Page 16 of August 20

He nodded. "Tired."

"I bet." Jagger's gaze flickered to the house. "How long do you think this is going to take?"

He shrugged. It would take as long as it took his daughter to get comfortable with him again. Right now, he was a stranger. Just some roughneck asshole staying in the house and inconveniencing her playtime.

Jagger lifted a box out of the bed of the truck. He grabbed the other one, catching sight of the requested bicycle.

"Will that do?" asked Jagger.

All he needed was more food. The bike was extra. An idea he'd had in the middle of the night. Skye had no one to teach her how to ride, so that was something he could do. It was his job, after all. A father was responsible for teaching his kid how to ride.

His dad had taught him before he'd died. Then when his fucking stepfather came into his life, his bicycle was a way of escaping. Later, his motorcycle gave him a faster way to outrun his problems.

He pointed at the bike and gave a thumb up. The president of Havlin never expected a conversation from him. He understood the pain it caused when he tried to speak through the damage to his vocal cords.

Instead, he clasped Jagger's hand in thanks.

Jagger hopped back into the truck cab. "Bane's going to bring some files over later. If you could look through the pictures and figure out the location of the cameras, I'd appreciate it."

He swallowed numerous times. "Where's Wire?"

His MC brother was the one who dealt with camera systems and electrical shit on the places they ran security on, or when they needed inside where they weren't welcomed, Wire made it possible.

"Busted his leg last night," said Jagger.

Maverick frowned and cocked his head.

"A car side-swiped him on Highway 101. Luckily, it was only his leg, but he's high on painkillers at home."

He nodded in understanding and stood back as Jagger backed out of the driveway and turned around in the yard before driving off.

He picked up a box and carried it inside. Skye, taking notice, rushed into the kitchen to peek at everything. He tapped her nose, getting a giggle from her. She was getting spoiled, but he had a lot of years to make up for.

"Leave him alone, Skye." Brooke entered the kitchen and motioned into the other room. "I'll play Old Maid with you."

"I don't want to play cards." Skye followed Maverick to the living room.

He stepped outside, leaving the door open. His daughter followed him. The moment she spotted the bike, she raced around him and beat him to the spot.

"Is it mine?" She jumped up and down.

He cleared his throat. "I'll teach..."

She swung her leg over the bicycle frame and sat on the seat, pedaling away from him. He stared after her as she made circles in the front yard. His hope that he could teach her to ride was dashed.

In the doorway, Brooke stood with her arms crossed, glaring at him. She'd taken teaching his daughter away from him. Skye wasn't old enough to ride when he lost her. Brooke had to be the person who taught her.

He picked up the other box and carried it toward the house. Brooke stepped back, letting him inside.

Once he passed her, she said, "I gave her everything I could. My time. My care. My heart. Despite what you think of me, I'm the only one who loved her for the last four years. She's my niece. You'll have to kill me because I will never, ever stop fighting for her happiness. Thanks to you and your friends, she's been through hell already."

He clenched his teeth and dropped the box on the table. She'd taken the first chance to speak her mind when Skye was preoccupied and wouldn't overhear. But he wasn't going to argue with her.

He couldn't. It was impossible to speak long enough for him to tell her his side of what happened.

He walked outside, slipped his hands in his pockets, and watched Skye ride the new bike. Brooke followed him, not letting him have any time alone with his daughter.

"Have you told her?" asked Brooke.

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