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The dad showed up at Bren’s workplace. Bren snapped, and now, we’d see this through, no matter where it would take us. That’s what we did. And fuck, I hoped that wherever this took us, whatever we had to do to help Bren move on from whatever made her snap, that it did not mean we’d be taking on that entire MC.
“We’ll get Bren and go.”
“Hey.”
He called to us as we took a step through their group.
I looked back.
He had both eyebrows raised, halfway up his forehead. “Tell me you’re not about to do something seriously stupid.”
Jordan smiled, moving to block me from his view. “Don’t worry. We’re not about to do something seriously stupid.” He turned around, met my gaze, and I knew we both were thinking the same thing.
We were about to do something seriously stupid.
BREN
Apparently, I still had issues with my dad. Go figure.
I knew those feelings were there, just not how strong they were. They were packed in there, layer upon layer of them, and fuck, if I hadn’t a clue how to get that shit out. No way was I heading back to counseling. I couldn’t handle the first stint I’d been court-ordered to do.
I needed to work out. Fight. Maybe drink. Fuck. That’d get it all out of my system, or so I was telling myself that when Cross and Jordan came into the office.
No words were shared. They weren’t needed.
Jordan moved to pick up my bag and vest.
Cross walked toward me and looked me over, then handed me my phone.
After that, we filed out of there, moving through a large crowd of everyone in the lobby. I didn’t look at the booth where my dad had been sitting. I didn’t know why, maybe I didn’t want to see if he’d left anything, or if there was still blood there. A big fucking boulder sat in my stomach and lodged up just underneath my rib cage. It wasn’t moving, and I was already detesting the feeling of it and the reasons it was there.
We got outside and all of us headed for Jordan’s truck.
He got behind the wheel. Cross and I jumped in the back, just like in high school, just like last year.
God.
That felt like a world away—when, in reality, it’d only been a few months. Half a year, to be exact.
Jordan slid open his window. “Where to?”
I nodded to Cross. “Call my brother. Find out where he thinks my dad might be staying.”
Cross had automatically shifted, pulling his phone out, but he paused at the end of my statement. “You sure about that?”
I was more sure about that than anything else.
He read my face and nodded. “Okay.” Then he began dialing, hitting it on speaker.
A second later, Channing answered, “You got Bren?”
“I do.”
Silence.
From Channing, “She’s sitting right there?”
Cross’ hand curled tighter around the phone. “She is.”
I couldn’t imagine what was going through my brother’s head, but his tone came back sounding bleak. “And she’s going after him?”
“We are.”
Channing made an audible grunt. “Fine. Shit. I’m going to regret this, but fine. I’m assuming you’re calling because you guys want to know where he is?”
CROSS
Bren took the phone from me. “Where is he?”
I flinched, hearing how gravelly that came out. There were threads of pain interlaced with agony, and that had everything in me in pain. I felt a fine slit being cut down the middle of my chest, with hands digging in to further pull it aside, exposing my organs.
“Damn, Bren.”
Channing heard it, too.
He coughed, a husky whisper coming back for a moment, “He’s at—” He coughed, clearing his throat. He came back, sounding clear again. “The Red Demons are known to hang out at The Twister Sister, a bar on the east side of Cain. He might be there, or he might be somewhere else. I’m fairly sure that they put him up somewhere, but I wouldn’t know where to even tell you to look. And remember, I’m positive they have other hangouts, but that’s the locally ‘known’ place they’ll be at. That means the only guys there will be the guys who don’t have warrants out for their arrests. You get me? Just ’cause they’re not illegal right now, doesn’t mean they’re not guys to be worried about. They’re still dangerous.”
Bren’s fingers curled so tight around the phone, her knuckles started to turn white. “Tell me about the heavy hitters with them.”
“Bren–”
“I need to know. I’m not going to do anything, except talk to Dad if I find him, but I have to know what we might be walking into.”
Channing was quiet on his end.
Two seconds.
Five.
Ten.
Then, fifteen seconds later, he said, “I can’t give you a rundown on all the members. We’re still gathering intel ourselves, but you know Maxwell Raith.”
Bren nodded. There’d been a run-in involving him this past summer.
