I took a leisurely pull of a cigar and blew it in his face.
“I’ll tell you if I get close. I’m not a hundred percent sure yet. Until then, it’s club business.”
That was a lie. I was close. And I didn’t give a fuck about club business. I just wanted to be the one to take the POS down. I needed to be the one.
“You still think it’s one guy?”
I nodded slowly.
“Dante had a little torture-kill club. From what I can tell, it’s only one of them who is still doing it. The other ones were just followers. And he’s picking up steam.”
“I’d like to wipe the floor with your face,” Cain growled at me, still looming over my chair. “You crazy sonofabitch!”
I gave him my best shit-eating grin.
“Take a number.”
He exhaled and ran his hand through his close-cropped hair.
“This is a waste of our fucking time.”
Connor stared at me while Cain stomped out of the club. Finally, he stood up and shook his head. He looked almost as pissed as Cain, but he had that professional veneer of civility over it.
“I’ll just have you tailed.”
“It’s been a while since last time.” I smiled at him, letting my eyes go a little crazy. “I was starting to think you didn’t care.”
“I give up. Later, Mase.”
Mason nodded, and Connor left, stomping in his polished dress shoes. The dramatic exit worked a lot better with motorcycle boots. I grinned and took a sip of the whiskey Mason had offered. I usually didn’t think twice about riding after a few drinks. Now I was sticking to one.
Because of the kid. Speaking of which . . .
“Caught some guys beating up a kid at the clubhouse.”
“Kid?”
“Runaway. Maybe fifteen or sixteen.”
“Fuck,” Mason growled. He was the one always taking in strays. That’s why I needed his advice. I was pretty fucking sure about what I was doing with everything else. But the kid was way out of my comfort zone.
“Kid’s okay. Bruised up pretty bad. Half-starved.”
Mason nodded.
“You take him to CPS?”
“He can’t go home. Not safe.”
Mason gave me an odd look. I cleared my throat, trying to sound like a badass and failing.
“Where do you get clothes? Like, for a teenager?”
“Girl or boy?” Mason asked.
“Boy. He’s skinny as fuck though.”
“Target, or any of the shopping places at the mall. Sporting goods places. Basically, wherever you would get your own shit.”
I grunted. I hadn’t shopped in years. I wore leather and denim every day with the odd black T-shirt. Most of my shit had holes in it.
“You keeping him?”
I shrugged. “If he wants to stay.” I finished my drink. “I’m not exactly a reliable father figure.”
“No one is until they are.”
“And he thinks I might be a pervert.”
“You’re not, are you?” Mason gave me a level gaze. The man didn’t pull punches, which was why I liked him. He’d never liked Dante, which was another mark in his favor.
“Fuck off.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“I’ve never seen you with a woman.”
I gave him a challenging look.
“I never saw you with a woman either. Until Michelle.”
“Fair enough.”
“So, Target.”
“Yeah. Or the mall.”
“Right.” I gave him a sidelong glance. “So, what else should I do?”
Mason smiled at me. It was the first genuine smile I’d ever gotten from him. It took me by surprise.
“In for a pound, huh?”
“I just don’t want to leave the kid hanging. If something happens to me, I don’t give a fuck. I never thought about this shit before. But I don’t want to leave the kid with nothing. I left him a couple of thousand, but that’s not enough.”
Mason laughed. He fucking laughed at me. I realized I did sound pretty ridiculous.
“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll fucking shave your beard off.”
He held his hands up in surrender.
“I won’t tell a soul. Michelle loves my beard.” He poured us each another drink and leaned forward. “Okay, so the kid.”
“Yeah. The kid.”
“Well, for starters . . .”
Chapter Six
Parker
“You’re still here.”
Shane didn’t sound disappointed. He almost sounded glad. I shrugged and then winced. Those bikers had done a number on my ribs.
“Didn’t have anywhere else to go. You said I could stay.”
“You can. I just wasn’t sure you would.”
“Oh.”
He set a bag on the kitchen table and started pulling stuff out. I perked right up. It looked like he actually . . .
“Got you some clothes.”
I hadn’t had new clothes in so long, I almost squealed. I held my tongue, but barely.
It’s boy clothes. Don’t be stupid.
But still. Clean new clothes, even if they were for the wrong gender. It was one of the best feelings in the world.
Not that I had a lot to go on in the good memories department.
I curled my shoulders and slouched my way over there, trying not to seem too eager. I watched as he pulled out folded jeans, some T-shirts in various shades of blue and gray, and little boxes of boxer briefs. I almost smiled at that. Then there was a fleece hoodie and a jeans jacket. Socks and even a pair of Timberlands.