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“We told you we’d help you out,” I remind him as I sit in the chair next to his desk. He nods.

“I know and I appreciate it but this is my fight. It was my job to protect her and since I couldn’t do that, I have to find this guy and make him pay.”

I shake my head. “You need time, man. It’s still too fresh and anyone can see that you’re torturing yourself.”

“Maybe it’s what I deserve,” he mutters as he stands. “Let me go get your brother.”

“What did he do this time?”

Rodriguez rolls his eyes. “Got drunk and hit on the wrong dude’s girl. He’s got one hell of a shiner to go along with his hangover.”

“He wasn’t high?” I ask, stunned.

“Not when he was picked up.”

I nod as he turns to leave and slip a stack of cash under some of the files on his desk with a sigh. He’d never take it if I offered it to him outright but it’s the least I can do for all his help with my brother the past few years.

As I wait for them to come back, I rub my hand over my face. I’m not stupid enough to believe or even dare to hope that Clay being sober means anything more than they picked him up before he could shove a needle in his arm but it’s certainly different from all the other times I’ve dragged my ass down to the station to bail him out. It’s hard to remember a time when this wasn’t my life. Clay’s only been using for the past six years but it feels like forever and since I’ve built my life around trying to help him, I wouldn’t even know what to do with myself if he ever got clean.

“Thanks for the hospitality,” Clay says as he walks out of the back, followed by Rodriguez and I stand, rolling my eyes. Why the fuck does he always have to act like such a prick?

“I don’t want to see you in here again.”

Clay laughs. “Aw, but you’d miss me so much!”

“Hardly,” Rodriguez grumbles and Clay’s gaze meets mine.

“Shit, man. You called my brother?”

Rodriguez gives him a little shove, urging him forward. “Yeah, I called your damn brother. He’s the only reason you’re not behind bars on a permanent basis.”

“What the fuck ever.”

“Nice to see you, too, Clay,” I say, narrowing a glare at him and he rolls his eyes. I turn to Rodriguez. “Thanks again, man.”

He nods as he holds out a bag of Clay’s belongings. “No problem.”

I grab the bag out of his hand and grip Clay’s arm, pulling him out of the station.

“Get your fucking hand off me,” he growls as we step outside, ripping his arm out of my grasp and taking the bag. “What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem? My problem is that I had to bail you out of jail, yet again. What the hell are you doing with your life, Clay? You’ve got to stop doing this.”

He scoffs, backing away from me. “You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore. Remember what happened the last time you did that?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I hiss, following him even though my bike is parked behind me.

“Never mind.” He spins around and stalks away from me. “Why don’t you just stay the hell out of my business?”

“Believe me, little brother, I’d love to but you can’t stay out of trouble for more than a few weeks. You need to get your life together.”

He sneers at me over his shoulder. “Aw, but then what would we talk about? We all know your favorite subject is what a fuck-up I am.”

“I’ve never once said that and I’m just trying to help. I’m worried about you, Clay.”

He stops and turns toward me. Track marks line his forearms and my stomach rolls just looking at them. “Well, don’t be. I’m fine.”

“We both know that’s not true.” My gaze drops to his arms and he crosses his arms over his chest.