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Ah, so the kid was with my so-called little sister. My instincts screamed punch him for that fact alone. It was a weird feeling.
“You got a plan for this?” Op asked, winding his arm around Chelsea as she stood at his side.
“Hoping that’s something we can figure out if you agree to help us out,” Judge said, strumming his fingers on the table.
Op responded diplomatically, “That’s something I’ll need to discuss at the table with my brothers.”
Judge took my mom’s hand. “Of course. We’ll be staying in town. You can let us know when you’ve come to a decision.”
I watched as Optimus shook their hands and followed them out to their bikes. My brothers milled around, but Chelsea walked straight up to me.
“You need another beer?” she asked.
I looked down at my bottle which had become empty reasonably faster than usual. “Yeah, princess.”
She walked around the bar and I noticed the small hobble in her step. Chelsea had been hurt badly, needing extensive physical therapy before she was able to walk properly again. But we all noticed when she was worn out or stressed she started to struggle a little.
“Princess, you need to sit down before your old man finds you walking around like a lame duck,” I scolded her as she sat another cold beer on the counter.
“Did you just call me a lame duck?” She tapped her manicured nails on the polished bar, daring me to admit to it.
I grinned. “Yeah, but one of those cute yellow fluffy ones.”
She snorted. “You’re a douche.”
My grin slowly turned into a smirk as I heard the deep rumble of bikes and the thump of heavy motorcycle boots coming to the door. “Hey, Op! Your girl has a wobble in her step.”
Chelsea reached across the bar like she was going to grab me, but I sidestepped out of her reach.
“Woman, will you just sit down,” Optimus gruffed appearing in the doorway.
She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m fine. Your brother here is just pushing buttons.”
“Chelsea…” Op warned.
“He called me a lame duck!” she protested, pointing at me like an accusing toddler.
I laughed, but before I could retort a small body zipped in the door beside Optimus and threw itself at me. I managed to place my drink on the bar before catching Harlyn in the air and lifting her up.
“Hey, brat.” I smiled at the little girl.
Harlyn was Op’s little girl. She and her mother had been living a few states away. That was until shit hit the fan a couple months ago, and Optimus finally moved them back here in an attempt to keep them safe as we were dealing with the same mafia family that had shot me on the side of the street a few months back.
When things finally calmed down, Sugar, Harlyn’s mom decided to move them back and re-join our family. Optimus and Chelsea were both excited to have them here. Another of my brothers was particularly happy to have Sugar so close, but Op was still oblivious to the growing relationship that was going on inside these walls.
“Why aren’t you at school?” Chelsea asked suspiciously, leaning across the bar to give the girl a kiss on the cheek.
Harlyn covered her mouth and gave a little cough. “I’m sick.”
I raised my eyebrow at Optimus and he scrubbed his hand down his face.
“Like hell you are,” Optimus growled walking over, taking her from me and setting her on the floor. He crouched down in front of her. “You missed two days last week, Harlyn. What’s going on?”
She scuffed her tiny tennis shoes on the floor.
“That’s what I’d like to know.” Sugar appeared in the doorway that Optimus had just vacated. “We’re going to see the teacher after school.”
Harlyn groaned, “I’m sick.”
