_Everyone gets an upbringing. Everyone is taught the essentials of life by their parents, and sometimes the parents’ essentials of life aren’t always the best._
_I learned to roll a cigarette before I was taught to tie my shoelaces. I suppose in most families this would’ve been considered odd, but in ours, it was normal._
_My father, Jed Harrison, was president of the Satan’s Sons Mother Charter…_
Reaper’s Claim by Simone Elise is now available to read on the Galatea app! Read the first two chapters below, or download Galatea for the full experience.
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1
Everyone gets an upbringing.
Everyone is taught the essentials of life by their parents, and sometimes the parents’ essentials of life aren’t always the best.
I learned to roll a cigarette before I was taught to tie my shoelaces.
I suppose in most families this would’ve been considered odd, but in ours, it was normal.
My father, Jed Harrison, was president of the Satan’s Sons Mother Charter.
He was a hard, rough man who was absent for most of my childhood.
My sister, Kim Harrison, was tall and blonde, and eyes were naturally drawn to her. She had the ability to get the attention of any man, and didn’t have to do much to keep it.
She was also my twin.
We shared similar features—both tall, slim, and blonde, but if you looked closely enough, we had noticeable differences. To most people, the differences were too small.
The Mother Charter that we called home was positioned in the bushland on ten acres at the top of a large hill.
The clubhouse wasn’t a traditional one.
The main house where we lived, the garage, and the bar were fenced off with barbed wire, which sent a clear message…
Fuck off.
The bar was complete with pool tables, TVs on every wall, and rooms down the hall for when couples could not make it back to the main house.
Kim and I were brought up on the brothers’ code and understood the world that to most was a mystery.
We knew the differences between club women and “old ladies.”
Dad always said, “A brother’s old lady only knows what he tells her.”
We were never to interfere. We saw a lot of things, but always kept our mouths shut.
Dad often made us tag along on club runs—the non-dangerous ones. He took our safety seriously and didn’t trust anyone with it.
Mom left us, but she didn’t do it by choice.
Breast cancer took her when Kim and I were still young, barely ten.
It didn’t just hurt losing her; it tore us apart.
Kim and I once got on. After Mom’s death, we couldn’t be in the same room without wanting to kill each other.
Dad did his best, but he wasn’t born to be a parent, and, hell, he never wanted to be a dad.
He was meant to be the distant dad who showed up every once in a while, told us he loved us, then rode off again, but he had to take us on full time, and that really threw a firecracker in his idea of parenting.
So we grew up in the clubhouse: not the best of places to raise two growing girls, but the boys took us under their wings, too, and not once did they hurt us.
My best memories are ones around bikers—tattooed, criminal bikers.
Kim threw herself into shopping, flirting, and makeup. I threw myself into art and study, and removed myself as far away from people as possible.
Kim loved high school; I hated it.
Dad, or “Roach” as he was known around the club, didn’t care what we did as long as we were happy, and I guess in our twisted way, we were.
Kim was happy stealing smokes from bikers’ jackets and sneaking off with boys. I was happy in my room drawing in my sketchbook.
The years slowly moved on, and before long, I was sixteen; or should I say, we turned sixteen.
My interests stayed the same: I drew and went to school.
Minus swearing and the occasional punch-up, I was a model student and the daughter who didn’t cause Dad’s head to explode every five minutes, unlike my sister.
Kim’s interest in boys had disappeared. At first I believed it was because she’d screwed her way through them all already.
But the real reason was that she had the hots for Dad’s vice president, Trigger.
My dad was blind to Kim’s open attraction for Trigger, but the rest of the world wasn’t; at least, I wasn’t.
Every time I looked up, it seemed one of them was giving the other suggestive looks.
What Kim saw in him I didn’t know, and why she would want to go there—where oh so many other women had been before—was beyond me.
He was a man, she was barely a girl, and yet those factors didn’t seem to stop either of them.
Trigger was the stereotypical biker. When he wasn’t checking out my sister, he was either bashing someone’s brains in or working on his Harley.
He had the height that shadowed everyone, muscles that bulged, and he wore a pissed-off look really well.
Dad had told me Trigger was the best vice president he could have asked for. He was one who didn’t mind “getting his hands dirty.”
Personally, he creeped me the fuck out, and if I could avoid him, I would at all costs.
Being brought up in a clubhouse meant two things—I knew what sex was before any other kid my age, and I was bartending as soon as I could hold a glass and pour a steady drink.
Which pretty much led me to this point of my life: serving drunken, swearing bikers from behind a bar while Kim sat over in the corner giving Trigger “fuck me” eyes.
***
I poured Gitz—real name Brad—another stiff shot.
He, unlike everyone else, wasn’t into the roaring party that Dad was holding for a visiting charter gang.
He hadn’t left the bar, and he hadn’t stopped pushing his empty glass back to me, either.
Gitz was in his early twenties; he swore a lot and slept with a lot of the club women, but one called Lilly always had his attention.
She’d left the previous week—even though Gitz had voted against it, Dad had let her leave the club after seven years of service.
Club women are owned by the club, and, like the bikers, they are sworn in.
Unlike the bikers, though, they aren’t given respect, and are usually referred to as “club pussy.”
I guessed that was why Gitz was drinking so heavily and ignoring the party around him.
He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he liked Lilly, and it was his stupid pride that had stopped him from claiming her as his old lady.
From what Lilly had told me, that was part of the reason she left.
“Abby, sweetheart!” Dad slammed his beer down on the counter, his face red and flushed with excitement. “Ya need a break, darling?”
Bartending was not where I saw my life heading, but I didn’t fight it.
“No, Dad, I’m fine.” I flashed him a smile, refilled Gitz’s drink, and then pulled a few beers out of the fridge.
“Have a break, sweetheart; you’ve been filling Gitz’s drink all day now.” Dad waved his drunken hand for me to leave.
Not wanting to get into an argument, I stepped out of the way and let another guy, Tom, take over.
“I might get some fresh air then.”
I patted Dad on the shoulder and walked past him. When Dad drank, his hard exterior slowly softened.
It was one of the rare moments when I was reminded of my childhood father. Not the “Roach” that everyone knew him as.
I weaved my way through the crowd until my hand landed on the back door, and I stepped outside into the fresh air.
The dimly lit alleyway was centered between the bar and the main house.
It was where we kept the rubbish bins, and it wasn’t the door we mainly used, but it was my quick getaway.
I was heading up the alley toward the house when I heard the back door open behind me and someone step out.
I turned around. No one else used that door, and I froze when my eyes landed on his drunken ones.
My blood ran cold, and I knew instantly I was fucked.
A drunken man has a happy soul.
My dad brought me up believing that, and there I was, twenty years old, staggering out of the back door of the clubhouse.
The Mother Charter knows how to throw a welcome party.
I was leaning against a rubbish bin, trying very hard to keep the booze down, when I heard a scream.
Glancing around the darkened backyard, I couldn’t see anything out of place.
Then I heard the scream again, followed by a hushed conversation.
The thumping music from the clubhouse and loud roar of drunken men muffled the sounds, and I couldn’t be sure if it was my mind playing tricks on me.
Placing one hand on the wall, I followed it around until I saw her…
Screaming and slamming her tiny fists against a man’s shoulders as he grabbed her hips.
I blinked away the drunken blur that was creeping across my vision, fighting not to pass out.
“I’m not Kim!” she yelled, frantic, and continued to hit him.
The more she moved, the more she was trapped.
He had her pinned against the wall, rubbing himself against her.
He wasn’t interested in what she was saying, and I knew there was only one thing going through his mind.
I took a step back and thought to back away completely—it wasn’t my place to get in the way.
But I found myself moving toward them.
“Get off, Trigger!” she yelled. The terror and panic in her voice coated each word.
“Oi!” I screamed down the alley, and I knew he would have heard me, but being the drunken prick he was, he ignored me. “You heard her. Get off her!”
Trigger had got his name because he was always the first to pull the bloody thing. He was a full-on dick, and we had been in numerous punch-ups.
“Fuck off, Reaper. This is between me and my girlfriend.” Rage spread across Trigger’s face as he spat the words at me.
Although the brothers’ code was to never get in the way of another brother’s dick, I took one step closer to him, giving him plenty of warning.
I was going to show him why they called me the Reaper.
“She’s not into it. Now back the fuck off.”
Temper control wasn’t my strong point, and the alcohol fueled my rage.
I glanced at the girl; she was terrified, tears pouring down her cheeks.
“I’m not fucking Kim,” she yelled in his face, and pushed him again with all her strength, but it didn’t even move him.
She was weak, small, and, after taking a second glance, it was apparent that she was young, too.
I warned him; he didn’t listen.
I let my temper get the best of me, moved forward, and grabbed him by the back of the neck.
“Did ya not fucking hear me?” I said. “Get the fuck off her!”
I threw him backward, ripping his dirty hands off her.
He fumed. I could nearly see the steam coming out of his ears.
I baited him with my eyes, wanting him to charge at me. Nothing like a fight over a woman—though, in this case, it might’ve been a girl.
“Whatever.” He glanced at her, his eyes scorching. “I’ll fuck you later, Kim.”
I watched him stagger off, bastard of a VP he was. I could never believe Prez actually had respect for that little shit.
I turned back to look at her.
Her breathing was heavy as she leaned against the wall.
Her eyes met mine, and that was it; she went into meltdown.
Her tears flowed faster, and they weren’t stopping.
I hated crying women more than I hated the fucking law, but I didn’t leave her.
“Come on, darling, calm down. He’s gone now.” I placed my hand on her shoulder, dropping my head so I could look into her blurry eyes.
I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. I stood there, looking more like a noob with every second that passed.
Her sobs soon turned into hysterics, causing her breathing to sharpen.
Fuck. What the hell do I do?
I wished I had paid more attention to fucking Dr. Phil, or some other shitty daytime TV program.
I brushed the blonde hair from her smooth, white face.
I had never seen anyone cry as much as her.
“Come on, darling, calm down.” I rubbed her shoulder, standing in front of her awkwardly.
I was so far out of my fucking depth; I should have just stayed at the fucking rubbish bin.
She dropped her head onto my chest, and I wrapped my arms around her, and she continued to weep, soon soaking my T-shirt with tears.
My heartbeat drummed faster.
This young girl trusted me enough to let me touch her. She didn’t even know me, but she was clinging to me for dear life.
Her small frame curved into my chest perfectly. I kept my arms wrapped around her, feeling like I was protecting her from the whole damned world.
“I… He…,” she stuttered into my chest. “If you hadn’t come…” She pulled her head away from my chest and looked up at me. “Thank you.”
I stared down into her crystal-blue eyes, which were framed by red puffy circles.
“Thank you, Kade.”
Fat tears slid down her cheeks, but she kept her eyes locked on mine.
“You know me?” I’d have remembered meeting her because she didn’t have a face or a body any man would ever forget.
“You’re the Satan’s Sons Western Charter’s VP.” She swallowed sharply. “Everyone knows you.”
“Not everyone, sweetheart.”
My lips twitched into a smirk, and I couldn’t stop myself from wiping underneath her eyes with the back of my sleeve.
“You okay now?”
She nodded her head. “I think so.”
Her long eyelashes fluttered up at me.
“Thanks, Kade. I owe you one.”
I could count on one hand how many people called me Kade: my mother, my father, my brother, my prez when he was pissed off, and this sweet girl.
I was called “Reaper” even before I’d stepped into the VP position, because I rid the world of dead weight.
“Do you want me to take you home?” I asked the girl, watching as she continued to wipe away tears.
Though when I thought about it, I was far from a fit state to be in control of any motor vehicle.
How such a sweet little thing had ended up here, I didn’t know, but hopefully, this would teach her to stay the hell away from places like this and the people who dwelled in them.
“No.” She shook her head. “I live here.”
At the Satan’s Sons clubhouse?
I looked her up and down again.
She looked too young to be a club whore or, as some refer to them, club property.
She didn’t look like one either.
She didn’t look like the type of girl who should be hanging around a clubhouse filled with dirty bikers.
She was the type of girl a guy like me would never have a chance with.
“How old are you?” I asked her. I felt my curiosity build each time I stared down into those crystal-blue eyes.
“Sixteen.” Her eyes locked with mine. “Why?”
If you were legal, baby girl… Damn the gods for creating such temptation.
“Bit young to be hanging around here, aren’t you?”
I placed my arm on the wall. Her eyes did not drop from mine once.
I bet she doesn’t even know how powerful those blue opals of hers are yet.
“Like I said, I live here.” She closed her eyes briefly and then looked down at the ground. “Can I ask something of you?”
She could’ve asked me anything right then, and I would’ve answered.
What the hell is happening to me?
I couldn’t believe the amount of power she suddenly held over me. But she had the kind of beauty worth going to war for.
I could only imagine what she looked like in the sunlight.
I was sure these dark shadows and the night sky were hiding most of her beauty from me.
“Sure, sweetheart, ask away.”
“Don’t tell my father.” She placed her hand on my chest. “He loves Trigger. Kim is just a fucking idiot.”
Who the fuck is Kim?
More important, who the fuck is her father?
I was about to ask her both questions but stopped when someone called my name.
“REAPER!” Banger roared. His drunken arse walked around the corner.
I hurried to block her from Banger’s view. “What?” I roared at him.
“Prez wants ya.”
He took a long drink of his beer and then tossed the bottle to the side.
I glanced back at the girl, but she wasn’t looking at me; she stared down at the ground.
The black Metallica T-shirt gripping her body had worked its way up, exposing the soft skin of her midriff.
“Are you all right by yourself?” I asked. I really didn’t want to leave her, and that bothered me.
Why the hell did I care if this girl was all right or not?
I had done the gentlemanly thing—my duty to her was over.
But still I didn’t move.
“Yep.” Her blonde hair fell to the side as she glanced up at me. “I’ll be fine.”
I didn’t believe her, but Banger snapped at me to hurry up.
I nodded my head regretfully and started walking back towards the bar.
“I wish you didn’t have to go so soon,” I heard her whisper behind me.
Her words made me stop in my tracks. I looked back at her.
“Yeah…and I wish you were fucking legal.”
“The forbidden is always more desirable.” The corners of her lips twitched upward, and for the first time, I saw her smile.
I knew right then it wasn’t something I would ever forget, and I wanted to punch myself for admitting that.
I nodded my head, shooting her a grin before walking up the alley to Banger, who was ranting about me taking my sweet time.
I didn’t look back at her, but I fucking wanted to.
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2
Roach was a hard, cold, mean bastard of a man.
If you didn’t know him, you wouldn’t give him a second look for fear he might rip your throat out.
He was the Satan’s Sons MC president. His VP, Trigger, was sitting next to him, and both of them were sitting directly across from me and my prez, Dane.
A few other people occupied the table too: Banger and Bleach on our side, and Gitz and Cameron on theirs.
I lit a cigarette and glared at Trigger.
“We agreed to help shift ya guns, brother, but we didn’t agree to inherit your war with the Soldiers.” Roach took a long drag on his cigarette.
“The Soldiers aren’t worth our bullets,” Banger barked. “We’re dealing with it; got nothing to do with you.”
“They shot up my garage, brother. That makes us a part of it,” Roach barked back.
It appeared that the meeting was not going to solve anything.
Everyone was hungover and nerves were raw.
Before the boys could open their mouths and begin a pointless argument, a bloodcurdling scream roared throughout the room.
Everyone jumped.
“Oh fuck me; shit just got real.” Gitz shook his head, and within a minute the double doors behind them blew open and in walked a very angry redhead.
“Dad!”
Roach spun around in his chair.
“What the fuck have you done to your head?!” he roared, getting to his feet.
Dad?
Roach has a daughter.
I glanced at Dane, but he didn’t seem shocked by it.
“I didn’t fucking do it! I fucking woke up with it!” she screamed at him. “It was fucking Abby!”
She was swearing like a man and screaming like a maniac. I guess the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree with these two. I wondered how long it would be until she too was shooting people and blackmailing cops.
“Abby!” Roach screamed.
“We came for a fucking meeting, not family drama,” I hissed in Prez’s ear.
They were wasting time. I was all for spending time with brothers and shit, but I was hungover, and the last thing I needed to witness or hear was a whiny, spoiled brat complaining to her old man.
This is why you shield up before entering any woman.
“Brother, you’ll be thanking him in a minute.” He grinned with a knowing look in his eyes.
I glanced back up and then there she was, wearing the same T-shirt from the night before, only now with a pair of shorts that were extremely short.
She crossed her arms and glared at the redhead.
I looked between the two and ran my eyes over the features of the redhead.
They were fucking twins—identical twins—and the only difference was the red hair.
Holy fuck.
Roach is her father.
Roach and Abby were locked in a standoff.
“What did you do, Abby?” Roach fumed. “Why did you dye ya sister’s hair?”
“Because it was either dye mine, dye hers, or cut all her hair off.” Abby shrugged her shoulders, but kept her face deadly calm.
It was the kind of calm you would expect to see before a storm.
“Red, Dad, fucking red!” The evil twin stomped her foot, threatening to cry.
“Abby, ya better start fucking explaining yourself!” Roach roared at her, and I couldn’t stop the glare that I shot his way.
Roach was the size of two normal-sized men.
He was big, intimidating, and I really didn’t like him speaking to her like that.
I didn’t know why it bothered me. I lit a cigarette and couldn’t look away even if I wanted to.
“I felt like it,” she hissed at him with fire in her eyes.
“We are about to get a show,” Bleach sneered.
“I sometimes feel like fucking throwing you two out on the streets. Doesn’t mean I’d fucking do it!” he roared.
“It’s red, Dad,” the redhead sobbed.
“Now look what you’ve done, Abby,” Roach patted the redhead on the back.
“Oh, God forbid Kimberly cries,” she spat, glaring at her sister.
“ENOUGH!” Roach pointed a finger at her. “Fucking explain yaself, Abby, before ya end up living on the fucking streets.”
“Oh come on, Dad. I’ve done her a favor. Now she can refuck her way through every guy in town as the red harlot.”
“DAD!” Kim roared and reared back her fist to hit her sister. Roach stepped in between them, keeping them separated.
“Every fucking day I wish… I wish I had fucking boys!” he roared.
Abby continued to glare at her sister, and I had a strong feeling I knew why she’d decided to attack her sister’s hair.
Trigger leaned back in his chair, grinning. “You know, Kim. I like it. Makes you look older,” he spoke up, running his eyes over Kim.
Kim blushed bright red.
Would Roach be okay with his VP fucking his underage daughter?
The look of rage on Roach’s face gave me my answer.
“She’s still fucking sixteen,” Roach roared down at his VP. “And you better stop fucking looking at her like that before I rip ya cock off.”
I guess he didn’t know about what his VP got up to with his daughter after all.
I glanced back at Abby, only to have her eyes lock with mine.
I had gone unnoticed until now.
She gulped, and then her eyes snapped to the ground.
My seat creaked as I sat up straight.
I wanted her to look back at me.
Why the fuck won’t she look at me?
“Boys. All I wanted was fucking boys,” Roach muttered under his breath, glancing between his two girls. “Well then, how are we going to settle this?”
“I want to kill her,” Kimberly snarled.
“With what, Kim? A pair of your high heels?” Abby scoffed.
“You think you’re so bloody clever, bookworm,” Kim spat, glaring fiercely at Abby. “Why don’t you do the world a fucking favor and go back to your fucking bedroom and stay there?”
“Do you even know how to spell the word favor?” she threw back, taunting her sister.
I liked her. I fucking liked that fire in her eyes.
“Enough!” Roach roared over their ranting. “I’m in a fucking meeting.” He waved his arm around the room. “This is my fucking CLUBHOUSE.”
The veins in his neck bulged.
“Calm down, Dad.” Abby’s eyes softened, and she patted her old man’s arm. “You’ll give yourself a heart attack.”
“Yeah, Dad, chill, would you.” Kim patted his other arm.
“I need a break,” he snarled, “from your bullshit and your bullshit.” He looked between the two. “Always fucking fighting, always fucking ranting. ALWAYS FUCKING BRINGING ME INTO IT!”
His roaring was enough to make the windows shake, and every man in the room flinched, but Abby and Kim didn’t seem the least bit fussed by it.
“Look what you’ve done,” Abby snapped at her sister.
“What I’ve done?” Kim glared back, taking the bait. “You dyed my hair, bitch!”
“Yeah, and we both know why,” she snapped back. “And if you don’t settle down your fucking rant attack, I’m going to tell Dad.”
Roach stood solidly between them while they threatened each other, acting like he wasn’t even there.
“Tell me what?” he piped up.
“Do you want to kill him?” Kim’s voice had an edge to it.
It was as if I was watching a fucking movie, though Abby was hotter than any actress.
Down, Kade.
Underage, remember?
Abby was an underage pussy that I had no right to be thinking about.
“I would love to.” Abby crossed her arms. “You know I have nothing to lose.”
“You want me dead, Abby?” Roach roared into the conversation.
“Shut up, Dad; we aren’t talking about you.” Kim raised a hand in her father’s face.
Trigger looked a hell of a lot more nervous now. He knew what he had been doing—and who he was doing it to—the night before.
One glance at the twins and I could tell them apart now, and it wasn’t just the red hair.
Abby had a softness in her eyes. She was slightly taller; her breasts appeared to be made for my hands; and she had an ass all men would watch when she walked away.
Kim’s breasts were smaller, and she had a flat ass. Not to mention, she looked and dressed like a club whore.
One glance and you would know who was who.
“Fine. I’ll back down.” Kim crossed her arms.
“You don’t have to. Really, I would love to tell Dad what you told me last night.”
Abby applied a bit more pressure to the situation until her sister spun around, her long red hair flicking across her face.
“Sorry for bothering you, Dad. We have this all sorted.” Kim shot her dad a big grin and then put her hand out. “I need money.”
“For what?” Roach sounded a bit more relaxed.
“For a new wardrobe. I have red hair now.”
“I didn’t know whore came in any other color,” Abby spoke up.
“Says the ugly twin.” Kim rolled her eyes.
Roach slapped a big wad of cash into Kim’s hand. “Get out. Fuck off, the two of you.”
Kim planted a kiss on her dad’s cheek. “See ya tonight, Dad.”
She shot a glare in Abby’s direction and a lustful wink at Trigger, and then walked out.
Abby started to follow her, but Roach wrapped his hand around her upper arm, stopping her.
“Abby.”
“Yes, Dad?” She turned around and looked up at him with no expression.
“You gonna tell me what really happened?”
“No.”
“Did someone hurt you?”
“No.”
“Are you lying?”
“No.”
He shook his head, his face softening. “You’re lying, little one.”
I had seen Roach kill a man in cold blood.
I had seen many sides to this man, but I had never seen the soft, gentle one.
I looked at Dane, and he grinned back at me.
I guess being a father does weird things to a grown man.
“I’m fine, Dad. Sorry for interrupting your meeting.” A weak smile traced her lips.
He pulled her into a hug, ripping her up from the ground.
Finally she looked me in the eye over her old man’s shoulder.
Her feet dangled in the air as Roach hugged her.
Damn, she was beautiful.
“Do you want to stay for the meeting, little one?” He put her down, rubbing the top of her head. “We’re talking about the Soldiers.”
This was club business.
Skirts did not belong in the middle of club business.
“I think the room is a bit full. I’ll see you tonight.” She was blocked from my view, but I could still hear her voice.
“Righteo, little one. Off ya go then.”
Abby closed the two large wooden doors behind her.
Roach walked back over to his chair, slumped down into it, and reached for his bottle of beer.
“Don’t have fucking girls. Let that be a lesson to you young blokes,” he grunted.
Dane grumbled a deep laugh as both of them shared some fatherly joke together.
The meeting continued, but I wouldn’t lie and say my mind wasn’t on a certain sixteen-year-old’s blue opal eyes and killer body.
Embarrassment is something I’m used to.
Growing up around so many men and being as clumsy as I am, it’s just always come with the territory.
But this morning, I got a huge dose—close to an overdose—when I was not only ranted at by Kim but also told off by my dad, in front of the man I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about all night.
Kade Wilson—also known as Reaper.
He had a bad-boy appeal, and even a saint would fall for his looks—those deep dark eyes, that sexy smile, and that body.
I knew it wasn’t just my hormones lusting after him, because any female with a pair of eyes would be doing the same.
I was singing off tune, loudly, to a Metallica track when my dad broke in to my bedroom.
“Dad, ever heard of knocking?” I snapped before bending down and swooping up my paintbrush.
Great, another stain on my carpet.
“Better start explaining why the hell I just got a letter from the school, Abby.” He waved a piece of paper in my face.
I snapped it from his grasp and read over the finely written letter, which detailed a suspension—my suspension.
“I didn’t do anything.” I was gobsmacked.
The letter stated I was being suspended for abusing a teacher. Sure, I might’ve been a bit of a spitfire at times, but I couldn’t remember one occasion where I had abused a teacher.
“The letter is telling me otherwise,” Dad grunted, not buying my denial.
“I didn’t do this.” I gave him back the piece of paper. “They must have gotten Kim and me mixed up because I don’t even have Mrs. Matthews as a teacher!”
I watched as Dad thought it over.
Finally, he blew out a deep breath and turned around sharply. “KIMBERLY!” He closed my door on the way out and roared down the hall.
Kim was suspended.
Again.
What a surprise.
I looked back at my painting. There was something off and I couldn’t decide what it was, but something was missing from the abstract piece of art. Maybe I just needed a break from it.
I was cleaning the paintbrush in my bathroom sink when I heard Dad’s big boots storm back into my room.
“Abby, I can’t find Kim.”
I looked up at my mirror and saw my dad’s reflection staring from behind me.
“Well, I wouldn’t have a clue where she is.” I could guess, though; it was the same place Trigger was.
I did like my sister—just a little bit—and I knew that telling Dad that Kim was sleeping with Trigger would bring a whole lot of hell down on her.
“You cut yourself?” Dad stepped closer, looking into the sink filled with red.
“No, just paint.” I showed him the clean brushes. “I’m not that stupid, Dad.”
“Good. Don’t want you doing any of that cutting with razors shit. Too pretty for scars.” He ruffled my hair. “I’m heading out for a while. I’ll be back before the party tonight.”
“Um, Dad,” I spun around. “Is the Western Charter still staying?”
“They haven’t ridden out; I expect them to in the next few days though.”
He narrowed his eyes, looking down at me with suspicion. “Why?”
“Just wondering how many I will be bartending for.”
I hid my real reason behind a smile.
Kade was still here.
He hadn’t left, which meant maybe I could redeem myself.
I didn’t want him to look at me like I was a little girl.
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