“Yeah, both my parents were in the military. I don’t get why they had kids if they weren’t gonna be around to raise them, but . . .” Trailing off, Parker reached to prod his black eye gingerly as a wry smirk stretched his lips. “Can’t really hate dead people, though. They both died in 2006.”
Wow, so he would’ve been a teenager. “What about your grammy?” Parker’s expression morphed into one of bemusement, and I struck a match before mumbling around my cigarette. “Still kickin’ it?”
“Oh, yeah. When my mom died, my grammy started berating her empty casket at the funeral, saying she was gonna live enough for both of them, and she kept up her promise.” I inhaled a deep lungful of toxic smoke and held it for a moment as Parker’s eyes glassed over before he shook his head. “She’s a tough, old bat. I wish I got some of that.”
“Every organization needs a nerd, Parker. Otherwise, we’d still be killing each other with sharp rocks.” The conversation stalled, and I exhaled slowly and flopped back my head. The stars were so bright out here, peeking through the trees, and I closed my eyes briefly. “We should get back on the road in a few minutes. It’s gonna be a long drive to Utah.”
“You think the kid can handle it?” I shrugged. I didn’t care if Rook was comfortable because, frankly, we had nowhere to go but south. Glancing over my shoulder, I frowned at my little cousin wallowing in his misery. “Guy’s got a good right hook. Spyder’s gonna have trouble reigning him in.”
“Spyder likes to pretend he’s a ‘violence as the last resort’ guy, but I know it’s not true.” Parker cast me a quizzical look through the gloomy, but I ignored him to look out into the cold forest. Going down the mountain had risen the temperature considerably, and I took a deep, calming breath of the pines. “Anyway, we should be getting back late. I have to call Spyder about what we’re gonna do with Rook.”
“At least it’s not cold as fuck anymore.” Rubbing his arms over his jacket, Parker scowled lightly, and amusement tickled my chest. Taking a deep drag of my cigarette, I let the conversation slip away on the crisp, night air. Flicking the half-smoked butt to the ground to crush it under my heel, I turned to my little cousin and frowned on the way back to my bike.
“Come on, kid. Time to go.” I nudged Rook’s back with my foot, and he grunted as he practically toppled over. Catching himself, he shot me a withering, bitter glare through the haze before clamoring to his feel. “You can sleep when we get back.”
“Why bother going through all this trouble?” Grumbling more to himself than me, Rook frowned as I held out my helmet for him. I arched a brow quizzically. A sour expression twisted my lips as he took the gear and put it on. His head was a lot smaller than mine—he was still a kid, that much was for sure.
“That’s what I wanna know, Rook. I’m doin’ it because Uncle Minter asked me to. I would’a done it without the incentive too, but I wouldn’t have been able to get Spyder on board. Whatever you’re runnin’ from, you’ll be safe from it in Utah. It’s gonna suck, you know that, but you’ll be fine as long as you don’t get into any trouble.” Throwing my leg over my bike, I settled into the saddle before Rook followed suit. He was cold against my back, and I kicked down the stand as thoughts shadowed my gaze.
“Hold it!” Parker’s shout raced down the cracks in the poorly paved road to me, and I twisted to find headlights wobbling through the darkness. The little car practically crawled down the narrow road. Even on bikes, we’d have to move out of the way for an SUV or a truck. A blinker flicked on, casting an orange light peeping through the night, and I frowned under tightly knit brows.
“Stay here.” I hadn’t even turned over my motorcycle, and I kicked down the stand to climb off. Wandering down the road, I wondered where I recognized that license plate. We were in Montana, but the plates were rentals from Idaho. The car pulled over deeper and deeper through the brush before stopping to idle, and my heartbeat faster as the color started to bleed into the glare of the headlights. “Oh.”
That girl. Worry seeped into my veins as I ducked under a sapling to knock on her window, but she was crying loudly and very obviously. Even through the frosted glass, I could see the tears streaming down her reddened face. Knocking a little harder, goosebumps swept up my arms when she jumped in the driver’s seat. At least she’s buckled.
Time slowed as she rolled down the window a crack, just enough to speak and hear me, and I leaned down to peer into her car. The locks clicked, the sound eased some of the tension between my shoulders. She’s not super drunk, at least.
“Do you need some help?” A white line formed around her lips before she blubbered a sob as if she just couldn’t hold it in anymore. Awkwardness curdled my gut. I couldn’t just leave her here, but I had twenty pounds of ketamine strapped to my bike. The woman that pitched me an attitude at the gas station yesterday cried, borderline hyperventilated really. Ah, fuck. “Roll down the window a little more and breathe. I’ll be right back.”
Walking back to the road and to my bike,
