Rose

Prologue

Jace was eight years old when he met her.

He had been going with his dad (James "Ripper" Armstrong) to the Devil's Saints MC clubhouse since he was four years old, just after his mama died from cancer. It didn't take long for the brothers to put him to work, hoping to take his mind off things for a little bit.

On that specific day, he was sweeping the lounge floor. Ripper had disappeared into the bar with a grunt and a nod, leaving his son to fend for himself in a place that smelled like leather, beer, and testosterone.

Jace had just finished his chore when the front door swung open.

The president of the MC walked in with his normal posturing and smirk. Christopher "Savage" Lawrence was a 6'4" behemoth built on ink, muscle, and fearlessness. His own enforcers, a couple that were taller than him, straightened up like schoolboys whenever the prez walked in.

But something was different.

There was a small figure clinging to the bottom of his cut, looking like a little chipmunk staring at the crowd around her.

She couldn't have been more than five years old. Auburn curls framed her face like a halo. She had big, blue eyes that blinked at the world with unending curiosity. If you're reading this story anywhere except Wattpad, it is stolen. Find the FREE, legit version on Wattpad under RoadSmut. 

Her small, sweet smile peeked out from behind her daddy's legs.

The ol' ladies who knew exactly who she was, swarmed her immediately. Coos, squeals, fussing over her curls, her sneakers, her tiny painted nails. She was the club princess. The baby everyone adored.

Rose Lawrence, the only one who could turn those hardened bikers into marshmallows.

Jace couldn't look away.

She spotted him like a heat-seeking missile, letting go of her daddy's cut and marching across the room on her sparkly sneakers that squeaked with every step. She walked right up to him with an adorable confidence of someone who knew exactly what she wanted.

"Hi!" She chirped, arms out like she already knew how this would end. "I'm Rosie. My daddy's the president. Wanna be friends?"

Jace blinked.

Before he could nod, speak, or back away, she hugged him.

Tightly.

Like he was her new teddy bear.

Jace stiffened, unsure what to do. No one ever hugged him first. Hell, no one ever hugged him at all, except for a couple of the ol' ladies.

But the way Rosie curled against him was different.

She didn't ask. She didn't wait. Just grabbed his hand and said, "Come on," like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Um...where are we going?" he managed to ask.

"Everywhere," she replied happily.

He barely had time to steady himself before she was dragging him around the entire clubhouse.

"This is the bar," she announced proudly. "Mommy says I can't have soda unless it's a special day. Today is a special day."

They got a large cookie from Honey, Tank's ol' lady, and Rosie promptly gave him the bigger piece without blinking. "You look like you need it."

What did she mean by that?

She introduced him to the giant couch in the common room.

"This is my spot," she declared, pointing to the corner of the couch with a deep hole in the cushion. "So it's your spot too."