Based on everything, I won’t be allowed to stick around out West for the next several months. It doesn’t make sense and considering the manipulative influence Tylee had on me, they want me within reach and they also need me to keep an eye on Isaac Sinclair as he establishes a branch of Barbarian activity outin Boston. We’re running guns back and forth East Coast to West Coast which means a little time out West and a lot of time out in Boston…
Everything got a bit crazy out in the world and because I apologized to Wyatt, helped get the information he needed to wrangle Tylee into some type of halfway decent behavior for a woman, although she did escape from him after that.
He won’t lay down as severe a punishment as he could, so I’m grateful. I would say the biggest punishment he has for me is drawing me out of the shadows.
If you want to be a part of this club, you can’t go skulking around in the dark. Go out to Boston and use that brutality to help someone for a change.
I thought I was helping Tylee, if I’m honest. I bought all the lies she told me and frankly, she was always like a second cousin to me, and I assumed what she said about Isaac made plenty of sense since the Sinclair boys all drink too much, just like the Shaw men gamble, the Hollingsworth men have a secret mean streak and the Blackwood men.
Well… We’re the Christian side of the club and keep those boys on the straight and narrow. At least that’s the way I see it. There’s a reason we all have Biblical names, and it shows in the way we act.
Listen, I did what I did, understanding that it was wrong, but theseverityof the situation didn’t quite hit me until shit hit the fan with Tylee. (And Wyatt made several threats). I trusted the wrong people in the club and frankly, my morals were a little questionable throughout.
Wyatt thinks the biggest punishment that I could endure is going out to the East Coast to learn that life isn’t all easy living and empty highways. I had a little apartment that he made me give up the lease on, and he told me that I should stop being such a miser with my Army pension and buy a halfway decent placeclose to Ethan’s. Whether I rent or buy, I don’t have a choice – I’m going to Boston to help Ethan and Isaac Sinclair run guns back and forth, then to atone for my sins towards Damara and Magnum.
I’m lucky I didn’t end up with a bullet between the eyes.
My story hasn’t started yet. So for all either of us know, I still might.
Chapter Two
Janelle Norris
The bus always runs late when I have somewhere important to be. The barbershop closes in thirty minutes, so if I want a ride back to my place from my boyfriend, I need to get there before he gets in his car and leaves. He hasn’t texted me back because he has a Friday afternoon regular he can’t say no to. I get it.
Someone else approaches the bus stop to wait and I stare at my phone hoping the man doesn’t say anything to me. Men always have something to say when they see a woman minding her business, even if I’m only doing something as simple as waiting for the bus. Nothing provocative, nothing that even hints at my interest.
The man who sits next to me is blond, tall, and doesn’t look like the type of guy you usually see riding the bus around here. Frankly, he looks like a Southerner or a country boy or something like that.
“Good day, ma’am.”
I offer up a disinterested half-smile. I’m not in the mood to start a conversation. I just want to get on the bus and see my boyfriend. There’s nothing like snuggling up with the person youlove at the end of a long work day and I don’t want to entertain any other man’s motivations right now.
“Does this bus take you to Somerville?” the man asks me. I don’t know why he doesn’t use the app like a normal person.Maybe he’s from out of town.Ugh. I’m annoyed that he’s talking to me, but I do the decent thing and answer honestly just in case he genuinely wants directions and isn’t just making an excuse to talk to me.
“Yes.”
I glare at my phone now, hoping this man juststopstalking to me. I have a boyfriend. And even if I didn’t have a boyfriend, this guy really isn’t my type. He’s too tall, his hair is too blond and I don’t trust any white man from the South. Period. For all I know, he could be here to do the dirty work for immigration enforcement. A chill runs down my spine, mostly because he keeps talking to me.
“I just moved here, it’s been hell getting around,” he mutters.
My glare intensifies. “Sorry to hear that.”
He gets the hint that time and looks down at his feet, red around the tops of his ears.
The bus arrives.Thank God.I get up quickly and I can feel the man’s eyes watching me as I board. He doesn’t move. Weird. Why did he just ask me if the bus went to Somerville if he was just going to hang out there on his phone? I shouldn’t, but I look over my shoulder one last time as I board. I don’t know why he stands out to me. It’s not because of his looks, although he’s not bad looking.
Just not my type. And I have a boyfriend. But there’s something strange behind his eyes that makes me wonder about him. You see strangers like that often in cities and then you never see them again. It makes you wonder if you’re like thatfor someone you’ll never meet again – a strangely memorable oddity that sticks out to them.
My boyfriend texts me as I take my seat close to the front.
Rakeem:wmnbdfhhuuu
Janelle:I’ll be there soon.
He must have texted me with his butt again. Luckily, it’s not a long ride to the barbershop and from there, Rakeem will drive me out to Randolph, just outside Boston, where I live in an elderly couple’s in-law apartment. I can’t move out unless I want to be homeless because rent in Boston has gotten ridiculous these days. I definitely can’t afford to live there on what I make…
Not yet at least.
