“You’re right, they don’t need me right now,” I say. “In fact, if they don’t get their certificate back, they never will.” Something about that thought is so freeing. For the first time in my life there’s the possibility that they won’t be harassing me endlessly.
“That’s right,” Bear says. “This might be an opportunity to put the whole thing behind you once and for all.”
Detective Harvey finally speaks up. “If they’re stupid enough to get all their kids removed from the home, they don’t seem like the kind of people capable of playing three-dimensional chess.”
Rigs snorts a laugh. “Trust me, those two are not the smartest tools in the shed.”
Zen speaks up again. “And this is a delicate time for them. They can’t take a chance on being caught doing anything out of pocket, not after the things they were caught texting you.”
I understand what he’s saying. If my foster parents retaliate, they confirm everything CPS suspects. If they stay quiet, they preserve the possibility of somehow getting their foster care certificate back.
“Somebody hurt my brother,” I say. “Deep down inside I feel like it’s my fault somehow.”
Bear reaches for me, wrapping one arm around me, like he does when he’s feeling particularly protective. “Rick got hurt because someone thought it would be fun to fuck with our club. It doesn’t look like it had anything to do with you or your former foster parents.”
I let out a relieved breath. Maybe I’m wrong about all this.
Chapter 10
Bear
The chaotic rowdiness of the clubhouse is a sharp contrast to the quiet of the hospital. It’s also a brutal reminder that although my best friend in the whole world is fighting for his life, the world continues. The only thing I can do for my best friend right now is step up, protect his sister, and help her not fall into a fuckin’ depressed state.
And help my club brothers track down the fucker that cut his brake line and make damn sure they aren’t able to do that shit to anyone else.
I can tell Natalie is feeling this too. Her expression is hurt, looking around the room at everyone drinking and shooting pool. Instead, I move over to the bar and rest my forearms against the worn wood. The prospect behind the bar looks up, “What are you and Miss Natalie drinking tonight, Bear?”
Natalie takes the stool beside me. I turn to her and ask, “What are you drinking?”
“Whatever you are,” she deadpans back.
I glance sideways at her. “You don’t drink much. I’ve noticed that.”
“True, that’s why I trust your taste more than mine.”
Her innocent trust makes me feel good, and feeds my ego, if I’m being honest.
“Two amarettos, please.”
The prospect can’t keep the smirk off his face, because my club brother sees that as a women’s drink. I don’t care what he thinks. I just want to see if Natalie likes the drink I picked with her in mind.
Two glasses appear on the bar. I slide one towards her and watch her take the first sip. Her eyes light up and she quickly takes another sip.
“This is really good.”
“It’s made from apricot pits, if I remember correctly.”
“You have good taste,” she comments before taking a larger drink.
The club settles around us. Music hums low through the speakers. The noise feels ordinary again, and I realize how rare that’s been today.
Then I catch sight of Jewel. My least favorite club girl is subtle but relentless. I had a thing with her six months ago, before I realized she was trouble. I turn my head slightly and see her approaching.
She moves like a woman on the prowl. Her long sleek hair is swaying behind her slim shoulders. She always wears a confident smile and some shiny shit on her lips that looks like oil. It’s extremely off-putting. She stops beside me like she’s done a hundred times before.
“Didn’t think I’d see you back tonight,” she says cheerfully.
“It’s been a long day. I’m tryin’ to relax a bit before I hit the sack.”
