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“Can’t,” he replied. “I’m just going to make sure everything’s okay.”
Before I could try to talk him out of it, he hung up.
“Fuck,” I muttered, picking the keys I’d just laid down back up.
Visions of Brady getting into a fight with Nat’s jack-ass husband had me racing back out to my bike. The last thing he needed was to get hit with a charge. That wouldn’t help his dreams of becoming a cop, and the last thing I wanted was for him to miss out on his dream because he was playing hero to a waitress in a bad situation.
Hoping I remembered how to get to her place after the one time the guys and I had given her a ride home from the bar, I zoomed south, toward the trailer park at the edge of town.
Brady’s restored ’66 Malibu looked out of place parked a few driveways down from the dingy singlewide trailer, but I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that he was still sitting inside.
I swung my leg over the bike, surveying the area as I walked over to Brady’s car, and tapped on the window.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I hissed when he rolled the window down.
Brady pointed toward Nat’s place and said, “They just went inside, looked like they were fighting.”
“So you saw her then?” I asked. “She’s alive?”
When Brady nodded I added, “Then we can get the hell out of here. That’s what you needed to know, right?”
Brady shook his head and I swore under my breath.
“I need to talk to her.”
He opened the door, shooting me a look when I made a halfhearted attempt to hold the door closed.
“Don’t do this … Think about the academy,” I said, making one last attempt to stop him, even though I knew Brady was as hardheaded as they come.
“I’m not going to do anything stupid,” he assured me. “I just want to make sure she’s good.”
Knowing I was going to have no success in talking him down, I figured the next best thing would be to have his back, and followed him to the front door of the trailer.
When we got closer, we could hear the shouts coming from inside.
“You stupid, good-for-nothing bitch. I’m so sick and tired of this place looking like shit. Quit being so fucking lazy and pick up a broom every once in a while.”
I could see Brady flinch at the words coming out of Natalie’s husband’s mouth, and put a hand on his arm in an effort to keep him from doing anything rash.
“I’m sorry, Zeke,” Natalie’s voice was whisper soft, so I had to strain to understand her response. “I just cleaned this morning, but I’ll do it again.”
A loud crash caused me to jump, followed by another, and another.
“Guess you missed a spot,” Zeke said. “I’m going to take a shit, and when I get back, this better be cleaned up.”
A door slammed, and Brady raised his hand to knock, but I stopped him before he could alert them to our presence.
“He’ll hear,” I whispered, then placed my hand on the door handle and pushed, hoping like hell Natalie was dressed, and didn’t scream to high heaven when she saw us coming inside.
The last thing either of us needed was to get arrested for breaking and entering, but after hearing the way Zeke talked to his wife, I was with Brady in needing to see that Natalie was okay for myself.
Brady peered around the door, and when I didn’t hear a shout, but rather Natalie’s soft voice, I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Brady?”
My brother stepped inside and I followed right behind him.
“Brendan? What are you guys doing?” She came into view and I notice she had a death grip on the broom handle and was nervously looking over her shoulder, presumably toward the bathroom.
