Admittedly, I had a tendency to look at Dixon like he was still the frustrating teenager who followed me around like a lostpuppy. But he was an adult now. And especially since joining the club, he’d been coming into his own.
Which meant he no longer took my word as law, but pushed back when he didn’t agree with me. And he snarked at me when he never would have in the past, back when I was taking the blows so our old man didn’t bash his face in, back when we were struggling to make our way on our own, back when I was the only reason there was food on his plate or a roof over his head.
It had been an adjustment, this new version of my brother. That said, once I stopped having that knee-jerk discomfort at the change, I decided I was happy about it. I worried at times that by protecting him so he didn’t have to hurt like I did, I’d accidentally removed his chance to become his own man.
It was good to see him pushing back.
“You’re not too old for me to kick your ass,” I reminded him. Even though we were both fully aware that I’d never put my hands on him in our lives. Not even when he’d been playing ball in the house and broke the laptop I’d saved up to buy for six months.
“Dunno. Think I could take you. Been working out.”
“Playing chicken fight with girls in the pool doesn’t count.”
“It’s weight training.”
“Oh, please. Say that to one of the girls. I dare you.”
He chuckled at that.
“I’m gonna go with you,” he said, taking another bite of his bagel. “But I will stay outside unless I see her heading out without you.”
I wanted to do this alone.
But I knew there was no lone wolfing shit when you were in a club.
“I’ll meet you there then,” I said, hopping on my bike as he continued to stand there and eat his bagel.
I heard him following by the time I got to the end of the street.
By the time we made it back to Miami, I was following my brother since he knew the way.
“This is the place?” I asked when we pulled up not to a house, townhouse, or apartment building, but to a small strip mall with a dry cleaner, a comic book store, and an empty storefront. The door to the second floor was to the side of the dry cleaner.
“Yep.”
“Didn’t Zayn say she’s a big deal?”
“Yeah.”
Then why the hell did she live above a dry cleaner?
“For what it’s worth, I think she has the whole top floor, not just a small apartment,” Dixon explained.
It still seemed a little strange for someone who had to be bringing in bank.
Maybe it was some kind of security thing—having businesses below so she never felt alone.
“Huh,” Dixon said, making me turn to look at him.
“What?”
“That light wasn’t on before,” he said, nodding toward the far end of the top floor.
Maybe we hadn’t missed her.
I was off my bike and running before I was even conscious of telling my body to move.
This wasn’t over.
