“Not a bad idea. Set it up.”
And with that, Law is up and out of the room before I can stand and chase after him. Probably already knows I’m going to be asking for someone to take over babysitting duties.
But before I do, Flint tells me to hang back as the rest of the brothers filter out.
“One more thing.” He finally sets that damn tablet down and gives me his full attention. I tense a second, as it’s rare for Flint to put his computer down unless it’s for the boss or his old lady. “Not a single file could tell me anything about Oliver.”
“What’re you saying?” I step closer out of intrigue and not concern for the kid. I’m not the type to get attached. I refuse to.
He stands with a shrug. “Could mean anything.”
I glare at that. Flint is a lot of things, but cryptic ain’t one. “Think she stole him or something?”
“Nah, she cares too much, like Chains said. Just not sure he’s hers.” He pats my back as he moves past me and out the door, and I sink down to sit on the table.
Then who the fuck does he belong to? And why do I give afuck?
Chapter 12—Milly
“How’s married life?”
My eyes go wide at the words, and I look sharply to my left to see a woman smirking down at me as I sit at one of the tables in the clubhouse. She’s got an aura about her that says “don’t piss me off,” but it just makes me miss home. If biker chick were a clothing style, she’d be the face of the campaign. She’s decked out in leather, from her skintight pants to the wide belt over her tube top. Even her headband is leathered, pushing back her massive long locks that are tied mostly in small braids. I have half a mind to tell her to go full dreadlock, but the shiny sporadic-braid look works for her, especially as her black hair has highlights of red that fade to pink. Her makeup isn’t caked on, despite her eyes having more black liner on them than the usual girl.
I don’t see her as a club girl, or a vamp, as I’ve been told they’re called around here. For one thing, she has a lot of clothes on. While revealing, she’s covered all her bits, which is apparently optional for the vamps on certain nights, like tonight. Thursday is apparently the night of the hookers, not too far from theNight of the Living Dead, if we’re going by the moaning and groaning. Not that sex is happening on the table, but the couple next to me is getting close to it.
I lift my ring finger, flipping her off with the wrong one, as I look back at the pool game I was watching. “No ring means it doesn’t mean a thing.”
Her cackle of laughter has my lips twitching as she takes the seat next to me. I’ve been here for about an hour now, and no one has come up to me. Gotten a few looks, but nothing I can’t handle. I’m used to it, and sometimes I revel in the attention. Right now, I just don’t give a fuck. It’s been a long-ass week, and I’m still reeling from everything.
Like the fact that no one has tried to attack us in the last several days. Or that I’m getting a decent night’s sleep on the couch. I haven’t gone native or some shit. I still sleep with a knife in my hand. If Bass and the club trusted me a bit more, I would sleep with a gun. But while we’ve fallen into a routine, trust is not there yet. Though my gut is telling me that if I let him and the club in, I won’t regret it.
And the girl between my legs is begging me to let him in, in more places than one.
That’s the one that’s making this twice as hard for me to really let my guard down. Not sure if I’d be sleeping with the enemy or sleeping and the enemy attacks. Neither is an option I can afford.
Living with someone who isn’t a friend or family before you move in is… different. Probably would be a lot worse if we didn’t both have the same goal: to coexist. Neither of us expects this to be long term, which also helps. Bass told me on the first day that this was only for a week until Law found something more permanent. Granted, I don’t even know if we’re staying.
Ollie wants us to. The last few days have been some of the best he’s had in a long time. I don’t fault him for that. I can only do so much for him to keep him safe and happy. It’s harder than you might think. Having a friend who he spends most of his day with—be it in person or through the secureonline gaming system Bass and Gator set up for him and Teddy—has really helped him get out of the cloud he pretends isn’t always hanging around him.
Even if we get back on the road and he keeps to the online gaming, it won’t be enough for my little guy. He’s tasted what life is like off the road, and he likes it. I can’t blame him. I had a life before all this too. I know what the good times can look like. I’ve had the cravings before, but I know going back to the life I had isn’t an option if I want to keep Ollie safe. Going home is a pipe dream. When the time comes to plant permanent roots, Brooklyn will never be that place, even if it kills a part of me.
Thinking about never going home makes me feel extra bitchy. And lucky for me, someone is dumb enough to be close to me. They obviously didn’t get the memo, like the rest of this place, that I’m to be treated like an animal at the zoo: look, but don’t touch.
Every time we come to the club, it’s like this. Ollie runs off with Teddy, Bass does his shit, and I’m left alone. Not that I need anyone, but it’s hard to find the weaknesses of this place when no one talks to you.
Sure, I could talk to them, that whole two-way street thing, but… fuck ’em.
“Who said you could sit here?”
I’ll give it to the girl; she doesn’t even flinch at the death tone in my words as she grabs the bottle of whiskey. Another thing that’s been a regular around here—the waitstaff sucks. So I just grab what I want from behind the bar and take my seat. If they’ve got a problem with it, no one’s said anything. Of course, tonight is the only night I grabbed alcohol. Not that I’ve taken more than two sips from the glass I filled, but I knewas soon as we dropped Ollie off at Maddy’s house and came here that I was going to need it.
The place reeked of sex before we even walked in, and thank God my kid isn’t around to see this. I’ve seen a lot. My home life was awesome, but I wasn’t a sheltered nun. Been around the block, seen some things, but not everything. And let me tell you, some of these girls are puttingeverythingon the table tonight. Not sure if it’s pussy initiation night or what, but they all seem to be competing for some kind of trophy—in dick form.
“Same person who said I could drink your whiskey.” I glance at her as she smiles wide and takes a swig directly from the bottle. “Daddy dearest.”
I roll my eyes as I go back to watching the game. It’s not overly interesting, but the Yankees have another day off, so watching TV seems boring. And while I’m not a prude, straight up staring at someone getting fucked is a bit friendlier than I want to become with any of these vamps.
“And does Daddy still tuck you in?” There was a glint in her eye when she brought up her dad that made me think we were talking about two different potatoes.
