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Disappointment fills his eyes as he gives her one last once-over before turning around and walking toward the front door.

Hound and Shadow fall in line behind him. I know they won’t let the man leave the property without explaining how unwelcome his return would be.

“The conference room,” Kincaid says, his eyes on me.

“Devyn,” I mutter, turning and indicating the room thirty feet away. “Let’s talk in there.”

She huffs like a spoiled brat and turns to go into the conference room.

Kincaid stops me, a hand raised before I can follow her.

“I swear to you,” I begin, feeling the need to explain myself. “I would never hurt a child.”

“She’s no longer a child,” he says. “But I saw the way you looked at her when she walked in.”

I clench my jaw. I don’t know how to respond to his observation.

He steps out of my way after a quick nod of his head.

The reminder that she’s technically an adult at eighteen and three months doesn’t matter. To me, she’ll always be Vaughn’s baby sister.

Chapter 7

Devyn

My hands are trembling, and I’m too wound up to determine if it’s from anger or nerves.

My confidence waned the second the preacher I found online pulled up in front of the clubhouse. Not only is the building bigger than I expected it to be, but the rows of cars and motorcycles outside told me that Emmett wasn’t going to be the only one here.

All self-assurance drained away when I stepped inside and saw dozens of people. It’s clear they were having a party, and honestly, I’m a little jealous that he has so many people willing to show up to celebrate his birthday. If it weren’t for Quincy buying me a gift each year, I’d spend my own wallowing in self-pity. It’s been years since my parents even bothered to mention that July twentieth was different from any other day of the year. The only consolation is that they don’t celebrate their own birthdays either.

My eyes snap up at him when the door closes. I’m surprised that he’s here alone. I was certain that Kincaid guy, clearly the big boss around here, was going to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.

I can’t help the way my eyes roam over the way his t-shirt clings to the muscles in his chest. There isn’t a single thing about him that’s similar to the boys walking the halls of high school. I wouldn’t be surprised if he pounded his fist against his chest and demanded that he’s a man.

I considered him old when I searched for him online. I mean, thirty is like ancient, but Jesus, the man is smoking hot. I lick my lips, feeling my cheeks heat when I realize he probably can read every thought on my mind. I’m not exactly an expert at hiding my attraction to someone. Seb called me out on it months ago when he caught me drooling over him. If he hadn’t, I never would’ve had the courage to flirt with him.

I’ve used the journal he signed as a means to get my foot in the door, but I have to acknowledge there’s a real chance I could like this guy, as inappropriate as that might be. I knew he’d never fall for it. I’d question his sanity if he did. But I couldn’t walk in here and be like Hey, remember me? The little sister of the guy you let die in the Middle East?

I scrunch my nose as the thought infiltrates my head. That’s not something I’d ever say. Those are words from my mother’s mouth, and I hate that she’s in my head.

With his hands splayed, his palms open at his sides, he inches closer to me. It makes me feel as if the man sees me as some wounded animal.

“Did that man touch you in any way?” he asks, something akin to real concern in his tone.

“What?” I scrunch my nose again, the unfamiliar care confusing me. “The minister guy?”

“I doubt he was a real minister,” Emmett mutters. “Did he hurt you?”

“No.” I shake my head to drive my point a little further. “The guy wouldn’t take his eyes off my legs on the drive over, but he didn’t touch me.”

Emmett’s eyes drop to the hem of my dress, and it takes immense control not to shift on my feet with his attention on my bare skin. I really need to learn how to regulate my reactions better.

“Do your parents know where you are?”

I clench my jaw. Of course, he’d ask about them.

“I left them a note.”

“A note?” The growl in his question shoots a wave of chill bumps up my spine. It only takes seconds before they’re racing down my arms and legs.

“They kicked me out,” I confess, automatically stopping him in his tracks.

“Are you pregnant?”

I jerk my head back. “Why the fuck would you ask me that?”

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