Page 9 of August 20

However, he also knew if he asked for help with Brooke and Skye, any of his MC brothers would come riding. No questions asked.

He rubbed his hands over his face. The importance of what he planned weighed heavily on his mind.

He'd always done the dirty work for the club. A favor for a favor. Tit for tat.

Once the club split into two and he joined the Seaglass Cove Chapter, his MC brothers only knew that he'd gotten hurt in the past. They probably knew he served time in the penitentiary—hell, half the men had at one time or another.

But nobody knew the whole story of what got him where he was today. Nobody but Jagger knew what brought him to kidnapping Brooke and having Skye within his grasp.

He returned to the couch. It was after eleven o'clock. Skye would be asleep. Though he was certain Brooke wouldn't try leaving while the child was unable to run away with her, he wouldn't put it past her to try and harm him if he closed his eyes and got some shuteye.

Luckily for him, he could go days without sleep.

That was a habit he'd developed in prison. A skill that would now come in handy.

He kept the television off, staying tuned in to the noises in the house. The situation wouldn't last forever.

He only had one purpose for doing what he was doing.

Inhaling deeply, he looked up at the ceiling. All he wanted—what he'd always wanted, was his daughter back.

Seeing Skye for the first time in over four years kicked his ass. He had a hard time accepting the changes to her. She was a young girl, no longer a baby.

He'd tried to prepare himself for seeing her. There was no way she'd remember him. Four years was half her life. He'd need to reintroduce himself to her in her time, not his.

He wished to go back to when he had more control over his daughter's life. Even seeing her every two weeks, if he was lucky, would give him different options for gaining custody of her.

No court would give a felon custody of his daughter after he was found at the explosion that killed the child's mother. Though they couldn't frame him for the deaths that occurred, they sentenced him for illegally manufacturing meth in a house with a minor.

He swallowed through the tightness in his throat. He was tired of the pain.

Click.

He lowered his hands and cocked his head, hearing something deeper in the house.

Click.

She'd left the bedroom and, by the short amount of time between the doors opening and closing, had gone into the bathroom. It was too late for Skye to be up. Maybe his daughter had a stomachache or woke up from a bad dream.

He got up, walked down the hallway, and stood outside the closed bathroom door. He wanted to bust in and find out what was wrong, but then it hit him that it was probably Brooke and not his daughter who was up.

If Brooke was in the bathroom, Skye was alone in the room.

Maverick turned and found the bedroom door closed. Almost closed. It wasn't latched. He moved forward, pushed the door open, and stepped to the side, letting the light from the hallway cast a beam over the bed.

On the far side, against the wall, was a small form under the covers. A fan of hair covered the pillow. Drawn to her like a moth to the light, he walked into the room and stood at the side of the bed.

He couldn’t get enough of her. She'd grown up more beautiful than he ever imagined. The older she got, the less she looked like her mother—and now he could see she resembled Brooke.

Or maybe it was the mannerisms that were new. She used her hands when she talked. She also used the back of her hand to push her hair off her face. Skye had the ability to study him without any expression. That was something Brooke would do, too.

His fingers curled into a fist. How many nights had he laid in a cot in his cell and pleaded with the devil to get him out because all he wanted to do was put his hands on his little girl and make sure she was okay?

After the explosion, nobody told him if Skye was alive or dead. He'd gone weeks until he finally heard in court that his daughter was okay. At that point, it no longer mattered if he was found guilty or innocent of the blast that killed everyone but Skye.

A year ago, the private investigator he'd hired had found where his daughter had gone. And who had custody of her. Until that day, he had no idea that Janelle had a sister.

From everything he'd learned, Skye's aunt wasn't a drug addict like Janelle. She was a young girl. Much younger than Janelle had been.

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