Sydney drank the pop Jett put in front of her on the table. He stood ten feet away with Chief, trying to decide what to do with the information his father handed him.

"Somehow, social services gave up looking for her two weeks after she ran away." Chief braced his elbow on his crossed arm and stroked his beard.

The music blaring in the clubhouse kept their conversation from Sydney's ears. Jett widened his stance. "Why would she continue trying to run away?"

Chief scoffed in amusement. "She's a kid of the State of Washington. Bad homes. Abusive foster parents. Neglect. Teenage boyfriend. Drugs. It's anyone's guess. My contact could only get the basic information from her record. She's a minor, so everything is sealed. I can tell you that she's only sixteen years old. You've got her at Brikken around bikers that she's never been around before. She's scared to death, and she wants to leave. It's why we make sure females who come to the parties are at least twenty-one years old and think with their pussy and not their heads. You were born into the club. All these assholes are your family. To her, we're the scum of the earth."

"I killed in front of her," he muttered.

"You can't regret the act."

"She's a child." He shook his head. "Clark had her out doing his dirty work and ripping people off. She had no protection. I'd do it again, but I'm not sure she can see what he was doing to her. Hell, in her eyes, there's no difference between what Clark was making her do and what I'm making her do by staying here."

"What do you plan on doing?" asked Chief.

"I don't know yet."

"You could always keep her." Chief shrugged.

Sydney stood, glanced over at him, and then walked across the room and stood by the pool table. All he could see was a sixteen-year-old girl now that he knew her age.

Chief had kidnapped Johanna when she was eight years old and kept her for himself. Jett had grown up with Johanna, treating her like a little sister. His dad's relationship with Johanna went beyond explanation. He'd known that from an early age.

"I'm not you," he said, knowing that wasn't true.

Last night, he'd slept better than he had since returning from prison. Cuddled around Sydney gave him a calm he hadn't received from other women. If she would've shown any sign that she wanted him, he would've easily fucked her, believing she was twenty years old.

She wasn't.

She was a fucking sixteen-year-old.

Chief squeezed the back of Jett's neck and laughed. "She'll grow up. Remember how you thought and acted as a sixteen-year-old? You already had slept with half the women in Brikken by that age. You and your brothers. That included women twice your age."

He was thirty-seven years old. More than twice Sydney's age. What was okay for boys was not okay for girls. At least not any girl he cared about. If anyone touched his little sisters when they were teenagers, he'd kill the sons of a bitches.

"Yeah, I remember," he said.

The beer he'd drank set heavy in his stomach. It wasn't the problem of keeping his dick out of Sydney because of her age that bothered him. He couldn't pinpoint exactly why he brought her back here under the excuse of keeping her safe.

He had no problem sending any of the women hanging around him away. Why was Sydney different than other females?

Hell, he didn't even know Sydney. But, there was something about the way she seemed to change right in front of his eyes that mystified him and kept him interested—far more than someone her age should.

He stared at Sydney across the room. Earlier, she'd gone upstairs by herself and changed into a short skirt and sexy top that hung off one of her shoulders, and applied makeup on her face again, masking her age. If he hadn't known her age and if he hadn't seen her without being all dolled up, he would've reacted to her as if she was any of the other bitches that hung around the club.

The first night in her trailer, she'd broken down. Not in a fit, not in fear, not in an attempt to gain his attention. It was heartbreak, plain and simple, and he found himself hurting for her.

Besides family, including Brikken, he never gave a shit about anyone. He looked out for himself and in his position, needing to be the one to step up and lead Brikken after his father stepped down, he had to be careful who he put in his life.

Sydney slipped her fingers under D-Con's vest and leaned close to him. Jett stepped forward, and Chief clamped his hand around his arm, stopping him.

"Do you know what she's doing?" asked his father.

"I don't give a shit what she's doing. I'm going to make her stop." He jerked his arm out of his dad's hold and strode forward.

He reached her in time to hear D-Con ask her upstairs. That's all he needed to know about the situation. He pulled back his arm and punched D-Con in the jaw.

Sydney screamed and jumped out of the way. Jett threw himself on D-Con, landing them both on the pool table. Rage consumed him, and he hit his MC brother again, ignoring the hands trying to pull him away.

"She's sixteen years old," he said, through gritted teeth. "Keep your hands and fucking offers away from her." He raised his head and pushed off D-Con. "That goes for everyone wearing a patch. Sydney's off-limits."

He stepped back, grabbed Sydney's arm, and pulled her from the room and took her outside. She stumbled pushing away from him. He let her go because if he touched her again, he'd show her exactly what she could've expected from D-Con if she would've taken him up on his offer.

"I want to leave," said Sydney.

He whirled around and got in her face. "Leave? Where the fuck would you go?"

"I don't know," she shouted. "Away from you. You're the only one who is keeping me here. You've told all your buddies not to let me go. That's kidnapping or keeping me hostage."

"You're sixteen years old." He lowered his head. His mouth inches from her lips. "You lied."

"So what if I did." She half turned away from him. "It's none of your business how old I am. You forced me to come here with you."

"You had nowhere to go." He growled, straightening. "Would you have wanted me to leave you with the motherfucker who was using you?"

"Victor Clark," she snapped. "Yes. I'd rather be working with him. At least, I knew what he expected of me, and as long as I brought him money, he let me live by myself in the trailer. But, I can't do that because of you—"

"Watch it," he said quietly. "You're heading down the wrong road and going to get yourself killed is what you're going to do."

He inhaled deeply, needing to calm down. He'd no more yell at his little sisters because of their young age. He couldn't expect Sydney to understand his anger.

"Were you looking for someone to fuck tonight?" he asked quietly, controlling his temper.

She gawked. "God, no."

"Then, what was that act with D-Con?"

She rolled her eyes. "I was flirting with him for—"

"Sex?"

"No, stop saying that." She muffled her scream of frustration. "I was flirting with him, so he'd take me back to the city because I wanted to get away from you."

Her breasts heaved. He stared, unable to understand why it was important for her to leave.

"I'm trying to understand." He shoved his hands in his vest pockets. "I get that you're scared."

She glared. "I'm not scared of you."

"You're scared." He challenged her to argue. When she remained quiet, he continued. "Don't you see that you're safe here?"

"From what? From who?" She raised her arms out to her sides. "Victor is dead because of you."

"Did you only take money from Brikken members?"

Her head snapped back. "I had lots of customers."

He waited for her to understand what she'd admitted. She'd been lucky nothing had happened before now. It was only a matter of time before someone who wouldn't let her age, her being a female, stop him from hurting her.

Sydney's mouth opened, and she closed her lips, turning away. He wanted to touch her and reassure her that she was safe here, but knowing how she kept her emotions hidden, she wouldn't want him to console her.

"I'm not going to thank you for killing Victor," she whispered. "And, I still don't want to be here."

He lowered his chin to his chest to hide his amusement. He'd give her that. If she wanted to remain strong, he at least knew he hadn't added more heartbreak.

Sydney looked at him. "Are you going to kill me to keep me quiet about what you did?"

"Is that why you think I brought you here?"

The cords on her neck constricted. She nodded.

"You're right." His voice deepened. "I brought you here to find out what you plan to do with the information about the crime I committed."

He'd never kill a child, but she didn't need to know that.

"I told you I wouldn't say anything. What more can I promise you?" she said.

"I've since found out that you can't talk to law enforcement or social services will be on your ass...and for reasons I don't understand, you want out of the system." He took in the surprise she failed to hide behind her makeup. "Your name is Sydney Hawkins, and you've been out on your own for six months, and you're only sixteen years old."

"I'm eighteen," she said.

"Syd...damnit." He stepped toward her. "I killed a man who was using you. If anything, you owe me the truth. Don't lie to me."

"Fine." Her chin quivered. "I'm sixteen."

He cupped her face, rubbing his thumbs under her eyes wiping off the black makeup and only making a bigger mess. "If I let you walk out of the gate, where would you go?"

She opened her mouth, and he shook his head, stopping her from answering.

"I want the truth or no answer at all," he said.

"I'd find a shelter. During the day, I'd try to find another Victor who would let me work for him because I'd like somewhere safe to live by myself. I'm good at conning people out of their money. I know I can make this work. I've done it before."

"I bet you are good at what you do," he said, unable to control the amusement. Nobody would suspect a child. "How about we make an agreement. You stay here until we figure out a better plan for you—one with better odds, and in return, I'll make sure you're safe and have what you need."

She shook her head. He raised his brows in question. What he offered was more than she wanted. A safe place, a bed, food, and there was no need for her to earn money. She could be a sixteen-year-old girl.

"That's not a fair agreement." She crossed her arms. "I'd owe you, and I won't put myself in that position."

"Smart girl," he muttered and inhaled deeply. "What can you do for me?"

She gazed at him eagerly, looking for him to tell her what to do. Several things came to mind, but she'd need to be older to fulfill those wishes.

"Laundry, clean, uh, the clubhouse." She leaned forward. "I can cook if I have groceries and I'm good with money. Really good."

"Can you pour drinks?" He had no use for a maid, but she could make herself useful during the parties, and it would keep her busy instead of flirting with the men.

She snorted. "Who can't?"

"You'll pour drinks at the parties, keep my room clean, and if I eat here, you can fix meals for me." He bent his knees and studied her. "Fair?"

She nodded. "Where am I going to sleep?"

"In my bed," he said before thinking. "The rooms are full, so you'll have to sleep with me. Nothing is going to happen between us but sleep."

His struggle to rest for more than an hour at a time never happened on his own or any other women. He still couldn't figure out how he'd slept with Sydney in bed with him. He could keep his hands to himself, but he wanted that deep rest. It wouldn't hurt her to lay in the same bed.

There were at least four rooms vacant at the moment. He kept that information to himself. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

"Yeah, right," she muttered, looking away.

"Sydney." He waited until she looked at him. "Last night, I thought you were older."

"Mm-hm."

She'd learn he wasn't some fucking teenage boy who couldn't control himself. Maybe for the first time, she'd understand that there were men in the world who wouldn't hurt her.

He stepped back. "Let's go back inside. I want another drink before we call it a night."

"Can I have a pistol?" she asked.

"No." He studied her longer. "Why would you even want one?"

"To shoot you when you touch me."

He gritted his teeth. "I'll give you a knife."

"You will?" She smiled. "Cool."

Her happiness over the thought of stabbing him to death irritated him. "Are you good now?"

"Yeah. Fine." She walked with him and stifled a yawn.

He spotted the fatigue. She'd had a rough day.

Making sure she understood things would be calmer from here on out, he looped his arm across her shoulders and tugged her to his side. She glanced up at him. "What's that for?"

"Nothing." He opened the door. "We've got a partnership."

She stopped, refusing to walk inside, and stared at him.

He chuckled and motioned with his chin. "Come on, I'll play you a game of pool while I have a drink. Winner gets the shower first."

Her smile came slowly and transformed her face. "I'm so going to win."

He laughed, following her into the clubhouse. Wherever she learned her tricks and games, she couldn't hide that gambling was in her blood.