I slipped into my seat first, then Duane took his. Keeping my eyes trained on the pair as my brother brought the engine to life, I muttered a few curse words. I couldn’t believe it, Darrell out on parole? Already? How is that possible?
Duane wasted no time leaving Cooper’s Field, turning right on the thoroughfare and taking the road back to our house. We drove in silence for a while, Duane checking his rearview mirror every few minutes. I didn’t bother keeping an eye out for their bikes. I was too lost in my own thoughts.
I couldn’t imagine Christine St. Claire ever contacting me again, not after tonight. Not after the way she’d looked at me as we pulled away. And that was a relief.
But I was also curious. Something I’d said—or the way I’d said it—had struck a chord.
Razor didn’t know about us being Christine’s, and that had been a smart move on our father’s part. I could see it now, Darrell planning all those years ago, using our existence as blackmail against Christine. He was an asshole, but he was a clever asshole.
We’d been pawns in his game, even as babies. He’d been after our momma’s money since she was sixteen. Unfortunately, based on the events of the evening, it seemed he wasn’t yet finished with his scheming.
“Are you okay?”
I glanced at my brother. “Uh, yeah. I’m okay. How about you?”
He shrugged. “Better than expected.”
“Oh yeah?” I grinned at him. “Why’s that?”
“’Cause you make a good bad cop.”
I chuckled. “Well, coming from the best bad cop I know, that’s high praise.”
Duane scratched his chin. “She’s a good actress.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah. Doesn’t overdo it. I almost believed her. No wonder she and Razor make such a good team.”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “She’s pretty bad.”
“Glad that’s over with.”
“Me too.”
Silence fell between us once more and my twin studied the rearview mirror. I reflected on how much of an understatement my words had been.
She’s pretty bad.
That wasn’t true. She was reprehensible.
I was so thankful for Bethany in that moment, I almost suffocated on my gratitude. Thank God. Thank God she’d been my momma. Imagining a life with Christine, raised in the club, raised to be one of them. The thought made me sick.
What had Claire gone through? What was her life like with those people?
“We have to tell Cletus,” Duane suddenly announced.
“Pardon?” I’d been distracted, so I didn’t immediately follow his meaning.
“We have to tell Cletus about Darrell. About the parole.” His eyes flickered to mine and then back to the road.
“Yeah.” I nodded, taking a deep breath. “We’ll tell him together.”
The side of Duane’s mouth tugged upward. “He’s going to be so pissed.”
My twin and I shared a small smile of knowing, and nothing more needed to be said.
Because our brother Cletus was at his most entertaining when pissed off.
* * *
I found Shelly in the Quonset hut.
She was bent over a well-lit work table toward the back of the structure and appeared to be completely absorbed in something she was drawing. Her hair was in a braid, she wore an old wool sweater and jeans, and she had a pencil in her teeth.
Tension between my shoulder blades eased at the sight of her, at the distracted wrinkle of concentration between her eyebrows and the confident movements of her hand.
She was so . . . unique. Singular. So much herself. I loved that about her. Almost as much as I loved how genuinely good she was.
My Shelly.
I kept my steps light at first, so I could watch her longer. She took the pencil from her mouth and moved it in graceful strokes over the paper, tilting her head to the side. Seeing how absorbed she was, I decided to drag my feet as I approached. I didn’t want to startle her.
Shelly glanced away from her work, her wide eyes meeting mine and predictably scattering my wits.
I grinned, because it was the only thing I could do for two beats of my heart. “Hey, honey.”
“Hi.” Her mouth curved with an enigmatic smile and she rushed forward, meeting me before I could close the distance between us, and unexpectedly grabbed the front of my shirt.
Holding perfectly still, I stared at her.
Um . . .
She likewise stared at me, her look one of intense concentration seasoned with a quickly subdued flare of panic. “I’m touching you.”
“I see that.”
Her breathing sped up. “I’ve been—uh—meditating. And I think I’m ready to . . .”
“Touch me?”
She nodded, her eyebrows knitting together. “It’s still difficult.”
“Okay.” I nodded, deciding I’d wait patiently for a sign from her. In truth, I could probably stand like this forever, with her so close.
“Talk to me.” Her voice was strained. “Tell me what happened tonight. Is Duane still with you?”
“No. He dropped me off a minute ago.” I lifted my hands and hovered my fingers over hers. “Can I touch you?”
She nodded, and then swallowed.
I gripped her wrists lightly, then smoothed my palms down her forearms. “What are you working on?”
“You first, tell me what happened.”
It was clear she wanted to be distracted, so I told her about the evening, making sure to divert her with jokes about drinking too much coffee. I told her about what Christine wanted and how she’d said Darrell was coming up for parole. When I got to the part where I recycled her insult about black holes, Shelly’s forehead cleared of anxious-wrinkles and she gave me an almost smile.
“Did you like that one?”
“It was one of my favorites.” I stole a quick glance at her hands. They’d relaxed, and were presently resting flat against my chest.
“You have favorites?”
“Yes. I especially liked it when you told Devron Stokes he needed to save his breath, ’cause he was going to need it to blow up his date.”
Her lips quirked to the side even as her eyes moved over me with obvious concern. “How are you? Are you okay?”
“It’s not how I’d choose to spend my Monday nights, but it needed to be done. I’m glad Duane was there, giving me a swift kick and forcing me to be . . .”
“To be what?”
“Unkind.”
Her almost smile became a full one. “You mean honest.”
“Yeah. Maybe,” I hedged, squinting at her.
“But you’re okay?” Her hands slid to my shoulders and then wrapped around my neck as she stepped closer, her gaze on my mouth.
“Yes. I am. I mean,” I stole a kiss, “I’m still mulling things over, and we’ll have to tell Cletus about Darrell. I’m hoping Christine was misinformed, but I guess we’ll see. I’ll likely be asking you to ‘hold my tools’ from time to time.”
“Good. That’s what I’m here for.”
I liked how she’d gentled her tone. I liked how she was looking at me, all soft and open and focused. I liked how she was pressing her body to mine. It made me want to do things to her, and I would.
But first, I slid my nose along hers. I teased her, brushing my lips against hers, then retreating so she’d chase the kiss. And when she was near a frenzy, I gave her what she wanted and captured her mouth, indulging in the sweet taste of her tongue.
After a time, when we were both dizzy and breathing hard, she dipped her chin to her chest and whispered, “You are an excellent kisser.”