Page 27 of Demon
She pauses, studying him. “You can’t put a mark on my bag,” she warns. She’s dead serious too. I try not to laugh but fail miserably.
He puts a cross over his heart. “I’ll keep it safe.”
She watches him for a little while longer, then bops her head at him as if giving him permission.
I press the fob on my keys, and my car beeps. “I’m just getting Sammy’s booster seat.”
“I’ll grab it,” he insists.
Once he places it in the truck, Sammy and I go to the passenger side. I help Sammy up, and she scoots over to the middle. I sit beside her, and we put our seatbelts on. Jett jumps in and then we’re driving. Sammy’s just staring up at him. I gently elbow her. “It’s rude to stare,” I mutter softly.
She throws me a sassy glance, but then she lifts up the sleeve of Jett’s shirt.
Oh gosh! “Sammy!” He hates being touched.
Jett glances at me. “She’s fine.”
I don’t miss the warmth in his voice. He likes kids. Sammy touches his tattoo, mesmerized. He doesn’t flinch.
“She’s so pretty.” Sammy looks at me. “Mommy, look how pretty she is.” The portrait... it’s unreal... so lifelike.
“The tattoo is of my sister,” he replies.
Sammy touches the outline of Madeline’s face that’s etched onto his skin. She whips around to me. “I want a tattoo for Christmas.”
Not happening. “You have to be over eighteen to get one.”
She pouts at me. “But I’m grown up for my age.”
She thinks she is.
“So... who’ll be living at your house while we stay there?” I ask Jett to avoid the whole tattoo conversation debacle. I should have asked this earlier, but my mind is a mess right now.
“The men in the motorcycle club and their partners.”
My shoulders fall an inch. That doesn’t sound too bad. “Are there parties there?”
“Parties?” Sammy beams from beside me.
Oh dear... not the type of party she’s thinking of.
Jett looks at me from the corner of his eye before looking back at the road. “Only for special occasions.”
“Will there be any other people at the clubhouse?” I hate drilling him, but I need to know.
“Three other women live there too.”
I raise a brow. “Why?” I ask a little harsher than I intended. Will I be going to a clubhouse to see Jett with someone else? I mentally curse myself out. It’s not like he’s shown any interest in me.
“They hang around... clean up the clubhouse... help out when needed. They”—he looks at Sammy and pauses—“spend time with some of the single men.”
“With you?” I ask.Jesus, the word vomit just keeps coming out.
His lip twitches. “No.”
Relief lightens my chest.Good!
We reach the dirt road, and I watch out the window until we pull up outside the clubhouse.
