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“Cult,” I deadpan.
Kennedy doesn’t respond right away, instead leaning her head against the seat as if she needs time to choose her words. When she does speak, there’s surprise in her tone.
“Yeah, I guess. It was as close to a cult as it could get, I suppose.”
“That sucks.”
“It really did,” she agrees. “Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t have a terrible life. I just didn’t have the life I wanted.”
As I drive the rest of the way to the motel, I mull over her words. My childhood wasn’t perfect, but my parents didn’t shove shit down my throat or force me to believe one way or another. They did their best to raise a good man, and I think they succeeded. Sure, I’m not a law-abiding citizen, and I’m in an MC that engages in activities that would have my mother rolling in her grave, but my heart’s in the right place.
Most of the time.
“Room one oh eight,” she says when I pull into the motel parking lot.
I park the Corvette and follow her inside. I expect there to be boxes of stuff, but all I see is a duffel bag and a shoe box perched on the small table in the corner. Kennedy makes quick work of shoving her meager belongings into both, and two minutes later, she declares herself ready to go.
It’s the one thing that was all mine, other than the few clothing items and toiletries.
She wasn’t kidding.
“I just have to check out real quick, and then we can be on our way.”
“Okay.”
I walk her to the front desk and am shocked when she pulls cash out of the shoebox to pay the balance on her bill. Wanting to reach for my wallet and pay for it myself, I force my hands into my pockets, so I don’t offend her again.
Twenty minutes later, I’m parking her vehicle back in front of Barlow’s Bar.
“There’s a back lot, right?” I ask.
“Yeah, but I don’t really want my car back there with all the attacks happening. I’ll feel safer getting in and out right here, where there’s more light and people.”
I nod. “Makes sense. But as long as I’m around, you never have to be scared. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“And you can’t be here twenty-four-seven.”
No. No, I can't. But still…
“Point taken.”
I hand the keys to Kennedy, grab her bag and shoe box, and we head inside. Jenny is still here, despite the bar having been closed for almost an hour.
“You’re back,” she says when she spots us.
“What are you still doing here?” Kennedy asks.
“I just wanted to make sure you got settled okay.” Jenny’s gaze slides to me, and she smirks. “But I shoulda known someone else would be taking care of that.”
“I… we…” Kennedy stutters.
“What she’s trying to say is thank you, but we’re good,” I say, my lips twitching.
“I’m sure you are.”
Jenny reaches under the bar and grabs her purse before striding to the door. “Kennedy, you sure you’re still good to cover the security installation tomorrow?”
“Absolutely.”
