Claimed By My Biker Stalker

Chapter 3 - Twenty Minutes

Jonnie Jo

The second Millie hit my arms, the whole world narrowed down to the weight of her.

She crashed into me hard enough to make my ribs ache, but I didn’t care. I wrapped myself around her and held on like I could keep her there by force of will alone. Her little arms locked around my neck, her face buried against my shoulder, and for one stolen second, I let myself close my eyes.

She still smelled like strawberry shampoo.

That nearly undid me.

“You came,” she whispered.

The words cut deeper than they should have because somewhere inside her, my daughter had already learned that people didn’t always show up when they promised.

I kissed the top of her head and forced my voice to stay steady. “Of course I came, baby. I’m always going to come.”

Her arms tightened around me.

Across the diner, Havoc slid into a booth near the counter with Mack standing close by. Neither of them came to the table, but they didn’t need to. Their attention sat on my back like a loaded gun.

Millie pulled away just enough to look at me, her small hands still gripping my sleeves. Her dark curls were loose today, tangled near the ends in a way that made my chest ache because whoever had helped her get ready hadn’t braided them the way she liked.

Her eyes searched my face.

I already knew what she was looking for.

“What happened right there?” she asked softly, lifting one finger toward my jaw.

My stomach tightened, but I caught her hand gently before she could touch the bruise hidden beneath the makeup. “Nothing bad. Just bumped myself at work.”

Millie stared at me for a beat too long.

Children knew when adults lied.

Especially children who had heard too many things through walls.

After a moment, she nodded like she was giving me the answer I needed instead of the one she believed. Somehow, that hurt worse than if she had called me out.

“You look shiny,” she said.

I smiled even though my throat burned. “That’s makeup. I wanted to look pretty for breakfast.”

“You’re pretty without it.”

I had to look down at the table for a second.

“Thank you, baby.”

She climbed into the booth beside me, pressing close enough that her thigh touched mine. I slid my arm around her and felt her settle into me with a quiet little sigh that made something inside my chest crack.

On the table in front of her was a kids’ menu covered in green crayon. Two stick figures stood under a crooked sun beside a house with smoke coming out of the chimney. One had black hair and scribbles down both arms for tattoos. The other had curls and a smile too wide for her round face.

At the bottom, in careful uneven letters, she had written:

Mommy and me someday.

I stared at it for half a second too long.

Millie noticed, because Millie noticed everything.

“It’s for you,” she whispered. “But you have to hide it, okay?”

The fact that my eight-year-old understood hiding things made my lungs feel too small.

“I’ll hide it somewhere safe,” I promised.

She leaned closer, lowering her voice even though Havoc wasn’t close enough to hear. “I saw a cat yesterday.”

I blinked past the sting in my eyes and let her pull me into the world she had brought for me. “Yeah? What kind?”

“Orange. Really skinny. He came by the porch, but Miss Lena said I couldn’t feed him because then he’d come back.”

“Did you feed him anyway?”

Millie’s mouth twitched.

There she was.

My girl.

“Maybe.”

I gasped softly. “Criminal behavior.”

She giggled, and the sound went straight through me like light breaking into a sealed room.

For the next few minutes, I let her talk. About the cat. About the pancakes she wanted but wasn’t allowed to order because Havoc said we weren’t staying long enough. About a book she was reading at school. About how one of her crayons broke and she decided the small half was better because it fit in her pocket.

I listened to every word like it was scripture.

I studied the gap where her front tooth had fallen out. The faint scratch on the back of her hand. The way she kept glancing toward Havoc before saying anything too loudly.

Twenty minutes was not enough time to mother a child.

It was barely enough time to breathe.

I reached into my bag and pulled out a folded napkin I’d tucked there before leaving the house. Inside were three tiny temporary tattoos I’d saved from the shop: a rose, a snake, and a little black cat with a crescent moon above its head.

Millie’s eyes lit up. “Are those for me?”

“Only if you promise not to put them on your face this time.”

Her smile turned sheepish. “That was one time.”

“It was your whole forehead.”

“It looked cool.”

“It did,” I admitted, brushing a curl back from her cheek. “Very intimidating.”

She picked the cat immediately.

Of course she did.

I peeled the plastic off and pressed it gently to the inside of her wrist with a damp napkin from my water glass. She held perfectly still, watching me with absolute seriousness, like I was giving her something sacred instead of a twenty-cent temporary tattoo.

When I lifted the paper away, the tiny black cat stared up from her skin.

Millie smiled so wide the gap in her teeth showed.

“Now we match,” she whispered, tracing one of the tattoos on my hand.

Something in me folded around those words and hid them somewhere safe.

“Yeah, baby,” I said. “Now we match.”

From across the diner, Havoc checked his watch.

My body felt it before my eyes confirmed it.

Millie felt it too.

Her smile faltered.

“No,” she whispered.

I hated that she knew that her joy had a timer.

Havoc stood from the booth, slow and casual, like he wasn’t ripping the air out of my lungs. “Time.”

Millie’s fingers curled around mine immediately.

“But I just got here.”

His expression didn’t change. “Rules are rules, sweetheart.”

I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to take the fork off the table and bury it in his throat. I wanted to grab my daughter and run until my legs broke beneath me.

Instead, I smiled.

Because Millie was watching.

“You know what we say,” I whispered.

Her eyes filled, but she nodded.

“No crying first,” she whispered back.

That shattered me quietly.

I pulled her into my lap and held her as tightly as I dared. Her little body shook once against mine before she forced it still. She was trying to be brave for me, and I hated every person who had taught her she needed to be.

“Next Thursday,” I whispered into her curls.

“You promise?”

I swallowed the sound trying to climb out of my throat. “I promise.”

Havoc came closer, boots heavy against the diner floor. His hand settled on Millie’s shoulder, firm enough to end the moment without looking cruel to anyone watching.

Millie clung harder.

For one terrifying second, I thought I might not let go.

Then Havoc’s eyes met mine over the top of her head, calm and cold and full of warning.

I loosened my arms.

Piece by piece.

Finger by finger.

Millie slid off my lap with tears shining in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall.

“Bye, Mommy,” she whispered.

I somehow kept smiling. “Bye, baby.”

She held up her wrist before Havoc could guide her away, showing me the tiny black cat.

I pressed my hand over my heart.

Her mouth trembled, but she nodded like she understood.

Then Havoc led her toward the door.

I stayed in the booth because that was the rule. I wasn’t allowed to follow them out. I wasn’t allowed to make a scene. I wasn’t allowed to remind anyone in that diner that my child was being taken from me while everyone pretended not to notice.

Millie looked back once.

Then again.

Then the door closed behind her, and the bell above it gave one cheerful little chime that made me want to rip it off the wall.

I sat there until Mack’s truck pulled out of the lot.

Only then did I reach for the drawing.

Mommy and me someday.

I folded it carefully and tucked it inside my purse with shaking hands before Havoc saw me.

One day, twenty minutes wasn’t going to be enough anymore.

One day, I was either going to get my daughter back…

or die trying.