CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE VIOLENCE MAKES THE HEART GROW FONDER RHYS #2
Too bad it triggered the reminder that he was too big, bad, and scary for little ol’ me. He instantly released his hold and stepped away.
It wasn’t the time, so I didn’t push. Instead, I twisted to see Hollywood checking different footage on his phone. It took me a second to realize it was of a sleeping baby.
“Is that your daughter?” I asked. “I saw her at the bakery.”
“Yeah, my Maevey.” He turned the screen to face me. “She’s been dealing with reflux, had to make sure she was sleeping okay.”
Even in her crib, she looked tiny. “She’s cute.”
I couldn’t see her or anything, but that seemed like the right thing to say.
“Hold on.” Hollywood was a big, muscular guy who rode a motorcycle in a biker club.
He was also an absolute softie—at least where his baby and wife were concerned.
He brought up his photos, and almost every single one was Mac or Maeve, with the occasional bike or part interspersed. “I took this one earlier.”
“Adorable,” I said, meaning it that time as the chunky baby slept on her mom.
My focus moved from the smooshy face to the peaceful calm on Mac’s face. I was sure it was just the timing that made it look that way. I couldn’t imagine life with a newborn was ever calm. But there was something in the small smile she was giving the camera.
Giving her husband.
It was so beautiful, it hurt to look at. So I didn’t. I said all the right things as Hollywood showed me a couple more without me actually seeing the details.
“Windows are replaced,” Jury said as he and Judge entered the office.
I used that opening to shift away from Hollywood until I was lurking off to the side.
A voyeur to their close-knit group.
I had no doubt that MayCo offered a lot of assistance to their clients, but I doubted that included most of the club hauling ass at four in the morning to come help. That tier of service was likely reserved for their friends.
“Hellcat,” Rhys called, even though he was already moving to me.
I belatedly realized all eyes were on me.
While I’d likely been staring blankly at them like a lonely freak.
“What?” I asked.
His brows were pinched with concern. “Judge asked if the detectives said anything to you that they didn’t share with the rest of the class.”
“Oh. No. They found nothing.” I thought it over again. “I know we counted out the guy from earlier, but maybe we were wrong. If his arm was just sore, he could’ve popped some pain meds and been ready to go.”
“Not with the way it was hanging there.”
Glitch clicked around his computer. “What time?”
I shook my head. “You won’t be able to see. They brought him out the emergency exit—”
“Got it,” he interrupted as he turned the computer and pressed play.
Oh shit.
Very little made me squeamish. Very, very little. But the way the guy’s arm dangled did it.
“Damn, woman,” Judge said. He’d heard me tell the detectives, so I wasn’t sure why he sounded so shocked.
Jury’s gaze darted from the screen to me. “Wait. Lo did that?
“All Lo,” Rhys said with unmistakable pride in his voice. “Bouncers didn’t have the chance to rescue the guy before she had him pinned to the bar with his arm behind his back.”
“I didn’t mean to do serious damage,” I rushed out, not wanting them to get the wrong idea about me. “I’m not like that.”
He’d pulled away last time, but at my words, Rhys wrapped his arm back around me. I could hear and feel the timbre of his gritted, “He had worse coming.”
“I’m still beginning to rethink having you over to the clubhouse tomorrow,” Judge said.
How did I forget about the fried chicken invite?
I was about to plead for him not to rescind the tasty invitation when a wide grin split his face. “Getting you and O together will be chaos. I’ll tell everyone to wear a cup and watch their arms.”
“Oof,” Glitch said, and I looked over in time to see footage of the guy getting into the waiting car. Only instead of being escorted by Warner, it was Rhys who handled it.
And not in the gentle manner the injury called for.
“So, yeah, definitely not him,” Glitch rushed out as he slammed the screen closed.
And I pretended I hadn’t seen anything.
“Would’ve been helpful if the prick tied a motive note to one of the bricks,” Hollywood said. “Or a villain soliloquy in front of a camera and without the face coverings.”
“And in song,” Jury added.
They went back and forth about other options, but my exhausted brain was a jumble of my own racing thoughts.
Motives. Babies. Friendship. Fried chicken. Babies again. Babies even more because trying to block them out just made the imaginary newborns multiply like they had a spawning cheat code.
“What’s wrong?” Rhys asked softly.
Nothing I’m telling you about.
“Just thinking,” I said.
“About?”
“If they can’t get the paint off, you’re gonna have to lean into it.
Paint the whole outside neon, redesign the interior, and open as an eighties bar.
” I pretended not to see his disgruntled glower and lightly smacked his chest. “You can rename it Rad! Then you’ll only have to replace two letters on your sign. ”
“You need to get to bed. You’re fuckin’ delirious if you think I’m doing that shit.”
“It was just an idea.”