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He shook his head. “I won’t.”
“Why do you care?” I breathed.
“Because Sin’s a brother. He’s family. And when my mom got sick and I couldn’t pay her bills, Sin helped me out. He’s a good man.”
I pressed closer to the bars. “He is?”
“He is.”
“I don’t know him. I don’t know anything about him. I’m glad he’s a good person.”
The guy’s lips quirked. “I never said that. There’s a difference.”
I blinked. “I guess there is.”
Disappointment settled inside me. Sin might not be a mobster, but he was a biker. I didn’t know much about the business aside from what I read on the internet, but I knew mobsters looked down on bikers.
If there was an organized crime hierarchy, mobsters were on the top tiers and bikers were on the bottom.But hey, for all that they were on the bottom, I didn’t thinktheywould be into forcing their daughters to get married to old men.
“Either way, Sin reached out to you, didn’t he? That phone he gave you means he offered to help. He might not be here, but I can stand in until he gets back. I’m pretty sure that the rest of the MC will feel the same. You’re blood, and that matters to us.”
His words resonated, and I needed so badly to believe they were true.
My palms ached, burning with the cold metal pressed against them, making me regret that my gloves were in my satchel.
Discomfort gnawed at my joints as I clenched down harder, whispering, “My father’s going to make me get married.”
He pinpointed me with a laser-like stare that I really should have been too flustered to feel, but a wave of butterflies seemed to settle in my belly regardless.
“Makeyou get married? Doesn’t he need your consent?”
Didn’t he believe me?
“If I don’t say yes, he’ll just lock me in my room until I agree to it.”
“What?” His brow furrowed. “You’re an adult, not a little girl.”
“You shouldn’t lock people in their rooms no matter their age,” I said with a huff.
“Well, that’s a given.” He rolled his eyes. “You say no, then you get locked in your room?”
I nodded slowly. “It happened a couple years ago.”
When I’d grown sick of jilling off to the fading memory of a rough biker who had stirred something in me that had made me want to touch myself.
Perhaps he should have been the antithesis of what a woman like me fantasized about, but my life was so pristine, so clean… the fact that he hadn’t brushed his hair, that he was dangerous and that it was so outwardly visible… He’d been attractive to me then.
Now, with this more presentable look, he was even more handsome.
Stupid, Mary Catherine. What are you even thinking about that for?
God, men were the problem in my life. I didn’t need to add to the list.
“Why the hell did he do that?”
It took me a second to catch up. “He did it when I got a boyfriend. To stop me from seeing him.” My mouth trembled. “Father still killed him, though. To punish me.”
Poor Kris.
