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“Now, tell me who hurt you.”
“I…I don’t even know your name,” she whispered, making no move to free herself from my hands.
I closed my eyes and shook my head, exasperated with myself and more than grateful that she was taking this all in stride. “Sorry. I’m Phantom.” For some reason, that didn’t sit right. “Actually, my name is Kian. You call me Kian,” I corrected myself.
“Phantom?”
I smirked. “It’s my road name, sweet girl,” I explained, then released her to twist, showing off the back of my cut. “But like I said, you call me Kian.”
“Okay,” she agreed, making me smile.
When I turned back around, she was studying me curiously. “The Silver Saints? You’re in a motorcycle club?”
“Yeah.”
“Like in the movies?” She actually looked eager for me to confirm her assumption, which I found adorable as fuck.
But I rolled my eyes and took her hand, leading her over to a couch in the small living room to our right. “The movies are shit,” I told her as I gently pushed on her shoulders to sit, then I took the cushion right next to her. “Don’t get me wrong, there are some fucked-up clubs out there, ones similar to what Hollywood portrays”—I chuckled, thinking about some of the old ladies in the club—“and those smutty books chicks read.”
Tessa’s cheeks bloomed with pink, and a devilish smile spread across my face. From what my brothers had told me, the stories were garbage, but they had some excellent ideas to try out in bed. And other places.
“Um, so…anyway…I guess I should tell you my name is Tessa.”
“I know.”
She frowned, her face clouding with confusion. “How do you know…wait. How did you even find me?”
“Connections. I’ll explain another time. Right now, I need you to answer my question. Whose motherfucking fingerprints are those?” I gestured to her arm.
Her eyelids descended as she dropped her gaze to the ground, hiding her beautiful green gems. I lifted her face with my index finger under her chin. “I’m going to protect you, sweet girl. No one will ever hurt you again.”
She bit her lip and studied me, contemplating my words until she finally made up her mind and spoke. “My father. He didn’t really mean to, sort of. He just…he was mad and being careless and…”
“He didn’t mean to break his daughter’s fucking ribs?” I growled.
Tessa cringed. “Well, he was upset and shoved me, and I fell against the couch.” She grabbed my arm when I shot to my feet, ready to hunt the motherfucker down and break every one of his bones. “I’m not making excuses for him. What he did to me was wrong. Everything he has done. But it’s hard for me to think that the loving father I once had has disappeared completely. He hadn't physically abuse me before yesterday, and it wasn’t on purpose…he was only focused on himself. I don’t think he really even processed that he’d hurt me. He’s acting out of desperation.”
That got my attention, dragging up the memory of his expression when he dragged her away from the bank. “Explain,” I demanded as I sat back down.
Tessa sighed and told me about her mom’s death and the change it had brought in her father. “Growing up, he was everything a dad should be. Loving, happy, and I was his little princess.” Moisture gathered in her eyes, and I used my thumb to wipe one away when it escaped. Her tears gutted me.
“During the days right after her death, he started to pull away. Soon after her funeral, he barely spoke to me anymore. He was gone all the time, and when he was home, he was in a bad mood. I—” She stopped, and her face flushed as her gaze dropped to her lap.
“You can tell me anything, sweet girl,” I urged her. Then I admitted, “Nothing you say will come close to the shit I’ve done. Don’t be embarrassed.”
“I was so relieved to leave for college,” she said, her shoulders drooping. “Maybe if I’d stuck around, I could have helped him—”
“Don’t,” I grunted. “This isn’t on you, Tessa. That motherfucker is a grown ass man whose daughter needed him. Don’t go blaming yourself for shit that’s outta your control.”
Maybe I should have felt an iota of sympathy for the man losing his wife. However, there was no compassion in me because he’d been so selfishly absorbed by his own grief that he’d not only neglected his daughter but treated her like a pawn to feed his addiction.
“Anyway,” she continued after giving me a soft smile. “I found out recently that he had a gambling problem. He owes his bookie a lot of money. That’s why he was so upset. He tried to empty my college fund, but the bank called me for permission. I had to be the one to withdraw it, and he was angry when I confronted him.”
“That’s what you were doing at the bank?”
She nodded. “But they can’t cut the check for a couple of days.”
I made a mental note to get the information for her account and give it to Grey. “I know someone who can figure something out so your dad can’t get his hands on your money and you can finish school.”
