Mean Machine (The Untouchables MC 2)

But Paton, she was somewhere in the middle.

A smart and sensitive little girl. Friendly, but wary. And she seemed just a little bit sad.

Just like her mother.

Damn, if it didn’t bring out my protective streak with a vengeance!

Michelle was on my mind constantly. I’d finally stopped fighting it. It didn’t mean I would make a move on her. But I wanted to. I wanted to so bad. It physically hurt not to reach out and touch her every damn minute of every damn day.

And that scared the hell out of me.

If I asked her out and she said no… I’d lose her. The chance to be near her and her wanting to work for me. We needed her at the Jar but that wasn’t half of it. I’d miss her. Not touching her was almost bearable if I could at least see her.

And I was getting way too attached to her kid.

I recognized all the signs. It had happened that night I found a fourteen year old girl shivering in the rain. Something similar had happened with the animals I’d rescued.

But Paton wasn’t a stray. She had a mother. A good, loving one.

Damn if I didn’t want to adopt them both. Well, adopt might be the wrong word for Michelle. Some sick part of me wanted to own her. I didn’t know what the hell had gotten into me.

I scratched my chin, running my hand over my beard. I picked up a coloring book with a science theme. It wasn’t for really little kids, or adult women who used coloring to meditate. Plus, the art wasn’t half bad.

And it had facts. I knew Paton liked facts.

I saw another one with horses and grabbed that too. What kid didn’t like horses? I was pretty sure that was true across the board.

I grabbed a box of colored pencils and a blank sketch pad too. She needed an upgrade from the crayons I got her last week.

I nodded to myself. The sketch pad was good. If Paton had her own ideas about what to draw, she’d have the option.

It was a lot nicer than copier paper from the bar she’d been doodling on.

My phone beeped and I glanced down at it.

Shit.

It was Cain.

I’d been avoiding him since he and Connor had a big blow out last year. It was just days after the wedding. Apparently, Cain had come calling for Connor’s little sister.

I grinned at the memory.

I’d actually had to intervene, holding them physically apart until they cooled down. Didn’t happen.

But I did get Cain out of there, narrowly avoiding a bloodbath.

That was one fight that would not go down well. Both men were strong as oxen and stubborn as mules. But seeing Connor puff his chest out and protect his little sister… after how he’d seduced my little girl, well, it made me laugh.

Connor hadn’t found the comparison as amusing.

But seeing how he was family now, well, I had a responsibility to keep him alive. Even if Connor won the fight, Cain’s men would even the score eventually. And that would upset Cassie.

Cassandra, once known as Casey. The little imp had waited years before telling us her real name. She’d been smart though, choosing a name so similar to her own.

She knew better than anyone that a half lie was way more effective than a whole one.

I hurried to the front to pay, grabbing some brightly colored candy by the register. I hoped Michelle didn’t object to the added sweets. I was in too much of a hurry to call and ask.

Not that I came running every time Cain asked me to. I didn’t.

But I was still part of the club, even if I’d turned it down when they asked me to lead. I wasn’t all that active, but I was still an Untouchable. And the meeting sounded urgent.

I zipped the coloring books and candy inside my jacket and hit the road.

The Untouchables’ clubhouse was a huge old brick building that used to sell car parts, complete with a big parking garage and a bay for repairs. It had belonged to one of the original members, who left it to the club in his will.

So once you were part of the club and paying dues, technically the place belonged to you. A tiny bit of it anyway. The club had grown over the past fifteen years, when I was just a skinny nineteen-year-old punk ass kid. A punk ass kid with a chip on his shoulder and a love of anything that went fast.

Women, motorcycles, cars.

In that order.

I just wanted to throw myself at the world back then. Now I mostly tried not to fuck things up. I still drove fast, but I was more careful where I did it.

Not in populated areas full of kids, that was for sure.

The less populated country roads out where my bar was… well, there I went hog wild. I still tried not to hurt anybody though.