“You know,” Dash said, throwing a leg over his sled once we were outside, “I’ve always thought you’d make a solid P.”
I shook my head as I planted my ass on my seat. I’d never once entertained the thought of being more than what I was now. I loved the freedom of hopping on my sled and going where the wind took me.
Putting down roots somewhere other than Boston, while I wasn’t completely opposed to it, had never been something I’d given much thought to.
“That’s good to know because if I agree to do this, you’re going to be my VP.”
Before he could utter a single word about it, I fired up my Dyna, twisted the throttle, and pulled out of the lot laughing my ass off.
Pullinginto the driveway behind Ma’s Explorer, I cut the motor and smiled when the front door flew open, and Ma came out smiling. “You’re home!”
“Hey, Ma.”
She made her way down the steps, her pace much slower than I’d remembered when I left, and threw her arms around me.
I pulled her tighter against my chest and breathed in the scent of BENGAY and soft cloud fabric softener.
“You look exhausted,” she said, pulling back to study my face. “Have you eaten?”
I grabbed my bag from my saddlebag. “Not since Rochester.”
Her eyes lit up. “Did you stop and visit with Riddick?”
“I did.” Dash and I were itching to get back to Boston, but when we’d seen the exit for Rochester it was a given we had to stop. While not a charter to our club, the Saints were long-time allies, and in our world, with as many enemies as we seemed to make, you needed strong allies.
“He’s such a handsome young man.”
My nose wrinkled. “Ma.”
She just shrugged. “I’m old, not blind, honey. Now come inside and let me feed you.”
Following her inside, the silence hit me. “Where’s Reid?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her forehead crease with concern. “Well…”
Her reluctance to rat my kid out was noble, but if he was doing shit he shouldn’t, I need to know. “Ma?”
Her shoulders shrugged as she pulled a skillet from the cabinet and set it on the stove. “He’s been hanging out with a bad crowd.”
That had my attention. “What bad crowd?”
“Uhm…”
Jesus. This was going to call for alcohol. Opening the fridge, I grabbed a beer, cracked the lid, and sat at the kitchen table.
Glancing up from the meat she dropped into the cast-iron skillet, she said, “The boys who hang at the corner.”
My brows snapped together. The only boys who hung out at the corner were fucking low-life pushers. They sold bottom-of-the-barrel dime-baggies like they were big shots.
They weren’t.
“And he’s been skipping school.”
Fuck.
“And he’s missed curfew twice this week.”
My fingers curled around the beer bottle.
