Page 24

“While you were on your death bed, or whatever, we watched out for your girl.”

“My death bed,” I scoffed.

“Fine, let you tell it, either way, now that your beauty rest is complete, you can keep the Satan’s Riders off of her your damn self.”

I squinted at both of them, completely lost.

“Wes Greer was poking fun at your Brenna, down at the cafe she worked at.”

“‘Worked at–?’ She still works there.” Mark clarified, before crudely laughing, “He had her pinned up against that counter like he was fixing to poke more than that.”

“Shut your damn mouth!” I lunged toward him, unwilling to hear any type of taunt that involved talk of that sort. Especially where Brenna was concerned.

“I’m just saying what happened, brother. Ask her yourself if you want,”

I shook my head, stepping off the elevator as soon as the doors opened.

“Come on,” Montana sighed, bumping my arm as soon as we stepped out into the parking lot.

I noticed the club van, but I didn’t think that was such a great idea.

“No. What I’m going to attend ain't got nothing to do with the Disciples. This is my business,” I quietly told my brother.

He reached for me, but I turned, avoiding contact as I kept moving.

“Damn it, C.C. you can’t hear any reason. You’re such a thickheaded bastard, sometimes.” Montana’s tone was exhausted, his words carried no judgement, only truth.

“I know, brother, but all the same.”

He stopped following when I stepped off the curve. There wasn’t any sidewalk along the highway, but I stayed safe near the ditch as I walked toward the diner.

Montana was waiting by the time I arrived, having traded the van for his bike. It wasn’t just his parked outside. Banshee was leaning against his ride, his ol’ lady snug between his legs and clinging to his neck like he was the best catch in town.

“The hell ya’ll doing?” I clipped, as I moved past them.

“He ain’t here.” Montana pointed out the obvious.

The only motorcycles present belonged to them three.

“No, but she might be.”

Mark laughed, “And what? You intend to stand guard over her?

“What if I do?” I whirled around to face him without warning, causing him to step right into me.

Our chests bumped before he could back up, causing him to stumble a bit.

“What the fuck?” Banshee immediately came to his aid.

Mark smiled, holding his hand up.

“It’s fine. He’s medicated and unstable on his feet,” he excused without signs of insult.

“Just go, I can handle this. Really,” I stressed.

“You come to bring more biker trouble?” Brenna called out, knocking the expression off my face.

I turned toward the sound of her voice, only to be met with her back. She hadn’t even paused out of curiosity. Surely, she wondered where I was, or why I hadn’t been in contact since Sunday. Shit, I didn’t even know what day it was. I’d never been placed on anything less than a seventy-two-hour hold, but like Ginger said, it wasn’t a psych unit, so who knew?