The Biker and the Loner (Oil and Water #3)- S. Ann Cole Page 0,47

Kathy. She has a pattern, and she becomes obsessive and manic when things don’t go her way.

Once I’m done changing out of my uniform, I pick up my phone and lean back against the locker, then take a deep breath before checking the messages.

Mom: Baby I am sorry.

Mom: Please come back home. I did not mean any of what I said.

Mom: I love you and you just make me crazy. You are all I have.

Mom: You cannot leave me.

Mom: Come back and I will give you your trust fund. I am scared for you out there. I do not want you to get hurt.

Mom: Please come home.

Mom: Please baby.

Trust fund—the card she’s been playing for years, the carrot dangled above my head, the thing she thought was making me stay. Of course, she would try to lure me back with it.

On the one hand, I'm worried about leaving her to herself knowing she isn't mentally well. But on the other hand, I need to start giving a damn about my mental well-being, because while she's all I have, I’m not all she has.

Kathy—Katherine de Glücksbeigch has a full royal family in an unpronounceable country somewhere in Europe. She has living, breathing parents, siblings, nieces, and nephews. All of which I wish I had. If she wants to, she can survive without me, just as I will now have to learn to survive without her.

I delete her messages and pull up Scratch's name instead.

Me: My shift just ended. I'm leaving now. I'm going to see a friend, so I’ll be home late. Have you eaten?

Scratch: NOT SINCE BREAKFAST. BEEN BUSY. WHAT FRIEND?

Me: I’ll pick something up and take it to you first then. What do you feel like eating?

Scratch: YOU. BUT YOU WON'T LET ME. WHAT FRIEND?

Me: *facepalm emoji*

Me: I'm leaving now. Do you want me to bring you something or not? Talk fast.

Scratch: PHILLY CHEESESTEAK SUB.

Me: Where should I come?

Scratch: THE CLUB.

Me: Who's there with you?

Scratch: ONYX. BULLY. RANGER. MASK. JUDGE.

Me: Ok. Be there soon.

Almost an hour later, I arrive at the Den of Heathens compound. The wait for the subs was a long one. As Mice opens the big, rusting metal gates for me, I drum my fingers against the steering wheel.

"Hey, Pretty Ley," he says with a big grin after I’ve driven in and parked. "Long time no see."

Freakishly tall and lanky, Mice is the compound lackey. Too “soft” to be a brother, according to Grunt. But he takes pride in his tasks on the compound and is amicable and extremely loveable.

"I know, right?" I switch off my engine. "I've been a bad friend." I reach for the Cookie's Treat bag on the passenger seat. "Will these cinnamon rolls atone for my negligence?"

His grin widening, he walks up to the window and takes the bag from my outstretched hand. "You're always so kind, Pretty Ley." He opens the bag and sniffs. "Hmm. Still hot and fresh."

I clamber out of the Range and open the back door. "Where can I find Scratch?"

His mouth is stuffed with sugary carbs when he replies, "Oh, they've been in a meeting in the courtroom for a while now. If it's over, you should find them in the bar."

“Thanks, Mice.” I gather the takeaway food tray in my arms. “Do you mind closing that door for me?"

"Of course, Pretty Ley."

It's been a while since I came to the compound. I tried to keep it up after Scratch left, but with both him and Grunt gone, I had no other reason to come around except for Kendra. And because Kendra works right across the street at The Metal House, seeing the Heathens daily, she rarely visits the compound in her free time

I started coming around for Grunt, I stayed for Scratch, and I lingered for Kendra. Now that Scratch is back, I've reason again to be here. But judging from our conversation this morning, I’m getting the feeling that won't be for long.

Using my shoulder, I bump open the bar door and I’m immediately assaulted with the pungent smell of smoke, alcohol, and testosterone.

Once my senses have adjusted to the environment, I scan the room. Bully and Ranger are shooting pool, Judge is propped against the bar nursing a beer with a serious expression, and Onyx and Scratch are smoking weed on an old mustard couch, while Mask sits backward on a chair regaling a bawdy sexual encounter.

A Club Cat is slouched on the arm of the couch, dragging her long nails along Scratch’s tattooed