by Harley Wylde
My stomach knotted at her words. I didn’t know how to help her or the others, but I didn’t like that they’d been backed into this particular corner. The way Sarge spoke to me and his reaction of what happened to my sister, I had to think if he knew about their plight that he would want to do something too. But would the others care? I didn’t know enough about anyone here. I didn’t think Sarge would purposefully hang out with guys like Wilson. Not with how pissed he’d been. Then again, I didn’t know if he’d have reacted that same way if he’d known Wilson was hurting Candy instead of me.
“You come here every time they let you?” I asked.
“Yeah, all three of us do. I know some of the others are struggling too and come here to let off steam and just try to forget for a while. Then there are the ones who just want the thrill of being with these guys. It’s just a temporary thing for me, a walk on the wild side or something.”
I wasn’t sure what I could do, but there was no damn way I was going to let her or the others suffer if I could stop it. I didn’t have any power here. Not real power. Sure, they said I had a place of respect in the club because I belonged to Sarge, but it wasn’t like I could make decisions for the club.
“Are you hungry?” I asked. “It seems we’re moving. The fewer things in the fridge the less I have to box up. In fact, I think you’d be doing me a huge favor if you took a few things with you.”
Her eyes teared and one lone tear slipped down her cheek. She hastily wiped it away. Before I realized her intentions, she’d thrown her arms around me and gave me the tightest hug. I patted her back, feeling completely at a loss as to how I should react. Sarge came into view, leaned against the doorframe, and just shook his head. But I saw the look in his eyes as he gazed at Candy clinging to me. He was worried. I wasn’t sure if he was worried for her or about her. What exactly had he heard of our conversation?
“Come on. I’ll make you a sandwich and we can see what’s in there.” I tugged her arms from around me. She wiped at her cheeks again where more tears had fallen and she followed me past Sarge.
He reached out to grab my hand. “Go on to the kitchen, Candy. She’ll be there in a second.”
I stayed with him, hoping he wasn’t about to get angry that I’d offered to send her home with food. I wasn’t about to let her or her friends go hungry, not if I could do something to help. While I didn’t have any idea about Sarge’s finances, I didn’t think a few groceries would put us in a bind, but maybe I should have asked first.
“Are you mad?” I asked.
“That you’re trying to help someone?”
“Yes. Well, that I’m trying to help one of your club whores.” I winced. “I really don’t like calling them that. She’s not a whore, and it sounds like some of the others are only trying to survive the best they can.”
“My soft-hearted kitten.” He smiled and leaned down to kiss me. “I don’t mind you helping her, but anything beyond feeding her will have to be discussed with the club. I think I’m learning how your mind works, and you don’t want to stop here, do you?”
“Not really. It sounds like she’s not in a safe place.”
“All right. Go feed her, send food home with her, and we’ll talk while we pack. Maybe I can come up with something to tell the club, a way to make it seem like a win-win situation not just for the girls but for my brothers too. They aren’t a bad lot, but those women aren’t exactly treated like more than a hole to fuck.”
“Nice.”
He shrugged. “Just telling you how it is, kitten. And yes, I was one of them for a while. Never really thought about their motivation for being here. I know several have tried to get pregnant over the years, hoping to snag one of us on a more permanent basis.”
“Maybe it wasn’t you they wanted and just stability,” I pointed out.
He smacked my ass. “Stop trying to dent my ego. Otherwise you’ll have to make it up to me later.”
I pressed my lips to his. “I’m always happy to do that. Anytime. Maybe not anywhere, though. As hot as it is when we pretend someone is watching, I really don’t think I’d like being on display in a room full of people.”
“Good because I don’t share. Now go help Candy and let’s get to work.”
I kissed him one last time, then went to the kitchen. Candy was leaning against the table, arms folded across her stomach. She looked both worried and scared. It occurred to me that she might think Sarge was reading me the riot act over offering to help her.
“I think we have both turkey and ham. Do you have a preference or do you want both?” I asked.
“You don’t have to do this. No one else has ever cared.”
I stopped and stared at her. “And that is exactly why I should do this. You’re a person, Candy, not some toy they can play with, then toss away. If you need help, you should be able to tell someone. I’m not about to let you and your friends starve. There’s plenty of food here, and I seriously don’t want to box it all up to move it.”
“Thank you,” she said, her voice so soft I almost couldn’t hear her.
I fed her, loaded down a box with canned goods, macaroni, pasta and some jars of sauce, then topped it off with some meat in the freezer. I knew it wouldn’t last forever, but at least she and her friends could eat for the rest of the week and maybe a little beyond. She’d hugged me again, crying once more, and then left. My heart ached for her. Whatever it took, I’d make sure she was okay. It took guts to come here. I admired anyone who was strong, even if it wasn’t a physical strength.
After she left, Sarge handed me a box, grabbed one for himself, and started packing up the living room. “Start talking. Tell me what you have in mind.”
I glanced at him. “Well, I haven’t really had a chance to come up with a complete plan or anything.”
He gave me a look that clearly said he thought I was full of shit. I sighed and kept packing. I hadn’t lied. Exactly. I really didn’t have a plan, but it had occurred to me if they had space to build more homes, then maybe those women could share a house that was about to become vacant. Or if not one of these homes, maybe something could be built close to the clubhouse.
“You trust them enough to let them through the gates. Does the club trust them enough to give them free run of this place?”
Sarge seemed to contemplate my question. “I’m not sure how everyone would feel about that. Right now, there’s a Prospect who watches them drive through the gates and stop at the clubhouse. They’re watched while they’re here, to some extent at any rate. There’s shit that goes down inside the compound that we don’t want just anyone to witness. We might not be as fucked-up as Voronin, but our hands aren’t clean either, kitten.”
“So maybe restrict them to the front part of the compound near the clubhouse? Are there any homes that way? Something empty I mean?”
“No, nothing empty. You thinking we should give them a house inside the gates?”
He didn’t sound too thrilled over the idea. Which meant the rest of the club probably wouldn’t like it either. For that matter, the other wives, girlfriends, or whatever they were might not like those women being here. Knowing how much Liliya had suffered, I couldn’t just do nothing. Maybe that wasn’t their life right now, but Candy had implied that was the fate that befell the women in her neighborhood. It felt wrong to just sit here and pretend it wasn’t happening. I might not be able to save everyone, but if I could just help Candy and her two friends, then it was a start.
My head started to hurt the more I tried to figure it out. Then I remembered something. At the clubhouse, I’d seen a lot of doors beyond the main room. Were those rooms? Could they be made into bedrooms or small apartments? Then again, if the kids were ever permitted in the clubhouse, I didn’t think their daddies would want those women hanging around.
Someone banged really hard on the front door, then I heard it open. I glanced in that direction and a man I hadn’t yet met came into the room. Sarge stood, but didn’t go any closer.
&n
bsp; “Saint, something wrong?” Sarge asked.
“Candy was just bawling her eyes out at the gate. I thought something had happened so I decided to check it out. She kept calling your woman an angel, and blubbering a bunch of shit I couldn’t even understand. Thought I’d come see what the hell was going on.”
His name was Saint? With a name like that, maybe he’d help me. Or rather, help me help Candy. He’d stopped to talk to her when she was crying. That had to mean something, right?
“What do you know about Candy?” Sarge asked.
“She’s from my old neighborhood, but obviously she was just a kid when I lived over there. She can’t be more than eighteen or nineteen right now.”
Sarge rubbed at his eyes. “Christ. Like you’re so much older.”
“She said it wasn’t safe there,” I said. “Is she in danger living there?”
Saint shrugged, then decided to take a seat. He braced his forearms on his knees and clasped his hands. “Truthfully, if one of the pimps hasn’t picked her up yet, it’s probably just a matter of time. Prostitution and drugs are pretty rampant over there. It’s why I wanted my sister out of that shithole.”
I folded my arms. “So you got your sister out, but no one is concerned that Candy and her two friends are living over there? Are they just expendable? Just trash to kick out of the way when they aren’t convenient?”
Sarge gripped my arm. “Easy, kitten. Calm the fuck down.”
Saint looked from me to Sarge and back again. “What’s this about?”
It wasn’t my story to tell, but maybe if he knew, if they both knew, then the club would be more willing to help. I told them about the bruises, why she’d put up with it and kept coming back, and that she had two friends who came with her. I explained they were starving and grateful for a roof over their heads even in a shitty part of town. I made sure they both understood Candy hadn’t asked for my help, that I was doing this completely on my own. I didn’t want any backlash on her or anyone else.
Saint grimaced. “So we have some club whores who are only coming around so they don’t starve, and they feel safer here than at home. That’s just all kinds of awesome.”
“Where does your sister live now? Maybe she could help?” I asked.
“Kayla is with Preacher, so she’s here at the compound. But yeah, if she knew why Candy was coming around, she’d want to help. No one should feel they have to spread their legs just to have a meal. Fuck.” He ran a hand over his mouth. “I haven’t been with her, but it makes me sick to think any of the women I have been with might not have really wanted to be here.”
“Hitting close to home?” Sarge asked.
Saint nodded. I must have looked as confused as I felt because he gave me a slight smile that quickly faded. “My wife lived in hell for years before she came here. Her father whored her out or let his men rape her as punishment when she didn’t obey. I almost lost her because I was so fucking stubborn. If she knew about Candy and the others, she’d want to do something. Fuck, she’d expect me to do something.”
“So, let’s make a plan. The club would have to agree to help if we presented them with something solid, right?” I asked. “Or rather if the two of you did. I don’t think they care what I have to say.”
“You’d be surprised,” Saint said. “I heard all about you kicking the shit out of Wilson. And there’s some rumor about you beating a guy to death, but most aren’t believing that actually happened. Still… The guys think you’re pretty amazing.”
“You going to stay and help us pack? We can talk it out,” Sarge said.
Saint nodded. “You got it. Just need to call Sofia so she won’t worry.”
While he made his call, I smiled over at Sarge. He really was an incredible man. And lucky me, he was all mine.
Chapter Twelve
Sarge
We didn’t get nearly as much packed as I’d have liked and we also didn’t get to move into the new house like we’d planned. Konstantin Bykov arrived, as he’d said he would, demanding to see Katya. I’d been fighting a headache for hours and I was ready to punch something. Bykov seemed like a good enough target. I met him in front of the clubhouse, without Katya, which only seemed to piss him off.
“Is there a reason Katya isn’t with you?” he asked. “I came here to meet her.”
“You think I’m letting my wife get anywhere near you without knowing your intentions? I’m not giving you the chance to hurt her. Voronin tried to kill her, and he was the one who raised her. Far as I’m concerned, that makes you even more of a threat since she’s just a name to you.”
His expression cleared. “I see. You love her.”
“Yes, I do, and I will do whatever is necessary to keep her happy and safe. If that means I end your life here and now, so be it. Plenty of places to bury the pieces.”
Bykov smiled. “I think we’ll get along just fine.”
My gaze traced his features and I had to admit that I could see the resemblance. If he wasn’t Katya’s father, then I’d be surprised. Would he demand a paternity test? Or would he see what I did and just decide to accept her? I still wasn’t sure what that would entail, but I knew she wasn’t fucking leaving with him.
“I’ve heard that Voronin seems to have disappeared,” Bykov said. “Is that your doing? If he tried to kill your wife, it’s understandable. To me, anyway. The Bratva not so much. Voronin was not of high rank, but every position is important.”
“He didn’t kill Voronin. I did.”
I cursed and turned to glare at my wife. She tipped her chin up, giving me that defiant sassy look that made me want to spank her ass.
“Kitten, we discussed this. You’re supposed to wait at the house while I make sure it’s safe for you to be here.”
She stopped beside me, her gaze on the man who had likely sired her. “And let you take the fall for what I did? Not going to happen, but I love you for trying to protect me. I won’t let him punish you or the club for something I did.”
Bykov’s gaze softened as he stared at Katya. I’d have even sworn his eyes looked glassy for a moment, as if he might cry. Instead, his posture stiffened and so did his jaw. “Katya Voronin?”
“Not Voronin. I was never a Voronin, despite what my birth certificate says. I go by Kat Reid now.”
“Actually, I think Wire made that birth certificate vanish,” I said quietly.
“Good. I never want to be associated with that monster.” She stared at Bykov. “Are you a monster too? Am I going to regret meeting you?”
“No.” He moved closer and reached for her. I tensed, but he only smoothed her hair from her face. “I’d like to show you something.”
Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He took out a photo and held it out to Katya. She gasped when she saw the image and I had to admit, there was an uncanny resemblance between her and the woman in the picture.
“Who is she?” Katya asked.
“Your grandmother. A younger version at any rate. She passed nearly twelve years ago, but she would have been very happy to meet you.” He smiled, and reached for her again. “I have a daughter.”
Katya let him hug her, and her eyes closed after a moment. I hadn’t realized until right then just how much she needed this, needed a parent who gave a shit about her. I hoped that would be Bykov. So far, he seemed happy to have met her. That could all change, and there was the issue of Voronin’s death to deal with.
“You said the Bratva wasn’t happy about Voronin vanishing. You know damn well he was last seen here because his goons have stopped by multiple times, or driven past, searching for him.”
Katya turned wide eyes toward me. “You never said anything.”
“I didn’t want you to worry, kitten.”
Bykov rubbed the back of his neck. “If I claim Katya as my daughter, there will be certain expectations. Of you. As her husband, you and this club will have obligations to the Bratva.”
“No,” Katya said. “I won’t let you
pull them into any of that nastiness. I know about the brothels. My sister died in one. I refuse to let you drag Sarge into that crap.”
Bykov shook his head. “I’m sorry for what happened with Liliya. She knew the risk when she ran. However, not all of us are monsters, as you put it. I’d have never punished you that way. I can protect you, Katya, even keep you from paying the price for Voronin’s death, but only if you can be beneficial in some other way to the Bratva.”
I sighed. “Let’s take this inside. My President and VP are in the clubhouse. I can’t make any promises on behalf of the Dixie Reapers, not without their okay. Lay out whatever plan you have, and we’ll go from there. Katya won’t be leaving here, and anyone who tries to take her or hurt her will end up dead. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe, even try my best to wipe the Bratva from the US.”
“Bold words,” Bykov said. “I knew I liked you.”
They weren’t just words. I might not be able to take on a big crime organization on my own, but the club had enough connections that I could at least hurt them. He didn’t need to know that the club, or Torch specifically, had a tie to Casper VanHorne. The man had been the deadliest assassin until he’d retired in recent years. Even if Casper wasn’t active, he knew enough people to still be of help to us on occasion. These days, he stuck close to his young wife. After nearly losing her, I couldn’t blame him.
Inside the clubhouse, I pulled out a chair at the table where Torch and Venom were already seated, and I tugged Katya down onto my lap. I kicked out another chair and Bykov sat. The man was wearing a suit that probably cost more than most people paid a month on rent, but he didn’t even stop to see if the seat was clean. It seemed he didn’t mind getting dirty, which was always a good thing to know about a man, especially one with his sort of connections. I still didn’t know what his position in the Bratva meant, but if I were a betting man, I’d say he probably did a good bit of the dirty work himself.
