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he’s your pops.”
    She leaned into his touch and he stiffened. “I need to see him,” she whispered, regretting the loss of his nearness when he pulled away and stepped back.
    A nother half-smile curved his full lips, this one cold and mean, not reaching his green eyes. He folded his arms and mockery twisted his face. “He ain’t here.”
    She refused to panic. He seemed to be waiting for her to fall into a screaming heap. Although she wanted to fall into a screaming heap and have him pick her up and take care of her until her daddy returned, she wouldn’t humiliate herself in front of all these men. Men who looked up to her father. Her weakness might somehow be broadcast upon Big Joe. Her stomach growled and her feet throbbed, like they had a direct connection to one another. In a way they did, since both of them were causing her such distress and misery. She stiffened her spine. “When’s he coming back?”
    He laughed , the sound as ugly as he was beautiful. And he was very beautiful. “Probably never.”
    Women’s cackles and harsh male snickers followed that announcement.
    Meggie pressed down on her lips. If she hadn’t they would’ve began trembling. Okay. Now she was on the verge of breaking down. It was all just too much. All of it. Her father had been her last chance for her mother to escape Thomas. Now, Meggie either had to go back home or live on the streets forever. She’d called her father’s cell phone, over and over, and he hadn’t answered. She couldn’t understand why. She’d clearly heard her mother say they’d talked about Meggie living with him.
    “Why isn’t my father coming back?” she demanded. “Where is he? And why won’t he answer his cell phone?”
    He lifted a brow at her, but didn’t answer. Instead, he started to turn away. She lurched toward him, grabbing his forearm. He narrowed his eyes and jerked away from her.
    “Don’t ever, ever put your fuckin’ hands on me. Ever. ”
    Desperation made her reach fo r him again. Let him hit her. So what? Her stepfather was a huge fan of whippings and he knocked around her mother on a regular basis for nothing. If this man could tell her her father’s location and give her something to eat, he could do his best.
    He raised his hand and Meggie flinched, despite her bravado, unable to stop her own hand from shielding her face while tightening her grip on him with her other hand.
    “Please,” she said in a rush.
    “Put your fuckin’ hand down. I ain’t a woman beater.”
    “Well, my stepfather is,” she mumbled, lowering her hand and her eyelids but refusing to lose her hold on his forearm where he had a tattoo of a Celtic cross entwined with black roses. “I just want directions to where I can find my father.” Her stomach growled. “And I want something to eat.”
    His nostrils flared and the black fury on his face reminded Meggie these men were part of an MC named the Death Dwellers . He looked as if he could mete out death without a second thought while the Grim Reaper painted on the wall looked as if he’d step from the mural and hack everyone to death any moment. The inescapable work of art slapped you in the eyes the moment you stepped through the door and looked to the left. But her father always said his club just had a frightening name. They were actually just a group of guys who didn’t agree with society’s rules and who loved motorcycles.
    “Rack, bring this bitch to my office. Get her somethin’ to eat then get her the fuck outta here.” He glared at her and pried her fingers from his arm, shoving her away. “If you know what the fuck is good for you, you’ll stay the fuck away from here.”
    Rack grabbed her arm and yanked her toward the hallway . She hobbled as fast as she could behind him, peeking over her shoulder. Rack was dragging her in the opposite direction from which the other man was going and disappointment sank into her like a heavy stone. Rack opened the door and flipped on the light.