The little shit has been dodging my calls since I left on Wednesday. “It’s about damn time you called me back.”
“Journey.” My jaw locks at the wobble in her voice.
“What’s wrong?”
“I need you to come to June’s apartment. Someone broke in.” She sniffles.
My brows go up. Not sure how she thinks that’s my problem.
“They trashed the whole place.”
“Stella,” I groan and close my eyes. “Have your friend call OPD. That’s their job?—”
“Please, Johnny,” her voice cracks. “If it wasn’t for June, I would be a missing person on a milk carton right now. Do you understand me? She saved me.”
“Oh for fucks sake,” I growl. She’s not wrong, and I know it.
“Please, Johnny. For me.” I hear her breath hitch, and I know she’s trying not to cry. My sister is tough. She doesn’t cry easy.
“Stella—” I scrub a hand over my face.God damn it.“Fine. I’m on my way.”
Ending the call, I pocket my phone and head for the door.
“Asshole,” Amy growls, shooting me a venomous glare as I pass the reception desk.
I fight back a grin, because I kind of deserve that. I could have maybe said something besides thanks, but I like to approach these kinds of situations like pulling off a bandaid. You do it fast and it only hurts for a minute. Still, she should have known better than to set her heart on me. I told her from the jump, this wasn’t going anywhere.
Without sparing her a glance, I walk right out the door to my bike that’s been baking in the sun all day, and throw my leg over the seat.
“Shit,” I hiss, the heat from the hot leather scorching my ass.
“Are you leaving?” Lobo shouts from the open bay door.
“Yeah,” I shout back, pulling the black Oakleys off the bill of my hat. “Do me a favor, will ya? Send Gator and Bash a text to meet me at King Crow Ink.”
Lobo gives me a thumbs up and disappears back into the garage.
I readjust my hat, crank the motor, and pull out of the lot.
Pistol Pete’s already got the gate open by the time I reach it, and I flick out two fingers as I roll by.
So much for a hot meal and a cold beer.
Chapter Four
June
“Damn it. This was my favorite perfume. They don’t even make it anymore.” I sigh heavily, feeling like I could cry.
What an asshole.
Careful not to cut my fingers on the sharp edges, I pick up a chunk of pink glass with the Ed Hardy logo still intact and drop it into the garbage bag.
“I mean, what kind of monster would do this?” I can feel the tears pricking behind my eyes. Seriously, though. What kind of jerk breaks into someone’s apartment and does this kind of shit? An asshole, that’s who.
Brooklyn opens her mouth. “Uh…”
Sucking in a deep breath, I let it out. I need to get out of here. “I’m just gonna,” I point over my shoulder. It’s on the tip of mytongue to say run away and hide from all this mess, but where would I go? Not to my mom’s house, that’s for sure.
