Jeremy released a long breath. Somehow, he felt simultaneously relieved and confused. Relieved that Dare didn’t mete out some biker justice on his ass, but confused as hell about why his confession and Dare’s apparent forgiveness didn’t make him feel all that much better.
Beckett looked at him for a long moment, that piercing blue stare making Jeremy want to squirm. Finally, Beckett turned away. “Yeah. I think you nailed this one. It doesn’t even need the work the other location did.” They’d had to haul debris away from the two windows they wanted to use in the other building, and shore up the ceiling over the window that gave them the best overlook of Hard Ink’s street.
Just then, a distant roar rumbled from somewhere nearby.
“Sounds like the rest of the club’s here,” Dare said. “We good?”
Beckett nodded. “Jeremy and I can take care of provisioning the spaces.”
“Good enough,” Dare said, and then he disappeared into the stairwell. The sound of his boots echoed against the concrete and steel.
Scrubbing a hand through his short dark blond hair, Beckett turned to him. “Have you, uh, talked to anyone? About that?” he asked, gesturing toward the window.
Jeremy frowned and ducked his chin. Both Nick and Kat had come to his room to try to talk to him yesterday afternoon, but, really, what else were they going to tell their brother other than it wasn’t his fault?
But who else did that leave to talk—-
Charlie. And Charlie had been up there, so he knew what’d happened. He’d experienced it firsthand. He knew what it was.
Shaking his head, Jeremy stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and said, “Not much.”
Beckett sighed. “Look, I’m shit at . . . you know . . .” He waved as if searching for the word and hoping Jeremy would understand.
“Social interaction?” Jeremy offered with a wink.
Chuffing out a laugh, Beckett nodded. “Yeah, that. Fucking Rixey sarcasm. It never ends, does it?”
Jeremy grinned, not just because Beckett had unwittingly lightened the mood, but because he knew another Rixey who had been unloading all kinds of Rixey sarcasm on Beckett the past few days. His sister. “No, Trigger,” he said, using Kat’s nickname for the big guy. “It never does.”
“Aw, for fuck’s sake. Goddamned Trigger. It wasn’t my fault that she—-”
“I know. I know,” Jeremy said, laughing. “You know, the more you let her get to you, the more she’s gonna come after you, right? That’s part of the fun.”
Beckett scowled, the expression deepening the scars around his right eye. “Yeah, well . . . she doesn’t get to me. So it’s not a problem.” He made for the stairwell. “Let’s go.”
“Uh--huh,” Jeremy murmured to himself, still smiling. “If you say so.”
“I do,” Beckett said, starting down. “Can we be done with sharing time now?”
Jeremy kept his amusement to himself as he followed Beckett down, because it seemed to him that Kat had already gotten pretty far under his skin and the big guy just didn’t know it.
Not that Jeremy could talk when it came to letting someone get under your skin. Because Charlie was definitely under his. The only difference was that Jeremy wanted Charlie there and absofreakinglutely planned to do something about it.
Chapter 5
AFTER HE AND Beckett loaded all the supplies into both snipers’ roosts—-sleeping bags, bottled water, snacks, ammunition, and binoculars—-both regular and night--vision—-Jeremy went back to the gym to see how else he could help. He found four new computers set up on a pair of folding tables and Becca, Sara, Jenna, and Kat already at work reading documents on them.
What he didn’t find was Charlie.
“Need me for anything right now, Marz?” Jeremy asked.
The guy ran a hand through his brown hair and then he shook his head. “Nope. Looks like we have everything under control for these five minutes.” Marz winked.
“Nick out with Vance?” he asked, wanting something to do. Some way to contribute.
“Yeah. The city sent a whole team of workers and it sounds like they’re making good progress.” Marz popped a pretzel in his mouth. “Lookouts all set up?”
Jeremy nodded. “Good to go.”
“Show me where,” Marz said, waving him around so he could see the computer screen. A map of the neighborhood appeared.
“What are those little icons?” Jeremy asked, looking at about a half dozen or more black circles that ran down the street.
“Our security cameras.” He ate another pretzel then rubbed his hands together. “Okay. Where are they?”
Jeremy pointed out the two locations, and Marz marked them with an eyeball symbol. “Very apropos.”
“Right?” Marz said with a laugh.
“So, uh, where’s Charlie?” Jeremy asked.