Outlaws’ Property (Property of Outlaw Sons MC #1)

3. Jessica

3

JESSICA

Anne and I huddle together on the floor of the safe room. I have an arm over her shoulder, and hers are wrapped around my chest, holding me tighter than she has in years. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” she whimpers.

“Shhhh, none of this is your fault.” I’ll never forget the look on her face when she saw her father punch me, the utter disbelief. She’s used to him being strict and uncaring, but with her, the whips he wields are his words and his attention. Victor won’t win father of the year, but he’s usually careful to keep her shielded from the cruel, brutal side of his life. Guess that’s changed.

Her grip is putting pressure on my bruised stomach, but I need the comfort as much as she does. This isn’t the first time someone has attacked Victor, but this is the scariest. As soon as the explosion hit, his guards split us up, taking Victor and Marissa one way, and us another. Rocco, one of the guards, is standing watch at the door, focused on whatever information he’s getting through his earpiece, and not on us.

“You’re okay, right? We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?" Anne asks, her voice thin with fear.

"I don't know. We need to stay quiet and do what we’re told. They probably aren’t here looking for us." I try to keep my voice calm. I can freak out later.

Shouts and gunfire carry through from the first floor, moving from room to room. The only tears I’d shed if Victor ends up dead would be from joy, but I can’t share that with his daughter, and right now my safety is tied to theirs. It would be ironic if Victor finally gets what he deserves, and instead of free, I end up dead in the crossfire.

"Why didn’t we go with Dad?"

Rocco glances our way. “They’re looking for Mr. Kane. He’s safer if we don’t have to split our attention.”

Safer for him, but what about us?

“Can they get in here?” I ask.

He shrugs.

Well that’s reassuring.

Apparently my lack of confidence is obvious, because his lip curls like he just smelled something bad. “If you’re not happy, then you’re welcome to go out there and take your chances. I’m here to watch the girl, not you. What’ll it be?”

“Don’t leave me,” Anne whispers into my neck.

“I would never.”

Someone knocks on the door. Two quick raps and then three more slowly. Rocco nods like he’s listening to someone, and opens the door. Two guards I don’t know slip inside, one with red hair and the other with dark neck tattoos. Rocco leaves without saying a word.

I pull Anne even closer. She’s practically sitting in my lap. "It's going to be okay. They’re here to keep you safe, right? There’s food and water, and I bet I can come up with some more math for you to work on if you get bored. Victor will deal with whatever is going on and then we can fly back to the city. You like flying in the helicopter."

She nods. “You think so?”

The guards look nervous, which doesn’t feel like a good sign, but I paste a smile on my face. “Absolutely. This will all work out for the best, promise. Hey, how about we see if there are any snacks in here? What Marissa doesn’t know won’t hurt us.” I untangle myself from Anne and pull her over to the small stash of shelf stable food.

There are bottles of water and a few cans of beer and soda. I consider it for a short moment, then grab cola. Anne's eyes light up when I give it to her. No cookies, but there are some granola bars, and I take two, handing one to her.

Anne takes a sip from her can and grins. “You didn’t really mean it about the math, right?”

“No. You think I would do that to myself?” I stick out my tongue and she laughs.

The danger isn’t forgotten, but the gunfire has died down and for a second we relax. Right up until another, smaller, explosion shakes the building.

“What the fuck was that?” the redheaded guard asks his buddy.

The walls of the safe room might be intrusion proof, but they're definitely not sound proof. More cracks that have to be gunshots sound like they're coming closer. I don’t know exactly what business Victor is in, but I know it’s not legal. Even if every single other sign didn’t point that way, he murdered my parents, after all. That’s not the work of an investment banker. It shouldn’t be surprising that it’s finally catching up to him, but it is. If they succeed, what will happen to Anne? To me?

I can’t decide if I’m excited or terrified. Both, I guess.

Anne nibbles on her granola bar. I’m not even sure she knows she’s doing it. Her eyes are fixed on the door and she’s snuggled right up against my side again.

Something is happening outside. There aren't any windows, but men are yelling to each other close enough that I can almost make out what they are saying. A moment later, there's another explosion, so close that my ears are ringing. Anne screams and drops her can, the soda leaking out and covering the floor.

The guard with the tattoo snarls. “Shut the fuck up. You trying to get us killed?”

"It's okay, Anne. It's okay." I put an arm around her and hold her tight. She's shaking like she has a fever. "We’re going to be fine. I promise."

Gunshots, sounds of struggle, screams. The more we hear, the tighter my hold on Anne gets.

“I can’t breathe,” she gasps.

"Sorry." I force myself to let up.

Voices right outside the door. Both guards draw their weapons and get into ready positions at either side of it. "Get back," hisses the redhead. "Stay low. If things go to shit, run."

“Little pig, little pig, let me iiiin,” a deep voice croons from the other side of the door. “We can hear you in there.”

"Fuck it," says the one with the tattoos. “I’m not going down for that asshole or his brat.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The other guard grabs him as a thundering roar blasts all four of us.

The door blasts inwards, smashing against the opposite wall and taking the coward with it. A thick cloud of smoke billows to fill the whole room, so I can't see a thing. Only Anne's tight grip on me lets me know she's still right next to me. It's not until the ringing fades that I realize we're both still screaming.

"Don’t come any closer!" barks the redheaded guard. I don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling though. Even I can tell he’s not the one in control.

A massive, undeniably male silhouette fills the doorway, so broad his shoulders almost touch the frame on both sides and tall enough that he has to duck a little to step inside.

"Keep back, or I'll—" The guard's shout is cut short as the big man wraps a massive fist around the guard's throat and slams him up against the wall. The man puts a gun right up underneath the guard's chin.

I pull Anne against me, pressing her face into my chest. “Don’t look!”

"Or you'll what?" the big man growls.

"Riot! Wait! It’s not Kane. There's fucking kids in here," another man shouts.

“Aw, fuck! Sorry.” The man he called Riot grabs the surviving guard and pulls him out the door. A moment later, a gunshot echoes in the hall.

The guy in the door winces. “Fucking smooth, man.”

He tucks his gun into his belt and holds up his hands like he’s trying to convince us we aren’t in danger. Yeah right. Everything about him screams deadly. His leather jacket hangs open, with a gray T-shirt underneath, stretched tight across his muscular chest. Dusty jeans cling to his muscular thighs, hanging over scuffed up black leather boots. Colorful tattoos crawl down both arms so elaborately that it looks like he's wearing a long sleeve underneath. He looks exactly like what he is, a killer.

I shield Anne as he takes a step closer and the light hits him. He has dark blond hair, shaved on the sides and tied back on top, with a tight, reddish-brown beard. When he locks his eyes with mine, they're pale gray, like clouds just starting to think about a storm, but hard like granite. I wet my lips, rooted to the spot and unable to look away.

A moment later, a third guy swaggers in like this is his home and we're the intruders. His eyebrows go up when he spots us. “What the fuck? I thought Kane’s family was supposed to go back to town after that party.” Deep hazel orbs, like a sun dappled forest floor widen as he takes us in. I try not to show anything, but it feels like I’m being seen for the first time in a long while, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.

Like the first two, he’s dressed in jeans and leather boots, with a heavy leather jacket that has a yellow patch on it. It reads Tex, with a stitched outline of the state behind it. His hair is thick, brown and a little wild, and he has a five o'clock shadow that does nothing to hide the sharp jut of his chin. His nose is crooked like it's been broken. He smiles at me, tiny lines appearing at the corner of his eyes. There’s something about him that makes me want to trust him, which is ridiculous because clearly these men are the farthest thing from safe.

"Pretty sure there’s only one kid here, Ghost. Hey, darlin’, what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?" His low drawl is seductively smooth on top but with a deadly rasp under the surface that drags across my skin leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Hiding from you,” I blurt out. My glasses slip and I shove them back into place.

He stares at me for a second and then laughs. “Fair enough, you got me there.”

The man he called Ghost gives me a second look, and it's just as piercing as the first. "We don’t have time for this shit. That has to be Kane’s kid, so who the fuck are you?" When I hesitate, he puts his hand on his gun in silent warning. "Now! I don't like repeating myself."

Anne flinches, sobbing softly. The instinct to protect her makes me braver than I feel. “Stop! You’re scaring her. She’s only twelve.”

“So answer the question. Are you Kane’s woman?” He cocks his head, eyeing me. “Don’t look the type.”

“His—No! I’m Jessica. I'm just Jessica," falls out of me. “I’m the nanny. Please don’t hurt us. I’ll do whatever you ask.”

"Jesus Christ, you’re making me feel like a fucking monster," Ghost snaps, just as Riot comes back in. I try not to imagine what he did to the red headed guard, but it’s hard not to imagine his lifeless body just outside the door.

“Shhhh.” I hush, stroking Anne’s hair to comfort myself just as much as her. Luckily she’s staying quiet. These aren’t the kind of people we should push. They would murder the both of us and then go out for lunch without a second thought.

Riot's square face is framed by a thick, black beard, and his expressive brows knit together as he looks at us. Inside his jacket, I can see a black T-shirt with a skull logo on it that's doing its best to contain his massive chest, before narrowing into his dark jeans and heavy boots. Under the logo, the T-shirt reads Outlaw Sons MC. A motorcycle club?

His full lips quirk with amusement. "Well, shit. Who had their money on Mary Poppins here being a complication?"