Once the lockbox is secure again, I shove it back in the drawer, slip the chain around my neck, and grab my bike keys off the dresser before yanking the door to my room open. I almost crash into Streak, the club’s cyber expert, as I step out into the hallway. He holds his hands up in surrender
“Whoa, where’s the fire?”
I shoot him a glare. “Clay’s in jail again.”
“Ah,” he whispers, understanding crossing his face. “Well, good luck with that.”
I nod and head for the stairs, leaving him behind me. The guys used to try and talk to me about my brother but they know by now it’s a topic that’s off limits. Especially since a lot of them just want me to cut him loose. I wish I could blame them but they have no idea the shit Clay and I have lived through together and even if I wanted to give up on him, I can’t.
The bar is quiet when I reach the bottom of the stairs and I’m thankful that I can get out of here without having to explain the situation to anyone else. Shoving the door to the clubhouse open, bright sunlight blinds me and I slip my sunglasses on and jog over to my bike before swinging my leg over it and firing it up. It rumbles beneath me and my heart kicks against my rib cage as I race out of the parking lot and turn away from the clubhouse. Anger fuels me to go faster, whipping through the streets of Baton Rouge with no regard for my own personal safety. By the time I pull up in front of the police department, I’m panting and my anger has melted away to exhaustion.
Climbing off the bike, I make my way inside and stop in front of the desk as I wait for the receptionist to acknowledge me as she flips through a magazine.
“How can I help you?” she asks, not even bothering to meet my gaze.
“I’m here to see Detective Rodriguez.”
She points to the waiting area. “Have a seat and he’ll be with you shortly.”
I take a seat in the waiting area and each minute that passes only pisses me off more as I wait for my brother. The worst thing is, I know he’s going to act like this is no big deal. Just another day and I guess for us, it is. He keeps screwing up and I keep showing up to rescue him. In his mind, he can keep doing this forever because I will show up, I’ll always come to bail him out - even if it’s killing me.
“Smith.”
I glance up and Rodriguez gestures me over. Damn, he looks like hell. He has dark circles under his eyes and his dark hair looks like he’s been running his hands through it repeatedly.
“You look like shit, dude,” I say when I reach him and he nods. “Why are you at work so soon?”
He leads me back to his desk and plops down in his chair with a sigh. “Because I can’t be anywhere else. I have to figure out who killed Laney.”
“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.
“There’s something I wanted to ask you,” he murmurs after a moment, kicking at a pebble on the ground in front of him.
“What?”
“Tell me about that night.”
I scowl. “That night?”
“You know,” he urges with a nod and raised brows. “That night.”
Memories from years ago flash through my mind and I shake my head as I back away from him. “No. You already know what happened. There’s no use going over it all again and again.”
“Maybe you were wrong. Maybe you misunderstood the situation.”