I park that thought as I step into the alley in time to see Selkie bounce off some big guy’s chest. “What the fuck!” she exclaims loudly.
These guys aren’t Blackbeards and they’re definitely too old and too well dressed to be gang members. One of them grabs her and the other catches the fist she swings, then takes her gun out of her holster and slides it in his waistband.
My heart is beating hard in my chest and I struggle to slow my breathing. I feel shaky and nervous. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Dad’s so cool under pressure. I gotta be more like him. I need to help Selkie. If I don’t, dad’ll think I’m a coward.
I sneak closer trying to figure out how I can get Selkie away from the men. I could just stroll past, then attack from behind. Yeah, that might work, but what if Selkie says something stupid like, “I told you to wait in the car.” She doesn’t seem to understand that less is more. That’s what dad would say.
I’m still undecided what to do when one of the guys says in a heavy accent, “Your father wants to talk to you.”
“Thanks for letting me know,” Selkie replies as she attempts to yank her arm out of his grip. “I’ll be sure to call him.”
“No,” the other guys says. “You come with us to see him.”
“I’m busy. You either help me or get out of my way.”
I shake my head. She’s cool like dad, but in a totally different way.
“Whatever you’re doing will keep. Let’s go.” He starts to drag her, but she struggles, swears, and kicks one of the guys really close to his balls. I think of Henri with admiration as Selkie sinks her teeth into the other guy’s hand as he tries to restrain her. That’s exactly what Henri would do.
Then the guy Selkie bit slaps her and that fires me up as I think of my dad. He’d be so pissed. And he’d do something about it so I gotta too.
“Hey!” I shout. “Get away from her!”
All three freeze and turn towards me.
Selkie glares. “I told you to wait in the car!” she snaps as she’s dragged out of sight.
Called it, didn’t I?
Chapter Seventeen
Eight
It’s the strangest thing waking up to the sound of girls giggling. I groan as I check the time. Seven o’ fucking clock. My day doesn’t usually start until 11 AM. It’s the biker lifestyle. Unless we gotta do something like an out-of-state gun run, none of us start our day until after lunch.
I grin maliciously as I think of Rocky and Jess and their new kid. He’s probably been up for hours already.
I sound like a shit parent, but Oscar’s almost 13 and he’s used to the routine. He gets himself up, eats breakfast, makes his lunch, then catches the bus to school. When I get up, I usually head to Hook’s, the Jury’s stripper joint, to make sure we’re ready to open the doors, then spend time on the books and other shit for most of the day.
Later in the afternoon, I pick Oscar up from school or if I’m doin’ club business, he catches a ride with whoever picks up Max and Brielle and then hangs out at the clubhouse. Sometimes, he takes the bus home, but rarely. He’s safer at the clubhouse.
I think about Selkie and wonder what she does in the morning. She’s probably up early making Henri’s breakfast, packin’ up the kid’s lunch. They probably talk about homework, what they’re doin’ for the day. That sort of shit. Well, talkin’ is a strong word. Probably bickering, teasing.
Maybe I should get up early, spend more time with Oscar before he heads to school. Maybe I should do more shit with him than I do. Maybe?—
A loud piercing scream followed by high-pitched laughter jolts me out of my thoughts and my bed. I shove on my jeans and head to the kitchen, stop dead in the hall and zip them up. I take a few more steps as something crashes and shatters, stop again and turn back to the bedroom where I pull on a T-shirt.
When I get to the kitchen, the smell of toast and coffee wafts towards me. The girls are sitting at the kitchen table talking animatedly. Brielle is wearing a short nightgown and Henri’s wearing pajamas consisting of shorts and a loose top with straps. I think about what Verity said, realize she’s right. My instinct is to tell them to go get dressed, but I suppress it. They’re girls doing girl stuff and I’m not a pervert. If they belonged to me, this would be completely normal.
Instead, I say, “What the hell are you doing?”
“Good morning to you, too,” Henri replies primly. She takes a slurp of something in a cup. “We made coffee.”
Brielle says tremulously. “I accidentally dropped a plate. I’m sorry.”
I run my hand through my hair as I look at her. “It’s not a big deal.”
“See, I told you,” Henri says, then takes another loud slurp.
