Page 6 of April 5

She walked down the hallway, opening doors. Every clubhouse had vacant rooms, but many times, single members would party and stay at the clubhouse so they wouldn't have to ride after drinking.

Closing the door after seeing a duffle on the floor, she moved to the other side and opened the room. A quick scan had her stepping back into the hallway. But she stopped before going to the next room.

A familiar couch sat against the wall. She turned on the light to ensure she saw things right and shut herself inside.

It was Jagger's room.

She'd know his furniture anywhere. He slept on the couch more often than on the bed.

Walking across the room, she sat on the sofa and grabbed his pillow, hugging it to her chest. She closed her eyes. A deep shudder rolled through her.

Tonight was the first time she'd seen him since the night her dad walked in on them. It'd been the worst day of her life.

Back then, she had no say in anything. Her dad had returned and thought he could control her life. And if it wasn't her dad making the decisions, it was Jagger walking away from her.

Curling up in the corner of the couch, she inhaled deeply. The pillow smelled of smoke and leather.

Damn him.

A lot of things had hurt her throughout her life, but Jagger caused the most damage. Her heart would never be the same.

He'd turned her into a bitch.

Chapter Three

JAGGER WALKED THROUGH the clubhouse. Music played over the speakers, but there was no movement in the building.

He stepped over an empty beer bottle. On the nearest couch, Brett held a half-naked woman on top of him. Both were asleep.

Pulling out his cell, he looked at the time—six o'clock.

He headed toward the hallway. The others would spend most of the day catching up on sleep after celebrating Cora and Wire's wedding. He'd use the time to rest. Havlin Motorcycle Parts shop was closed today and tomorrow and would open again on Monday.

The Havlin members running security could rotate without any reminders from him. Right now, he only wanted to wash off the road dust and stretch out for a few hours.

He opened his bedroom door and frowned. The light was on. His gut tightened. He scanned the room, stopping at the couch. Katrina.

Her presence in his room should've surprised him. But he would've been disappointed if she hadn't come looking for him.

As much as he needed to get her out of here and away from him, he couldn't help figuring out how to keep her hidden from everyone. He needed a minute. An hour. The rest of his life with her.

He exhaled quietly, letting her sleep, and removed his cell phone. He pulled up Bane's contact and typed a text. Where's Ruger?

His thumb hovered over the screen. He couldn't send it. He couldn't send her away. He couldn't call Ruger and have him come and get his daughter.

Shoving the phone in his pocket, he locked the door to his room. Wherever Ruger was, he'd let his guard down and had no idea where Katrina was.

Katrina's dad was probably in another room in the clubhouse, but he wasn't in the room. Ruger couldn't stop him from looking at Katrina.

He lowered himself to the floor, holding in the grunt that automatically slipped out whenever he had to bend his left knee, and sat beside her. Close enough to touch, he inhaled deeply, wishing he could pick up her warm body and hold her against him.

Facing him, she had her legs curled toward her chest, hugging his pillow. Her hair lay tousled underneath her head and hung over the edge of the cushion. He lifted the dark strands and rubbed his thumb over the silky texture.

He brought the strands up to his nose. The flowery scent of her shampoo still clung to her.

Katrina's eyelashes fanned her cheeks. In her sleep, there was always a calmness to her. A serenity that never showed up during the day when she was awake.

The girl had fire in her veins.

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