Chapter13
Quinn had sat in the window of the cafe watching the police station. She’d seen Dylan and a lady approach with the boy, Nixon. The resemblance to Luke had taken her back to when they were children. The sullen expression on his face, hunched shoulders, and too-big clothes.
Dylan had told him to sit with Quinn and the woman who’d introduced herself as Mrs. McMillan, while he got food. She’d tried to talk to him, but he’d only grunted replies. Then he’d looked out the window and seconds later been running. Dylan and the woman had followed, and she’d been on their heels.
She now watched the scene unfolding before her. Four leather-clad bikers stood in a line before the sheriff and the Trainers, plus Dylan.
Tension crackled in the air and had Quinn moving closer, to stand behind Nixon, who was alone to one side of the men.
“I don’t want to go into Child Protective Services, Dad,” Nixon said.
“You’ll do what I say. Now shut your mouth until I’m done,” his father said.
“Don’t speak to him like that,” Luke growled.
Nixon’s father swung a fist, and Luke ducked, then replied with a fist to the man’s jaw.
Quinn grabbed the boy, pulled him away from the fight that erupted. Mrs. McMillan moved with her to keep him safe.
“It’s all right, Nixon,” Quinn said.
“How?” He looked up at her with tears in his eyes.
“I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’m asking you to. And those guys I came with. Your brothers. They’re the best of men. Good people, with big hearts. They will never hurt you like others have.”
Instinct had her pulling him into her body and wrapping her arms around him. The surprise was he let her. She stood there holding him and watching the men with a woman she didn’t know. Both tense and nervous watching the scene before them. Luke was now wrestling with Grill on the ground. Joe and Jack with the other two. Dylan was trying to break it up with help of the sheriff and his deputies.
More officers poured out of the building as Nixon’s body shook in her arms. Mrs. McMillan had her hand on his shoulder.
She watched Luke shake off Dylan after he’d regained his feet. Blood poured from his nose, and his knuckles were bleeding. The others looked in a similar state. He took a step back away from Nixon’s father.
“No more,” he said turning to find Quinn holding his brother. Some of the rage eased out of his eyes, and then he was moving toward them.
“Nixon.” He placed a hand on his brother’s head.
Quinn let the boy go so he could turn to look at Luke.
“I’m sorry you had to see that.”
Nixon didn’t move.
Luke exhaled, sending her a look she had no idea how to interpret.
“I know you don’t know us, Nixon. Know that you have no reason to trust us, or anyone for that matter.” He placed a bruised and bleeding hand on his brother’s shoulder next. “But I need you to know we’d never hurt you, which kinda seems a hard thing for you to believe considering what you just witnessed.”
“It does,” Mrs. McMillan said, mouth in a tight line.
The look the shot Quinn was pleading.
“Listen to him, Nixon,” she said. “He’s a good guy.”
“We came here to find you. See if you wanted to come home with us. We want you to come home with us,” he added.
“She said you were good people.” The boy nodded to Quinn.
He looked different today. The calm, nice-natured Trainer was anything but. His chin and cheek were bruised, and the sweater he wore torn at the neck. The anger in the green eyes was tamped down, but it still simmered.
“Did she? Well, we try to be. Sometimes we mess up, like just now.”