Page 62 of Misguided

“She’s been spoken to,” King murmurs, taking the phone away, “but Crackers wants to know what the fuck you did to leave her so twisted up.”

“Why does it have to be my fault?” I protest weakly, knowing full fucking well I have a bucket load to do with it. “Fair game, Pres. She’s been through a lot. All things considered, don’t you think there’s plenty for her to be worked up about without it being because of me?”

King tips his head to the side, giving me that condescending fatherly look I hate so much. “She asked after you.”

She did? “Oh.”

I grip the ends of the armrests, my fingers curled in tight to the upholstered seat.

“She came in here lost and worried about how she’d fit back into her old life,” King says, quiet and measured. “And now here she is, sittin’ on a fuckin’ porch contemplating the reason for living.”

“Where is she now?”

“Being watched.” He sighs, swirling what’s left in the base of his shot glass. “Think it over, Dog. If she said anything to you that might help, I want to hear it.”

“Yeah, sure.” I’ll have plenty of time to think on my way down there. “Anythin’ else botherin’ you, boss?”

He came in here like a hurricane. You can’t tell me that was all because of her.

“We can’t find Hooch.”

“Fucker’s kind of hard to lose.” I chuckle.

The joke falls flat between us.

“He hasn’t been in contact for almost a week.” King stares solemnly in the shot glass as though it holds his most cherished memories of times gone by and people lost. “We’re runnin’ out of ideas on how to track him down.”

“Anyone told Mel?” Might explain her mood some.

“No.”

“Shit, man.” I slap a hand to my face, drawing it down hard. “She has a right to know.”

“Yeah, I get that.” He glares at me, slamming the glass down. “But don’t you think after that underhanded cry for attention, she might just be a little too fragile to take it right now?”

“You guys don’t give her enough credit,” I murmur.

That girl’s stronger than even she knows. She’s the kind of old lady the brothers dream of: resilient, steadfast, and honest. It’s no wonder, really, why Judas was so hard on her. With a woman like her at the top, the place was sure to thrive.

She might think all her days are cloudy, but that bitch doesn’t realize she is the fucking sun. She has the power to turn this all around.

“You need me around here?” I ask.

King frowns, rubbing his palms together slowly. “Why?”

“Why do you think, man?”

“If you go down there, you fix it,” he orders. “Without involving your fuckin’ dick for a change.”

“You’re horrible when you’re angry, you know that?” I tease.

“I’ve been told.” He drops into his seat and then pours another drink. “Now get out. I’ve got a shitload to get through before Elena expects me home for dinner.”

“Consider me gone.” I get as far as the door before King calls me back.

“What if your brother shows up again, Dog? What do you want me to do with him?” he asks.

I shrug, running my palm up and down the doorframe. “Whatever you want, Pres. He’s all yours.”

I’ve long given up caring what happens to him. Derek wants to be stupid enough to come back here, he deserves whatever grief he gets.

I’ve got more pressing things to worry about. Shit that I actually care about. Things that really matter.

I head upstairs with the vision of Mel on the porch burned in my brain. How in the fuck I can screw a woman up so badly when all I did was goddamn kiss her?

Huh. Maybe that’s it.

All I did was kiss her.

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