He ran the last two hours over in his mind again. What he’d done, what he’d seen. What he might have missed.
He was disappointed he didn’t have the chance to grab another Shirley tonight. Even though the urge to draw blood was there, the right opportunity hadn’t been. It hadn’t been safe enough to remain undetected. To sneak in, to sneak out, leaving one less Shirley on the Earth.
Tonight, too many armed hillbillies were set up around the main compound’s perimeter. The clan only had ten men left—that he knew of—and half of those had been guarding the first clearing.
Shade figured they’d upped their security since their men were either being found bled-out in the woods or simply gone.
They were now fully aware that they were being hunted.
Shade was pretty fucking sure they also knew by who.
That made the Fury vulnerable. Like he warned Trip and Judge, backlash was inevitable. When and where? He didn’t fucking know.
But it was one reason he’d insisted on following Cassie to Daisy’s school the other day. Why he’d also waited outside the pediatrician’s office until they were done so he could tail them home.
The club didn’t have enough men to put one on every woman and child, and it would be smart if Trip would work harder on bringing in more prospects just for that reason alone.
One problem with any new prospects would be knowing if they were reliable and trustworthy. The club had no initial way to test their loyalty. It would also be more mouths to feed and house while trying to figure out if they were a good fit.
Only one room in the bunkhouse was set up for prospects and it included three bunkbeds to house six recruits. While there were two empty private rooms with bathrooms available right now, no one got those until that room was earned by being patched in. The two prospects they had now, Tater Tot and Possum, were only recently recruited and it would be a long while before their membership would be voted on. They were also both young as fuck.
A little dumb, too.
But they were extra hands at Crazy Pete’s and extra eyes when the club needed them. The Fury just needed more. He’d leave that shit to the exec committee and just continue to do what he was told.
He was good with that.
What didn’t sit well with him was what Chelle discovered Tuesday night during his lesson.
They had sat at her kitchen table as she did her best to teach him to read using books and a computer program for kids.
Fucking young kids.
Almost two hours later, after frustration from her, frustration from him, he was ready to give up and walk out. She had a lot of fucking patience but, by the end, her patience had been thoroughly tested.
They got nowhere.
Just what he feared. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to learn, but his brain was broken.
Finally, he thanked her for trying and told her to contact him when she had more scratch for painting. Before he could get up, she had latched onto his arm and yanked him back into his seat.
He could see the wheels turning in her head as she pursed her lips and searched his face.
When she only stared at him for the longest time, it started to freak him out. “What?”
“I think I know why you’re struggling.”
At least one of them did.
He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or scared at that announcement. Or a little of both.
She pulled up a website on her laptop, pointed some things out to him, asked him some questions and after he answered, she got quiet.
Again, he could see her mental wheels turning. Her chewing on her bottom lip didn’t help the burn in his gut.
He knew his brain wasn’t normal, so he expected her to tell him something he already knew.
She continued to stare at him until he shifted in his seat and prodded, “Gonna share or keep to yourself?”
He fought a grimace when she gently corrected him because he’d missed the word “it.” He should be grateful she wanted to help him enough to point out his mistake so he could correct it.
But before he had a chance to repeat his question correctly, she said, “I think you’re dyslexic.”
Dyslexic. “I’m what?”
“Dyslexic,” she repeated.
He had no fucking clue what that was. “That another name for a retard?”
Any color in her cheeks drained away and her brown eyes went wide. “What?” she whispered. “Did someone call you that?”
If she only knew what he’d been called... If that one particular word made her react like that, he couldn’t imagine how she’d be bothered by the rest.
“Don’t use that word.” Color rushed back into her cheeks and it wasn’t because of embarrassment or sexual desire. Her expression dripped with pure anger. “You aren’t... You’re not... that. You just see things differently and have a hard time visualizing words and letters while on paper or in your head. That’s probably why you speak so slowly and mess up or omit words when you don’t.”
That he already knew. He tended to screw up more when he didn’t think his words through carefully or he rushed to answer. Or sometimes when his adrenaline was kicked up a few notches and he had a hard time focusing.
“Dyslexia makes learning to read more difficult but not impossible. It just takes work. A lot more work.”
She chewed on her bottom lip again and he wanted to stop her by taking her mouth. But she was distracted. Clearly turning over this new discovery in her head. Maybe even reconsidering if it was worth her trying to help him.
He wouldn’t blame her if she bailed. Then he’d just go on with life like he had been for the past thirty years.
“I don’t know enough about it. I’ll talk to some teachers and see what they can recommend. Books, programs... whatever.” She groaned and slapped a hand to her forehead. She was back to being pissed about something. He just didn’t know what. “I should know way more about it than I do.”
She was angry at herself, not him, this time. “Chelle...”
“I’m a fucking librarian!” she shouted. “Encouraging children to read is a huge part of what I do.”
He made sure to take his time and get all the words out correctly because he wanted to make sure what he said was crystal fucking clear. “Chelle, ain’t your fault. You can back out. Don’t gotta do this.”
This wasn’t life or death. With all the shit he’d dealt with in his life, not being able to read was a minor problem. He’d survive it like he already had all these years.
The cords in her neck became tight and her eyes held a scary determination. Maybe the intensity should worry him, but instead it turned him on.
“No, I’m doing this. You’re doing this. You might never read perfectly or as easily as others, but you’re going to read, damn it. You’re missing out on so much...” She fisted her hands in her lap and squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them they held a shine. A fucking total turnaround from seconds earlier. “I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t lose myself in a good book. You should be able to experience that, too.”
“Basics would be good. Doubt I’m gonna be sittin’ around readin’ a book, Chelle. I can wait ‘til the movie comes out,” he semi-joked.
She sniffled and blinked quickly.
She was about to cry. Actually shed tears for him.