“Let me pick up another rock.” Jacob shoves Garrett and stumbles away.
“Don’t lose sight of him,” I warn Garrett. I slap Alvin’s chest. “Stay here. I’m gonna grab Robbie.”
Some skinny guy’s prowling around our tour bus, testing the door. Just what we need—to get jacked in the middle of cracktown.
“Get the fuck out of here!” I shout and the guy skitters away. I pound my fist on the door and Robbie opens it. “You need to go get Jacob. I don’t care if you have to knock him out and sling him over your fucking shoulder.”
“Chaser, I don’t want to leave the bus here.”
“All set!” Jacob hollers across the parking lot. He holds up a handful of clear plastic baggies. Great. Our very own pied piper about to lure all the crackheads to our bus.
Completely stupefied about the wrong turn our night took, I just watch Jacob trip up the stairs onto the bus like it’s no big deal.
I promised my dad and Mallory I’d be back tomorrow but now I’m afraid to leave.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Mallory
Cool air hits my back. The bed dips. “I’m home, little dove.”
“Chaser?” Groggy and somewhere between asleep and awake, I turn over, praying I’m not dreaming.
“Oh!” I sit up and glance at the clock. “Wow. I only meant to take a quick nap.”
“You need the rest.” He sits with his back against the headboard and holds out his arms. “Come here.”
I snuggle up to him, resting my head on his chest. “When did you get here?”
“Dad just dropped me off. Told him I’ll be by the clubhouse in a little while. Needed to see you first.”
“How was the show?”
“The show itself was fine.” He groans and runs his hand over his face. “Afterward was a bad mash-up of a horror flick and an after school special.”
“Good grief.” I bite my fist after Chaser finishes his story. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” He cuddles me closer. “We still have a couple of months left. I don’t see how we finish the tour with him dragging us off to every trap house some random crackhead tells him about.”
I squeeze his arm and run my hand up and down, hoping he won’t be offended. “Were you okay?”
“Fuck,” he groans. “Last night was so…seedy and bizarre, partaking in any of it was the last thing on my mind.”
“Well, I guess one good thing came out of your adventure.”
“The only good thing. I was really torn leaving this morning. Two days off? I don’t even want to know what kind of trouble Jacob will drag them into.”
“I wish Alvin had come home with you.”
“I offered.” He blows out a breath. “Fuck, we have the Elimination Date premiere coming up. He’s gotta get himself in check before then.”
“Everything’s going so good for you guys. Finally. I don’t understand—”
“Put it out of your head.” He runs his fingers through my hair. “You have enough to worry about right now. Are you sure you’re up for this party tonight?”
“I’ve actually been looking forward to it. I went over and helped Doe last night.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.” I glance over at the closet. “I’m not wearing anything fancy though.”
“It’s just a mixer. Nothing fancy required.”
“That creep Tyler isn’t coming, is he?”
He chuckles and presses a finger to my lips. “No, and don’t say that to anyone besides me.”
I flick my gaze up. “I’m not stupid. You said another club was coming too.”
“The Lost Kings MC. We’re on better terms with them. Probably because their territory’s about four hours away.”
“Good buffer.”
“Still, be careful. I’ll be with you most of the night. But just in case, watch who you talk to and how much information you divulge. Even innocuous conversation with their old ladies—if they bring any.”
While things might get rowdy tonight, the clubhouse is fairly quiet when we arrive a few hours later. The visiting club only showed up with a few members. Chaser makes a few introductions before his father calls him away to help with something.
I wander over to the bar, observing the clubhouse in its pre-party state.
The youngest member of the visiting club ambles my way.
“You’re the chick from the ‘Candy Jar’ video, right?” He looks me up and down in a salacious manner. The kid can’t be more than sixteen, but he already seems to be quite the sweet talker.
“How old are you?” I ask, placing a hand on my hip.
His mouth curls into a way-too-sure-of-himself smirk. “However old you need me to be,