Chapter One
Sledge
“Be good for Auntie Peyton, yeah?” I stared into my daughter’s trusting eyes and wished I could do more for her.
Zoya nodded, curls bouncing against her cheeks. Her small hand clutched the stuffed rabbit I’d given her when she came to live with me three and a half years ago. She didn’t respond and though I hoped she might, I didn’t expect her to. Hell, I knew I should feel lucky that when she did speak, it was to me. Exclusively to me.
“Okay,” I said, forcing a smile. “Be good for Daddy. Love you, sweet girl.”
She smiled back—small, soft, the kind that broke something open in my chest every damn time—and that was enough.
Today, it was enough.
I dropped her off with Peyton who sat at a table with a few of the other women as they watched the kids play on the other side of the room. Zoya climbed up on the chair beside her and tucked in close, safe. Even though she never said a word to Peyton, being close made her feel safe.
I stood and watched my little girl, so fucking quiet, so distant as she watched the other kids have fun, laughing and playing with the club dog, Chopper. I watched her, hoping she’dcrack a smile or join the kids—even if she never said a fucking word—for a lot longer than I should have.
I needed to get to church. If I was late, again, Diesel or Rocky would have a shit fit. Luckily, I wasn’t the last one to show up so I found my seat and took it without saying a fucking word, my mind still back on Zoya and what I could do to get her to open up more. I’d tried everything since she came to live with me, including everyone from shrinks to speech professionals and even a fucking singing nanny. None of it had worked.
I was out of ideas and still she rarely spoke.
Diesel strolled in last, like he always did, to give the rest of us time to get there. He moved with the confidence of a natural born leader and took his seat at the head of the table. The air shifted and his smile faded as business mode settled all around him.
His big hand wrapped around the gavel and then he banged it on the table three times. “Okay, let’s get started.” He looked around the room, silently taking note of who was there—and who wasn’t—even though Hawk was there. As secretary it was his job to make sure what was discussed was documented.
We covered the usual topics first, which included deliveries, employees, schedules, club income, and all that administrative bullshit an organization like ours required to run efficiently. Then came the real reason Diesel had called church, we were having an official meeting. “Someone’s selling dirty shit inside Leather & Chrome,” he said, referring to one of the nightclubs owned by Steel Demons MC. “Nobody’s ended up dead—yet—but we can’t afford to have Cross sniffing around.” Sheriff Hudson Cross was a decent man, but he was still the law and there was only so much he was willing to do to help theMC since we all wanted the same thing, which was to keep Steel City safe and prosperous. “We need to figure out who the fucker dumb enough to sell shit inside our clubs is and take care of it.”
“Shit!” Hawk murmured under his breath, shaking his head.
“What is it?” Gio asked, his hands balled tight into fists.
“Dunno,” Diesel shrugged. “Couple thought they were buying molly, but they said it didn’t feel like it. One thought she was getting coke but she was sure it was something else.”
A low rumble erupted all around the table, muttered curses and threats tore through the air. None of the guys were happy about this. Dirty drugs and overdoses were bad for business, and they brought the fucking law around, which was even worse for business. “We’re gonna fuckin’ handle it,” Rocky assured us. He was the perfect VP for Diesel’s leadership style, gruff and confident, bloodthirsty when it was warranted. “Gio, Sniper, I want you to hang out at the club until we find these assholes. Leave your cuts at home.”
No clarification was needed, they both nodded, gazes connecting in an unspoken promise. I didn’t envy the assholes who decided to sell inside Steel Demons territory.
I pushed away from the table, satisfied that everything in the club was working the way it should and on alert for anybody fucking with the club. It was my job as enforcer to fuck shit up when it was in the club’s best interest. Months had passed since the shit went down with the Russian mob and Vivian’s ex, which meant I had a lot of pent-up tension that had nowhere to go except a heavy bag.
The silence in the room grew loud enough to pull me away from my thoughts and I noticed all eyes were on me. “What?” I said with a scowl. I had a feeling I wouldn’t like what I was about to hear.
“Earth to fucking Sledge,” Hawk muttered.
Diesel’s expression was less fierce but still serious. “It’s about Zoya.”
Tension flooded every inch of my body, and I froze in my seat, spine straight and shoulders squared. “What about her?”
“Just had a call earlier. Gina’s in hospital,” Rocky said, his tone soft but matter of fact. “Fell down the stairs this morning and broke her leg and wrist. She’s out for at least three months.”
“Shit.” Gina was one of the servers at Leather & Chrome who’d been keeping an eye on Zoya during the day while I was busy with club business. Before Gina, there’d been Agnes, a sweet older woman who’d raised half a dozen kids and she didn’t mind the quiet that came with Zoya. Except last month she’d dropped the bombshell that she was moving to Florida to be with her son and his family. Which left me at a loose end.
“You need to hire a permanent replacement.”
“No.” The word flew from my mouth, sharper than I meant it to. “I don’t want or need another fucking babysitter.” Zoya had been with me for almost four years now, and in the past two years I’d been through six babysitters before I found Agnes. Bringing her here to the clubhouse seemed like the ideal solution. If Gina was out of action, then surely one of the other club girls or old ladies could help out? I’d never find another Agnes and I didn’t want to put myself or my little girlthrough the hassle of going through another bunch of unsuitable candidates.
“You don’t have a choice, brother.” Rocky was being thegood cophere, which meant they’d talked about this without me. “The girls love Zoya, but she rarely engages and they’re worried as fuck.” He sat back and blew out a breath. “Honestly man, they shouldn’t have to handle this. They love her but they’re not equipped and a clubhouse is no place for a kid.”
His words slammed into me with the force of a heavyweight fighter. Zoya had been through hell before I found out about her existence, the day a social worker showed up on my doorstep with my daughter beside her. She’d lived with an erratic addict who never put her first, fed her sporadically, and left her alone more often than not. But she’d been doing well, so hearing my brothers tell me she wasn’t improving again, felt like a giant kick to the chest.
