She stood in her room, facing a camera I had placed on the edge of her favorite framed photo. The one of me, her, and her dad taken a year before he died. “I know you can hear me.”
Yep.
“This isn’t funny.” She swallowed, blinking as she fought tears. “Turn them all off.”
“I can’t,” I responded, knowing she couldn’t hear me. “I’ll let you think I have, though.”
One by one, I turned off the cameras I knew she had found, eliminating four of the nine in her room. But I wouldn’t budge on the rest. I had to be able to see her window, her bed, the doorway, the closet, and the entrance to her room. They were non-negotiable.
“Oh, good,” she breathed. “I think he listened.”
I did. Sort of.
This wasn’t about betraying her trust. We lived in a world where violence was an everyday part of life. Her father had been killed because of his association with a biker club. She was too closely connected, too vulnerable. That was why I never moved out.
Becca understood that, and it was why she never asked me to leave.
“WAKE UP, FUCKER,” DIESELannounced as he kicked my chair, sending me flying across the room several feet.
“Asshole,” I muttered as I blinked, waking up from the brief nap I’d taken. My gaze immediately shifted from Diesel to the monitors.
Where was Becca?
I almost panicked until I saw her sleeping on the couch in the living room, a blanket draped over her.
“Isn’t your job to watch? When I came in, the fucking front door was unlocked.” He scrubbed his hand down his face and over the stubble on his jaw. “For fuck’s sake, Void.”
I flipped him off. “You wanna do this every minute of the day and never sleep? Huh?”
He smirked. “Not really.”
“I didn’t think so, asshole.” I pushed my chair back and stood, stretching as I cracked my neck and rolled my stiff shoulders. “Why are you here?”
“Same as you. Watching over Becca.”
“Right.” I picked up my smokes and lighter, gesturing to the door on the opposite side of the basement. The private entrance was one of the best things about staying down here. I didn’t have to enter the main floor of the house unless I wanted to.
The lower level had been renovated when I moved in with a kitchenette and bathroom. Bulldog had sectioned off a portion of the room for my use, so I had privacy if anyone came downstairsto do laundry. The laundry room and unfinished storage area were located by the staircase that led up to the kitchen, away from the wall where I set up all my shit.
I had a livable space of my own. That meant the world to me when I first moved in. Bulldog always made me feel included from the moment he married my mother, but he also understood a young man’s need for his own space.
“Becca still order you to smoke outside?” He grinned like he knew that statement would rile me up.
“Yeah. Fuck off,” I added as his dimple popped, proving he found way too much amusement in my response. “You gonna smoke in the house?”
“Fuck no,” he laughed. “I enjoy my balls attached to my body.”
Okay. “Then hop off my dick.”
He chuckled, following me up the stairs and outside into the backyard. It was late, well into the early morning hours.
“Not gonna keep asking, Diesel. Why are you here at three in the fucking morning?” I lit up a smoke and dragged nicotine into my lungs as I waited for him to answer.
“Hades had a dream.”
Hades, our president, was one ruthless son of a bitch. He didn’t take shit from anyone about anything. I could count on one hand the things he valued and cared about, and that included the club, its members, and Becca. When Bulldog died, he left a letter detailing all his final wishes. He left the house to his daughter, which didn’t bother me any since it wasn’t my childhood home like it was hers. But he asked something none of us expected.
Bulldog wanted Hades to step up and become a surrogate father to Becca.
