Page 12 of Property of Stone (Kings of Anarchy MC: Pennsylvania #1)

Chapter Six

Taryn pulled out her cell phone and quickly did a search on what the one percent patch meant in this situation. She should’ve done this after their conversation on Monday.

Better late than never, right?

Shit. Wrong.

She read out loud from one of the many search results. “‘The term one-percent originated in the 1940s when the American Motorcyclist Association stated that ninety-nine-percent of motorcyclists were law-abiding citizens, implying the remaining one-percent were outlaws.’”

When she leveled her gaze on him once more, he whispered, “Fuck.”

“Do you follow any laws?”

He pursed his lips and shut down his expression again before answering, “A few.”

A few. “I’m assuming that list is a lot shorter than the one with the laws you ignore.” She didn’t even wait for him to respond before posing another question she neglected to ask, “ What do you do for a living? I’m sure chasing sunsets on a motorcycle doesn’t pay well.”

“Got a few businesses.”

Her eyebrows rose at that deflection. “The club or you?”

“I am the fuckin’ club,” he said with intensity while slapping his chest. “My brothers are the club. We are the fuckin’ club.”

“So, what businesses do the club own?” She had a feeling he wouldn’t be forthcoming with his answer or, on the slim chance he was, she wouldn’t like what he said.

“Got a garage and some tow trucks. We sell some parts. Also do some personal protection. A few collections here and there.”

The blood drained from her face. “Protection and collections?” It sounded like the Mafia. Or a…gang.

She narrowed her eyes on him.

“Protection’s exactly why you’re fuckin’ standin’ here.” He jabbed his finger toward the wood floor. “Offered it to you at no damn cost.”

Taryn could argue the fact it wouldn’t cost her. This decision could end up costing her a lot. Why was he getting so bent out of shape, anyway? “And the collection part?”

“People pay us to collect bad fuckin’ debts, that’s all.”

She doubted that was all. “I think it’s time for us to go.”

“Gotta show you your room first.”

“I don’t think I’m going to need it. While I appreciate the generous offer, I’ll have to pass. I’ll take my chances once Vic is released.”

His expression turned even harder and scarier. “The fuck you will. Fucker coulda killed you if I hadn’t stepped in.”

When she shook her head and turned to leave, he grabbed her arm and stopped her, then swung her around to face him. They now stood close enough she could see the dark gold flecks in his deep brown eyes.

“Don’t care if your baby bird don’t got a mother to raise him? You want that motherfucker raisin’ him instead?”

“My mother would?—”

“And how’s she gonna protect your boy? She a good shot? Former fuckin’ military? A pig? A damn black belt? What?”

A pig? She could figure that one out without Google.

Her mother was none of those things. She was a sixty-two-year-old grandmother.

Taryn closed her eyes and pulled in a deep, calming breath. Okay, he was right. As unstable as Vic was now, he could do something serious to her or even kidnap Wren. She also didn’t want to put her mother at risk.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

It was clear that the man before her would not be afraid to do what needed to be done to protect them. He had stepped in that day without anyone asking. He went to prison for over a year for helping her.

Even after all of that, to this day, he was still willing to help.

She owed him.

She reminded herself that living here would only be temporary. Until she could find a better way to protect herself and her son. Until she could figure out a way to disappear by moving somewhere Vic would never find them.

Once Wren was eighteen, Taryn would let him decide whether he wanted a relationship with his biological father or not. Until then, it was up to her to protect him, too.

That was why she needed to take his offer. It might be the lesser of two evils.

She reminded herself it was only temporary .

A few months maybe.

That was it.

Since it sounded like Stone had connections with questionable people, maybe he could help her disappear. Finding a remote tropical island somewhere and becoming a private chef at some billionaire’s fifth vacation home would be perfect.

Okay, before any of that could happen, she first had to get through today. And tomorrow. She needed to take one day at a time.

Everything didn’t need to be decided this very minute. Including moving in with some outlaw biker who was most likely a career criminal.

“Let’s finish this tour. I need to go pick up Wren from my mother’s.”

He grinned at that.

Grinned.

Because he knew he’d won and was being cocky about it.

Only, he shouldn’t celebrate just yet.

Nothing was set in stone.

He tipped his head toward the bedroom door. “C’mon, gonna show you the rest of the house before you go.”

After crossing the short hallway at the top of the stairs again, he pointed toward the full bathroom between the two bedrooms. She peeked her head in to see it had a tub she could use for Wren. It had also been updated in the last decade, luckily.

Was it perfectly clean? Not even close. But that was an easy fix.

“Besides watching Sunny when you’re not here, what else would you expect from me?” Please don’t say sex. That was not going to happen .

When a wicked smile spread across his face, Taryn shook her head. “Not that. You mentioned cooking the other day.”

“Yeah.”

That was easy enough. “Cleaning? Laundry?”

“If you want. Or can get one of the sweet butts to do it.”

She followed him into the primary bedroom. “A what? Is that the name of a cleaning service?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

“How often do they come?”

The creases at the corner of his eyes deepened. “Daily.”

She frowned as she glanced around his room. “Then they’re slacking. It looks like this place hasn’t been cleaned for a couple of weeks or more.”

He dropped his head and scratched the back of his neck.

“You might want to fire them if this is the quality of their work.”

His bedroom had clothes tossed into the corner. A boot here. A boot there. The bed hadn’t been made. She wondered when the last time the sheets had been washed. Dust covered the furniture, too.

“Can’t fire them,” he said eventually.

She glanced his way. “Why? Do you have a contract with them?”

“Can’t fire someone you don’t pay.”

Her brow dipped low. “Are you stiffing them?”

“Could say that.”

“Then, no wonder the house looks like this.”

“Know that little computer you got in your hand?”

“My phone?”

“Yeah, that. Might wanna do another search.”

She stared at him. With pursed lips, she pulled up the search engine again and typed in… “Is it one word or two? ”

“Don’t fuckin’ know or care.”

Fine, then. She typed it out as two first and once again read the resulting definition out loud. “ Women who hang around the club and make themselves available for sex. ” Oh. “Those women…”

“Yeah.”

“They’re…”

“Yeah.”

She quickly scanned the page further. She had to close her gaping mouth to ask, “They’re property of your club?”

“Basically.”

“Juicy?”

“Yeah.”

“She and that blonde…did they have sex with you because they had to or because they wanted to.”

“Nobody’s forcin’ any of our sweet butts to do shit,” he grumbled.

“So, they can say no.”

“Sweet butts don’t say no.”

“Are they the only two?”

“Fuck no.”

“Just how many—” She lifted a hand and shook her head. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know how many women allow themselves to be used like that.”

“Their choice. Again, no one’s fuckin’ forcin’ them to be a club wh—” His head twitched. “Girl.”

“A what?”

“No one’s forcin’ them to be a part of our club. It’s a fuckin’ volunteer position.”

“Are all women property of the club or is it just these”—she waved her hand around—“sweet butts?”

“Any woman tied to our club’s under our protection. ”

That answer had her narrowing her eyes on him.

Tonight she would do a much deeper dive on motorcycle clubs like the Kings of Anarchy. Whether what she found was good, bad, or ugly, she didn’t want any more surprises.

Plus, his answers so far made her doubt he’d be one-hundred-percent truthful with her if she asked him any more. She’d do her own research.

Taryn turned her focus back on the room where she might be potentially sleeping within the next couple of days.

The dusty furniture in the room might be old but was solid. “That bed’s big enough for both me and Wren to share. I’d rather he be in here with me than with Sunny.”

“Gonna let him decide.”

He would do what? “He’s six and not capable of making good decisions. That’s my job. And it should be yours, too, when it comes to your daughter.”

He grunted.

Glancing one more time around the room located at the front of the house, she figured it would do for the short time she expected to stay here.

She pointed to a door in the corner of the room. “What’s that door?”

“Stairs up to the attic.”

Right. He had lied when he said the house didn’t have one. “What’s up there?”

“Storage. Maybe some bats, rats, and spiders, too.”

She shuddered. “Got it. Don’t go into the attic.”

She followed him back downstairs and he took her into the only room they hadn’t explored yet: the living room.

The room was full of dark, outdated paneling, but it had a brick fireplace with a stack of cut wood next to it. An insanely large TV hung on the wall above it and on the opposite side of the room was a couch .

Look at that. “That couch looks pretty comfy.” Hint. Hint.

“Passed out on it plenty of nights, but not by choice.”

“You said you keep a room at your clubhouse. You could always sleep there,” she suggested.

“Who the fuck’s gonna protect you at night, then?”

“An alarm system?”

Stone shook his head. “I’m the fuckin’ alarm system.”

All in all, the house was a two-story square box. The positives were that it didn’t smell, it wouldn’t take much to clean it, and she hadn’t seen a mouse or roach yet, despite the warning he gave her when it came to the attic.

“Well, you gave me an option to consider. But like you said, it’s small. Actually very small for four people. While a little outdated, it’s well-maintained.” Basically, it was livable.

The biggest obstacle would be the fact she’d be sharing it with a biker who thought he was above the law. One who, despite being rough around the edges, was pretty damn hot, too. Luckily, she’d have no problem resisting him since arrogant, pushy men were a turn-off for her.

Add in that scruffy facial hair, his long hair, and all of his tattoos…

Stone was definitely not her type.

But then, Vic had been and look what happened with that mistake.

“Yeah. Kept the house up for Mom, ‘specially while she was sick.”

Damn it.

Stone had bought a house for his sick mother. He wanted someone responsible to help take care of his daughter. He didn’t turn his back when Vic was attacking her, when so many other “upstanding” citizens had. He offered his house for her and her son to stay in without asking for a dime.

All of that proved he wasn’t a horrible human being, despite him being a criminal, right?

She sure as hell hoped so.

Because if he truly was a lawless monster, then moving in with him might end up being a bigger mistake than marrying her ex-husband.