by Tijan
“No.”
He exhaled sharply on his end. “Walk to the bathroom. Wash up, and then go and sit in a cool office. Okay? Can you do that for me?”
My brother would do what he always did. He’d take care of it, and I knew he’d be sending Cross my way. So, because of that, because I trusted my brother, I nodded. “Their air-conditioner doesn’t work.”
“Bathroom. Wash. Sit in front of a large fan then.”
I repeated his words, and I felt Hawk hovering over me.
“Bren.”
“What?”
“Give the phone to Dad, then go to the bathroom. You have someone there with you? Where’s Cross?”
“He’s at the house.”
“Okay. Anyone else there with you?”
I looked and said, “Everyone.”
“Okay.” I heard him bite off a slight laugh. And he repeated, “Let someone go with you to the bathroom, and give the phone to Dad. Okay? I’ll make sure you’ll get your phone back. I promise.”
I had no argument. I trusted my brother.
I turned to Hawk, knowing I was speaking like a zombie, knowing I wished I were feeling like one. “I need you to go to the bathroom with me.”
She was nodding before I started speaking. “I will. I’ll do that.”
I looked at my phone, then her.
Her hand closed over mine, the same one holding my phone. She took it from me. “I got this, too.” She was smiling at me, trying to reassure me. She reached behind her at the same time, and I saw Brock take my phone.
I was okay then.
They’d handle it.
I could go and wash now.
For some reason, I felt dirty, and it was dirt that would never wash off.
CROSS
I was in a shoving mood, so when Jordan and I got to Coug r Lanes, I was disappointed to see the doors had been propped open. We swept through, and the entire fucking lobby was filled with bounty hunters. And Trundle. He waved from behind the register, but even he looked stressed.
We took one step inside, but a crazy-looking lady was in our way. Her hair looked electrocuted and she stopped in front of us, a finger up in the air. “When your girl chills out, you tell her that there can only be one of us. That said, if you hurt her, I will take your entrails out and eat them with chopped liver and garlic.”
“Bonbon! Leave them alone.” Brock came over, literally standing in front of Bonbon, who sniffed and went away. He cursed under his breath, shaking his head. “Hey. Sorry about her.”
I didn’t give a fuck. “Where is she?”
He motioned to the offices. “We got her in a room. Her brother was pretty adamant about making sure it’s a cool room so she can calm down. We set her up with a fan, but I gotta say,” he shifted closer, “she looked eerily calm.”
Jordan snorted. “Looks are deceiving with Bren.”
Brock eyed him. “I guess.”
A few of their other guys came over, but Brock said to me, “Her dad had set up camp here.”
Jordan swore, turning away.
Brock continued, now giving him the side-eye, “Bren seemed surprised at first, then she snapped. He and I got into it, just a little back and forth. There’s a timetable on the deal moving forward against the Red Demons. They’re looking for the witness.”
“What?”
I was here for Bren, not for this shit.
“Only reason I’m explaining any of this is because things are tense and amped up. If the Red Demons don’t find this witness, then a ton of them will go away for a very, very long time. They’re getting desperate. Pulling Derrick Monroe and having him do babysitting duty on his own daughter tells me how desperate they are.”
I still didn’t give two shits about any of that.
“Get to the part where she stabbed him.”
Brock eased back, his head tilting to the side. “She just snapped. I really mean that. Went ballistic. She tossed his computer in one go.”
Jordan snickered.
“Came back and tossed his papers. She was doing a third trip when she was going for his phone. He moved in, grabbed the phone, and touch—”
“He touched her?!” I was simmering.
He nodded, easing back yet another step.
More had joined our group. Hawk. An older lady and man. Another crazy-looking chick, with gray and red hair. She had large glasses shoved up over her head, like a bandana holding back her hair.
I rubbed my forehead, needing to get my own stuff settled.
Bren would be tail-spinning. I already knew it.
Fuck.
Fuck!
“Okay. What did Channing have to say, and where’s her dad now?”
Hawk moved in. “I took her to the bathroom, helped wash her up because she had some blood on her. Then I’ve been with her in the office until you got here.”
Brock clasped her on the shoulder, dipping his head to her. “Channing had a word with their father on her phone, then Monroe handed it over and took off. I’m assuming he went to the hospital, or maybe not. Demons have their own medical people, so he probably went there. Channing just said to keep her tight, that you’d be coming for her, and to hand off her phone to you.” He dug it out of his pocket, extending it to me.
I pocketed it, sharing a look with Jordan.
He was moving his head left to right, mirroring how I was feeling. He moved in, intending only for me to hear. “This is insane. Her dad’s shit? All the crap she’s been through, and now this?”
Yeah.
I wasn’t happy either.
Brock overheard, and his eyebrows pulled low. “This is the Red Demons. We’re not their most central location, but they have a good stronghold here.”
“Where?”
He started to answer, then stopped. “No. I’m not doing that.” He moved aside, gesturing to their offices again. “Get your girl. Take her home. When she’s good, she can come back.”
Jordan snorted. “That’s not how we work.”
I gave him a dark look, and he shut up.
No. That wasn’t how we worked, but at this point, we didn’t need to broadcast it.
We were in. We were being pulled in.
The dad showed up at Bren’s workplace. Bren snapped, and now, we’d see this through, no matter where it would take us. That’s what we did. And fuck, I hoped that wherever this took us, whatever we had to do to help Bren move on from whatever made her snap, that it did not mean we’d be taking on that entire MC.
“We’ll get Bren and go.”
“Hey.”
He called to us as we took a step through their group.
I looked back.
He had both eyebrows raised, halfway up his forehead. “Tell me you’re not about to do something seriously stupid.”
Jordan smiled, moving to block me from his view. “Don’t worry. We’re not about to do something seriously stupid.” He turned around, met my gaze, and I knew we both were thinking the same thing.
We were about to do something seriously stupid.
BREN
Apparently, I still had issues with my dad. Go figure.
I knew those feelings were there, just not how strong they were. They were packed in there, layer upon layer of them, and fuck, if I hadn’t a clue how to get that shit out. No way was I heading back to counseling. I couldn’t handle the first stint I’d been court-ordered to do.
I needed to work out. Fight. Maybe drink. Fuck. That’d get it all out of my system, or so I was telling myself that when Cross and Jordan came into the office.
No words were shared. They weren’t needed.
Jordan moved to pick up my bag and vest.
Cross walked toward me and looked me over, then handed me my phone.
After that, we filed out of there, moving through a large crowd of everyone in the lobby. I didn’t look at the booth where my dad had been sitting. I didn’t know why, maybe I didn’t want to see if he’d left anything, or if there was still blood there. A big fuc
king boulder sat in my stomach and lodged up just underneath my rib cage. It wasn’t moving, and I was already detesting the feeling of it and the reasons it was there.
We got outside and all of us headed for Jordan’s truck.
He got behind the wheel. Cross and I jumped in the back, just like in high school, just like last year.
God.
That felt like a world away—when, in reality, it’d only been a few months. Half a year, to be exact.
Jordan slid open his window. “Where to?”
I nodded to Cross. “Call my brother. Find out where he thinks my dad might be staying.”
Cross had automatically shifted, pulling his phone out, but he paused at the end of my statement. “You sure about that?”
I was more sure about that than anything else.
He read my face and nodded. “Okay.” Then he began dialing, hitting it on speaker.
A second later, Channing answered, “You got Bren?”
“I do.”
Silence.
From Channing, “She’s sitting right there?”
Cross’ hand curled tighter around the phone. “She is.”
I couldn’t imagine what was going through my brother’s head, but his tone came back sounding bleak. “And she’s going after him?”
“We are.”
Channing made an audible grunt. “Fine. Shit. I’m going to regret this, but fine. I’m assuming you’re calling because you guys want to know where he is?”
CROSS
Bren took the phone from me. “Where is he?”
I flinched, hearing how gravelly that came out. There were threads of pain interlaced with agony, and that had everything in me in pain. I felt a fine slit being cut down the middle of my chest, with hands digging in to further pull it aside, exposing my organs.
“Damn, Bren.”
Channing heard it, too.
He coughed, a husky whisper coming back for a moment, “He’s at—” He coughed, clearing his throat. He came back, sounding clear again. “The Red Demons are known to hang out at The Twister Sister, a bar on the east side of Cain. He might be there, or he might be somewhere else. I’m fairly sure that they put him up somewhere, but I wouldn’t know where to even tell you to look. And remember, I’m positive they have other hangouts, but that’s the locally ‘known’ place they’ll be at. That means the only guys there will be the guys who don’t have warrants out for their arrests. You get me? Just ’cause they’re not illegal right now, doesn’t mean they’re not guys to be worried about. They’re still dangerous.”
Bren’s fingers curled so tight around the phone, her knuckles started to turn white. “Tell me about the heavy hitters with them.”
“Bren–”
“I need to know. I’m not going to do anything, except talk to Dad if I find him, but I have to know what we might be walking into.”
Channing was quiet on his end.
Two seconds.
Five.
Ten.
Then, fifteen seconds later, he said, “I can’t give you a rundown on all the members. We’re still gathering intel ourselves, but you know Maxwell Raith.”
Bren nodded. There’d been a run-in involving him this past summer.
“Heckler is another one. I don’t know his real name. He’s one of their enforcers, but the other big name to know is their VP. Ghost. I can’t remember if I’ve told you about him or not. His name is Shane King.”
“King?”
“He goes by Ghost.”
Bren didn’t reply, but she didn’t hand the phone over either.
“Word’s been put out that you’re protected. My cop friend let me know that the last time I was there. Having said that, you go in there, looking for Dad, I can’t guarantee there won’t be someone going rogue. You stabbed one of theirs. They take that seriously, very seriously. You might not be as protected anymore.” A beat. “I really don’t want you going there.”
But we were.
Bren looked up, holding my gaze.
I reached over, taking the phone from her. Her fingers didn’t move.
“It’s Cross again.”
“I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. Wait. Maybe I should come?”
Bren’s brother knew the score. You try to cage Bren in, and she’d break free every time. It was the only reason he was giving her what he knew, so he knew where she was going. He knew that. I knew that. Bren knew that. And seeing her look, Bren was set.
I said into the phone before hanging up, “We have her back.”
Jordan glanced back, pausing at a red light, meeting my gaze. Yeah. He knew what was happening.
We were following our crew member.
BREN
I had no plan. I just knew that when Jordan pulled up outside The Twister Sister, I needed to talk to my dad. Ignoring the entire row of Harleys backed up and parked in front of the door, I headed inside. A few bikers were at the door. I recognized the cut and emblem of the Red Demons. Two had the word ‘prospect’ across the back of their cut. All of them stopped, skimming me over, but I walked past.
They didn’t stop me, or Cross and Jordan.
One of the guys was pulling out a phone just as I stepped inside and waited for my eyes to adjust.
The inside was a stark contrast from the sunny outside.
The music in the background was at a soft lull. It wasn’t overbearing, and neither was the smoke. The smell of stale booze lined with a faint trace of sweat and dust. As my eyes adjusted, I noticed different groups inside. A few pool tables were smack in the middle of the room, with different bar counters placed throughout the bar. A large main bar ran the length of the back end of the room. High-top tables and lower tables were placed all over. Some dartboards were on the far side of the room, alongside the jukebox. A stage was in the corner, running the length of a wall. The hallway to the bathroom was just beyond where the stage was set up. An open floor area was in front of the stage.
A few guys were playing pool, and all paused to stare at us.
A group of people were bellied up at the bar, sitting and talking with the staff. Some waitstaff were handing out drinks. There were maybe twenty people inside, maybe a few more. For the large room, it didn’t seem like that many.
I heard movement behind me, a page being turned, and I looked.
My dad was sitting at a high-top table in the corner. He was alone. His arm was bandaged, and some of the papers from earlier were all spread out in front of him. A beer bottle was next to him, but unopened, and there was a coffee mug sitting beside it.
“Can I help you folks?” A waitress was heading for my dad, a coffee pot in hand. She paused, her black hair in two thick pigtails resting just beyond her shoulder. She had a white shirt tied in a knot underneath her rib cage, as well as tight purple shorts that just covered the tops of her thighs. Her makeup was red, rosy, and cheery. All three words came to mind. She looked like a ’50s pin-up girl, and her eyes were warm. Her smile was welcoming.
“Bren.”
“Aww, Pops. This your daughter?” The waitress moved around me, heading over to fill up my dad’s mug without him asking.
He was watching me, a lot more cautious than this morning. “Yeah. This is my daughter. Bren.” He had a pen in his hand, and with it he gestured to Cross and Jordan behind me. “And a few of her friends.”
The waitress’ smile just got warmer, but she barely took in the guys. Her hand went to her hip, the other still holding the coffee pot. “Well, there you go. Pops here is family, so you know what that means, right?”
I didn’t respond.
My dad coughed to clear his throat, and he stood from his stool. He moved around the waitress, patting her on the hip. “How about we get an order of some burgers and chicken baskets? My daughter is underage, her friends, too, so we’ll just do soda.”
“Gotcha.” She winked at me, moving past us. “You guys get ready for some Twister Sister food, and you’ll never eat at another place again. Montreal
’s won awards for his creations at the grill.”
“Thank you, darlin’.”
She winked at ‘Pops’ before she left.
Jordan moved closer, saying under his breath, “What’s her name?”
I elbowed him in the stomach.
He harrumphed, cradling his stomach and shooting me a look.
I ignored him, standing at the end of my dad’s table until he took a silent breath. He nodded to the empty stools on the other side. “Thinking you should claim one of those, hmm? Maybe your boys can take a walk.”
“Or play a game of pool.” Jordan was already spying the last open table.
The back of Cross’ hand grazed mine. “You okay here?”
I nodded, grazing mine against his arm in response. “I’ll be fine. And if I’m not, you’ll come running.”
A crooked grin was my response.
Jordan had started for the table, and he picked up a pool stick, holding it over his head. “You break, buddy.” He started pulling the balls out from the dispenser. “Have I told you how seriously phenomenal I am at pool?”
I couldn’t hear Cross’ response.
“They ain’t stupid, are they?”
I turned back, taking the inside stool across from my dad. It gave us enough space, and I shifted so my back was to the wall. I was facing most of the room, my feet resting on the stool’s footrest beside me. “Why do you ask that?”
He dipped his head, his gaze somewhere. “Because they’re about to get hustled.”
I looked over at them.
Three of the guys playing pool at the neighbor table were moving in.
Jordan started to converse with them, but Cross looked back at me. He held his hand in a small wave, motioning for me to stay where I was.
“You forgot how rough Roussou is? You get dementia in prison?” I flashed him my teeth, knowing it wasn’t a smile. “Maybe you were actually in there longer than you thought.”
He was reaching for his coffee but paused. A soft laugh came out as he finished his grip and lifted the mug to his lips. “Right.” He took a sip, putting it back down. “But this ain’t Roussou. These guys follow a different set of rules than your crew.” He gave me a steadying look. “You’re out of your depths in this world, and for once, I’m eternally grateful. You got a foot in the good world, and by good, I mean at college and find a job that’s not bounty hunting. You find your niche there, embrace it, and you stay out of this world. I don’t want you here.”
