It’s ten at night when I arrive back in the clubhouse from a fruitless day of searching for Rab Daugherty. I sent the boys out with their assignments in the morning, and I took the local VFWs. You can’t roll into those places swinging your dick, so I spent the day slowly nursing light beers and chatting up old timers.
I met some guys who knew Twitch. Ran into a few vets I know from the hospital.
No leads.
None of the other brothers had much luck, either. Gus found a dude who never paid up after he lost to him in a race back in ’97, but other than that, day one was a bust. I’m not that concerned. The message about the bounty is out. Now, we wait. Make ourselves visible. Twenty large is a great motivator.
I come back to one hell of a spread. People are still keeping close, the place is packed, and the old ladies have been trying to outdo each other in the kitchen. There’s a whole buffet laid out: bar-b-q, all the sides, oysters, casseroles. I make myself a plate and force myself to take a seat at one of the long tables.
My feet want to make a beeline for Nevaeh. She’s gonna be spittin’ mad at this point. No doubt she’s trashed my room. Maybe hurt herself doing it.
I half rise before I realize what I’m doing and force myself to plant my ass back down. She’s a grown woman. Wash is on it. He would’ve texted me if something happened. She’s fine.
Danielle sashays up with a beer, and I take it with a nod. She squeezes in next to me, and clinks her bottle to mine. Danielle’s a second cousin on my dad’s side. She used to babysit me when Mom was still around.
“So, it true you’ve got Nevaeh Ellis stashed upstairs?” Danielle was one who sent me pics after I left for Basic.
I shrug and chomp down on some pit beef.
“You should bring her down here. We can have dinner and a show.”
Starla and Angel are nearby, listening in. They take their cues from the older sweetbutts like Danielle.
“I got an idea,” Starla slurs. “We can run the hose out back. Make a mud pit. Bullet can take bets.”
“I’ve been wanting to snatch that bitch bald since back in the day,” Danielle laughs.
My back teeth clench. I get why the girls hate her, but they enjoy it way too much. “No one touches her.”
A silence falls. “We should still do the mud wrestling,” Angel says.
There’s a vocal roar of agreement from the brothers at the far end of the table, and clanking of beers on the table, and after some negotiation, most everyone files or stumbles out back to make it happen.
The clearing crowd lets me survey the room. There, at the bar, is Wash, bellied up without a care in the world, jawing with Boots and Grinder. What the hell? I check my phone. No texts that he’s pawned off Nevaeh on another prospect.
I stand, head immediately in his direction.
“Who’s on Nevaeh?” I’ve got Wash by the front of his shirt, out of his stool, before he even sees me coming.
“Peace, man. Heavy said he had it under control.”
Heavy? Hell no.
I stride for the stairs, Wash on my heels. What did he do? My boots pound the floor, and brothers wisely clear out of my way. If she’s gone, I’m gonna—
I jog down the hall. When I get to my room, the door knob turns easily in my hand.
She’ll be hours away by now. She could be dead. Done by a Renelli or a Raider. What they did to Crista… Fuck! She’s got no weapon. My heart’s slamming against my ribs, gut churning as I rush in and careen to a halt.
She’s passed out on my bed, in my shirt, on her belly with her legs spread and her ass hanging out. Her hand’s cradled under her cheek, and there’s a box of condoms and my copy of the New Testament beside her. Wash wisely hangs back in the hall.
Nevaeh snorts, startles, and then fights the blankets until she’s sitting up, cross-legged. I can see her pussy lips puffing from her panties. My cock is instantly rock hard and throbbing.
She blinks and pushes her hair from her face. It springs right back forward again.
“Forty?” She rubs her eyes. “I’m hungry.”
I glare at Wash over my shoulder. “Did you feed her?” This fucker is not getting a patch. And Heavy and I are gonna brawl.
“I’m sorry, man. Heavy said he’d take care of her. I do what the big man says, you know?”
Nevaeh must realize she’s giving me a show—and I must be staring—because she blushes and draws her knees to her chest.
“Go get her a burger. And sides. Bring a six pack.” Wash beats feet back downstairs. “Domestic!”
I slowly approach the bed and sit. You never know with her. Her temper comes and goes so quick.
She crawls over and perches next to me, dangling her bare legs over the edge. There’s a few inches between us, and we’re both facing the door. Guess she’s cool.
I keep my back straight and my shoulders square as she yawns and rests her head on my bicep.
“What did Heavy say?” I ask.
“It was more of an offer you can’t refuse.” She does a cheesy mobster impersonation. My lips quirk. Clearly, Heavy doesn’t remember Nevaeh all that well. She’s more than capable of ignoring a word to the wise.
“What was the offer?”
“Fifty thousand dollars, a used Ford Focus, and a brand-new life!” She does a game show host voice.
“In exchange for?”
“Getting lost.”
“But you stayed.”
She shrugs, glancing down at her lap.
“Why?”
She completely ignores the question. “I want to see your shoulder.”
This girl can give your brain whiplash. “Why?”
“I want to see where you got hurt. The rest of it.”
“Why would you want to see that?”
“I just do. Come on. Take your shirt off.” She starts tugging at my flannel.
“You can’t just ask someone to show you their scars.”
“Why not? You do. Why are you here, Nevaeh? What’s your game? Why, Nevaeh? Why? Why? Why?” Now she’s mimicking me. She’s making me sound like one of the big, dumb Muppets.
“You never give me a straight answer.”
“Okay. I’ll give you a straight answer if you let me see your arm.”
I raise an eyebrow. She narrows her eyes.
“Okay. Deal.”
I take off my cut, fold it, and place it behind us on the bed. Then I unbutton the red plaid flannel underneath. She jumps to her feet and comes to stand between my legs. For once, she’s inches away, and I’m not hard enough to pound nails. Instead, my stomach churns.
The burns aren’t pretty.
Fuck. If she wants to see, she can see. I peel off my shirt, and I bring it to my lap to fold it, but Nevaeh snatches it from me before I can. She tucks it under her chin and starts rebuttoning as she eyes my tats.
“You got a full sleeve?”
I rotate my shoulder so she can see the work on my tricep. Creech did it. He’s an artist. My dick twitches. I don’t mind her looking at my ink.
“Is that a long-haired black cat eating a human heart?”
“Yeah.”
“Is the cat leaping out of a bomb?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that me?”
There’s no sense in denying it. “I asked Creech to make you a rat, but he thought this was more badass.”