on the driveway between them. Something Thames didn’t understand, but he knew it had to do with Locke.
There was something about Max Locke that followed Thames everywhere he went. It was like his presence was around him at all times, and it didn’t make sense to feel that way.
Or did it?
It left Thames a little uneasy.
It rained like this that day, he thought just then, looking at Jem now. Jem looked back, his eyes sad.
Could it be they were thinking the same thing?
The rain pounded harder on them, and they stood still, taking it on like…like the rain could wash away their sins.
Was such a thing possible? Could your sins ever truly wash away? At what force did the rainfall have to be for that to happen?
“I’ve got somewhere to be,” Locke finally spoke, his voice detached. “I’ll have some men drive by the house intermittently in case of trouble. Here’s the key to that car, by the way. It’s at the motel, where you wanted it.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. He pulled out the key to the SUV and tossed it to Thames to catch. Then he left quickly, like he sensed what wasn’t being spoken and he couldn’t bear confronting it.
Neither of them were ready to.
Jem didn’t stick around either. Drenched and cold, he turned his steely eyes to Thames and tried hard to mask his emotions.
“I gotta get back to the bar, buddy.”
“You sure?”
Jem nodded. “I know you need your space.”
He sounded like he needed it too.
He waited in his car, and not long after Megan followed, giving Thames a tight hug. Respecting their space, she left with Jem.
Thames stood on the porch, wet, cold…confused.
He teetered on a truth that was hidden in plain sight, but he couldn’t place it.
But it was in Locke.
It was in Locke, he was certain of it.
He watched the headlights disappear down the road, thinking how different everything felt now. He couldn’t shake the feeling of grief, wondering when, along the way, everything changed.
That night, Thames sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at his wrist as he traced the number there with his index finger. He’d never appreciated the number before. He’d hated seeing his flesh marred by the permanent ink, reminding him of his place in the crew.
But right then, reminded of what it stood for, he felt peace at the sight of it.
“You’re only part of the crew when you’ve endured hell and unimaginable pain,” Holden told him. “Ravens stand for lost souls. They represent loss and death. The only reason you’re part of us now is because you know exactly what that loss feels like. You know what it’s like to take life away, and like the dark plumage on a raven, you have a similar darkness surrounding you. It’s a darkness that feels heavy and cold, and it’s your driving force within this prison to keep you going.”
Then, when the number had been inked in place, red and stinging on his skin, Holden said, “Welcome to the crew, bro. Your place here was earned. Your protection within these walls starts now.”
“Conor.”
He jerked his head up. Charlotte was standing outside the bathroom, a towel wrapped tightly around her body. Her face was flushed red, her hair down and wet. The scent of her body wash wafted to him, so feminine and so Charlotte.
“Dove,” he whispered, eyes trailing her bare shoulders, “why are you in that ridiculous towel?”
She glanced at the towel, confused. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s on you.”
Her lips spread into a wide grin. “What’re you going to do about it, Conor?”
“Come closer and find out.”
He’d tear it off her with his teeth if he had to. God, anything to get that fucking towel off and his hands on that soft skin.
Biting her bottom lip, she looked over at the bedroom door. “Is Penny asleep?”
“I read a chapter from this weird as fuck dragon book. She fell asleep halfway through.”
Charlotte laughed. “She doesn’t like that book, you know.”
“She asked me to read it.”
Her expression turned tender. “She likes to hear your voice, I think.”
Cute. But he didn’t want to talk about dragon books and Penny right now. Not when his dove was wrapped in that ridiculous fucking handkerchief of a thing.
Looking at her deeply, he said, “The door’s locked. Come to me, Char.”
“But…are you alright?”
“I’m alright, why?”
“You just looked a little sad.” Her eyes flickered to his wrist, curiosity growing.
He turned his wrist over so she couldn’t linger too long on the tattoo. “I’m only