Page 47 of Rogue

“They have a chance now, that’s the important thing.”

He takes another bite of his burger and for a while, we both eat in silence.

“You do great work,” I tell him after a while. “Those women you saved tonight… you were probably their only hope and you came through.”

“Yeah, tell that to my cousin,” he says.

“Who’s your cousin?” I ask after he doesn’t elaborate.

“An LAPD detective,” he says. “I spoke to him before I came to get you and he’s very reluctant to go after the bastard who’s responsible for what you saw today.”

“Why?” I ask, shocked.

“Reasons,” he says. “One of them being that he can’t trust my information anymore. Like it’s suddenly not clean anymore just because I had a couple of conversations with Devil’s Nightmare MC.”

“The Devils aren’t just killers and gun runners though,” I say. “They do good things too. They run women’s shelters, foster a lot of children and do stuff for the underprivileged. And they never went after anyone that didn’t have it coming.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to see that, but my cousin never will,” he says. “I hoped for better from him. But he’s part of the law enforcement machine. And the machine’s primary goal isn’t always justice, no matter what it claims.”

“That’s why the world needs men like you,” I say. “And the Devils, for that matter.”

“Still, my cousin kinda disappointed me today,” he says. “Our dads were brothers and they were both cops. But they also belonged to a biker club, The Lawmen MC. Manny rides with them now.”

“But you branched out on your own?” I ask.

He shrugs. “They do more community service type of stuff. Like watching over victims, trying to be in the right place at the right time to prevent bad things from happening. All within the strict confines of the law. The members are all law enforcement and judges and such. I wanted more. I wanted to actually catch bad guys.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” I say. “I bet your dad’s real proud of you.”

He shrugs. “I think maybe he would be. He died when I was ten years old. Killed in the line of duty. Some tweaked out methhead stabbed him while he was trying to stop him from robbing a gas station.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say.

“Yeah, me too,” he says and grins sadly. “The docs did the best they could, kept him alive long enough for all of us to get there so we could say goodbye. But the injuries were too severe and he died. At least that’s what the docs said.”

He’s reciting part of the speech we are trained to give to the bereaved after we fail to save their loved one’s lives. It’s the speech I got when I was told none of my family survived the car crash. Hearing it always, without fail makes my stomach clench into a painful ball. But I’m glad to know that the words helped ten-year-old Rogue process and accept the cold hard fact of his father’s death.

“I’m sure they did,” I say. “That must’ve been tough, growing up without a dad.”

“My uncles stepped up,” he says. “But yeah. It wasn’t great.”

He wraps up the rest of his burger and tosses it back in the takeout bag like he lost his appetite.

“But come one, let’s talk about something less depressing,” he says.

“Let’s,” I put my sandwich in with the leftovers of his burger and wrap my arm around his waist, leaning against his side.

“Or better yet,” I say and smile at him. “Why don’t you take me back to your place?”

He grins too. “What’s wrong with right here?”

“Nothing at all,” I say and giggle as he lays me down on the vibrating wooden planks of the pier and towers over me, gazing deep into my eyes.

What I said isn’t just something I said. It’s the complete truth. Nothing at all is wrong with anyplace where he wants to make me his.

And I know I’m rushing into this kind of thinking at breakneck speed and I know it’s probably because I’m afraid it will all end too soon. But none of that makes it any less the truth.

21

---