Then, Grave spoke up.
“This meeting with Lars could be a mistake.”
Every single guy groaned. Which told me he’d been on that argument against the plan since I’d left.
“I’m serious, if you assholes would simply listen to me,” he said.
“We know it might be a mistake. Any number of our plans might be a massive fucking mistake. But we’ve got kids involved here. Two of them that belong to us. Saint’s kid and Ryker’s. We do what’s necessary for them. Even if it means sacrificing ourselves,” Diesel said.
“We need a better plan than this, though. We need a time and place for the meeting, at least.”
“And we’ll get it. The fuck do you think we’re doing right now?”
“Being reckless and only thinking about family that’s popping up instead of the family we already have here.”
“And I seem to recall you being someone who sprung family on us a few years back, right?”
My eyes bounced between Diesel and Grave. Two of the old guards going at it with one another. I got his frustration. Bringing families and kids into the mix always made this go to shit. Always made things complicated. And yeah, I could’ve told them about Ariel sooner. Especially once all this bullshit popped off with Lars Norden and the gang. But I really thought I’d been doing what was best for my little girl.
Strike one thousand and twenty-two for the father of the year.
“Once we figure out all the pieces we can behind the scenes, we’ll call Lars back. We’ll accept the meeting. And we’ll go from there,” Diesel said.
“Got a hit!” Rock exclaimed.
I tore away from the guys, leaping and lunging myself to the man sitting at the kitchen table. I hunched over his shoulder, placing my hand on the edge of the back of the seat to dip down over his massive body. His fat fingers typed away on the keyboard. I saw her picture there, her face completely untouched. Her auburn hair, cascading down past her shoulders and out of the picture. Much longer than what I’d seen in person. But that was the only thing that changed about her. Those striking green eyes and those soft freckles were still there. Still shining. Still illuminating her presence.
Even in a fucking picture.
“Shit,” Rock said flatly.
His voice ripped me from my trance. “What?”
“She’s a Petrov.”
“She’s a what now?” Diesel asked.
The guys gathered around us as Rock turned the laptop away from us. Away from me. Facing it toward the guys as the old guards peeked around at one another.
I rose up. “What?”
“Yeah, I’m with Ryker on this one,” Toxin said.
“That a name we should know?” Bear asked.
Diesel groaned. “Holy fuck, that’s Kaylynn Petrov.”
I paused. “You know her?”
“No. But we know her father. Dusan.”
“Dusan Petrov. Sounds like a cartoon character,” Saint said.
“Oh, he was a character all right,” Diesel said.
“‘Was?’ As in, he’s dead?” I asked.
“Yep. Been that way for a while now,” Brewer said.
I shrugged. “So, what’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is her older brother. Alex,” Diesel said.
“Why’s that a big deal? I mean, he probably works for Lars or something, right?” I asked.
The old guards looked around at one another and I grew frustrated.
“Someone wanna spit it out for me so I know who my daughter’s with?” I asked.
Diesel sighed. “Alexander Petrov took over his father’s position as Lars Norden’s top human trafficker in his organization.”
“Did you just say, ‘human trafficking?’” I asked.
Brewer nodded. “When Dusan died, Alexander stepped up to the plate to take over his position. That man had been grooming his son for the slot ever since they were teenagers.”
“And how do you guys know all this?” Bear asked.
Diesel sighed. “Because at one point in time, Alex tried pledging our crew. Back when all of us old farts were nothing but pledges ourselves.”
10
Kaylynn
“How did you sleep?” I asked.
“Fine,” Ariel said groggily.
“Did you have any dreams?”
“Mhm.”
“Whatcha dream about?”
She shrugged. “My dad.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.”
“You miss him?”
“Mhm.”
“You wanna talk about him?”
She shook her head. “No.”
I whipped up some breakfast on the stove as Ariel flopped down at the kitchen table. She put her head in her hands, sighing and yawning as she tried to wake up. My heart went out to the girl. Truly, it did. I knew she missed her father. And my only assumption was that her mother wasn’t in the picture. It made me wonder about her. About what kind of woman, she had to be in order for a father to get full custody in the state of California. That was almost unheard of nowadays, and then my heart broke for her more.
“What about your mom?” I asked.
Ariel slowly lifted her head. “Huh?”
“You talk about Dad a lot. But, what about Mom?”
“What about her?”
“I don’t know. Do you miss her, too?”
“I wouldn't know. I’ve never met her.”
Oh. “I’m sorry, Ariel.”
She shrugged. “You didn’t know.”
“Well, now I do.”
“Yeah.”
“So, tell me something else about yourself.”
“Huh?”
I giggled. “Still not awake?”
She yawned. “No.”
“Well, think about something you want to tell me about yourself, and I’ll do the same. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I scooped us up some eggs and sausage. I buttered some toast and grabbed each of us something to drink. I sat everything down on the table as Ariel slowly became more alert. Then, she started the conversation.
“When I was three, Daddy said I poured chocolate all over the couch and fell asleep in it.”
I giggled. “Must’ve been some good chocolate.”
She grinned. “Is there any bad chocolate?”
“Ah, a chocoholic over here. Good to know.”
“Your turn,” she said.
“Yep. My turn. Okay, let’s see. Oh! When I was a kid—maybe six or seven—tried caramel for the first time. And after I tried it, I started tipping up the bottle and squeezing it right into my mouth.”
“Caramel’s yuck.”
My jaw dropped. “You don’t like caramel?”
She smiled. “Chocolate is supreme!”
And when she thrust her fork into the air, I laughed out loud.
“Well, looks like I’ll just have to change your mind,” I said.
“Good luck.”
“All right, tell me something else about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?”
I shrugged. “Anything you’re comfortable telling me. It could be something about your father, too. If you’re ready to talk about him.”
“Why do you always want me to talk about my Daddy?”
“I don't know. I guess because I notice you don’t talk about him a lot. And I’m wondering if you don’t talk about him for the same reason I don’t talk about mine.”
She paused. “Why don’t you talk about yours?”
I sighed. “My Dad wasn’t so nice. A lot of people know him, but not for good reasons. So, I don’t talk about him because I don’t like to be associated with him. I don’t like people judging me for his actions.”
“Daddy says a child shouldn't be looked at like that because of what their parents do. Because they aren’t their parents.”
“Well, then I learned something about your father.”
“Huh?”
I smiled. “I just learned y
our father is a very wise man.”
“What’s ‘wise?’”
“It’s when someone has knowledge or advice to pass down because of experiences in their life.”
“Yep. That’s Daddy.”
“So, I believe it’s your turn again.”
We went back and forth like that over breakfast. And I learned the cutest little tidbits about this girl. Like, the time she first fell out of a tree, and when her father rushed out with tears in his eyes to care for her. Or the time her father made her a knotted rope climb for that same tree in order to help her conquer her fear of something that hurt her. She told me about all the times her father read her a bedtime story. Even called, whenever he worked nights. She talked about how her favorite story was Goodnight Moon, and how she’d get so excited whenever her father would call while he was working night shifts and recite the book to her as her bedtime story.
He sounded like the greatest father on the planet.
I wish I’d had a father like that.
We cleared our plates, then made our way into the living room. I turned on Netflix, scrolling to a show Ariel wanted to watch. Something about orphans and strange things that happened to them, or something like that.
I kind of recognized the main character.
“That’s Neil Patrick Harris. He’s awesome,” Ariel said.
I paused. “Are you reading my mind?”
She giggled. “No. You just look really confused.”
“That obvious?”
“Your nose wrinkles up when you’re confused.”
“Good to know the next time I need to cover it up.”
I tickled Ariel, and she fell apart in laughter. She gripped her stomach and tried wiggling away, but I wrapped my arm around her. I smiled as her sounds filled the room. So sweet. So innocent. So full of life. I remembered sounding like that once. When I was younger. Back when I didn’t understand the kind of darkness this world was filled with.
“Stop! I can’t breathe! Miss Kaylynn!”
I stopped tickling her and she collapsed against the couch. And when I scooped her into my arms, she curled into me. I played the television show in the background again, watching as she inched closer against my body. Her head fell to my shoulder. Her legs curled up to her chest. And she rested against me. Panting. Sighing. Her eyes, already fluttering closed even though it wasn’t quite lunch time yet.
How long have we been watching television?
Those soft snores filled the space around us again and I reached for a blanket. I wrapped it around us, then laid down on the couch to take a nap myself. I stroked my fingers through her hair as the television became background noise. My own eyes fluttered closed as Ariel napped on top of me.
And as I drifted off to sleep, Ryker popped into my mind.
I saw his eyes first. Those piercing eyes as he sat down with us. Those rugged good looks. Broad shoulders accented with muscles pulled taut over his frame. His uneven, sun-kissed skin. It looked like the softest leather I could ever place my lips against. His lips. My eyes fell to his lips. Those barely-there lips that curled into the cheekiest of grins every time he looked at me. I dreamt about sliding my hand against his knee. Slipping my hand into his. The soup shop fell away, and Ariel ran off into the distance. Leaving Ryker and myself alone. In the black expanse of nothingness as the rest of the world fell away.
“Hello, Kaylynn.”
In my mind, we danced. He held me close, his hand slipping lower against my back. In my dreams, I nuzzled him. Planting a soft kiss against his stubbled jawline. In the darkness of the world around us, we swayed side to side. His arm, cradling me. His hand, holding mine. His lips, falling against my ear as he whispered sweet nothings into them.
“You look beautiful tonight.”
“I could hold you like this forever.”
“You smell so sweet.”
We danced and swayed. My nose softly tickled the skin of his cheek. He grinned down at me, those barely-there lips curling up the way they did whenever he looked my way. And just as our faces approached one another’s, I felt something move. Something stir.
Before Ariel pushed off my body and woke me from my dream.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
I groaned, my eyes slowly opening. “It’s okay.”
“No, no. I just—I’m sorry.”
I furrowed my brow. “I promise, it’s fine. I got tired, too.”
“I’m gonna go.”
Before I could even process what had happened, Ariel slid off the couch. Well, practically rolled off it. But still. I opened my eyes long enough to watch her bolt up the stairs, rushing to her room before the door slammed. I sighed as I fell back to the couch. I looked over at the television and saw Netflix asking me a question.
“Are you still watching A Series of Unfortunate Events?”
I rolled my eyes. “My life is a series of unfortunate events.”
I laid back down, staring at the ceiling as my hand rooted around for the remote control. And when I found it, the Roku got turned off. I closed my eyes and laid there, wondering what the hell could have happened to Ariel. I knew better than to follow her. She was obviously upset about something. And the best way to deal with a girl like her who was upset was to leave her alone until she cooled down.
But that didn’t mean I couldn't take her something.
I rolled off the couch myself and stood from the floor. I walked into the kitchen, shuffling around for a pen and a piece of paper. I scrawled a quick note for her before folding it in half. Then, I walked it upstairs. I slipped the piece of paper under her door, hoping it made her feel better. Hoping the words I’d written down helped calm her raging soul just a tad.
And as I walked back down the stairs, my mind fell back to Ryker.
It’d been pretty silent on that front. And by silent, I mean I hadn’t heard from him at all. I wondered why he hadn’t contacted me yet. Why he hadn’t reached out or anything of the sort. I didn’t know how this dating thing worked without my parents. When I was younger, Dad simply set me up on dinners. They told me where I needed to be and when, then the maid helped me dress. That was it, as far as dating went. Once I got older, I shut down that part of my life. And after Dad died, I didn’t even entertain the idea. For one, I didn’t want to show people my scars. And becoming intimate with a man meant revealing to him the rippling scars down my back.
And for another, I simply wasn’t interested.
Until Ryker.
In a fit of desperation, I picked up my phone. I pulled up an internet tab and started looking up things like “the rules of dating” and “dating for men.” Maybe there was something I didn't know about. Some sort of waiting period or tactic Ryker used that I needed to be aware of. I came across something called a “three-day rule,” and after I read it, my heart both sank and fluttered.
Men waited three days before contacting a woman?
It seemed absurd. If the man wanted to speak with someone, why didn’t he simply man up and call her? I guess I understood the whole “not looking desperate” thing. But it still seemed weird. Trite. Overdone, really. Still, it might explain why he hadn’t contacted me yet.
The bad news was that I still had two more days to go.
Why can’t I stop thinking about this guy?
I ached for him, even though I hardly knew him. I wanted him, even though I didn’t know a damn thing about him. Was this what love felt like? Or possibly lust? I didn’t understand what either felt like. From an adult’s perspective, at least. If Mom knew I wasn’t a virgin and still not married, she’d have a fucking cow’s fit. My one moment of rebellion as a teenager had been giving my virginity away to some guy in high school as a “fuck you” to the rules and regulations Dad always held over my head.
A lady never does this. A lady never does that. A lady does as she’s told, and a lady supports her man.
Blah, blah, blah.
I tried finding things to do around the house. Anything to keep myself
occupied while Ariel slept. But around hour three, I went to check on her. The bright afternoon sun streamed through the windows, yet Ariel was fast asleep. So, against my better judgment, I decided to let her sleep.
And sleep.
And sleep.
And sleep some more.
By the time dinner time rolled around, I grew worried about her. I went and checked on her again, pushing my appetite off to the side. I walked into her now-darkened bedroom and placed my hand against her forehead. She didn’t feel hot. She wasn’t sweating, either. So, she wasn’t sick. Had she not slept well last night? Was she homesick?
I rubbed my hand softly against her back, but she didn’t move.
Let the poor girl sleep.
I bent down and kissed the side of her head. Then, I left her be. If she was that tired, she obviously needed her rest. Maybe she was growing or something. Did kids sleep that much while growing? I picked up my phone as I made my way downstairs, deciding to do some searching around on nine-year-old girls. My fingers typed away on my phone, trying to look up as much information as I could that might help me in my endeavor to take care of this girl while shrouding her from the world.
Then, a crawling sensation crept down my spine.
Something felt… off. And I knew what that meant. I slowly walked over to the living room windows, making my way to the side of it. I slipped the curtain over, peeking through the blinds to see who the fuck was watching this house. And instead of finding a black SUV of some sort, I found a motorcycle.
With a man straddling it.
Staring straight into my eyes as he put down his kickstand and slipped off the seat.
11
Ryker
“He was what now?” I asked.
Diesel sighed. “There, for a couple months, Alex Petrov attempted to pledge the Dead Souls.”
“What happened to him? Why didn’t he make it?” Bear asked.
Dead Souls MC: Prospects Series Books 1-5 Page 52
