The Biker's Kiss (Royal Bastards MC: Charleston, WV 1)

Wylla Mae sniffles and wipes at her nose reminding me that I need to wash that face. While Pam gets the medicine in the fridge and questions the kid about what she

wants to eat I grab some paper towels and wet them.

“C’mere, Lil’ Lady.” I grip the back of her head with one hand and use my other to clean her face. She scrunches her nose and squirms. “There. Good as new.” I turn toward Pam and toss the paper towels in the trash. “You busy tonight?”

Her finger wags in my face. “Oh no, you aren’t putting your job off on me. It’s Friday night.”

“Come on. You know I don’t know shit about taking care of a sick kid.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Feed her. Give her water and the pink stuff as directed.” She smirks.

“I’ll owe you one.”

“Hmm. You’ll owe me more than one.”

“I wanna stay with you, East,” Wylla Mae shouts and barrels into my side, surprising the fuck outta me.

“You heard the lady.” Pam winks at her and slides a grilled cheese sandwich onto a paper plate. “See you later, daddy.” She cackles going out the door, leaving me on my own with Wylla Mae.

I cap the back of my neck and look down at Wylla Mae. “How old are you anyway, kid?”

“Eight and a half.”

“Christ. You look six.”

“Do not,” she sasses then wheezes out a cough and kicks me in the shin.

“Ow shit. What’d you do that for?”

“Momma says you shouldn’t say bad words. Now you owe me a quarter.”

“I didn’t. Never mind. You don’t go around kicking people. Get your food,” I growl at her.

Her bottom lip trembles but she doesn’t shed any tears. Those doe eyes hold me captive, and I feel like a jerk. Wylla Mae is sick and with strangers. Who knows what happened with her mom or when Murder will come to collect her? I can see it in her gaze. Fear. Sadness. But there is something else there. A glimmer of hope. My heart constricts in my chest.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you, but you don’t kick me.”

“Okay.”

“All right. I’m gonna take you upstairs to a room where you can watch Tv or whatever.”

“Okay.” Her hand shakes as she grabs the paper plate.

“Christ. Let me have it.” I take it from her before she drops it, and she grabs my free hand wrapping her clammy fingers around mine, squeezing tight.

**

Upstairs, I pace the small room. I crash here sometimes when I’ve had too much to drink or simply don’t want to make the ride home. It’s not much but serves me when I need to scratch an itch or pass out. The space fits a full-sized bed, couch, small table, and a flat screen mounted on the wall over the dresser. Like I said it isn’t much.

Wylla Mae is sprawled out on my bed hugging her teddy bear. I turn on some channel that only shows classic cartoons. She seems content and hasn’t even bothered to ask about her mother once. Not that I would have an answer for her. Hell, I don’t even know who her mom is.

“Hey.” I grab the remote control and press the button to turn the volume down on her show. “What’s your mom’s name?”

“Alexa.”

“You got a dad?” Her head moves side to side. “An aunt, uncle, cousin, grandma?” There’s gotta be someone else who can take her in until whatever is going on with her mom is settled.

“Just my mom.”