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“No,” Bones said with a shrug. “He does. He’ll get over it. None of us like having Grace here, yet the alternative isn’t acceptable and it’s his turn to be in the doghouse with her.”
With that comment, he opened the door and scanned the lot before taking point. Voodoo was in the shadow of the car, his sunglasses shielding his eyes as he kept watch.
Good to know whatever the issue was, they had it handled—hence the “no” to my question about whether I needed to care. They didn’t involve themselves in my personal life, I wouldn’t intrude on theirs.
“Where to, Doc?” Voodoo asked as he slid behind the wheel. I got into the backseat and stared at the clinic for a long time. It was going to be a while before I got to come back here—if at all.
“Apartment,” I said. “I need to pack up some shit.”
It wasn’t like I was going to stay there again. That night with Little Bit was the first night I’d been there in a while and was most likely the last.
“You ready to think about your sister’s place yet?” Voodoo asked, barely tossing me a look in the rearview mirror.
Pain spasmed in my chest. I hadn’t been to her house, not since she died. Jasper and Milo had gone for me to check on it. They reported no damage. I needed to go. I would go.
“No.”
Not yet.
“Roger that.”
I cut my gaze out the windows, scanning the streets as we drove the few blocks from the clinic to my place. I had a memory of nearly every street. I knew the people who ran the corner store, a three-generation family working in the grocery. The coffee shop on 80th. The bar at Prescott.
These people were part of my penance. Taking care of all of them. This was exactly what I'd done for the past four, almost five years. Until Hell decided to rain down once more.
I wouldn’t risk anyone else.
“Alphabet still at the warehouse?”
“Yep,” Bones said. “Your girl is tucked in safe and tight. She seldom comes out without one of you.” No, she didn’t. Alphabet had been on site the whole time as the guys made the Vegas run.
Acid burned in my gut. “Thanks.”
“Yep.”
My phone buzzed and I pulled it out of my pocket.
Kellan:
Special delivery arrived. Stored in the fridge. ETA?
Special delivery.
Her father was in custody.
Me:
30 minutes.
Kellan put a thumbs up on the message, and I leaned forward. “Special delivery arrived. Let’s make this a quick stop.”
“Yep.”
It took us less than three minutes to get to the apartment after that. I spent fifteen minutes packing, mainly clothes, photographs, and some personal items. Everything else could wait.
“We can clear this out for you, if you want,” Bones offered.
“I must be more than a little fucked up for you to make that offer.” Bones was a good friend, and a trusted comrade. In a straight-up fight, you wanted him on your side. He was brutal but efficient. The thing with Bones was he had less interest in people’s feelings than he did in women’s fashion trends.
