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“Yup,” he answers dryly.
“And…”
“Kevin.”
I lose it then, unable to stop myself. Cora and a few others glance over in my direction, but I wave them off.
“It’s not funny, TK,” Hashtag mutters. “Shelby’s on the warpath, and Judge is considering a chastity belt for the both of them.”
I try to calm my laughter and keep my voice even. “And how are you handling it?”
“I want to kill the fucking kid,” he grouses. “But I think Judge has that part under control.”
Hashtag and Shelby’s daughter has been getting pretty close to Judge’s adopted son, but they’re young. As funny as it is that they got caught, one part does put me on edge. “Did they…?”
“Fuck no, and they won’t ever, not until long after I’m dead.”
“You were probably doing worse than that when you were their age,” I remind him.
“When you have kids of your own, you can give me advice, asshole,” he retorts. “Now, how about you tell me why you called so I can get back out there and play referee.”
“I need you to do some of your computer shit and get me some info.”
Hashtag’s voice changes, turning all business. “Why?”
I watch Cora smile at one of her customers and tell him, “As a favor to a friend.”
“Would this friend be the mouthy bartender that came for breakfast the other day?”
“What if it is?”
Hashtag laughs. “Relax, TK. Last time I checked, you were old enough to have an old lady.”
I’m going to kill that gossiping fucking boy scout. An old lady? Is that what Cora is to me? Is that whatIwant? Is that whatshewants?
I close my eyes and sigh. I can figure all that shit out later. “I need you to check out the Screwballs MC.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard,” he assures. “And here I thought you were going to ask me to hack into some clinic and have your STD results changed or something. What should I be looking for?”
“The usual—locations, members, any issues with the law.”
“Should be a cake walk, but I have to ask. Does this have anything to do with that asshole who was following Cora that day?”
I struggle not to tell him about the connection of that club to Cora, or Harrison’s origins. None of it would help him find the information I need, but it would provide a driver to getting it quickly… No, it’s her story to tell. I won’t violate her trust like that.
“It does,” is all I give him.
Knowing he’s curious, he doesn’t push. “Yeah, sure, man. Might take me a few hours, though.”
“That’s fine. Anything you find will be helpful.”
“Is she in trouble or something?” he asks. “If she is, I’m sure Judge might consider letting you stay longer.”
My heart nearly stops. “Wait, what?”
“Didn’t Priest tell you? Judge wants you and Priest home as soon as possible.”
A pang of dread punches me in the gut. Judge wants us home, back in Austin. I’ve known all along that I have to go back. I just put it out of my mind for a bit. Austin is my home, but for an unexplainable reason, going back seems almost foreign.
