The Four Stages of Loving Dutch Owen - Debra Kayn Page 0,3
the pool hall's front door. He pulled the tight material over his head.
"Are you leaving already?" Kimball, an MC brother from the Moses Lake Chapter of WACOM Motorcycle Club, stepped away from the building.
As a member of the Bellevue Chapter, Dutch visited the Moses Lake and Spokane Chapter in a continual loop, making sure business was taken care of and only staying as long as he was needed to keep the laundered money route on schedule.
"Just going for a ride." He threw his leg over the seat, started his bike, and rode away.
Two little legs couldn't outrun him.
He'd find the girl and make sure she got home safely. She shouldn't be out after dark. Not at her age.
He'd never seen such a scrawny kid with knots in her hair and dirt on her face who ate like a grown-ass man before. Maybe he'd slip her parents some money to feed and clean her up.
He spotted movement in a field south of the county road heading out of town. Slowing down, he studied the area, straining to see in the darkness. It could be a deer or a fucking cow.
He rode forward, suspecting it was a lone girl, running in the night. A girl young enough, she shouldn't be allowed out of sight of the house, where her parents should be keeping a good eye on her.
Seeing her eating like a dog, wolfing down the scraps of food off the picnic table, angered him. He had a good childhood, but there were hardships between barely surviving with a single mother supporting two kids and Children's Protective Service stepping in on occasions, but he'd never gone without food.
He slowed along the highway, made a U-turn, and then cut across the road, parking next to the field. Making sure he was out of traffic, he cut the engine and studied the land, trying to find the child.
Several minutes later, the kid's form grew clearer in his vision. Her uneven gallop and uncoordinated movements marked an erratic path.
Angered that she was out in the night by herself, he made sure he stayed on his motorcycle to keep from shaking some sense into her. It wasn't her fault.
Some people shouldn't have kids.
The girl stumbled out of the field twenty feet from him and stopped before falling to her knees. Despite his intentions to stay away from her, he got off the Harley and strode toward her.
She looked up at him. The desperation and fear apparent in her gaze before her upper body pitched forward, and she vomited in front of him, barely missing his boots.
He leaned forward and gathered her long dirty strands of hair, holding it behind her back as she emptied her stomach of everything she'd eaten. He'd known it wasn't normal for a child that size to eat a man-size meal.
He should've stopped her or had the cook fix her something else instead of taking one of the orders out from under the warming light.
She dry heaved, no more food coming up. That's when he spotted the napkin and bundle of uneaten fries on the ground beside the vomit.
He exhaled heavily. She'd taken some of the food he'd given her when she ran.
He hooked his arm around the middle of her without letting go of her hair and lifted her off the ground.
Taking her to his motorcycle, he set her on the seat. "Hold still, so you don't fall off."
He dug through his bag and found one of his shirts. She refused to take it from him, and he wiped her face and hands off. It wasn't much different than cleaning up one of his MC brothers who'd passed out after vomiting a night's worth of drinks.
She made no move to run away from him.
He tossed the shirt in the ditch and strode back to her. When he'd left the pool hall, he hadn't had a plan on what he'd do with the kid if he caught up with her. He only wanted to make sure she got home safely.
If her parents confronted him, he'd have a lot to say about their parenting.
Her chin fell to her chest and soft noises leaked from her. He gritted his teeth. It wasn't his aim to make her cry.
"I'll take you home." He bent at the waist, trying to see her face. "Where do you live?"
She leaned toward him. Afraid she was going to slide off the seat, he stepped closer. Her head pressed against his stomach.