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11
Mike woke from dreams of his night with Porsche, the evening they spent together after Sydney woke up. They’d played interactive games on her tablet that had laughter returning to his daughter’s face and once again a glimmer of hope appeared. Her warning of calling her Turbo in front of others hadn’t fallen on deaf ears. But it was hard to not think of a slick ride and luscious curves with the woman. She must know what she did to men, but he noticed she wasn’t trying to create a connection and yet one was forming. Beyond the basic need for child care and obvious physical, the woman was fascinating.
Once he’d settled down they had a good hour before Sydney had woken up from her nap where he got to know her. She made him a quick meal, nothing fancy, but enough to tide him over. Telling him more about the club from an insider still slightly on the outside perspective. The women were a strange part of the club. On the edges, having to know all the rules, play by them, but not having the same level of involvement in their creation and installation.
For Sydney the night at Hack’s had been a rough one again. While she’d seemed fine leaving Turbo’s once tucked in for the night it turned again. Something had to be done for his little girl. Red had offered care beyond medical at this point he would have to admit they were in a place where his daughter could get more than a warm bed, good food and a roof. The basics were met, even clothing. When they arrived at Hack’s a pile of donated clothes from Mountain’s daughter was folded including a warmer jacket for those cool evenings.
Only none of that could quell the screams in the middle of the night. The way one creak from a floorboard would have his daughter bolting awake and calling for him. His heart lurched thinking his baby girl had cried out for him on those nights and he’d been hundreds, maybe thousands of miles away when she did.
When the sun rose and forced him from the bed he knew he had an appointment to meet with Red at his mother Maggie’s house. Another person Syd had found herself drawn to like Porsche. A woman she trusted to care and look out for her. Entering the room where Sydney slept the bed was empty sending his heart racing like an unattended rouge train. Panic had been drilled out of him for years, staying calm, assessing the situation all of it gone when he saw the unmade bed empty. A higher pitched voice carried down the hallway intermixed with others from the kitchen.
Stepping into the open space Sydney sat at the kitchen table eating pancakes with Preacher Girl and the baby. “Good morning, ladies, is that blue syrup?”
“Blueberry,” Sydney beamed. “Preacher Girl told me she’d ask Mr. Hack to get fresh blueberries in town to make a blueberry explosion on my plate.”
“That sounds amazing.”
“I think so,” Sydney said, the dark circles from the round of nightmares belying the happy mood.
“You want a couple?” Preacher Girl asked. “I have enough batter left to make a handful?”
“No, thank you,” he said placing his hands on Sydney’s shoulders before he leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “I have to go to Maggie’s do you want to go with me?”
“Maggie’s the nana, right?”
“Yes,” Preacher Girl said with a bright smile on her face. “The nana to all, blood or not. You step foot on her land and she’ll claim you as family.”
“Sure. I like Maggie she’s really nice.” Sydney finished her pancakes, put her dish in the sink and then reached for her blanket draped over the back of her chair. With it tucked nicely into the crook of her elbow she walked to the door, slipping on her shoes by the entry way. “I’m ready.”
“Okay little lady, let’s go.” Mike followed her out the door and remembered he couldn’t spin a set of keys on his finger and hop in his truck. “You good with walking this morning, it’s nice out.”
“I guess. How far does she live?”
“She lives over there.” Mike pointed to the huge farmhouse probably a few hundred yards, maybe a quarter mile along the gravel paved roadway.
He was falling in love with this Ranch they had really made it into a great compound. The apartments, clubhouse and full size homes inviting. Right next to Maggie’s a group of men were loading in a trailer home on to the ranch. A spot was already marked out and hook ups though scorch marks made him question if it had been the first to be placed there.
Once they reached the house, Mike was taking account of the number of cars in addition to bikes. The bike count matched the men dealing with the trailer being installed. Leaving the cars an unknown. With the sheriff’s vehicle a bright and a shining indication of this being a potentially dangerous situation. Worry furrowed his brow as he gripped Syd’s hand tighter. Did he turn around and run or go forward and trust Red and the club? He almost turned around until he heard his name.
“Mike! Let’s do this.” Red stood on the porch, hands in his pockets and with a nod of his head toward the door.
While there was a commanding tone, there wasn’t the pressure or unease he normally felt when going into a dangerous situation. The hair on the back of his neck wasn’t spiking and his stomach wasn’t set on a tilt-a-whirl. Which made it easier for him to guide Sydney into the place where a group of people had set up shop in the living room.
Red made introductions. “Mike this is Doc, Hollywood, which you already know from yesterday, and Cream, she’ll be representing you as your lawyer.”
“Hello everyone.” Mike found a solo chair across from the cop in brown with a shiny gold name plate calling him Sherriff Weston. He wondered if all the local county boys were called Sherriff or the man really was in charge of the county. Sydney hopped on his knee, thumb in her mouth and the blankie tucked in tight.
Maggie came into the room with her hand extended, “Sydney do you want to help me in the kitchen? You know grown-ups talk about boring things.”
“What are we going to do?” Sydney asked around her thumb in a mix of mumbles as she scooted further up his leg and laid her head on his shoulder. His hand, already, protectively wrapped at her hip tapped to let her know it would be okay.
“Let’s maybe make some breakfast for everyone.”
“I had pancakes, Preacher Girl made them,” she said and the unease evident in the small tremble in her voice.
Mike noticed Doc’s lighter brown eyes watching the interaction differently than the rest. Her eyes stayed fixed on Sydney instead of the rest bouncing between the two people talking.
“We could make cupcakes,” Maggie suggested. “Then they’d be cooled and ready for everyone after dinner. I’ve got a fun icing set and some jelly beans. We could make little bunny ones since Easter’s coming up.”
