He places his hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Morning, Hell,” he whispers into my hair.
I clear my throat. “Morning.” I glance up, and one look at my face has him frowning.
“You okay?” he asks, concern in his tone. I smile and nod, and he cocks his head to the side. “Hell?”
“I am, I promise. Me and your mum were just having a heart-to-heart.” He eyes me suspiciously but eventually nods.
Mumma passes me my cup of coffee and turns to make Drifter one.
“Don’t worry about me. I need to dash. There’s an issue at the garage. Gears just called, and it sounds like someone attempted to bust in the back door.”
“Oh no. Have they taken anything?” Mumma asks.
“Doesn’t look like it, just damaged the back doors. Need to go down and sort it out so the fuckers can’t get in if they attempt again tonight. This shit’s relentless.” He smooths his hand over my hair, leaning in and kissing the side of my cheek. “Love you, Hell,” he says, making his way out of the kitchen.
“See, I told you,” she says with a smile whilst nodding towards the door.
I stand up, grabbing my coffee. “Thanks, Mumma Bear,” I say, making my way to the door.
“Rochelle?” she shouts, and I turn to look at her. “You can always speak to me. You know that, right?”
I offer her a weak smile but nod. I love her dearly, but I know her loyalties will always lie with her son. He’s her world.
DRIFTER
I couldn’t wait to get out the clubhouse this morning. I know Hell is struggling, but I need some freedom, some peace away from her internal battles. She’s never been the jealous type. If anything, she’s always been the one to make me jealous, but ever since starting this fertility treatment, she’s been losing her mind over the smallest things.
I park up outside the garage, feeling like I’ve walked right out of one shitshow and into another. But at least with this one, there is no second-guessing. This is what I was made for.
Gears strides over to me, anger radiating off him. This garage is his domain, and someone messing with that has gotten under his skin.
“Fuck, Pres,” he shouts. “Fuckers must have a death wish.”
“What’s the damage?”
“Low-key. Looks like they attempted to get in with a crowbar.”
“We sure it’s the Steel Delinquents?”
We make our way to the back entrance of the garage.
“Cameras picked up some kids, but you know what Reaper’s like.”
I nod. “Fucker will be getting them to do his dirty work.”
I lean down to inspect the damage. “I’ll ring the locksmith, get him to sort it. Show me the footage.”
He pulls his mobile out his back pocket, opens up the app, and hands me the device. I pinch the screen, zooming in.
Shit. It’s Ashton, Siren’s younger brother. I’d know him anywhere. He picks her up from the clubhouse regularly. He’s a bit of a loner who doesn’t talk to anyone, but there’s no mistaking that hoodie he always wears.
I forward the image to myself before passing his phone back.
“It’s Ashton,” I tell him.
He frowns. “Who?”
“Siren’s fucking brother.”
