Page 39 of Taming Raptor

Staring at my phone, I pulled up the number I’d saved though I shouldn’t have. Then I typed out a text.

Me: I think about you more than I should. Every morning when I wake up, I want to get in my truck and drive up there, pack your shit, and bring you down here

“Too much after all this time.” I backspaced and tried again.

Me: Just wanted to check on you

“Stupid,” I muttered and deleted that one too.

Me: I miss you

“You about ready for another one, handsome?” Lola—the one club girl we had—asked. She had arrived with Gator, and I told her if there was no drama she could stay. She’d been keeping the single brothers happy, so I didn’t have an issue with her.

“I’m still good. Thanks.” I closed the texting app without sending the message and put my phone in my pocket.

The door to the clubhouse slammed and the room went silent. Whiskey halfway to my mouth, I quickly turned on my barstool to see who it was. My brows shot to my hairline when I saw the young kid glaring around the room. Phoenix stood casually with his hands resting on top of his pool cue, but I knew his sharp gaze was glued on the ballsy kid.

“Can we help you, son?” Gator asked as he pulled his cigarette from his lips and stubbed it out. He set his pool cue down and crossed his arms. Though the kid was tall, Gator was still an imposing figure.

“Maybe,” the boy replied. “Are you Adrien Krow?”

Now he really had my attention.

“Why?” Gator asked, suspicion obvious in his body language and narrowed gaze.

“Are you Adrien?”

“What do you want with him?” Gator asked with a narrowed gaze. My heart pumped adrenaline through my veins as I left my seat, my body twitched with anticipation, and my hawk was intently studying the young man. The brothers that stood between me and the interloper parted and cautiously measured the situation.

“I’m Adrien Krow,” I announced with a daring lift of my brow. “Who are you and how the fuck did you get in here?”

The kid lifted his chin defiantly, though I caught the flash of uncertainty in his hazel eyes. Something about him seemed familiar but I couldn’t quite place him. He reached for his back pocket, but before he could finish the movement, there were no less than five pistols pointed his way. That’s when the fear hit his gaze and he stiffened.

He slowly lifted his free hand in the air in a show of surrender. Then he cautiously brought the other hand out that had a folded and wrinkled paper. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and raised that arm up too.

Everyone was on alert, despite the boy’s age. Sick, twisted people used kids in shitty ways. I wouldn’t put it past any of our enemies to use a kid to do their dirty work. Since reopening the Dallas chapter, we’d acquired several. There were more than a handful of people that didn’t like the fact that we were back and on what they now considered their turf.

“Check him,” I told Phoenix who was our SAA.

Tension filled the room as Phoenix patted the kid down to his ankles and back up, then plucked the paper out of his raised hand and passed it off to Gator. Satisfied, he stepped back and gave me a nod. “He’s clean.”

“Of course, I am,” the kids grumbled. “Idiot.”

The last was softly muttered, but I still heard him and obviously so did Phoenix. Phoenix postured threateningly and I’d give the boy credit—he didn’t so much as flinch. Gator was looking at the paper he’d taken from the boy’s hand. A frown marred his brow.

“You didn’t answer my question, kid.”

“I’m not a damn kid,” he muttered with a dark scowl.

“Really. Then do tell… how old are you are?” I dared with a mocking cock of my head.

“Seventeen.”

“Now, how about that name—unless you’d rather I just call you kid.”

“Sam,” he clearly replied with that defiant lift of his chin. Something in the movement sent tingles of awareness down my spine.

It wasn’t long before disbelief hit me like a wrecking ball to the chest. I searched his features looking for the little boy I remembered, but not finding much that could definitively confirm my suspicions. It couldn’t be—and if it was, then why? And why now? Yet another study of the young man standing defiantly before me showed enough of the Krow characteristics that he easily could’ve thought he was my son.

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