Page 110 of Blue

Because he cared about Blue.

I lowered my voice. “What happened to you isn’t anyone’s business. But you and Cruz could get in trouble if anything goes wrong. Rogue and Bullet live by their own rules. Felonies are like foreplay for them when they’re going to fuck someone up. You know you can trust them.”

Blue glanced over my shoulder. “I need to take Kiss to her NA meeting. But I can come back.”

“I can call a rideshare,” I said.

Cruz stood. “McKelle is in my room. I’ll get her.”

“I’ll ask her.” I hurried away from Blue. The suffocating tension in the room made it hard to breathe. Blue might not want to tell them about his past, but I had a feeling Rogue and Bullet were going to be persuasive. I had to admit, knowing Bullet and Rogue had Blue’s back made me breathe a little easier.

Carl Douglas needed to pay for what he’d done to Blue. Vigilante justice.Heller justice.

The corridor was quiet. I gently knocked on Cruz’s door, and it instantly swung open.

“What’s going on?” McKelle asked. “Cruz and I were about to leave. Bullet and Rogue stopped us. I’ve never been so scared. Rogue and Bullet are scary as fuck. They confronted Cruz about Blue. One word from Rogue, ‘Out,’ in that tone he has, and I was gone. So, tell me, what is going on?”

“I don’t know,” I said because technically, I didn’t know exactly what was going on, but I knew why Rogue and Bullet were pissed.

Last night, they’d seen Blue and Cruz conspiring in the corner. After what happened with Sam and Kane, I didn’t need to be a brilliant mastermind to guess they sensed trouble.

“I need a favor,” I said. “Can you take me to the community center downtown? There’s an NA meeting at ten.” I chewed on my lip, worried she’d say no. “It’s a pretty big part of my recovery.”

“Absolutely.” She grabbed a black and pink helmet from the dresser. “Do you have a helmet?”

“You ride?” I asked.

She laughed. “Yes, but Harleys are for criminally inclined alcoholics looking for old ladies. I’m more of an energy-drinking thrill-seeker. I admit, I have a weakness for a thirst trap on a red Ducati. Don’t tell Cruz.”

“How did I not know this about you?”

“Because I’m usually riding on the back of Cruz’s bike. Do you want to be my backpack for the day?”

“Hell, yes.”

“You know Hellers don’t let their lays ride on the back of another bike.”

“Blue will have to get over it. I’ll be your biker bitch for the day.”

She laughed. “I’m not a total squid.”

Sport bike people were known as squids.Stupidly quick, underdressed and imminently dead.

“At least not most of the time,” McKelle continued. “I don’t worry about gear when I ride with Cruz. I should. There’s a helmet in the basement. I don’t know who it belongs to, but I doubt anyone would care if we borrow it.”

I followed her down the stairs. The old wood and the musty scents of the basement filled my nose and reminded me of playing down here when we were kids. Playing, as in kissing and making out. The guys would pretend to be tough and punch each other until they were bruised.

More missed memories.

McKelle flipped on the light and nostalgia rolled over me in a warm wave. She went to the far side of the room and plucked the gun-metal gray helmet from the shelf. Using her palm, she brushed the dust and a cobweb from the face shield.

She laughed and handed it to me. “It’s Jazzy’s.”

Jazzy had used a thick black marker to write her name on the inside. I tried it on, then checked my phone for the time.

“Don’t worry, she said. “I’m fast.”

I snapped off the light and followed McKelle up the stairs. I headed to my room, grabbed my ID, and met her in the hall.

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