Casey's fingers traced her aunt's words again and again as she tried to draw out Emma's face from her memory. Emma's kind eyes and sweet nature called to her, drowning the bad memories she's held on to from the past and calling upon the good. Her heart longed for the familiar safety Emma used to give her during her visits. It had to have been nearly a year since she'd seen her, if not more, but not a day went by when she didn't wish to see her again.

Do you remember your Aunt Emma?

Her remembrances of a past life, which include living within the club, enter her mind. She appreciates the vivid images of Emma visiting on occasion, bringing her presents each time. Stuffed animals, blankets, and whatever else her aunt thought to bring her. She was happy then, and she's finally realizing that even if it takes a while and even if she's still held in this room, the possibility of seeing Em's face again has stirred a ray of hope within her. So much so, it causes the back of her eyes to sting, and she feels her chest swell with happiness.

She loves you, Casey.

Last night, as Max explained he was somehow in connection with Em, she found herself completely overwhelmed at the thought. When he asked if she remembered Em, her throat got tight. She wanted to tell Max everything she remembered about her, wanted to express her happiness for him that he knew her, too, but instead she allowed herself to bask in relief as he held her close to him, tucked carefully to his side. For a few moments, she escaped from the fear of being under the constant eye of those who hold her here.

After reading the book again, she finds she's already memorized her favorite parts. Her Aunt Emma remembered correctly; Winnie the Pooh has always been her favorite.

Casey stands and walks to her desk. Carefully, she pulls out all the supplies Viktor let Cilas and Anna bring to her. Colored pencils, papers of different sizes and textures, and new erasers now sit openly on top of her tidy area. As she unpacks each item, one by one, she's excited to have something to truly call her own.

At first, she wasn't sure what to make of the gifts, only that she was so thankful for each of them. Once she started putting them to use, though, she was allowed an appreciative escape. Her mind went elsewhere as her imagination offered something her real life couldn't.

Using her new supplies, Casey starts with a smile as she begins to sketch from memory the face of her beloved Aunt Emma.

You're going to see her again soon.

Chapter Twenty.

How's Marie?

The sound of Hangar's voice wakes me from yet another nightmare, this one not as cruel as the ones before.

Hearing my sister's name from that s.a.d.i.s.tic f.u.c.k's mouth sickens my already hungover state. The blinds are open and the sun is casting its demanding rays over me as I lie still long enough to collect my thoughts. However, I'm not able to do this when I hear the raised voices outside my door. It must've been what really woke me.

What the f.u.c.k?

Sitting up and taking inventory, I find I'm in the same clothes I wore to bed. The room I must've chosen last night is as dirty as any other room in this place. The wooden door shakes with a pound before I'm on my feet.

"Get your pretty face outta bed, Max. We're leavin'." It sounds like Dog, who's irritating my sleep and hungover state.

Opening the door, I catch him leaning his lanky body on the wall across from it. "Good morning, suns.h.i.+ne," he spouts.

"What's goin' on?" I abruptly ask, grabbing a smoke off the table and lighting it, welcoming the first hit of nicotine.

Straightening his smirk, he informs, "We're goin' out on a ride. Hoss says you're to stay back. It's club business, which means you're not invited."

Nor would I want to be invited, but I ask anyway, "A ride?"

I'm familiar with rides, but not with this club. A ride at the MC I once belonged to meant business; it meant something was up and that something was never good.

"Yep," he answers. "I gotta go. Boys are waitin'." He starts to turn away but stops then looks back. "You're not very pretty in the morning, suns.h.i.+ne."

I don't respond to his antagonizing sarcasm. Instead, I turn around, walk back into the s.h.i.+t hole of a room, close the door, and then grab my phone to check the time only to find it's dead.

Thirty minutes later, I've woken enough to know I'm able to keep my wits sharp. If the guys are out on a ride, there's no telling how long they'll be gone. I don't plan to stick around this morning to ask questions, though. I have to get to work.

Luke, my boss at the bike shop, has been good about offering me flexible hours, but in truth, I haven't been to work in over a week. I imagine if I don't get my a.s.s back there soon, I'll be put off the payroll entirely.

I find the common room empty as I go in search of coffee. The area hasn't been cleaned from the early morning get-together with the guys. Beer bottles sit on the tables with chairs pulled out or tipped over. Music from the speakers overhead continues to play the old hard rock cla.s.sics.

Just as I'm about to grab a gla.s.s for water from the counter, I hear Dee Dee's voice come in behind me.

Shaky and broken, she whispers out, "Good morning. I see you're still in one piece."

"Yeah," I acknowledge, absolutely uninterested in her broken appearance or her sullen tone.

"You didn't go ride with the rest of them?"

"No," I reply quickly, filling my gla.s.s at the sink.

"Not a member," she whispers under her breath, seemingly to remind herself I'm not one of these idiots.

I can tell she's uncomfortable in my company. The one quick glance I let myself take of her appearance indicated she's as sober as I thought she was last night. With her symptoms of withdrawal obvious, I still don't put weight on the fact she's trying to get better. I've been around junkies and from what I know of them, their sobriety only goes as far as their next hit until professional help is given.

"Max..." she starts with my name, and I hate the word from her mouth. I don't remember this Dee Dee saying it with so much sincerity, and although I'm trying not to fall for the sobering and sad act, I still pity her.

Straightening my posture and leaning against the bar opposite of her, I ask, "What is it you need this morning?"

Wiping a stray tear which has fallen down her cheek, Dee Dee sinks further into herself and starts to plead. "I know you don't understand..."

Cutting her off, I don't allow her to make shallow excuses. "No, Dee Dee, I don't," I voice harshly. "I don't understand how you'd allow yourself to be caught up in a place like this, to be treated the way you are by men who couldn't give a flyin' f.u.c.k about you."

"It's not easy to explain," she returns quickly.

"Then don't," I counter with an annoyed tone she couldn't have missed. "But you? I don't give two f.u.c.ks about anymore. Your little girl, Casey? I certainly do."

"They took her away from me," she claims, now sounding not only twitchy from loss of drugs but also extremely exasperated. "They told me she needed to be kept in that room and away from the men who live here."

"And why's that?" I know the answer, but I want her to say it.

Her answer is childish, weak, and not what I care to hear. "I don't know."

"You do know. It's because you call this her home. Emma..." I stop briefly to recollect my thoughts before tainting Em's name by bringing her into this ridiculous conversation. "Emma loves that little girl. I've come to care about her. She could live with Em and live a normal f.u.c.kin' life as any other kid would, but you won't let that happen."

Her next question comes so off-the-mark and as a surprise. "Can you keep her safe?"

"What?"

Slightly annoyed, I watch Dee Dee inhale deeply and nervously use her fingers to pull her bottom lip hard before asking again, "Can you keep her safe?"

"From what?" I ask with a sneer. "She's not safe now!"

Further annoyed yet talking in circles, she asks again, phrasing it much differently. "If something happens to me, can you take care of her?"

Putting down my gla.s.s and crossing my arms over my chest, still unsure where she's going with this, I question, "What do you care what happens to her if you're not around?"

"Stop," she whispers.

With my voice growing more agitated, I keep going. My arms stretch out at either side, indicating the filthy room we're standing in. "No, really, Dee Dee. Tell me. I'd like to know how Casey's life would change if you were alive or dead? So I'll ask again, why do you care?"

"Max," she interrupts after she gets my point. "Things weren't always like this here. When Viktor came..."

Cutting her off, I respond, "Then when he came, you should've taken Casey and got the f.u.c.k out of here, but you didn't."

"It was too late."

"It's never too late to save your own child from this life, Dee Dee."

Looking down again with shame, Dee Dee goes back to where we started. "Can you keep her safe?"

"Nothing will happen to you," I a.s.sure, not knowing what the f.u.c.k she's going on about. "But something might happen to Casey if you don't wise the f.u.c.k up."

Crossing her arms over her chest and looking down at her feet, she doesn't bother defending herself. "It's too late for me, Max."

"Dee Dee." I manage to get out my first words without hostility. "Look at me."

When her eyes capture mine, I find they're lost to a world of sadness and regret. Her whisper is broken and barely audible. "Can you help her?"

"Yes," I a.s.sure. "I can."

"Even if it means you have to become a member of Creed to protect her? To become one of them?" she finally asks, losing her breath to the paralyzing fear of my answer.

"It won't come to that."

"Tell me that if it does, you'll do everything you can for her."

"I will."

"Thank you," she breathes, this time in relief. "I'm going back to my room. Hangar's probably wondering where I went."

"He didn't go out on the ride with the rest of them?"

"No." Her head shakes with her answer. "Hoss told him he had to stay here and behave."

"He's a monster. I don't know how you ever ended up with such a piece of s.h.i.+t."

Her smile is short and once again full of sadness. "I lost the one good man I ever knew."

Understanding her insinuation, I take a collective breath before answering. "You never had me and you know it."

"Emilyn did," she accounts softly.

"She still does," I reply. "And now she always will."

The truth of my words stings, but it needed to be said between us.

Nodding in agreement, Dee Dee turns around and heads out of the bar. Before I let her walk away completely, I stop her. "Dee?"

"Yeah?"

I loathe the wasted woman standing in front of me, but I'm also experienced in self-hatred and have witnessed what feeling that way about yourself does to those around you. "If you ever decide you want out of here, you let me know and I'll do what I can to help make that happen."

"And Casey?"

"She's going to be with Emma. No matter."

I stand firm, allowing this information to process through her used mind.

Finally, she answers. "There's nothing outside of this place that wants me, Max. And I never let myself believe it before, so I won't now."

After all she's done and knowing what she says is probably the truth, I keep quiet, watch her as she turns around and walks away.

Deciding to push my luck now that I know most of the members are gone and Hangar is tucked away, sulking in his room after his well-deserved Cilas a.s.s-kicking, I make my way down the hall to where Viktor's office sits. When I approach, the door is open and I see he's inside on the phone, speaking in Russian.

It's best to let him know I'm here, so I knock heavily on the door jamb. It's not that I can understand his Russian language, but he doesn't know that and I'd rather not p.i.s.s him off.

I hear him say in English, "I've got to go. Make the arrangements," before putting the phone down back on its cradle.

"Max, pleasant surprise," he greets once he stands and motions his hand to the chair in front of his desk.

"Did you get my note?" I ask while walking in and taking the seat in front of him.

"I did," he confirms. "It was my first of many surprises this morning."

"First of many?" I ask, cautiously studying the smile on his face. Viktor's smile appears to be genuine, and since I've never see this, I'm guarded.

"I sent Hoss and his animals out on what you Americans call a goose chase this morning," he tells me. "I wasn't sure he'd take the bait, but my men tend to be better actors than I probably pay them for. How's the s.h.i.+ner?" He smiles and points to his eye.

"Better," I reply without smiling back. I hadn't had time today to think back to the confrontation with his mule.

"No punches thrown from you as of late?" he asks with a smirk still in place.

"Not yet. It's still early, though."

"Tell me," he begins while folding his hands on his desk. "Tell me what brings you to my office this afternoon."

"Making sure you got my message and we're good."

Sitting back in his chair, he places his elbows on the armrests and steeples his hand as though in prayer. He thinks to himself momentarily before speaking. "I have a job for you to help me with tonight."