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Syn probably wouldn’t have escaped unscathed.
Her brother had to be a lot older than her to make that kind of decision.
Hell, would he have done the same if his mother had brought the baby home? Or would he have ended up raising the kid just like Reese did with Reilly?
He knew it would’ve been tougher to survive if he had another mouth to feed and body to clothe. Someone else to be responsible for when he could hardly be responsible for himself.
He could even see his mother selling the baby in exchange for whatever her drug of choice was for that week.
Just the thought turned his fucking stomach.
Were people so desperate for their next high they’d sell their own children?
Of course they would. Sometimes humanity wasn’t so humane. Sick motherfuckers.
“And did he save you by doin’ that?” He hoped like fuck she had ended up in a better situation.
“That’s… debatable.”
That wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. Probably one that her brother wouldn’t want to hear, either. “Where’s he now?”
“My brother? No idea. He was in and out of prison a lot. We lost track of each other a few years back.”
A few years back? She was only twenty-three. “When’s the last time you seen him?”
She jerked one shoulder. “He approached me one day when he was still a teen and I was really little. I had no clue who he was until he told me after I thought he was trying to abduct me. Stranger danger and all that shit. Funny how most times it’s not strangers you have to worry about.”
“Yeah, it’s people you know. The people who are supposed to protect you are sometimes the worst.” They were two examples of that.
Hell, his whole club was full of good examples.
Her eyes squeezed shut for a few seconds, making him trace his fingers along her jawline.
While he waited for her to continue talking, he studied her throat. It was sexy as fuck. Both with the sultry sound that came out of it while on stage or while he was fucking her. It was even sexier with his fingers wrapped around it.
His blood rushed south and his dick actually started to perk up. Maybe he could muster up a fourth time without embarrassing himself. By the time they were done talking, maybe he’d be all revved up and ready to go and he wouldn’t have to be worried about a failure to launch.
The only problem was the topic they were on wasn’t as sexy as the woman who was speaking.
“He promised that he’d keep checking in on me when he could. I was in kindergarten at the time and out on the playground. A teacher saw him and chased him away. I saw him a couple more times after that, here and there, for only very short amounts of time. Then he’d go missing for a while. One day he brought me a prepaid cell phone and told me to hide it from my parents. He was afraid they’d take it away. Occasionally he would call or text it. Then one day it just… stopped. I never heard from him again. I don’t know what happened. I called him and texted him until the minutes ran out.”
“Maybe he lost his phone or it got destroyed and didn’t have your number memorized.” Or something bad happened to him.
“Yeah, maybe,” she murmured.
“He never showed back up at your school?”
“No. My parents—my adoptive parents—began to homeschool me after we had to move.”
“So, he had no idea where you went, either,” Dodge murmured.
“No, I texted him our new address. Our phones were our only connection. Without that line of communication, we had nothing.” She licked her bottom lip leaving a wet sheen behind. “I really want to find him again but I have no idea where else to look. I think I’ve exhausted all avenues.” Her brow furrowed.
“Google?”
“Tried that. I know he went to juvie and then jail a few times before we lost touch. Whenever he got arrested, he always called me as soon as he got back out. I even tried to search online inmate records. No luck.”
“You travel enough; you ask around when you do? It’s a long shot, but you never know, you could end up bein’ lucky. Someone out there, somewhere could know him.”
“The problem is, I only have his first name. That makes it more difficult.”
“You don’t have the same last name? Was it changed when you were adopted?”
She sighed softly. “I’m not sure what’s on my birth certificate since I don’t have it. I have no idea what hospital I was born at, either. As for an official adoption… When you’re taken from your drunk mother and given illegally to another family by another kid, you don’t come with any paperwork like a social security number or birth certificate.”
