by Debra Kayn
Johanna's head hid under his beard. He motioned for D-Con to ride out and gather the others. Then, he lowered his mouth and in Johanna's ear said, "Let's get you home, bug."
Almost an hour later, he pulled through the gate and onto the property of Brikken Motorcycle Club. The members milling outside turned in his direction. Ignoring them, he backed into the first reserved spot in the line of black machines.
He toed the kickstand, and before he shut off the motorcycle, he touched Johanna's lower legs. Her skin still warm after the ride. Fifteen minutes into the forty-minute ride home, Johanna had fallen asleep.
Despite the warm day, once the sun went down, even the men changed out of their vests for their jackets. Johanna cuddled up against him, warm and content, oblivious to everything.
He shut off the engine, held Johanna to his chest, and exited the bike. Johanna continued to sleep in his arms. He lowered his chin and inhaled deeply. The stench of the apartment cleaned by the wind on the ride home, only the sweet aroma of warm vanilla sugar clung to the child.
Packer, ten months into his probationary period, met him at the door. "I'm here, Chief."
"Call Nene, tell her to get her ass over here." He walked past the pool table, the bar, and down the hallway.
Taking the stairs two at a time, he opened the first room upstairs in the modified pole building and walked inside. He laid the child on the bed and used the blanket at the foot of the mattress to cover her.
He stopped tucking the cover around her and held still when Johanna stirred and blinked awake. Prepared for cries and even a scream, he ran the tip of his finger down her forehead to the tip of her nose. "Go back to sleep."
Johanna pulled her skinny arm out from under the blanket and patted his beard, leaving her hand on his whiskers. The touch, so innocent and pure, left his chest vibrating.
"Close your eyes, bug," he said, his voice deeper and gruffer than normal.
She scooted under the blanket, turned to her side, and her eyelashes met her cheeks. He stepped away from the bed and sat in the lone chair in the room. Club rooms weren't a fit place for a child. Meant to be a quiet place for a member to lay his head, the room only had a full bed, wooden chest under the window, a dresser, and a chair. If the riders wanted to watch television, shoot pool, piss, or eat, they went downstairs.
The clubhouse served them well over the years. Before he'd become president, he lived here while his dad—the late Rollo Stanton, built the membership numbers from the ground up. Growing up with Rollo as his father, he'd never known anything different than his responsibilities to the club, to his men, to his family.
He leaned his head back against the wall and stared at the small lump in the bed. Tomorrow morning, he'd need to get Keeffe, his vice president, to find out what went wrong tonight. There was no excuse for the crew to have missed the child during their initial sweep.
Rubbing his hands over his face, he understood Brikken would pay for the mistake. If Johanna had a mother, he'd need to decide how to take care of the problem immediately. The last thing the club needed was the cops searching around for a missing child and the trail leading them straight to Brikken.
The click of high heels outside the room stopped. He rolled his head against the wall and held out his hand. "Ah, Nene..."
Nene stood in the doorway looking at the bed. "What have you done this time?"
At fifty-two years old, Nene still had it going on. She kept in shape and was old enough not to question his role as president. He kept her in one of the rentals for his personal use. Before him, Nene had been with Rollo before Chief's mom came into the picture, and for a short time after his mom died.
Because Nene had always been a part of his life in one form or another, it was easy for him to be with her. She gave him comfort from a hard life.
He went to her place on Tuesdays and Sundays and hit up Karla, the mother of his three sons, on Thursdays and Mondays. The other days, he stayed at the clubhouse and if he got an itch, he used one of the women who hung around looking for a good time.
His father had taught him well. From the time he'd turned thirteen years old, he lived a lifestyle fitting the leader of Brikken, knowing he'd step into being the president of Brikken when the time came.
The time came sooner than he'd wanted.
Rollo was taken out five years ago when a disloyal member decided to pull a gun on him. In his despair over losing his wife, Rollo let his emotions make him weak.
In retaliation, Chief had taken out Rollo's killer in his first job as president.
He stretched his legs, the ache in the back of his thighs making him feel older than his thirty-four years. "Turn out the light, and then come give me a kiss."
Nene flipped the switch and quietly walked to him. He patted his chest and helped her slide onto his lap. He kissed her deep and long, finally emitting a sigh as his muscles relaxed from the long day.
"Who is she?" asked Nene, smoothing the hair off his forehead.
"What's your last name?"
"You don't know?" Nene straightened.
"Tired, Nene," he muttered. He needed a rest. Johanna's presence had him overthinking everything.
"Smith."
"Then, her name is Johanna Smith." He slipped his hand under Nene's shirt and rubbed her back. "Give her a couple of weeks to get used to living with you, and then put her in school. Teach her who she belongs to, what's expected of her, and make sure she's happy."
"It's summertime, Chief. There's no school," whispered Nene. "I don't know what to do with a child."
"You'll learn."
"I don't want—"
"Shut your mouth," he said.
Nene would do as she's told and keep his business private. She knew the consequences.
Johanna had a chance at a new life away from the rundown apartment, away from the poverty, away from the rodents, away from the lowlife that had been responsible for her.
"Tonight, I want you to go home, call some of the Brikken women who have kids around eight years old, and get a few clothes that'll fit Johanna Smith." He lifted Nene from his lap. "I'll be around tomorrow and drop her off at your house. Make a list. I'll have the guys go out and buy everything else you'll need for her to live with you."
"Chief?" Nene shook her head. "I can't—"
"Don't argue with me. You want to keep your house and your lifestyle, you'll raise the girl as if she is your own." He stretched his legs out in front of him and slouched in the chair. "Now, get the hell out of here. I need to sleep."
He closed his eyes. It was several minutes before the sound of Nene's high heels faded into silence. A soft whimper came from across the room, and he opened his eyes.
Rest never came. He stayed awake in case Johanna needed him.
