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Don’t waste your time, sweetheart; nothing but cynicism in this head.
Kristy strode over to her, saying a few words that had Makenna nodding before the two of them walked off together. Shit, did they hang out?
What an odd pair.
What had Makenna thought of Kristy kissing him? Is that what had her mouth pulling down? Not that it mattered. She might as well see who he was from the get-go. Not like he was going to pursue her.
Still, she was fucking adorable, and it was in moments like this he wished he was as ignorant as his soon-to-be brothers. The ones with ol’ ladies. The ones who didn’t know what their futures held.
Pain. Disappointment. Heartbreak.
Loss.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I HAVE NOTHING to wear,” Mak grumbled as she frowned into her meager closet. “Nothing to wear, no girlfriends to borrow from, and my sisters are children.” She glanced at the simple alarm clock on the plastic drawer system serving as her dresser. Seven was too late to bail. Some guy named Monty was expecting her behind the bar in ninety minutes.
“Why did I agree to do this?” she yelled to the ceiling.
“Mommy?” Emmie toddled into the room, her round little belly leading the way. Her two-year-old sister was the only one of her siblings who called her mom, probably because Mak was the only mother the child could recall knowing. Of all the kids, adjusting to calling Emmie by another name had been the hardest. For nearly a year, she’d had to consciously think to keep from calling her Rae.
“Hi, Mommy.” Every time she heard the word uttered from those sweet and innocent lips, the heavy weight of all her responsibilities pressed down a little harder.
Mak’s mother had engaged in an affair with an outsider when Mak was nine. Once her father found out, all hell had broken loose. The community publicly executed the man, and her mother disappeared, though no one believed that. Everyone in the community knew Mak’s father had killed her mother.
While Mak understood the all-consuming need for a life outside of the community, she couldn’t understand why or how her mother hadn’t considered what would happen to her children if she were to be caught. How they’d be raised only by the sadistic founder of their para-military community. It didn’t take a psychologist to see her mother’s actions were the reason Makenna refused to leave her siblings behind and was so willing to take on the massive responsibility of raising them all at such a young age.
“What’s up, Ems?” This little peanut deserved more than a life in an itty-bitty overcrowded house with sparse furniture, damaged siblings, no parents, and barely enough money to scrape by. But their situation now was a million times superior to life in the community.
As had happened so many times over the past two years, seeing Emmie put everything into perspective. What she wore didn’t matter. This was a job; she wasn’t going to the Handlers’ clubhouse to be eye-candy. She’d reserve that for if her life ever hit complete rock bottom and she was forced to strip.
The thought almost had her laughing out loud. Without a doubt, she’d be the worst stripper in existence.
“Kwisty here! Kwisty here!” She jumped up and down, clapping her little hands. Emmie loved their next-door neighbor, Kristy, who was, in fact, a stripper. The thirty-six-year-old beauty was utterly opposite of Mak. Kristy was loud, bright, ballsy, and she oozed sex in everything she did. Confidence should have been her middle name. But she was also sweet and accepting. Never once had she shown an ounce of judgment toward Makenna and her siblings. Since she worked nights, Kristy often watched Mak’s youngest two sisters during the day for next to nothing.
Huh, maybe she did have one girlfriend. And one who would know what to wear to a biker party. She’d have to make sure to keep Kristy from getting too close in case her father or husband found them, but she could afford a casual friend.
“I’m in my room, Kristy!” she called out as she picked Emmie up and gently tossed her on the queen-sized bed. The toddler dissolved in a fit of baby giggles that never failed to bring a smile to Makenna’s face. Being able to make the sweet child laugh with abandon was a fantastic gift.
“Is that my favorite monkey I hear?” Kristy asked as she burst into the room, carrying a hot pink duffle bag with the word “Diva,” embroidered on the side.
“Oh, I knew I was your monkey, but I didn’t know I was your favorite!” Mak said with a chuckle.
“Oh, you’re a riot. Isn’t she, sweet girl?” Kristy scooped Emmie up and blew on her chubby belly, making her squeal in delight. The way Kristy acted around the little girl never failed to amuse Makenna. Her neighbor claimed she didn’t want children. Loudly and adamantly. There were six nevers if she recalled the conversation correctly, yet she was terrific with Emmie and Kara, Mak’s seven-year-old sister.
