"What do you mean she's gone?" Jett strode past Banter and looked in the bedroom he'd put Sydney in. "How the fuck did she get away from you?"

"Climbed out the window." Banter exhaled loudly. "I don't know when she slipped out, but I noticed the window open when I went outside to have a smoke. That was an hour after you'd left."

Jett fisted his hand. "I need to find her."

"I'll help," said Banter.

"You, can get out of my sight and go back to the clubhouse." Jett waited until Banter left and shook his head. "God damnit," he muttered.

Brikken never allowed a loose thread in the tightly woven business they conducted. Running on no sleep, he went back through the house and informed Cutter, D-Con, Shore, and Freddy they needed to ride out.

"Do we have any idea where she'd go?" Freddy pushed himself out of the overstuffed chair and hitched his jeans higher.

"I know her name is Sydney and she's twenty years old." He grabbed his phone off the arm of the couch and slid it into his pocket. "Without a boss and a way of earning money, she could be anywhere. I want Shore to keep an eye on the house where I took out her boss. She's young enough to be stupid. Without a place to stay, she could return to the trailer not realizing that's the first place the cops will look if they get wind of a missing person. We can't let that happen."

Angry over leaving Banter in charge of the girl, he headed toward the front door issuing the riding order. During the daytime hours, it'd be almost impossible to find a young girl. At night, he stood a bigger chance. Simply because he hoped she had the smarts to seek shelter. Brikken had enough people on the outside, he could spread the word. Someone would have to see her.

He walked outside to his motorcycle. People tended to stay in the area they were familiar with. Sydney knew where the stores, gas stations, and bars were located going by the cons she pulled. He had a feeling, she'd return to the bars. To her easiest targets.

He started his motorcycle realizing it was Sunday. Most bars were closed, except the seedier places.

The urge to find her before she opened her mouth to the wrong person and ratted him out to the cops outweighed his desire to pull her over his knee and spank her little ass for running off.

He rode out, determined to find her.

***

TWELVE HOURS LATER, ten minutes before midnight, Jett spotted Sydney walking across the parking lot of a Motel 6. He pointed her out to D-Con and started his Harley. He would've overlooked her, except she carried the same duffle bag she seemed to have with her wherever she went.

He shook his head at D-Con to stay back and crossed the road, coming in on the opposite side of the parking lot and cutting off Sydney.

She spotted him and turned around, running toward the sidewalk. Annoyed after wasting a day and killing a man because of her, he gassed the Harley and rode up on the sidewalk beside her. He grabbed her arm without getting off the motorcycle.

"Get on," he barked.

Now that he'd found her, the urgency battering him all day left, and he found himself pissed off. A woman, no matter her age, should have someone looking out for her. She appeared to have no one. Looking at her, all dolled up, she should have someone with her twenty-four/seven.

She tugged. "I'll scream."

"I'll shoot."

Her eyes narrowed, and she stopped struggling. He pulled her over until she needed to brace her hands on him and said, "Put your duffle on your back, take the helmet, and if you try and run again, you won't like what happens."

Her chin trembled. He let go of her. Once he got her out of town, he wouldn't put up with her shit.

She put the duffle on her back, the helmet on her head, and struggled with the chinstrap. He grabbed her jacket, pulled her closer, and worked the material through the D-strap while looking at her eyes, which she averted.

There was something different about her now compared to when she conned the Brikken men. The makeup she hid behind could no longer hide her startling blue eyes that were as clear as a cold river on a spring day. Those eyes carried the burden of pain. Whether it was physical or emotional scars of her past, she carried something heavy.

She tried to keep the truth from him, but he recognized it all the same. He'd struggled himself through eighteen months of being locked up only relying on himself for survival. His life in turmoil ever since, it seemed as if he hadn't slept for years.

"Get on." He lowered his hands.

She climbed on behind him. He removed the pistol tucked under his waistband, almost amused when she rubbed her hand across his stomach searching for the weapon.

He put the gun between his legs on the seat and rode away, motioning for D-Con to follow.

Fifteen minutes later, he passed Olin's house and continued riding. He'd need more eyes on Sydney if he planned on getting some rest and he needed to check in with Chief. He owed his father an explanation for his latest crime.

At the gate of the Brikken property, he shifted down and waited for the prospects to open the sheet metal gate. Comfort always came to him riding to the clubhouse, safely tucked inside the forty acres Brikken owned. He'd grown up here, surrounded by family and under the teachings of his grandfather, Rollo, who grew the MC from the ground up until he'd been murdered by someone who betrayed the club. Then, Chief took over the position of president.

Someday, Jett would become president when his father decided to quit riding or ended up killed. It was the risk of being president. Friends and even family members became your enemy.

He rode through the yard and backed up, parking in the long line of motorcycles, and cut the engine. "Go ahead and slide off."

In her hurry, Sydney almost fell off the bike. He toed the kickstand and took off his helmet. He needed food, talk with Chief, and rest. In that order.

"Am I going to have a problem getting you inside or are you going to walk beside me?" He took the helmet from her and set it on the seat of his bike.

"Depends on what you plan to do with me once we're inside." She held her hand against her chest.

He studied her, and when she made no move to run, he lifted his chin for her to follow him. Aware of her behind him, he held the door open and let her pass him. She still held her arm in front of her.

"What's wrong with you?" He pointed to her chest.

"Nothing." She straightened her arm down to her side.

She winced in pain. Taking her to the kitchen, he told her to sit and pulled a bag of frozen corn out of the freezer, tossing it on the table in front of her. She ignored the bag.

"Put it where it hurts. It'll help." He opened the cabinets until he found a loaf of bread, then got out mayonnaise, lunch meat, cheese, and made them both two sandwiches. Going by the lack of food that was in the travel trailer she'd lived in, she needed to eat, too.

Taking a beer out of the fridge, he grabbed a Coke, and carried everything over to the table and sat down across from her. "Eat up."

"I can't have a beer?" she asked.

"You're twenty."

"So?"

"You'll have Coke." He eyed her arm while he chewed.

She pampered her wrist. When she caught him checking her out, she put her arm under the table. She continued eating, one bite after another as if she believed he'd take away the food.

When he finished his first sandwich, he said, "Do you think it's broken?"

She lowered her gaze to her paper plate. "No, just bruised."

"Did you get in a fight?"

She gave a slight shake of her head. "I fell."

"Where?"

"Does it matter?" She licked her bottom lip.

It dawned on him what had happened to her. His youngest brother, Thorn, broke his arm at the age of twelve when he'd snuck out of the bedroom window and fallen to the ground. He'd bet that she hurt herself escaping Olin's house.

"When you're done, I'll take you to my room upstairs. You can put that bag of corn on your wrist and rest while I talk to the president of Brikken." He took the last bite of his sandwich. "No use running, because there are anywhere from one hundred to three hundred members here at all times. You'll be safe if you stay with me and listen when I tell you to do something."

"How long do I have to stay here?" she asked.

He cocked his brow, stood, and threw their paper plates away. It was best if he kept that information to himself. He wouldn't want her to get any funny ideas that would get her in trouble again.

"Follow me." He waited until she picked up the frozen bag of vegetables, then led her out of the room.

In the main room, he waved Keeffe, the vice president, over and motioned him to follow them upstairs. At the door to his room, he ushered Sydney inside and turned to Keeffe. "She's going to rest while I talk to Chief. Make sure you and everyone else here knows she's not to leave the room."

He'd spoke loud enough Sydney heard his orders. Closing the door, he walked down to the meeting room, knowing he'd find his father there waiting to hear back from him. He wasn't surprised to also find Johanna, Chief's woman. When she wasn't at the house on the other side of the creek on Brikken property, she catered to his father's wishes to be with her at all times.

He stopped beside the table, looking around the room. "Where's Jackie?"

His baby half-sister was always underfoot. At five years old, she needed to be protected from the business at hand.

Johanna, holding his other half-sister, Stassi, on her chest, pointed to the table. He bent at the waist and looked underneath the tabletop, spying Jackie laying on the floor. Her two dolls wrapped in her arms. She'd fallen asleep.

He straightened. "I need to talk."

"Go ahead, son." Chief patted Johanna's ass. "Go ahead and take Stassi. I'll watch our daughter until she wakes up and then carry her home."

Johanna kissed Chief and then squeezed Jett's arm. "You need sleep. You look like shit."

He snorted in amusement. He could count on Johanna to tell him the truth. Not only did he look like shit, he felt like it, too.

Alone with his dad, he sat down and stretched his legs out. "I wanted to update you."

"I heard." Chief exhaled. "A dead body means you've gained another enemy. Nobody lives in this life alone. Someone is out there, pissed about a death."

He understood the consequences. It wasn't the first time he'd taken a life.

"I haven't had the time to delve into the man's background." He rubbed his hands over his face, scratching his cheeks through his beard. "I brought the girl that worked for him and witnessed what went down back with me."

"Was she involved with this Clark person?"

"She's twenty years old. Young thing. I doubt they were involved, besides her working for him. The guy was at least sixty." Hit with the humor of the situation, he cocked his brow at his dad. "Sydney's not as young as Johanna when you brought her to the clubhouse."

Others would look at his father for taking an eight-year-old girl as his own and lock Chief up in prison. Hell, he'd wondered the same for about a minute back in the day. He'd been thirteen at the time and thought his dad was fulfilling a desire to have a daughter. It was soon apparent that his connection to Johanna came from somewhere deeper. He accepted the relationship because to fight it would be foolish, and Johanna was happiest with Chief.

"What are you going to do with her?" asked Chief.

He blew out his breath. "Get answers. I'm not going to let her loose until I know what she's going to do with the information she holds. I don't have a desire to spend any more years locked up in prison."

His dad grunted. "If you plan on keeping her in your room, make sure she keeps her nose out of club business. If I sniff any trouble, I have no problem getting rid of her. Do you hear me, son?"

He hooked his hands under his armpits. The rules were in place for the good of Brikken. There could be no other way if the motorcycle club were to survive.

The need to protect Sydney put him on edge. The look in her eyes when she'd cried in the trailer bothered him. He wanted to remove her pain, and yet he held no responsibility toward her.

"Get some sleep." Chief stood from the table. "Your MC brothers will watch your back."

He pushed to his feet. When it came to Sydney, he trusted no one with her.

That realization came to him before he understood why.

"Right." He leaned down, checked on his sister under the table to make sure she still slept and walked out of the room.

By the time he opened the door to his room upstairs, he only wanted a warm body, a soft place to lay his head, and to shut off his mind. Instead, Sydney rushed him the moment the door opened, and he received two dainty fists in his stomach as she tried to knock him on his ass. Outweighing her by a hundred pounds, he barely reacted to the force of her body and yet he stiffened at the cry of pain coming from her.

He caught Sydney before she bounced off his stomach. She struck out at him, fighting him. He turned her and wrapped his arms around her, holding her arms to her side to keep her from hurting herself again.

Her body fit against him like a fucking glove and stilled. He lowered his mouth to her ear. "There's no reason to be scared. If you'd take a second and think, you'd realize I probably saved you from losing your life or at the least, winding up in prison."

She struggled against him.

Knowing she was past the point of listening and wouldn't stop fighting him, he walked her to the bed without letting go, picked up the frozen corn she'd thrown on the bedspread, and forced her to lay down. He spooned her, pressing the bag to her wrist.

"Hold still." He held her tighter. "I need to sleep, and I don't need to worry about you trying to kill me when my eyes are closed."

She never moved a muscle. He lay pressed against her back, having tucked her into the curve of his body. Her head rested below his chin. He peeked down. Her plush breasts higher than normal because his arms were wrapped around her rib cage. His balls tightened as the warmth of her ass permeated the front of his jeans.

Comfortable, warm, and relaxed, he closed his eyes.