I hadn’t heard much about the woman staying there. Only that one of Kytten’s friends had found her at the Death Dogs’ clubhouse and brought her here.
I pulled into the driveway and climbed out of the cab of my truck, grabbing my toolbox. I knocked on the front door, and when it swung open, I stared down at a little girl who looked an awful lot like my niece, Charlie.
The same black hair with loose curls. The same dimple in her cheek, and the same icy blue eyes. My mother’s eyes.
“Frankie! What did I tell you about opening the door?”
“Sorry, Mom. But it’s the guy to fix the sink,” she called back, her eyes never leaving mine.
“You don’t know that,” a voice called from down the hall.
“I saw his toolbox,” Frankie called back. She lowered her voice and asked, “You’re him, aren’t you?”
I nodded. Unable to find the words to answer as I stared at the girl.
My daughter.
“Still, you don’t answer the door.”
I looked up at the woman who had joined us, and I wanted to take a step back. She was beautiful. Her light caramel-colored hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her dark blue eyes were wide and expressive.
I’d never looked into the couple who had adopted my daughter. I’d trusted the system that was in place. The system whose sole job was to help children.
“Hi, I’m Kat. Are you Derek?”
I nodded again. The lump in my throat grew bigger.
“Please come in. It’s the kitchen sink that’s leaking.” She held the door and watched me cautiously as I entered. “Frankie, go do your schoolwork.”
“But, Mom,” the girl whined, and I smiled. She sounded just like Charlie when she didn’t get her way.
“Now, young lady.”
Frankie huffed and turned toward the hall. I watched as she stomped away.
“Sorry about that.”
“No problem,” I croaked out, finally able to speak. I moved into the kitchen and got to work, trying not to think about the fact that my daughter was here. And that her mother was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life.
Chapter Two
Katrina
There was something wrong with me. That had to be it. Not only was I divorced from a man who hurt my daughter, but I had to be rescued from the next man who’d taken a shine to me. A man who kept us prisoner in a biker club that wasn’t safe for us to move around freely.
And yet, as I stared at the man who appeared at my front door, my only thoughts wondered what he looked like under all those well-fitting clothes.
He was tall. Taller than me, though most men were. He had dark brown hair, almost black, but there was a bit of lightness to it. His eyes, though. They were dark blue, but that wasn’t what drew me in; it was the sadness I saw there.
A sadness I knew all too well. It was the sorrow of knowing you’d lost everything and there was no way to get it back.
“Would you like a drink?” I blurted out, rushing toward the fridge.
“No, thank you.”
His voice was deep and raspy. The kind of voice that rolled over your body when he whispered in your ear all the dirty things he wanted to do to you.
My hand felt for a fever; that must be what it was. I was mad; that was the only explanation for this nonsense. Like a bitch in heat, I stood frozen in my spot when I should have left the room and let him do his work. The only movement was from my headas it tilted to the side to watch the denim pull tight across his ass as he crouched down in front of the open cabinet under my sink.
