“What the helldid you say to her?”
I bristle at the accusation in Journey’s tone. Why is he immediately assuming I did something wrong?
“Nothing,” I insist, replaying our interaction in my head. From the instant I laid eyes on Roxie, I recognized the one emotion that enrages me when a woman displays it: fear. There was also no mistaking the pain she was experiencing, despite her efforts to mask it. “Think Shuffle knows?”
Journey’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Knows what?”
“That his sister’s been knocked around,” I say bluntly.
His eyes widen. “Really? You think so?”
“Bro, she was scared as fuck,” I say.
He chuckles. “Of you, maybe, but what chick wouldn’t be? You’re intimidating, Screamer.”
“So are you,” I retort. “But she was fine with you.”
He shrugs. “I don’t know, man. She seemed more mad than scared to me.”
“You seriously didn’t notice the way she winced when she was slightly jostled or the way she was holding her ribs? I’m telling you, she’s been abused.”
His shoulders sag. “Well, if you really think so, maybe you should talk to Shuffle.”
I know my VP is right. If Shuffle is half the man I think he is, he’d find the asshat and end his miserable life. Roxie ishissister and not my responsibility, and calling him would be the smart thing to do. But I never claimed to be smart.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Screamer, don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t put this on yourself,” he snaps. “You don’t even know the girl, and if you’re right about her being scared, the last thing she needs is you breathing down her neck like some knight in denim and leather.”
“Knight in denim and leather?” I repeat. “Wren’s made you all poetic and shit.”
He lifts a pen and throws it at me. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Look, I’m not gonna do anything stupid,” I inform him.
Oh, yeah, you are.
“Pretty sure our definitions of ‘stupid’ are different.”
Without acknowledging his assessment, I head into the back area of the shop. I need to keep my mind and hands busy while I sort through my suspicions about Roxie.
Five and a half hours later, I’ve finished two jobs and added dozens of questions to the list I have for Shuffle’s sister. Journey left an hour ago, and I take my time closing down the shop.
After locking up, I pull my cell from my pocket and send a quick text.
Me: Meet me at Ballinger’s in 30?
I get a reply telling me to make it an hour. Satisfied with that, I ride to the bar. I’m three beers in when the door opens and Shuffle strides in like he owns the joint. Ballinger’s is more of a Soulless Kings hangout, but every once in a while, an LTMC member stops by.
“What’s wrong?” Shuffle asks as he slides into the booth across from me.
“What makes you think there’s something wrong?”
He glares at me. “Because you practically demanded I meet you here.”
