Kyra nestles against me, snug between my bent legs, while we wait on the side of the road. Her hair smells like sweet summer flowers when I lower my head to hers, tightening the arm looped around the front of her shoulders. All I want to do is get her as far away from this reality as possible, but I can’t take her on the bike like this—not when she’s shaken up. And Vanessa doesn’t have a car, choosing to walk the mile to work every day, which is why Theresa’s beat-up truck idles to the side of the road, ready to carry Kyra away from this hell.
“Sorry we took so long,” Ness says, spilling out of the passenger side. “We couldn’t find the sign for the door explaining we’re closed early, so I had to quickly write up a new one.”
“No trouble.”
Vanessa ducks behind us to greet Chaos, her gentle “How bad is it?” drifting back to where we sit.
He’ll lie. Tell her it’s under control. That it’s over before it begins. Do all the things a man hell bent on protecting his woman would do. All the things I wish I could do for Kyra.
But I can’t lie. Not when she was there, right in the goddamn middle of it all.
Theresa rounds the truck, mouth firm and eyes understanding. “We’ll take care of her.”
“I know you will.” I wish it were me. I don’t want to let Kyra go, but I’ve got a duty here to help clear the scene. I run my hand up her arm, leaning my head down to whisper beside her ear. “I’ll come by and check on you as soon as I’m done.”
Kyra nods, pressing a little harder against my chest. “You’ve got things to take care of here, Jinx. It’s okay.”
I run my hand over hers, where they rest in her lap. “You’re tough, baby girl. You’ll make sense of it soon enough.”
“I hope so.” She lifts my hand and kisses the back before reluctantly pulling free.
“Let’s make a cozy nest on the sofa,” Vanessa calls as she jogs back to help Kyra to her feet. “Watch movies, play Xbox, and gossip. It’ll be chill.”
I stand, focus locked on Kyra as she climbs into the center of the truck’s bench seat. Her head lifts after she settles, gaze finding mine. I don’t look away until Theresa pulls out from the curb and does a swift turn to head toward Vanessa’s house.
No sooner have they disappeared around the corner than Marty’s patrol car turns in from the opposite direction.Fuck.I fully expected the asshole to be here sooner, the way Chaos’s shot echoed off the fucking alley. But the delay was serendipity. At least we managed to get Kyra out of here and our storiesstraight. Decided which brother drew the short straw on who takes the heat for the kill.
“Every goddamn time,” Marty erupts, not even fully out of the car yet. “If there’s a disturbance in Temperance, I can guarantee it involves you fuckers.”
“Hey, sweetheart,” Chaos calls, walking down to meet the Sheriff. “Where have you been? You make me worried when you’re late.”
The Sheriff’s face grows redder. “Sass me, boy, and I’ll assume this is your doing.” He glances at the legs of the dead Breed member, partially visible. “Are you fucking serious?” His booming voice grows to a roar with each word.
“Let me explain before you ground me for the weekend,” Chaos says, hands held up before him. “Actually. It’d be easier if I showed you.” He leads Marty down to the body, revealing the rival club patch.
Being a member of the Devil’s Breed doesn’t justify the killing, but it sure goes some way to explaining why and will surely reduce the charges put against Crow.
Two hours later,Marty has everyone’s official statement and warned the lot of us to ‘stay local’, and I’ve organized our lawyers to send a representative for Crow, who faces a few nights in the slammer until we can have him released on bail.
My first instinct is to ride to Vanessa’s. See how Kyra is.
But I hesitate at the intersection that’ll lead me home and turn my head the other way with a sigh.You know it’s the right thing to do.I change direction and make the forty-minute ride to his place, my shoulders growing tenser with every mile that passes. The sun hangs low by the time I turn in the short driveway and stop the bike outside his single garage.
My father eyes me from his fold-out chair inside, beer in hand, while he watches the world go by.
“Must be serious if you’re showing your face here,” he barks, barely waiting for me to dismount.
I hang my helmet and then shake out my hair, rubbing the tension in my forearm. “Good to see you too.”
“Quit the bullshit.” His voice is raspier since I last saw him, age and a constant stream of nicotine wearing out his vocal cords. “You’d rather not be here, and I’d rather not have to pretend I give a shit about whatever you’ve got to say.”
No change to his attitude, then.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t offer me a seat or a drink. So I take my own, helping myself to a soda from his fridge and then flick out a matching camp chair to his.
“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
