Ace: His Angel (Phoenix Riders MC 1)

6: Answered Questions

Kaitlyn POV

I heard the front door open and close a moment later, as Whiskey brought in the new guy. But I kept my head down and made my way to the couch. My anxiety crept back up. I could feel eyes staring at me and looking down, I realized I wasn't wearing a shirt. I grabbed my sweatshirt off the floor, and threw it on, hoping they would stop staring at me.

I'm not the girl guys notice, but as a stranger and the only female in the house, eyes will fall on me. Unfortunately, the feeling of being watched didn't let up. Looking over my shoulder, I found the other guy standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall.

His enormous frame commanded attention and space. Killer stood around 6'3, but this guy towered over him. From his tense demeanor, muscle mass, and towering height, he was the club's enforcer. My eyes wandered over his body until I met his eyes.

His hazel eyes took me in, assessing me. Am I a threat, or not? Last night proved I could do damage, but purely by accident. The longer he stared at me, the more my anxiety crept in, and I twisted my hands in my lap, forgetting about the bruise. I winced and watched the man's jaw clench and eyes fade from hazel to black again, and I looked away.

I hate attention, but the way this guy took me in, noticing every detail about me, I didn't know how to feel about it. But those hazel eyes... are dangerous, and I'm intrigued.

Killer sat on the opposite side of the couch and said, "Kaitlyn, this is Ace."

Ace said nothing as he moved to his right toward the kitchen, so everyone was in his eyesight, his eyes never leaving me. As the club's enforcer, he didn't trust me, and I didn't trust them. Not yet, at least.

After a few moments of silence, I realized everyone was waiting for me to talk. My brain raced, not knowing what to say or how to say it. Talking usually gets me in trouble, so I stay quiet. But I can't this time.

Twisting my hands, pain shot through them, and I bit my lip trying to hide the pain. But my face said it all, and Killer noticed. He got up, heading to the kitchen, returning with a bag of frozen veggies and a towel. I took both from him, wrapped the bag in the towel, and placed it under the blanket and on my hand. Grimacing at the cold and the pain.

Punching him was stupid and not worth it. I can't tell if my hand is broken because of the swelling, but it sure fucking feels like it.

Looking at Killer, his patience was reassuring, and it felt nice. Even after the bar fight and my quietness, he never pushed, and he deserved to know what I was thinking.

"I just have a few personal questions, but if I'm right, it will all make sense," I whispered, trying to keep my now frozen hand semi-warm under the blanket. Killer nodded, encouraging me to continue.

"What is your real name?" I shakily asked. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were full of shock and confusion. You could cut the tension with a knife in the room, and all the guys seemed on edge.

"Look, I know club rules and respect them. You don't disclose your real name, but I promise this is important," I tried to reassure him.

There's no way in hell he is going to answer my questions. I came out swinging, and they only get harder from here.

His eyes softened after a minute, and he answered. "My name is Kyle."

"How old are you?"

"36"

"Were you adopted?"

Killer shifted before answering me. "Yes, how did you know?"

Whiskey sat on the edge of his chair. While Ace looked ready to stop me if Killer asked him to.

"You were born in Canada, right?"

His face fell and paled slightly, and I had my answer.

Throwing the frozen veggies next to me, I got up and paced the living room, only to sit on the floor, where I pulled my knees into me. Grounded. Safe.

"Last night at the bar you stopped yourself from asking questions and so did I. Similar questions if I had to guess. Such as why you feel you know me if we have never met. Right?" I asked, and Killer nodded slightly.

"There may be a possibility I am wrong, and if I am I'm sorry, but if I am right..." I trailed off, looking at the floor. "I promise I went through every plausible answer," I breathed, dancing around the elephant in the room, afraid of upsetting the president of an MC.

You can do this. He hasn't hurt you...

"It isn't anything you did or said, but it's how you look. You look like me." Killer stared at me, confused.

"You look like me because I have an older brother."

And there it is. Shock. Uncertainty. Debating if I am lying or not.

Everyone sat in silence, processing my words. After a while, no one said anything, so I continued. "When I was sixteen, my mom told me she had a son at eighteen, who she put up for adoption. She knew nothing about him now, but I wanted to find him. So, when I met you, I don't know, I guess... nothing else made sense to me," I admitted.

"How do you know it's me? Plenty of people look like siblings, but that doesn't mean they are," Killer argued.

"True. But mom had him in Canada, and she told me she picked out a name for him," I whispered, but Killer was still skeptical.

"Kyle," I stated, and Killer's eyes widened in understanding.

"I tried to ask Mom more questions, but she would go off-topic, or ignore me completely. With little to go on, I never thought I'd find him, and I'd probably have a better chance of being normal. Guess I was wrong," I shrugged.

Killer said nothing, and I wanted to say something to fill the silence, but it won't matter what I say, it won't help. So, I continued to sit on the floor, focusing on my bruised, fidgeting hands while taking deep breaths. Trying to keep calm.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered. "Maybe I'm wrong. If you want a DNA test, I understand. Or if you think I'm crazy and want nothing to do with me, I respect that, too," I said, pulling my knees to my chest, and burying my head in them, letting tears fall.

What now? Killer is probably thinking I'm some crazy lady looking for money or something, even though that's the furthest thing from the truth. What if he doesn't want me here? What if I'm wrong...

After what seemed like forever, I heard movement and looked up to find black biker shoes at my feet. Killer crouched in front of me. His blue eyes were calm and trusting as he held out his hand, waiting for me to choose. Trust him or not?

Placing my good hand in his, he helped me up, pulling me into a hug. I slowly pulled away and looked up at him. His hands gently wiped away the last of my tears, looked me in the eye, and said, "I don't care what others think or how much time has passed. I see myself in you and did yesterday at the bar. Yes, it's crazy. But not impossible. You are my sister, and I intend to be the big brother you always wanted, if you'll let me."

"I think I'd like that."