Chapter 7: GABRIEL

Since I'm not used to nor have I ever been in the habit of explaining myself to anyone, I wasn't about to start now. So when Silla asked me once again why she and her mother couldn't go back to the clapboard house they lived in, I didn't give her an answer, and she didn't push. I'm not sure if that was because of me and my standoffish air or because her sperm donor had beaten her into submission so often that she was afraid to speak up.

I didn't like that one bit; I didn't want her associating me with such things in her mind. Then again, maybe it's for the best. Perhaps it's best she keeps her distance out of fear. That pain in my chest grew stronger with the thought, but I ignored it this time as I heard my shadows come back in and stand outside the door, just in time.

"Sebastian, Garret, come in here, please." They opened the door and walked in, making the two women jump. They have that effect on most people since no one ever knows that they're there until they're ready for them to.

"These two gentlemen are going to take you home to grab some stuff that you need and bring you back to me. I'll see you later; I have stuff to take care of." I inclined my head to the guys who helped them both up and led them to the door. I heard the mother reassuring her that I seemed to be an okay guy and not to worry.

That one gave me pause. It would be the first time since I became an adult that anyone had described me in that way. Even my own mother sometimes looks at me with a wary look in her eyes. She claims I'm nothing like the kid she brought into the world or the one she'd raised in the lap of luxury after leaving my dad. She has a point, though, so I can't fault her for her thinking.

After seeing all the bullshit I have all around the world, it would be hard to hold onto that starry-eyed kid who believed in the goodness of mankind and all the other happy fuckery they try to teach you in the 'real world.' Nothing can be further from the truth.

The real world is dark and chaotic, with the grime slithering just beneath the surface, waiting to reach out and wash over everyone. It's my job to keep that shit from happening where I can. To let nonthreatening humans live in complete ignorance of this reality for as long as they can.

But the way things have been heating up lately, it's only a matter of time before that's no longer doable. And if she still believes in that shit after what her old man had tried to do to her, then she's as innocent as she looks.

Speaking of which, I wonder if Wolf was through playing with his food. I shook my head and walked to the door where Silla and her mom were still making their way down the hallway with my guys trailing behind them.

This place is a maze, not sure if the old man had it built this way with all the twists and turns and hidey holes on purpose, but I have to admit he had the right idea for the kind of shit he was into. So far, I'd found more guns and ammo hidden around here than you'd find in an arms dealer's cache.

So far, all I knew about the old man is that he'd been the head of this chapter for more than thirty years and had run a tight ship. I'm not sure what illegal shit he might have done in the past, but these days he was into making and selling guns online along with what I guess you'd call biker paraphernalia, all perfectly legal and above board.

But if all those men loitering the yard right now were on the up and up, I'll eat my proverbial hat. I was almost outside when one of the 'sisters' came walking up to me smiling. I squinted my eyes against the noonday sun and looked right through her, which she didn't notice because she still made her way in front of me.

"Soooo, when are you going to let me cook for you, Gabe?" She reached out a painted finger to touch me, which I evaded by stepping back and out of the way. "Never!" I sidestepped and walked around her leaving her to look after me with her mouth hanging open.

From what my boys had gathered, she's supposedly the hottest thing they share around here. I try to imagine my mother living in a place like this twenty-something years ago and just can't see it. Even the wives and girlfriends of some of these guys look rough—Nothing at all like the refined Amelia Smithson who'd grabbed her kid and ran.