.

Near the door, Ruggle high-fived Marla Marie.

Patting her ass, Dutch moved away while she
talked to her boss.

Outside, he found Mike and secured his MC

brother's truck for later. Lighting a cigarette, he
stayed with the group of WAKOM members and
observed them.

A brother was a brother, but there was always

an undercurrent at every club. He wanted to see
how they laundered the money and determine what
kind of security they kept before he made his final
decision.

Whichever chapter he decided to call home, he

needed to make sure Marla Marie was taken care
of if anything happened to him.

Sammy approached and stood shoulder to

shoulder with him. "You're spending a lot of time in
Moses Lake, brother."

"My woman's here."
Sammy stepped in front of him. "Are you

staying on the road?"

"What's it to you?"
Sammy's mouth tightened. "Choose a patch."
Wearing the three-star patch, covered him to

ride under all three clubhouses. He'd grown
accustomed to other riders believing his loyalty

sided with the Bellevue Chapter—they were the
ones in charge of the money laundering business.

When he was in Bellevue, paranoia ran through

everyone when he returned from Moses Lake and
Spokane. If one member caused a weak link, they'd
all go down.

"You have a problem with me, spit it out." He

refused to back down. "I've got five years in the
state pen saying I'm loyal to WAKOM. Do you?"

Sammy walked away. Dutch had no problem

defending himself. When one of those assholes
took to the road, never knowing if they'd return,
then he'd talk to them.

Two arms slipped around him from behind.

"Rubble is letting me start work two hours early
and get off at midnight. So, I don't have to go home
and then come back to work. Apparently, he thinks
there will be enough members sticking around and
wanting dinner when the meeting gets out that we
can cater to them earlier. Plus, I can help since he'll
be here by himself."

He reached behind her and pulled her around to

his front. "Want me to stick around after I run into
town to buy a mower?"

"If you want." She raised on to her tiptoes, and

he leaned down and kissed her. "I'd like that."

He kissed her again. "Are you going to keep the

women away from me?"

"I'm not worried. I can take them." She made a

fist and punched her other palm before turning
around with a grin.

He stepped forward and spanked her ass. She

threw back her head and laughed as she reached for
the door.

Buck burst out, almost running into Marla

Marie. She ducked in, getting out of his way.

"Everyone inside," yelled Buck.
He walked in with the other men. Always

wearing the patch and standing on the outside.

Chapter 34

DUTCH SHUT OFF THE engine of the mower.
Taking the full bag off, he dumped the cut grass
behind the shed. It took him a full two-hours to
knock the grass down around the house to resemble
a yard.

He looked over the backyard. It looked better,

if not rough. He'd mow again in a few days and
shape it up.

He pushed the lawnmower to the door of the

shed, inspecting the outside of the outbuilding for
any repairs. It looked as if he'd need to buy some
shingles for the roof. Tomorrow, he'd clean out the
shed, so he had somewhere to store the mower out
of the weather.

A job he wasn't looking forward to doing.
Pulling the door open, he held his breath,

prepared for the rankness to hit him in the face like
it had years ago, and stood staring in confusion at
the interior.

The place wasn't a wreck.
He stepped inside. There were several throw

rugs spread out on the dirt and two boxes in the
corner. He turned around, spotting an ice cooler
with two jugs of water sitting on top.

Curious, he moved the water and peered inside.

He pulled out a rolled sleeping bag with the price

tag still on it.

He put the bag back, closed the cooler, and set

the water on top. Moving over to the boxes, he
opened the flaps. Canned food?

He straightened, rubbing the back of his neck.

There were mousetraps set in each corner with
cheese.

Confused about how the things showed up in

the shed, he looked at everything again. The house
had remained empty since Sue Smith got carted off
to jail until the day Marla Marie had taken the deed
he'd offered her and moved into the house.

The only person who would come in here was

Marla Marie.

He hung his head, inhaling swiftly. The

ramifications of what she'd done to the shed hit him
square in the gut.

Had she done this recently? Since he'd come

back? Why?

He'd given her the house. She had the deed.

Nobody was going to take it away from her.

Looking around the small area again, he

couldn't comprehend what would make her outfit
the outbuilding as if she was ready to move in and
live.

She'd set up the shed as if someday, she might

have to hide out again.

He squatted. What the fuck was she thinking?

Did she not believe he was going to take care of

her? Hadn't he done so since she was ten years old?

Bursting out of the shed, he stormed to the

house. He grabbed a beer out of the fridge and
looked out the window, waiting for her. She'd gone
to the store while he'd cut the lawn.

A quick trip, or so she'd said.
Furious, he guzzled the beer and threw the can

in the garbage before getting another one. He was
going to wring her little neck.

How many times had he told her he wasn't

going to leave her?

He lit a cigarette, contemplating calling her on

the cell phone and telling her to get her ass home.

The sight of her as a child, eating the scraps on

the picnic table, flooded his mind. He plopped
down on the chair at the table, weak at the knees,
and cradled his head in his hands.

He should've seen what surviving on her own

when a parent should be caring for her had done to
her. Starving for food. Starving for affection.
Starving to belong to him when he'd found her.

Hell, it was only the other night that she'd

woken up from a nightmare and padded into the
kitchen to look into the fridge as if to reassure
herself that there was food in the house.

He sniffed, swallowing hard. It angered him that

she'd suffered alone, reliving her trauma when he
was stuck in prison and unable to help her.

The crackle of gravel under tires filtered into

the house. He stubbed the cigarette out in the
ashtray and went to the kitchen window.

Marla Marie pulled her car into the driveway

and parked. He couldn't go out there. He'd scare
her to death with the way he was feeling.

She got out of the vehicle, looked at the Harley,

then stopped and peered around at the front yard. A
smile lit up her face as she opened the trunk of the
car and grabbed several plastic grocery sacks, lining
them up on her arms to carry them inside the house.

He watched her walk past the window,

struggling with opening the door with her hands full
and then burst into the kitchen.

"Hey." She set her load of groceries on the

table, working to free her arms from the sacks'
handles. "The yard looks great. How did the mower
work?"

He couldn't talk.
He was angry.
He was desperate for her to understand.
He loved her.
She ignored the groceries and came to him.

Pressing her hands on his chest, she frowned.
"What's wrong? Did something happen? Did you
get hurt?"

He couldn't look at her. Imagining her scared

and feeling like she couldn't tell him what was
going on in her head, he'd failed her.

"Dutch." She slid her arms around his waist.

"What happened?"

He kissed her hard, shaking inside. His lungs

burned, and he pulled back, exhaling harshly.

She cupped his face, running her hands over his

cheeks, his jaw, his beard, crying. "You're scaring
me. Did something happen to Rachel? Skull?"

He gripped her upper arms, shaking her. She

startled, and he enjoyed the few seconds when she
was as scared as him. How could she not know how
much she meant to him?

"Don't you get it?" His throat burned.
She shook her head. "I don't understand."
He pushed her to the side and stepped around

her. "Since you were ten years old, you loved me."

"I do."
He whirled around and pointed toward the back

door. "Then, explain the shit in the shed."

Her head snapped back, and her mouth opened.

She gave no excuse. No reasons.

He gripped the chair and lifted it six inches off

the floor, and slammed it down on the floor. She
flinched, pressing her hand to the base of her
throat.

The rage simmering in him fled at the sight of

her moving away from him. "What were you
thinking?"

"I..." She looked up at the ceiling and closed her

mouth.

He wasn't going to let her get away with not

explaining. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her
outside and stormed across the yard.

Flinging open the door of the shed, he looked at

her. "Explain that. Explain why you were turning
this into a place to live when you have a perfectly
good roof over your head with me? Didn't I take
you away from living that kind of life where you
have to live in filth, starving to death?"

Tears flowed down her cheeks. He wasn't going

to let her crying stop him from getting answers.
She'd lived, fearing he'd leave her, for too long.

She stepped inside the shed. He refused to go in

there with her.

He belonged on the outside.
"The first time my mom left me seemed like it

lasted forever." She slowly turned and faced him. "I
stayed in the house by myself. I was young and not
in school, so maybe four years old. I can't be sure. I
do remember having a box of cereal in the kitchen
—Cheerios. I was afraid to go outside and look for
her."

She looked over at the boxes. Dutch's heart

pounded. He'd never asked her about how she'd
lived before he'd taken her and handed her over to
Rachel and Skull.

He'd had a good idea what she'd gone through,

but seeing her face now, it was even worse than he
imagined.

"When Mom came back, I thought she'd bring

food with her. I thought she'd gone to the store, and
that's why it was taking so long for her to come
home." She looked at him. "When I got old enough
to go to school, I never knew if she would be home
or gone. I never told anyone else that she'd leave
me. I was afraid of getting her in trouble."

She should've told. A child, a baby, should

never have to fend for themselves.

"The last time she left was different. Usually,

she just walked out of the house and shut the door.
That last time, though, the police came and took
her away," she said.

His chest pounded. "How could the police miss

a kid in the house?"

Knowing she was alone, living in the shed, he'd

known the police weren't aware of her. A fact he'd
taken into account when he took her out of town. It
was summer. The school she'd attended would
believe she'd moved before enrolling in the next
grade. If they would've checked, they'd learn her
mother was sitting in jail and assume a relative out
of the area had taken custody of Marla Marie.

All he'd thought about was himself. He never

wanted his crime of kidnapping her to see the light
of day.

"I was hiding in the shed when the police came

that day." She looked around the small space and
hugged her middle. "It's where I'd escape to when

my mom would have men at the house. I didn't like
being around them. It was scary when they started
doing...drugs, I guess."

His head pounded, knowing what men were

capable of doing to a young girl.

She'd made the shed her safe place. Throughout

the years, he'd struggled with making her adapt to
living with Rachel and Skull, and she begged to go
home to find her mom. It wasn't her mom she
wanted. She wanted to return here and hide in the
shed because that's how she dealt with the
heartbreak of him going back out on the road,
riding for WAKOM Motorcycle Club.

She wanted to go where she knew no one could

hurt her.

She wanted to go where she felt safe.
He looked away, feeling the fool. His throat

closed, feeling powerless to fix her past.

She'd always lived life on the outside, looking

in.

He only wished he'd found her sooner and

protected her from the pain.

Looking at her, standing in the shed, spilling her

heart in the one place she felt safe, he wanted her
by his side.

"Do you know how much I love you?" The

words ripped from his throat, raw and strong.

Her gaze intensified, straining her whole

expression. "I do."

"I promised to never leave you, and I won't."
"You can't control what happens," she

whispered. "You live a dangerous life. You could go
back to prison anytime you ride away from me. You
don't tell me, but I know."

"You'd still have me even if I go to prison

again."

She stepped forward. "You could die when

you're away from me."

"I'd still find a way back to you."
She walked out of the shed. "That's not

possible."

He took her in his arms. His hands shook. "I'd

find a way, Marla Marie."

She gazed into his eyes. "That day at the prison

when you sent me away, and I was never supposed
to come back to you. You told me that you forced
me to love you."

He remembered.
"That's not true." She sniffed. "The love I have

for you consumes me, Dutch. I know I'm a little
extreme at times compared to you, but I never want
to lose you. I never want you to leave me because
that love we have for each other makes me feel
better than anything."

He cupped her face, wiping the remaining tears

off her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. Her
gaze, open and honest, strengthened him.

"Your mom taught you that you're responsible

for how people love you by always leaving and
putting you second in her life. You're not
responsible, Marla Marie. You think you're too
damaged and broken to receive love, but you can
choose to love me as much as I love you."

"I do."
He kissed her softly, inhaling her scent. "I'm

going to burn down the fucking shed." He held her
in front of him. "We're going to fill every cupboard
in the house with food. Hell, turn the extra
bedroom into storage and put whatever you need to
feel safe in there. But you're not going to push me
away."

"I'm not—"
"Jesus, Marla Marie." He kissed her forehead,

holding her firmly. "I'm never leaving you."

He kept his lips on her forehead, wanting to

shake her until she understood what he'd do to
prove how he would change her whole world for
her.

"I love you."
"I love you, too." She wrapped her arms around

his waist, leaning on him.

Kissing her again, he looped his arm around her

shoulders and walked her back to the house. She
may never lose her fear of being left. But he'd be
right beside her in case she needed him and to
assure her that she wasn't alone.

She would never be alone again.

Chapter 35

THE EVENING SUN CAST a glow over the house.
Marla sat on the front step, the cell phone in her
hand. Dutch was due home at any minute.

He'd called twice to update his location as she

knew he was on the last leg, coming from Spokane
to Moses Lake.

Nine days to finish his business for WAKOM

Motorcycle Club crawled by with a slowness that
tested her strength. Yet, his phone calls bolstered
her to get up, go to work, come home, and eat.

It would get easier now that Dutch will formally

patch in with the Moses Lake Chapter during their
next meeting. Knowing he made plans and had
rearranged his life to make his home with her gave
her security.

The phone in her hand vibrated. She jumped

and looked for the familiar 'unknown number' on
the screen, but it was Alyssa.

She answered, "Hi."
"Busy?"
"Nope. Just waiting for Dutch to come home."

She straightened her legs on the step. "Aren't you at
work tonight?"

"It's slow, so I thought I'd call you really quick

and see how you're doing. When I talked to you
Wednesday morning, it was chaotic at the

clubhouse. I couldn't hear that well, much less
talk."

"I'm fine." She looked down the empty road.

"What was happening at the clubhouse?"

"Andrea got caught having sex with Trip.

Riot...well, he started a riot." Alyssa laughed. "It
was actually pretty funny because Andrea took all
her belongings Riot was throwing out the door,
walked back in, and unloaded everything in Trip's
room—and those two guys bunk in rooms that are
side by side."

"Oh, God." She laughed. "And, ew. Riot."
"I know, right?"
"Crazy." It felt good to hear Alyssa's voice,

share gossip, and stay in contact. "Hey, I'll be able
to see you next month. We're coming to Bellevue."

"I'm so excited. When?"
"The twenty-third. We'll stay over the weekend

with Rachel and Skull," she said.

"We'll plan something with you, Dutch, me, and

King."

"Sounds good."
"I better get back to work. Call me this

weekend?"

She smiled. "Of course. Talk to you later."
Marla disconnected the call and made sure she

hadn't missed any phone calls while she'd talked.
Tapping her toes, she waited for Dutch.

She checked the time, hoping he arrived before

the sun disappeared. As soon as she made her wish,
a faraway hum got her attention.

Straining to hear, she stood. He was on the

highway. Skipping to the driveway, she waited.

It only took him a couple of minutes, and he

came into sight. And what a sight he was decked
out in black, wearing his sunglasses. His hair and
beard flowed with the wind.

She raised her arm and waved over her head.

He revved the motor, sending a thrill between her
legs.

Turning in a half-circle as he rode in and

backed his Harley until his rear tire almost touched
the house, she approached him.

As soon as he turned off the bike, she threw her

arms around his neck. "I've missed you."

He grabbed her around the waist, hauling her

with him when he exited the bike. His eyes flared,
and she kissed him. He came in like an inferno, hot
and bothered.

She moaned as her need for Dutch amplified.
"I've got something big for you." He carried her

to the house with one arm, nuzzling her neck.

She lifted her legs and wrapped them around

him as he carried her into the house. With love
mixed with arousal, she wiggled to get down when
the door slammed shut.

She worked her fingers over his belt and

unfastened the front of his jeans. Her skill at
undressing him growing more every day.

He groaned as she wrapped her fingers around

his cock and stroked. Brought home something big
was an understatement. Dutch was primed and
throbbing after being away from her.

"Fuck, Marla Marie." His ass clenched, and he

thrust into her hand.

She leaned over and flicked her tongue over the

slit at the end, catching a musky drop of arousal,
before rubbing his cock along her cheek.

He took his shirt off and then dug his hand into

her hair, holding the strands back. She tilted her
head and gazed up at him. He stared down at her
intently.

She loved the way he was all in when it came to

sex. Straightening, she continued to stroke him and
slipped her other hand into his jeans and cupped his
balls, letting her finger slide on the sensitive area
underneath.

"Shit, woman." His knees locked.
He made her wet and wanting. The shorts and

T-shirt she had on were too much, even though
she'd gone without a bra and panties in anticipation
of him coming home.

Dutch circled her wrists with his hands and

pulled her off him. Walking her backward to the
bedroom. The back of her knees bumped into the

mattress, and she landed on the bed with a plop.
Once he let go of her, she hurried to take off her
clothes.

He stripped all the way off, throwing all his

clothes on the floor, except for his vest, which
made it to the dresser. Sitting beside her, he flopped
on his back. His heavy gaze locked onto her. She
crawled on him and rubbed the front of his chest.

His cock pressed against the inside of her thigh.

She tried to slow down, but her body had other
ideas.

"Good ride?" She trailed her hands down,

letting her fingernails scratch over his abdomen.

"Next time, it'll be shorter." He gripped her

hips, caressing the swell of her hips.

Taking his dick in her hand, she rubbed the tip

on herself. He flipped her, hovering above her.

"I think you want my cock." He stood on his

knees, looking down at her.

He fisted himself over her pussy and stroked

himself. "I had to do this on the road, always
thinking about your pussy and your mouth."

"How many times?"
He glanced at her and grinned. "Every fucking

night."

She cupped her breasts, finding it hot to think of

him thinking of her while jerking off.

He dipped his cock between her legs, coating it

with her wetness. Switching hands, he slid his two

fingers inside of her, curving them upward.

She quivered, almost arching off the bed.
"There it is." Dutch's primal stare caressed her.
Her chest rose and fell with each pant as she

widened her knees, baring herself to him and
making room for his broad, determined hand. Her
mouth opened, and she let go of the moan growing
in her chest.

He growled, crashing his mouth onto her lips.

She took his tongue, sucking him in. Her core
clenched as she pressed against his hand.

"Not yet." He flipped her over onto all fours.
He tangled his hand in her hair, cricking her

neck. Held into position, when he thrust into her,
she moaned louder.

Aggressive and fierce, he gave her every inch

of him. Her eyes rolled back with each plunge as
his hold on her hair kept her from pitching forward.

His balls slapped her clit. She arched her back,

warming all over.

He knew how she liked it. There was nothing to

hide. He knew her better than she knew herself,
and he used those secrets to his advantage, taking
her higher.

Dutch's breathing quickened, becoming louder.

His grunts sent shivers down her body, making her
nipples ache.

"I'm never going to leave you." He thrust.

"Leave this." He slammed into her. "Never."

She never even had to ask.
Her body responded, coiling tighter until she

thought her heart would stop beating. Then she
came with igniting sparks pulsating throughout her.

He let go of her hair and dug his fingertips into

her hips. Groaning, he plunged into her and grunted
his release. His jettying cum warmed her insides
wave after wave.

Hoarse and breathing hard, he looped his arm

around her waist and brought her down on her side
without slipping out of her. She sighed, finding the
contentment she always found in his arms.

He bit her shoulder. "Dinner, and then we're

doing this again."

"Same thing?" She turned her upper body,

looking at him.

He kissed her, chuckling against her lips. "I've

been riding all day. It's probably time I let you do
some riding."

Stroking his face, she stared into his eyes. "Do

you know how much I love you?"

His gaze softened. "More than I could've ever

made you, Marla Marie."

And that's all she needed to know.

Epilogue

TEN YEARS LATER —

Marla Marie stood at the kitchen window in

Rachel and Skull's kitchen. Having watched her for
the last several minutes from the hallway, Dutch
walked inside the room and wrapped his arms
around her, pulling her back against his chest.

"They'll be okay," he whispered, kissing the side

of her head.

"I know." A shudder ran through her, belying

her spoken confidence.

She'd had a year to prepare for this. Dutch

looked out at the scene in the yard.

Rachel sat in the grass, trying to catch a

grasshopper with her hands. Nearby, Skull spiraled
a football high in the air.

Dutch's chest warmed.
Cora Lee, his daughter, unable to sit still long

enough at six years old, crawled around her
Grandma Rachel, scattering any suspecting
grasshoppers they'd planned to catch and put in the
jar.

At seven years old, Colt missed more passes

than he could catch, but that hadn't stopped Skull
from throwing the ball, over and over.

Marla Marie sighed. "Are you sure they'll be

okay without us?"

It was the first time they'd left the children with

anyone for more than a couple of hours.

"Both the kids have begged to stay the weekend

with their grandma and grandpa. They'll be fine."
Reading her mind, he said, "You can call them all
you want while we're gone and check in with
them."

"I know," she whispered.
He understood her reluctance to leave them.

He'd accepted long ago that it was a fear he
couldn't take away from her. All he could do was
prove that she would no longer have to suffer
alone.

Most of the time, she was fine sending the kids

off to school for the day and letting them play with
their friends out of her sight—usually the kids from
Moses Lake Chapter.

But Marla Marie was a devoted and loving

mom.

She would never want the children to worry

about her not returning.

"We'll need to hit the road soon if we're going to

make it there in time to check into the hotel," he
said.

She turned in his arms. "I really am looking

forward to the ride and our weekend away."

For the first time since they had their son, they

were riding to the Oregon coast to spend the
weekend alone before he was due back to start his

travels to the three chapters of WAKOM
Motorcycle Club.

"Is the open road calling your name?" he

grinned.

"Mm." She leaned into him and kissed his chest.

"More like I get you all to myself for forty-eight
hours."

His cock pulsed, and he exhaled loudly. Marla

Marie never grew out of her curious phase and
never tired of finding ways to touch him or be
touched. It was one of the many things he loved
about her.

She brushed her breasts against the front of

him. "I've thought of several things we can do."

"Fuck, Marla Marie." He looped his arm around

her shoulders, making her laugh at his impatience to
get to the coast and be alone with her. "Tell the kids
goodbye, and let's hit the damn road already."

In the backyard, the kids were too preoccupied

and excited to pay any attention to their parents.

Rachel gazed up as they stepped out onto the

grass and pushed herself to her feet with a groan.
Marla Marie walked forward. Dutch followed,
staying back a few feet to give his woman time with
his sister.

"Cora Lee sure likes her bugs." Rachel picked

up the jar off the grass and held it up for inspection.
"When you were a little girl, I couldn't get you
interested in holding a grasshopper."

"I'd be happy if Grandma wanted to take the

whole collection of bugs my daughter has in her
room and wanted to keep them here." Marla Marie
reached out and ran her hand down Cora Lee's hair
as she ran by. "She has empty peanut butter jars
lining the window sill of her bedroom that is full of
woolly bears.

Rachel smiled, hearing Marla Marie refer to her

as grandma.

Over the years, Marla Marie relied more on

Rachel than when she was growing up. Once she
got pregnant with Colt, Marla Marie sought out
Rachel and accepted her into the mother role. A
role both women needed.

Rachel had been there through both

pregnancies and the births. During that time, he'd
seen his sister settle down, and contentment come
into her life that he'd never seen before.

Likewise, Marla Marie opened up and

welcomed Rachel into her life, realizing Dutch
couldn't do everything for her—at least when it
came to dealing with hormones, stretch marks, and
the urge to push when it was time for the babies to
arrive.

"I've put their bags in my old room. There's also

a sack of groceries in the kitchen. They eat their
weight in food, so I wanted to make sure they had
enough," said Marla Marie.

Rachel waved her hand in dismissal. "I hit up

the store yesterday and filled the cupboards with
everything kids like and at least twenty packets of
those gummy fruit bites they love."

Marla moved toward Rachel, hugging her

tightly. The whispered words between the two
women were lost on Dutch.

He turned as Skull yelled his name, catching the

wayward football. His son jumped with his arm out
in the air in victory.

"Nice catch, Dad." Colt ran over and grabbed

the ball, throwing back his arm, and sailing the
football in the air, end over end to Skull.

"Hey, son." Dutch hunkered down beside his

son. "We're going to take off in a few minutes.
Watch your sister and mind your grandparents.
Also, when your mom calls, I want you to talk with
her. No running off and giving the phone to Cora
Lee."

"Okay." Colt hugged him around the neck, then

ran off, the game of catch more important at the
moment.

His kid always had a ball of some sort in his

hand.

Skull met his gaze. "Ride safe, brother."
"Always." Dutch dipped his chin.
Waiting for Marla Marie, he was often surprised

that his children never questioned the dynamics of
their family.

Someday, when they hit their teens, he

suspected they'd ask them how Grandma could also
be their dad's sister and how their mom had blue
eyes and blonde hair, like them, when everyone
else had dark hair and brown eyes. But he guessed
those questions would come once they started
questioning everything.

Amusement left him ready to go, so he could be

with the girl he'd kidnapped. That was another story
they'd have to share when the kids were older.

Marla Marie hugged both of her kids, seeming

to take longer than necessary because Cora Lee
and Colt grew restless, ready to go back and play
with Grandma and Grandpa.

He walked over and distracted her, leading her

by the hand. He got her to the gate in the yard and
led her to the front of the house, out of sight of the
others.

"Alyssa and King are riding down and will be at

the coast on Sunday morning. I told them to stop at
the hotel, and we'd have lunch with them before we
ride back home." Marla Marie stopped beside his
Harley.

"Maybe."
She paused, putting on her helmet. "What does

that mean? You don't want to see them? We haven't
gotten together with them since the rally, and that
was four months ago."

He sat on the Harley. "I might not be done with

you by then."

Her brows shot up, and her lips formed a

perfect O. He reached out and patted her ass.
"Come on, Marla Marie. You're wasting daylight."

She climbed on behind him. Once she'd settled

and wrapped her arms around him, he rode away
from the house.

Out on the street, he revved the engine for the

kids to hear.

Marla Marie tightened her hold on him. He

grinned into the wind, knowing she always got a
thrill from the purr of the Harley.

He passed a canopy of dark green fir trees on

each side of the road. The sun shined down on him
through the blue sky.

The asphalt blurred gray underneath his

motorcycle's front wheel as he passed brown, silver,
red, and white vehicles going too slow.

He had his girl on the back.
Freedom in front of him.
The wind in his face.
And, Marla Marie had him seeing fucking

colors.

Dear readers —
Thank you for purchasing The Four Stages of

Loving Dutch Owen. With over seventy novels
published, I like to veer from the series books and
dive into single title sagas when the mood strikes.

The best part of writing a DK saga is stepping

into the lives of the characters. To go from young
innocence to a life-long love has many ups and
downs, growths and setbacks, and I get to share
that history of the couple with you, the reader,
beyond the romance. Though, I think knowing the
history makes the romance even hotter!

If you'd like to keep up on my book releases,

chat with me, and see pictures of my life in the
Bitterroot Mountains, I would love to have you
follow me on social media. I'm on Facebook,
Instagram, Twitter, and have a website with links to
a huge backlist of books.

Ready to become a top reader of mine? Join my

private Facebook Group!

Love,
Debra

Author Bio
Debra Kayn is published by Grand Central

Publishing, Simon & Schuster Publishing, Carina
Press - Harlequin Enterprises Limited, and repped
by agent Stephany Evans of FinePrint Literary
Management.

Believing everyone deserves to love and be

loved, she takes the most unlikely characters and
turns them into heroes and heroines.

She lives with her family in the Bitterroot

Mountains of beautiful North Idaho, where she
enjoys the outdoors, the four seasons, and the wild
animals that gather in her yard.

Website:

www.debrakayn.com

Twitter:

www.twitter.com/DebraKayn

Facebook:

www.facebook.com/DebraKaynFanPage

Instagram: www.instagram.com/DebraKayn

Debra Kayn's Backlist
The Four Stages of Loving Dutch Owen
Patches: Tarkio MC
His Road Dog
His Old Lady
His Other Half
His Loyal Rebel
Choices: Tarkio MC
Chasing His Fox
Burning Hot Rumors
Two Hearts Born to Love
All of His Secrets
Slag Motorcycle Club series
Roar & Lizzy – A Forever Kind of Love
Brage & Dinah – A Perfectly Captive Love
Elling & Jackie – A War of Forbidden Love
Peer & Coco – A Runaway For Love
Escape to the Bitterroot Mountains series
Every Little Piece of Him
Every Girl Needs a Hero
Every Second in his Arms
A Brikken Motorcycle Club Saga series
Chief
Jett
Olin
Thorn
Notus Motorcycle Club series
Hard Reality
Hard Mistake

Hard Drifter
Hard Escape
Hard Proof

RONACKS MOTORCYCLE Club series

...or something
Don't Say It
Rather Be Wrong
Can't Stop Fate
Red Light: Silver Girls series
Blow Softly
Touch Slowly
Fall Gently
Moroad Motorcycle Club series
Wrapped Around Him
For Life
His Crime
Time Owed
Falling For Crazy
Chasing Down Changes
Bantorus Motorcycle Club series
Breathing His Air
Aching To Exhale
Soothing His Madness
Grasping for Freedom
Fighting To Ride
Struggling For Justice
Starving For Vengeance

Living A Beautiful War
Melt My Heart - Anthology
Laying Down His Colors – Bantorus

Motorcycle Club

A Hard Body Novel series
Archer
Weston
The Chromes and Wheels Gang series
Biker Babe in Black
Ride Free
Healing Trace
Playing For Hearts series
Wildly
Seductively
Conveniently
Secretly
Surprisingly
Modern Love – Anthology
The Sisters of McDougal Ranch series
Chantilly's Cowboy
Val's Rancher
Margot's Lawman
Florentine's Hero
Single Titles
The Sandbar Saga
The Higher You Fly
Suite Cowboy
Hijinks
Resurrecting Charlie's Girl

Betraying the Prince
Love Rescued Me
Double Agent
Breaking Fire Code

—SNEAK PEEK—

The Sandbar Saga by Debra

Kayn

available at all retailers

PROLOGUE

THE LIGHTS FLICKERED from the storm. Katie
hugged her stomach as another round of thunder
shook the house.

"You deal with her."
"Keep your voice down."
"It's your fault Katie is here. I'm sick of being

her mother. The little bitch needs her face slapped
for going behind my back and calling you at work."

"For Christ's sake, she's eight years old."
The voices grew louder. Sitting at the top of the

stairs out of sight, Katie covered her ears. The fight
between her parents had been going on since her
dad arrived home from work.

A fight like all the others, except tonight it was

her fault. Her dad was late to pick her up for her
piano lesson at four o'clock. She'd tried to call him
at work, and her mom got mad at her for using the
phone.

"I don't want to hear you speak about my

daughter that way again," shouted her father.

"My daughter, my daughter, my daughter.

That's all I hear around here. I can't stand it."

Glass shattered downstairs. Wetness trickled

between Katie's legs, making her cry harder.

Picking up her stuffed animal, she hugged the

dog at the same time the lights went out. She
wished her dad would leave the house. Katie
rocked back and forth. He needed to go away for a
while. It was the only way to make her mother stop
yelling.

If he left, her mom would eventually go to the

bedroom and lock the door. That's what always
happened when her parents fought.

A door slammed. She hiccupped. Her dad had

left.

Katie stood and quietly walked to her bedroom.

Part One

Katie

Chapter 1

DISTANT THUNDER RUMBLED over the house.
Katie jerked her hand away from the window
without taking her gaze off the sandbar under the
Megler Bridge. Little by little, the sand disappeared
with the incoming tide.

Putting her hand on the glass again, she waited

for the next vibration. The boom. The anger.

Living on the hill in Astoria, Oregon, storms

were nothing new to her. The Chinook winds often
blew in from the Pacific Ocean—rattling the
windows and bringing big, wet raindrops that
soaked her clothes as she waited for the school bus
in the mornings and when she walked up the hill to
the house in the afternoons.

She focused on the disappearing sandbar again

in anticipation. Just once, she'd like to see someone
get caught out there on the sand when the tide
came in.

Her teacher, Mrs. Bernhardt, had warned the

class about the dangers of the sandbar near the
bridge. The tide could sweep her away and pull her
out to sea.

While her teacher had lectured the class on the

safety rules, Katie had raised her hand in class. It
was the first time she'd volunteered to ask a
question all year. Usually, she sat quietly because

Alden and his group near the back of the room
made fun of everyone if they were smart. She hated
the attention and preferred if nobody noticed her.

The day she'd asked the question, she stopped

liking Mrs. Bernhardt.

She looked up at the dark sky. Her teacher had

lied to her when she'd asked if someone could die if
they went out on the sandbar. Mrs. Bernhardt told
her people could get hurt if they got caught under
the bridge when the tide came in.

That wasn't the right answer. People had died.

She knew the difference between hurt and dead.

Her dad was dead. He'd died on the sandbar

when she was eight years old.

She stared at the cars traveling the bridge from

Oregon to Washington, unaware of the danger
coming their way.

"Katie, get away from the window. The storm is

getting closer," said Ms. Gray.

She ignored her nanny. There was nothing Ms.

Gray could do to her, except tell her mother she
hadn't obeyed.

The older woman would soon quit, anyway. All

the nannies quit. None of them would deal with her
mother for long before they up and left.

Besides, she was too old for a nanny. At twelve

years old, it was legally possible for her to stay
home by herself. That was her wish.

She stared at the sandbar, getting swallowed by

the churning water.

No one remembered her dad. The nannies never

mentioned him. Her mom wouldn't speak about him
since finding out Miss Cynthia, Katie's piano
teacher, died with him that night when they got out
of the car and walked out onto the sand under the
bridge.

She wasn't sure if her mom was more

disappointed in losing her husband or the fact that
Katie couldn't take piano lessons anymore, and that
meant she came home after school on Mondays,
Wednesdays, and Fridays and interrupted her
mother's time with her man friends.

A hand circled her arm, yanking her backward.

"You must listen to me."

She wandered over to her bed, rubbing her arm.

If she could stay home by herself, she could look
out the window all day if she wanted.

Climbing up on the mattress, she sat down and

grabbed her stuffed dog. She was too old for stuffed
animals.

The only reason she kept it on her bed was that

every time her mom seen Mikey—named after her
dead father—she left the room.

Not that her mom came in the bedroom often.
Most of the time, her mom stayed with her man

friends, traveling to different parts of the world,
and going to restaurants.

"You need to wash your face and put on the

dress I set out for you." Ms. Gray put a pair of
shoes in front of her on the floor. "Your mother
expects you to look nice. There will be company at
dinner tonight, and she wants you to be on your
best behavior."

She tossed the stuffed dog to the floor and

walked into the bathroom, shutting the door to Ms.
Gray exhaling loudly when she was forced to pick
up the animal.

Something special must be going on at dinner.

Maybe her mom was finally going to let her watch
herself after school and on the weekends. She
brushed her hair. Or, maybe her mother was going
to leave on an extended vacation with the current
man in her life.

There were only four more days of school and

then summer break. It would be perfect if she were
left at home without a nanny and without her mom.

The thought of having the whole summer to

herself made her hurry. She took off her clothes.
The fancy white dress she pulled over her head
scratched her skin.

She tugged at the stretchy material clinging to

her upper body, pulling the offending roughness
away from her chest. A shiver came over her that
started from her nipples. She cupped her hands
over the small mounds and pressed. A fluttering

happened in her underwear, and she pulled her
hands away, her heart beating heavily.

Staring down, she touched her chest again. Her

boobs were not as big as Demi's, who was twelve
years old, too, and wearing a bra. Even the girls in
her class who had no boobs wore a bra to school
and talked about what size they bought at recess.

She wished her mom would buy her one. Her

chest jiggled when she had to do jumping jacks in
P.E. class. She wasn't going to ask her mom for
anything, especially a bra.

She waited to see if the weird feeling in her

body would come back and when nothing else
happened, she walked out of the bathroom only to
be met by Ms. Gray handing her the pair of flats.
She slipped her bare feet into the black shoes.

"Turn around." Ms. Gray twirled her finger in

the air.

She rolled her eyes and turned in a circle,

completing the inspection with bugged eyes as if
she wasn't old enough to dress without someone
telling her what to wear. "You can go now."

"Mrs. Meihoff wants me to escort you to the

table, and only then will I be excused." Ms. Gray's
thin lips pursed. "Let's not be late."

A clap of thunder rocked the room. Katie

looked toward the window, wishing she could go
look outside.

"Come now." Ms. Gray walked toward the

door.

Exhaling loudly, she followed her nanny

through the house. It was better to get dinner over
with. Hopefully, it wouldn’t end with her mother
upset at her.

The grand banister lined the extra wide stairs to

the first floor of the house. Red and black runners
lined her path. She slid her hand along the smooth,
shiny wood, knowing her mom hated fingerprints.
The heel of her left shoe clicked against the floor as
she kept one foot on the carpet, one on the wood.

"Hands off the rail and walk in the middle of

the stairs, Katie," reminded Ms. Gray from behind
her.

For a fleeting moment, she wished Ms. Gray

walked in front of her. She could imagine the
middle-aged woman tripping on the runner she
thought was so important to walk on, and toppling
down the thirty-two steps.

A flash of bright light came through the high

windows above the entryway. She gasped, stopping
midway down.

"It's only lightning." Ms. Gray touched her

back, pushing her to keep going. "Don't dawdle."

Her father died during a storm, much like the

one tonight. She walked slower. Was her mother
home or on the road up the hill to the gated

community? Or was she crossing the Megler
Bridge?

"At the rate of speed you're moving, you'll be

late," said Ms. Gray.

She stepped off the stairs and turned to face her

nanny. "She'll fire you."

"What are you talking about?"
"Mother." She shrugged. "She gets rid of all my

nannies. You have to find it strange that she hired
you to watch me. How many twelve-year-old girls
have you babysat before?"

"Go on with you." Ms. Gray planted her hands

on Katie's shoulders and turned her. "If you have
questions about my employment, ask your mother."

Like that was going to happen. The less Katie

talked to her mom, the easier her life was.

She walked down the hallway, turned the corner

past the kitchen, and stepped inside of the formal
dining room at the back of the house.

Believing her mother would be late, she stopped

in surprise at the sight of her mom sitting at the
head of the table.

Her mother's gigantic smile landed on her,

though the joy at seeing her daughter never reached
her mom's eyes. Her mom's arched brows raised
even higher as Katie remained standing in the
archway. Obviously, she was expected to do
something she forgot, and already her mom was
upset at her.

"Darling." Her mom came at her with her arms

spread out wide to her sides, taking small steps on
high heels as if she walked across hot coals.

Her mom's brown hair, dyed even lighter than

the last time she'd seen her, flowed around her
shoulders. Was that a new dress?

Her mom hugged her. Not a normal hug like

she'd receive from her teacher on her birthday, but
one of those hugs where her mom squeezed her
upper arms with her hands, forcing her to lean
backward and always left red marks on her arms.

"Behave, or you'll regret it," whispered her

mom.

Flowery perfume filled her nostrils. Through her

mother's heavily sprayed hair, she noticed a man
standing at the side of the table.

She stiffened, and her mom let go of her, but

not before grabbing her hand and dragging her
forward to the table.

"Katie, this is Dr. Race Conner. Please, say

hello to him." Her mother rushed to sit down.

Left alone at the side of the table, opposite the

man, she eyed him carefully. He was quieter than
the men her mother usually brought to dinner at the
house. His dark, brown hair touched his shoulders.
He was more unkempt than the other men her mom
hung around, too. Though he wore a cream-colored
dress shirt and black trousers, he skipped wearing a

tie and had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt past his
elbows.

He had whiskers, darkening his jaw. Katie tilted

her head, studying the shadow on his face. Her
father had shaved every morning. When she was
little, she would often hear the buzz from his shaver
through the wall to her bathroom.

"Hello, Katie," said Dr. Conner in a low voice

that was almost too quiet.

"Hello." She pulled out her chair and slipped

onto the seat, putting her hands on her lap under
the table.

Her mom pointed to her napkin, then put the

cloth on her lap. "Betsy, please serve dinner."

Copying her mother's manners, she sat still.

Adults hated hearing children talk, especially at
dinner, she was used to sitting quietly.

Betsy, one of the three women who worked in

the kitchen, brought in the plates, already fixed.
The guest must be important, because her mother
ordered steak and lobster to be served. On nights
when her mother wasn't home, Katie ate in the
kitchen. Usually, some form of chicken dinner. A
lot of rice and chicken, noodles and chicken,
vegetable medley and chicken.

She hated chicken.
The different offering made her stomach to

growl. She picked up her fork.

"Do you go to Langly, Katie?" asked Dr.

Conner.

She nodded, picking up the sharp knife at the

side of her plate. Her hunger overrode the need to
look to her mother to see if she was supposed to
reply. It was a yes or no kind of question.

"Katie, answer Dr. Conner," said her mother.
Dr. Conner cleared his throat. "She did."
She glanced up, surprised that he would stand

up for her. The doctor continued to cut his steak,
giving her a chance to look at him without him
seeing.

He hadn't picked up his wine glass. The amber

fluid went halfway up the glass where she knew
Ann, the cook's helper, always filled to a pretend
line. While Dr. Conner concentrated on eating, it
took his attention away from her mother.

She glanced at the head of the table. Her

mother pouted, barely touching her food. She
twirled the stem of her wine glass in her hand and
pressed her back against the chair.

Katie lifted a piece of steak to her mouth. She

knew to hurry, or her mom would order her away
from the table before she finished.

Several minutes later, the internal warning

making her stomach hurt signaled that the mood
had shifted when she picked up her fork to tear
apart the lobster tail. She looked up, glancing from

her mother to the doctor. The hair on her arms
cautioned her not to make a move.

Instead of waiting for her mom to drop a bomb

of an announcement, she looked at Dr. Conner,
curious to know how he would react when her mom
finally broke her silence. Would he put a stop to her
mother if she got yelled at or sit there and let her
mom send her to her room?

"Once school is out, Dr. Conner is going to

come to the house on Tuesdays and Fridays at three
o'clock. You must spend an hour with him." Her
mother paused, narrowing her eyes. "I will be gone
for the next month, and it'll be your responsibility
to make sure you see him on those days. Ms. Gray
will be here to remind you."

She sat up straighter. A month? "Where are you

going?"

"I'm going on a much-needed vacation to a

small island called Anegada. There's a lovely area
there called Loblolly Bay, where I will get much
rest and sunshine." Her mother sat forward and
raised her brows. "Ms. Gray will—"

"No, mom. Please, let me watch myself this

summer. You promised when I turned twelve years
old, and...and I'm big enough to take care of myself.
Betsy will be here, and I'll stay in the house. I won't
go anywhere. Please—"

"You're too young." Her mother waved her

hand in front of her as if shooing a fly. "You need

supervision."

"But, Mother—"
"Do you want me to cancel my vacation?" Her

mother's voice warned her the discussion was over.

Her eyes burned. She ducked her head and

stared at her plate, no longer hungry. Just once, she
wished her mom would pay attention to her and
realize she was growing up.

Stunned that her mother was leaving again,

having only been home a week, she refused to ask
why she needed to see a doctor. She wasn't sick.

A clap of thunder contaminated the silence

around the table. Taken back to the night her father
died four years ago, she closed herself off. It was
her fault her father hadn't been home. It was her
fault that her dad had died.

"I believe the family who lives on B circle, one

street over from you, have a daughter who is
twelve years old." Dr. Conner's low voice broke
through the terror of her memories. "If I remember
correctly, her mother has mentioned in passing that
her daughter is going to be babysitting this
summer."

Her mother scoffed. "My child doesn't babysit

others. That's what nannies are for."

She tried to peek at the doctor from behind her

hair. Curious to know if the girl he talked about
went to her school. Having never been able to
explore in the gated neighborhood, she wasn't

aware of another kid her age living close by. And
babysitting?

Catching Dr. Conner's dark-colored gaze, she

eagerly looked at him. She had so many questions.
How had the girl received her parents' permission
to get a job? Did she spend nights with the baby she
was watching? Alone? Was she scared? Was it fun?

"Twelve is the normal age when parents give

their child more independence. It's prudent to
growing up and being self-reliant." Dr. Conner put
down his fork and picked up his napkin, wiping his
mouth. "I can evaluate Katie's maturity level during
our appointments."

Evaluate? She glanced at her mom. Evaluate

how?

Afraid if she asked, the focus would come back

on her. She stayed quiet, wanting to know what her
mother thought about Dr. Conner's suggestion on
letting her stay by herself.

"I'll see her twice a week like planned. Ms.

Gray can come at dinner time and stay in the house
until morning because every woman should have
someone near at night."

She swallowed, no longer interested in dinner.

He called her a woman.

Finally, having someone supporting and sticking

up for her, she wanted her independence more than
ever.

"What do I do when I'm in a different country,

and something goes wrong, or Katie changes her
mind and wants her nanny during the day?" Her
mother's lips pursed. "I will not come back and
baby her. She's not ruining my vacation."

"If Katie changes her mind, she can let Ms.

Gray know, and the nanny can stay twenty-
four/seven." Dr. Conner looked at Katie and lifted
his brows. "Acceptable?"

She nodded enthusiastically.
"Perfect." He tossed his napkin on the table.

"Now that I've met Katie and she's aware of her
summer schedule, I'll expect her ready for our talk
on Tuesday. I'll see myself to the door."

"But..." Her mother stood from the table.

"Won't you stay and have dessert?"

Dr. Conner dismissed the offer and walked out

of the room. Katie gawked at the bravery of
standing up to her mother. She'd never met anyone
strong enough to leave her mother speechless. Not
even her father had won every argument.

Document Outline

Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Part Two
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Part Three
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Part Four
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Part Five
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Part Six
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
—SNEAK PEEK— | The Sandbar Saga by Debra Kayn
Part One | Katie | Chapter 1

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