Devil laughs. “We’ll be fine.” She opens her jacket to reveal a gun in its holster. “This was a present from Winchester, and he showed me how to use it. Now, go.”
She is already walking away from him to get another cart. He looks at Jet and me briefly, shakes his head, and moves toward the checkout.
Devil links one arm with Jet and pushes the cart with the other. “Okay, you know your friends better than we do. They’ll need at least two sets of clothes with underwear, so let’s get shopping.”
“What do I pick?”
Devil picks up a pink tank top and holds it against herself. “Whatever you think they will be most comfortable in.” She tosses the tank into the cart.
Jet takes a tentative step forward and looks at the jeans. “I’m not sure of sizes.”
“Best guess will do.” Devil holds up a pair of jeans to Jet. “Do you like skinny jeans?”
“Ahh, no. I like bootleg.”
Devil nudges her. “Me, too, but Creed likes skinny jeans.”
Jet looks down at Devil’s bootleg jeans. “But you’re not wearing those.”
Devil waves a hand in the air as she picks up another pair of jeans. “Girl, of course not.” She smiles at Jet. “But I do wear them on date night.”
“Date night?”
“We’re married, not dead. Yeah, date night.”
Jet looks from me to Devil. “I don’t understand.”
Moving forward, I pick up a shirt off the rack. “What don’t you understand?”
“She’s wearing bootleg jeans, and she’s going on dates with the biker who claimed her.”
Devil frowns, her normally sunny disposition fading a little. “Honey, Creed and I are a couple. We fight, we make up, but he doesn’t own me. I love Creed, and he loves me.”
Jet’s eyes widen, but she says nothing.
“I really like Highway.”
Devil laughs at me. “I think that boy more than likes you.”
“Wait. You’re not forced to be there? You can leave?”
“Yes. And as soon as they think it’s safe for you, you can leave too. Now, let’s get picking clothes. It looks like Justice is finished ringing up the groceries, so he’s going to be back any second. He’ll be bitching and moaning we’re taking too long.” Devil begins throwing tank tops into the cart, then stops and looks at Jet. “Do you need shoes?”
Jet looks down at her worn-out sneakers. “Could I have boots?”
Devil grins. “Sure, if they’ve got them.”
Jet returns her smile, and it lights up her whole face.
By the time we’re finished, there’s shoes, underwear, and more than two sets of clothes for everyone, but Devil keeps insisting no one will mind.
***
We arrive back at the clubhouse. It echoes with the growl of bikes and the distant clash of beer bottles. Devil’s strides are purposeful as she rounds the SUV, her eyes glinting with mischief. She hands Jet a cell phone.
“Call your mum, love,” she says, her Aussie accent wrapping around the words.
Jet’s fingers tremble as they wrap around the phone, her tough façade cracking like pavement under a sledgehammer. Tears well up, spilling over, and she blinks hard—once, twice—before they cascade down her cheeks.
