“We borrowed it from the group home,” Rio admits.
“Do they know you borrowed it?”
He looks down. “No,” he says quietly. “We’ll get it back.”
Call me soft, but I believe him. A car is a precious resource, and they might need it again.
“Okay, so you can get home. Here’s what we’re going to do.”
I take out my phone and snap Rio’s picture.
He scowls at me. “What did you do that for?”
I don’t answer. I photograph Marcus, then the two of them together.
“Syd, got a notebook?” She heads to the office and returns with one and two pens.
I set the paper on the table and hand over the pens. “Write your full names, dates of birth, placement address.”
Rio takes a pen warily; I wait while they write.
“You’re coming back here Monday morning at nine o’clock sharp. You’ll work off the kegs you stole, then we’ll talk about legit jobs and what you want to do with your futures. If you’re not here at nine, these pictures go straight to the sheriff.”
I scroll to Badge’s number and show it to them, my finger covering the digits.
“The sheriff is a good buddy of mine. In fact, he owns part of this brewery. He won’t be happy about people stealing from him. Be here at nine.”
They hand over the page, and my eyes soften when I read the placement:Denning House.Mrs. Denning was the last foster stop for me and Tank.
“Mrs. Denning kept me alive once. Tell her Viking says hello, and I’ll come visit her soon.”
I stand up. “I know how the system works, boys. If you run, I’ll find you. You know who owns this brewery? The Wild Riders Motorcycle Club. We’re all veterans, which means we’re tough motherfuckers and we have a vast and far reaching network. Make the right call.”
Sydney comes over and hands each boy an energy bar from the vending machine. “The roads are open but drive safe.”
She catches my eye. For the first time, I feel like we’re truly a team.
I walk the kids to the door. The rain has eased to a steady drizzle. I watch until they climb into their beat-up sedan and the taillights disappear down the mountain. Only then do I lock the door.
Back in the kitchen, Sydney pours two cups of coffee.
“That was impressive.”
I let out a long breath. “I’m just paying it forward. Someone gave me a chance once. Sometimes that’s all these kids need.”
She nods slowly. “You did good, Viking.”
Her praise means more than she’ll ever know.
9
SYDNEY
My fingers tap on the fermenter control panel. The levels have stayed within range, which is a relief. The main power came back on ten minutes ago, and we’re doing a final check before heading home.
When I turn around, Viking is watching me, his heated gaze sending sparks skittering through my body.
“I meant what I said earlier,” I remind him. “That was a good thing you did—how you dealt with those boys.”
