Page 107 of Tight End

He grins back. His dark eyes glow with emotion, his heavy stare confirming that I’m the center of his world. I’ve never felt so secure, so protected, and so complete.

Then I feel it. The thing I’ve wanted most for as long as I can remember suddenly creeps through my insides and lights up every cell.

Happiness.

And now that I have it, I’m never letting it go.

Chapter 37

Brixton

“Turn it up,” I say to Sofia, hovering over her shoulder to watch the breaking news on her laptop monitor. Sam sits in a chair next to her, leaning forward, his eyes glued to the screen.

It’s been two weeks since I was released from the hospital. Two fucking weeks and the cops have absolutely nothing on the shooter. I hired investigators who came up empty, too. It’s like that damn truck followed me into the parking garage, made the hit, and then disappeared into thin air.

But last night I got a call from the chief of the Oakland Police Department because there was a break in the case. Turns out, the girlfriend of the guy I put in the hospital overheard the assbag bragging about the hit and flipped the fuck out. He beat her pretty bad to keep her quiet. Smart girl decided she wanted out of that cesspool of white trash and went to the cops. She’s in protective custody now and said she’d testify against the guy.

She also happened to leak a few other details about the motorcycle club’s criminal dealings other than the attemptedhit on me, so of course, the cops are salivating over using her as a witness in plenty of other unsolved cases against the club.

Sofia hits the volume button on her laptop so we can hear it more clearly.

“According to sources, the accused in the Mercy Hospital shooting of rock star Brixton Scott has been identified after two weeks of investigating. The whistleblower, Emme Madsen, is the girlfriend of the accused and brought her story to the police last night after she was attacked and beaten by her boyfriend outside of a bar in downtown Oakland. Per an anonymous tip, the accused, Tommy Horton, was caught trying to skip the border late yesterday afternoon and is now being held without bail.”

“She’s fucked, no?”Sofia asks. “I mean, she’ll never survive if those biker guys have anything to say about it.”

“The police chief told me the FBI is going to take over because a lot of the other crimes are intrastate. They have jurisdiction and plenty of cash. They’ll do everything they can to keep her safe.” I straighten up slowly. My arm is still in a sling so my movements are limited, not that it stops me and Sam from getting in our daily “workouts.”

“You’re impervious to death. Kind of like cockroaches.”

I make a face at him. “Never been compared to a roach before.”

“Maybe not to your face,” he says slyly. Then Sam springs out of the chair and wraps his arms around me. “I hope when that dickhead gets sent to gen pop at Crescent City Prison, they tear his fucking balls off and choke him with them.”

Sofia gasps and looks up at Sam. “Wow, so you do have a dark side.”

“You have no idea,” he says.

“Yeah, and it’s not my influence, either,” I pipe in, laughing until I look toward the front door of Play It Forward.

The smile fades from my face.

My fingers clench the edge of the desk.

Sam rests a hand on the small of my back, but I don’t need protection or shielding.

Not anymore.

My father walks into Play It Forward, twisting his head left and right, taking in all of the activity. I narrow my eyes, my lips twisting when he finally looks straight at us.

He takes a few tentative steps in the direction of the reception desk, his gaze latched onto my cold one. His keys jingle as he twists them between his fingers, apprehension scrawled across his lined face.

“You okay?” Sam murmurs.

I take in a sharp breath. “Yes.” Then I walk around to the front of the reception desk, my back stiff.

“There’s no reason for you to be here right now,” I say.

His eyes drop to the sling. “I knew from Allie that you were doing better, but I wanted to see for myself.”

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