Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Maddox – 33

Watching herleavethe car, I took in this version of Helena. She strode confidently towards me, her steps measured and purposeful in high heels that elongated her legs. The sleek black stilettos complemented the bare expanse of her legs, drawing the eye up to the curve of her hips hugged by a black pencil skirt. She was wearing somekind ofblack knit sweater. Her hair was twisted into some complicated style, so it was constrained and hidden, a departure from the carefree tangle of curls. There were even pearls at her throat and ears. Gone were the origami birds and blue pterodactyls. She looked – grown up in these clothes.

Helena graduated from college in Tempe this year with an accounting degree. Her father was so proud of her, but hehadn'thad any of the club members go to the graduation, and she had never returned to the club. Roscoe would visit her there several times a month, taking her to dinner or a movie.

He would report back to us, braggingand telling us aboutHelena'sgrades, classes, friends, andtriumphs.Sometimes, he'deven rage when Helena called him upset about something that had happened, but that was rare. Shewasn'tthe type to call home to Daddy crying.

I had tried not to delve deeper into the mysteryofHelena Marsh, locking down hard on the itch I felt to find out everything I could about her, but itwasn't easy. Initially, when she left for college in Tempe, I'd settled into a routine. Once a week, I'd allow myself to drive by the campus just as a precaution to make sure that she was safe.

I'd glimpse her honey-colored ponytail bouncing as she walked to class, backpack slung on her shoulder. Suddenly, the girl with no friends was inundated with a flock of girlfriends by her side as she walked to and fro. She'd worn ribbons in her hair and laughed effortlessly as she chatted. Perhaps Roscoe had been right — the move was good for her.

After a year, that hour was no longer enough. Maybe I took an extra ride through Tempe. Even if I did, I would never tell anyone that I sat on a street like a stalker.

Today, that bright, glittery girl's face was pale and drawn, making her eyes even bluer than usual. Even in grief, she was beautiful.

"Hello, Maddox. It's nice to see you again. Thank you for handling the details. I appreciate it."

Her small hand fit in mine as she approached the gravesite.I shivered as our palms touched. This was the first time I'd ever touched her. The fact that it was the day of her father's funeral did not escape me.

We'ddiscussed it over the phone, but she said shecouldn'tarrive until today.I was surprisedthat she had waited until the last minute to show up for Roscoe's funeral.However,Ididn't need her to do anything, so it didn't matter. The viewing of thebodyandthe details of thefuneralwere all things I could handle.

"Of course."My response was automatic as I fell into place beside her."Happy to do it."

Moving with her towards the gravesite, I squared my shoulders. Setting my hand on the small of her back, I ushered her toward the group of men and women and the rectangular box that seemed too small to hold thesignificantlife that once was Roscoe Marsh.

Even the sun that shone from the Arizona sky seemed dull and hazy today. Clouds uncharacteristically blew across the sky, so that was something. At least Arizona was mourning, too.

I loved that man. He had helped me battle through a severe depression afterI'dleft the military, giving me focus and drive.While this was a hard loss for me, I knewit was nothing comparedto the loss for Helena.He was the only parent that she had known.He'dconfided once in me over a bottle of Jack Daniel's thatHelena'smom left the hospital when Helena was only a day old and never looked back.

My only saving gracewas that I managed to keep Roscoe safe from club business.Hehadn'tbeen shot or stabbed, or God forbid killed. The heart attackwasn'tanything I could control.

Helena'sshoulders hunchedforward,her arms wrapped around her belly as she reached the gravesite, taking in the coffin and the flowers arranged on top of it. Tears streamed silently down her face.

After a moment, I gave in and reachedover to put an arm around Helena, tugging her into me.She cameeasily, trembling with a sob, leaning against the leather of my jacket with her country club clothes. Sick fuck that I was, I let myself enjoy the feel of her against me; she was such a tiny thing still, even in those heels.

I stood there, not looking at a sea of faces, the air thick with grief. Roscoe was a well-liked man and a good president to the MC.Even though the thought made me nervous, his shoes would bedifficulttofill, but I couldn't even think about those things when I had Helena Marsh pulled up tight against me.

The men shuffled uneasily around the gravesite. While weweren'tstrangers to the cemetery, we typicallydidn'tcome for such things as heart attacks or sickness.The violence we understood.I knew that Roscoe was a fighter, but I also knew that the idea of him dying to violencewouldn'thave made the loss any less for his daughter.

Thepriest'swords drifted over me, a backdrop against my thoughts. Memories of Roscoe ran through my head. My hand rubbed soothing circles against Helena's back as I let myself remember.

Just out of the military, I had been walking a line that perhaps could have turned out a whole different direction if Roscoehadn'tseen that I had talent, fire, and determination in me. If he hadn't made surethat Iwas with a group that set me on the right path—a criminal path, sure, but we hada code of our own.

He had been like a father to me, something I never had. Looking back, I realize I should have thanked him for being there for me when I was going through a tough time and wasn't even sure if I wanted to keep living. He'd helped me regain a sense of purpose and belonging, introducing me to friends, brothers, and a team had made all the difference.

As the ceremony ended, I felt her body against mine, grounding me in the present moment. I wanted it to go on forever—to keep touching her. I knew that was wrong. She was in a vulnerable place right now, and I wasn't an asshole.