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This isn’t good.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
GUNZ
Leaning against a porch rail in desperate need of paint, I stare into the tranquil distance. There’s not a house as far as the eye can see. Not in the dark, anyhow. Cool, evening air fills my lungs as I continue to resist the urge to read Kit’s texts.
Not knowin’ when to leave shit be, Bonez joins me as Blimp smokes a bowl on a rocker in the corner. He and White Boy shoot the shit as our resident fuckhead, Runner, gets his dick sucked on the tailgate of one of our pickups. Guess he couldn’t hold out like the rest of us. Had to call a random whore to get him off. Can’t say I’m surprised. The asshole didn’t learn a thing from the clusterfuck we handled today. It’s not like we don’t have a house full of sexually abused females. He ain’t worried about what they might think if they saw him. ’Cause that’d mean he’d have to use the peanut-sized brain in his goddamn skull.
Whatever.
Ain’t none of my business.
He’s a piece of shit. Always has been. Always will be.
Barely visible, Kade runs the parameter of the grounds. He’s on security detail tonight, so the rest of us can catch some Zzzz’s. As if that’ll happen.
Bonez clears his throat.
I know what he wants.
When I don’t play into the subtlety, he tries a different tactic. “Spill it, brother.”
I chuckle without humor. “Nothin’ to spill.”
“You’ve got a kid now.”
See. I knew he wouldn’t be able to let this go for long.
Not in the mood to get into things, I shrug a single shoulder half-assed. “Yeah. So?”
“And?”
“And… what?” If he thinks I’m gonna offer up every personal detail about Kit and my son, he’s got another thing comin’.
The rickety screen door opens, and a brother pops his head out. “Any you fuckers want a beer?”
Knowin’ how the lot of us roll, I wave a dismissive hand. “We’re good. Thanks.” It’s an unspoken rule in the mother chapter—no drinking on runs when we’ve got civilians to protect. None of us know what Remy and his crew might pull. It’s best to remain sober. If Blimp wasn’t already high as a kite every waking moment, I’d give him hell too. Guess it’s a good thing he works best stoned.
“Just holler if you need anythin’,” our brother offers before disappearing back inside.
A loud, “Will do,” rasps outta Blimp between puffs.
The nosy giant to my left kicks a stone. It flies into an overgrown bush that flanks the porch. “Alright, Gunz.” He sighs, annoying as fuck. “Don’t make me beat it outta ya.”
Funny.
I snort, unamused. “There’s nothin’tosay.” So, I’ve got a kid. He’s got a mom. What’s left to review? If I wanted to share. I’d share. Now’s not the time nor the place. We’re away from home, doin’ what needs done. This ain’t social hour.
Meddlin’ like only he can, Bonez meets my stubbornness with a dose of his own. “Uh-huh. ‘Cept his name’s Adam, right? And his mama dropped her hot, purple-haired, tattooed ass on your doorstep not long ago.”
Ugh.
Teeth clenching, a low growl escapes my throat. I grip the banister and squeeze until the veins in my forearms throb. Someone has been running their mouth about my family without my permission. They’re mine. Not anyone else’s. Tattlin’ to my brother is a giant fuck no in my book.
“See. I know shit,” he tosses out like the smug prick he is.
Screw him.
