“That’s an understatement.”
“Well, I never thought I would side with the dictator, but he has a good reason to worry,” she said, her expression turning solemn. “Carter will find a way to hurt you back.”
This was something I’d thought about since last night when Brock expressed his fears. “And when he does, I won’t make it easy for him.”
The following days, Carter didn’t return to school. His absence should have eased my worry, but it had the opposite effect. Each day that went by without him retaliating, or at the very least threatening me somehow, stirred the growing uneasiness inside me.
Kenna didn’t seem to have the same worries. Not that she didn’t think Carter would have it for us, because that, everyone agreed on, but she predicted that the dog was licking his wounds first before he bit.
I’d just finished an exhausting weeknight shift at Lazy Ray’s. I did a quick sweep under the bar as Ray counted out the night’s cash. She was a pretty perceptive boss, unlike Zeke, and could tell that something bothered me.
“No bodyguard tonight?” Ray asked, shoving a wad of cash into a zippered envelope.
Brock had shown up for all my shifts, except for tonight. I leaned on the broom handle. “No, my sister and brother are picking me up tonight. They’re waiting outside.”
Zeke came through the back room carrying a large case of bottled beer. “Hey, I meant to ask you earlier, that kid goes to your school, doesn’t he? The one who got tied up to a light pole?”
I swallowed. Carter was the last person I wanted to talk about, but it wasn’t surprising that Zeke heard about what happened and was curious. The photos were still being circulated.
“He was your stepbrother, wasn’t he?” Ray asked, putting two and two together.
“Yeah, but we’re not close,” I replied numbly.
Ray spun the barstool around. “Why do I get the feeling like you are somehow involved in this?”
I needed to work on my poker face. “It’s best you don’t know, in case shit hits the fan.”
“Do you anticipate it hitting the fan?” Zeke asked, his eyes narrowing. The features on his face shifted from college-boy handsome to cutthroat street thug.
I clutched onto the broom handle like it was my lifeline. “I’d love to tell you no, but I honestly don’t know. Carter is capable of anything, including hurting people I’m close to.” That was a warning. I wanted them to be on the alert, to stay safe.
“Got it,” Ray said. “You don’t have to worry about us. We got this place secured.”
I hoped that was true. I’d seen the shotgun Zeke kept under the bar, but I had thought it was more of an intimidation weapon to control rowdy bikers. But it might work if Carter showed his face one night.
After finishing my closing chores, I gathered my tips and headed outside to the idling car parked near the front door. The running lights were on, casting enough of a glow for me to see where I was going.
“Hey, thanks for picking me up,” I said, shuffling into the passenger seat and letting my bone-tired body collapse into the seat. I was craving a shower more than my bed. I had to get the smell of greasy food out of my hair.
“It gets me out of the house and Grayson off my ass,” Kenna said.
Grayson sat in the back, grumbling. His muscular form made the car feel small and a bit cramped. “Any problems?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Nope.”
“Good. Let me text Brock and tell him we’re on our way home,” Grayson said, his knees bumping into the back of my seat as he tried to make more room for his long legs.
Kenna and I rolled our eyes together as she put the car in gear and hit the gas pedal. “You need a shower. You reek of beer and pizza.” She wrinkled her face.
“It’s in my hair. Want to smell?” I lifted a hunk of my pink hair and shoved it in front of her nose.
“Get out of here,” she shrieked, shoving my hand away. “You’re going to me make me run off the road.”
“Why didn’t Grayson drive?” I glanced over my shoulder and arched a brow in question.
Grayson was still screwing with his phone as he deadpanned, “Because I didn’t want your hair shoved up my nose.”
I grinned at him.