“How much?” I repeat louder.
“Fuck off, Young.”
That’s the moment Brooks rises and grabs Torres shirt to pick him up from his seat.
“Fuck, seriously?” His eyes are trained on Brooks, as they come face to face, and Brooks moves his hand to his neck.
I put my elbow on the armrest and rest my cheek against my fist. The image of total disinterest.
“Young, come on. I’m not telling—”
Brooks slowly closes his hand around his windpipe, and a squeak resounds. Torres widens his eyes, puts his hands up in resignation. Not that Brooks cares, he just tightens his grip further. Torres squirms.
“Ballistic,” I say softly after a few seconds, my voice bored. “I kinda want to hear if he has something to say.”
Brooks turns to me, narrows his eyes and softens the grip.
Torres coughs. “What the fuck?” he says, voice hoarse. “Why all this effort for a goddamn nobody?”
I shrug. “None of your fucking business. It’s mine.”
“Ten K, okay? It’s not worth my life. What do you think Vanderberg is going to do when you meddle?” He takes three steps away from Brooks, who rolls his eyes, chuckles, and cracks his neck.
“Also not your problem, Torres. Thanks for the intel.” I rise from the leather chair, which has my ass plastered to it because of the temperature in this fucking hellhole, and nod to the exit.
Under the canopy of the bar, I smoke a cigarette. At that moment, Brooks comes driving into the compound on his dark-blue metallic Indian, with Rebel on the back. That engine’s familiar roar made me close my eyes for a sec. The second Brooks sets her down and takes off her helmet, she runs to me.
“Kyler, can I join Brooks and Miss Paisley for dinner tonight?”
Open-mouthed, I stare at her and gasp for air for a moment, like a fish out of water. “Eh, you’ll have to ask your mom, Shorts.”
“But I want to see Brandon,” she whines. “Brooks says he thinks girls are dirty and I want to show him that girls aren’tdirty. Look.” She points to herself. “There’s nothing dirty about me, is there?”
I laugh. “Definitely not. You’re a super-clean girl.” In the distance, I see Layne coming down the stairs. I nod to her. “There’s your mom.”
At those words, her whole face lights up. “Really?” She jumps up and her little arms wrap around my neck. She presses a kiss to my cheek, then lets go and lands back on her feet with a thud. “You really are the best.” Immediately she turns and runs toward Layne.
“I didn’t know you were a pedophile, Young.” Brooks sits down on the small wall behind me.
With raised eyebrows, I turn toward him. “The fuck, dude?”
“You didn’t see the grin on your face after that kiss. Like you totally fell for her.” He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket with a blank face.
“I don’t understand what Jen sees in you.” I shake my head and slap him on the shoulder. “If that girl hasn’t captured your heart yet, I seriously wonder how Jen did it.” I sit down next to him.
“If this keeps up, she hasyourheart, mine, and my son’s.” A grin plays on his lips and then he walks away from me.
Eleven
AsIdescendthestairs, I notice Rebel jumping up and throwing her arms around Kyler’s neck. He’s so surprised he doesn’t really respond. My daughter presses a kiss on his cheek before landing with both feet back on the ground. Frowning, I watch the whole thing happen. A flash of color, and then she's upon me, her joyous arrival a burst of vibrant, overwhelming happiness.
“Can I eat over at Miss Paisley’s house, Mom?” She comes to a stop in front of me and starts hopping up and down. “Please, Mom.” With big brown eyes, she looks up at me. “You already know Brooks, right? And Miss Paisley. I don’t see why I can’t go.” She puts her hands at her sides. My daughter is getting a bit too sly. She turns her hips, so she leans on one, making her looklike a fifteen-year-old adolescent instead of a seven-year-old girl. “Come on, Mom. It’s just food. Afterward, Brooks will bring me right back. Promise.”
“Hm, I don’t know.” I sigh and rub my forehead.
Her whole expression shifts, and I know she’s thinking about her father right now. Though she doesn’t reveal much about it, I can see it in the lines on her face. I know my daughter.
Rebel pouts and says, “It’s Brooks. One: he has a gun. Two: we can speed away on his motorcycle. And three: He’s got a gun.”
