Paul leaned toward her. “The Diane you raised became a porn star.”

Uh-oh.

Now I was getting mad.

Rush’s hand came out and held tight to mine and somehow, with that, I didn’t lose it.

Amy had no one to hold her hand.

So she reared back again, and after she did, she shouted, “Tell that to your vodka bottle, Paul!”

I gave Rush a squeeze, pulled free, moved furtively to Hank, put my hand on his arm and whispered, “Thanks, Hank. You can go. Tell Roxie I said hi.”

He looked at me, and the warm, whisky-eyed sweetheart was back.

His fingers found mine, held tight for a beat, and he murmured, “Talk to them about victims’ assistance again.”

I nodded.

He shifted his attention to Paul and Amy. “Mr. and Mrs. Ragowski, try to take care of yourselves,” to which he received a heated glare (Paul) and an apologetic look (Amy).

They deflected off him (or at least I hoped the glare did) and he moved to and out the door.

When it closed behind him, I looked to my friends. “Paul, Amy, Rush and I are gonna take off too.”

Amy’s back went straight, her chin came up, and she announced, “I’m leaving him.”

God dammit.

“You’re what?” Paul asked.

She turned to her husband. “I’m moving in with Barbara. It’s all set. And if you don’t get to a meeting and get yourself dried out and get back to work, we’re putting the house on the market and I’m filing for divorce. I’m not going to end this living nightmare having a dead daughter, an alcoholic husband and bad credit. You have a week, Paul. Life’s too short. I’m not wasting another second watching you waste away.”

Paul stared at her, his mouth open, his face blank.

Amy turned to me. “I’ll be in touch, doll. I love you.” She looked to Rush. “I’m sorry. I should have let you stay in your truck. I’ve leaned too heavily on Rebel and you got caught up in that. That ends now. I hope you understand the extenuating circumstances and I hope to meet you again under better ones.”

With that, she flounced to the hall and we heard a door slam.

I gave my attention to Paul.

“Paul, you two need to chat. We’re gonna go.”

“My daughter died,” he muttered toward the hall Amy had just gone down.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“And that bitch,” he lifted a hand to the hall, “treats me to that?”

I clenched my teeth so I wouldn’t say anything stupid.

Rush did not do the same.

“Man, get your head outta your ass or you’re not only gonna lose your daughter, you’re gonna lose it all.”

Paul was searing a look at Rush, but Rush was grabbing my hand and pulling me to the door.

“I’m not sure you’re welcome back,” Paul spat at Rush.

“I’m pretty sure, you keep acting like a moron, I don’t care,” Rush muttered, opened the door and pulled me out, turning back and saying, “Goodbye.”

He reached in, shut the door and moved me down their walk.

“I’m sorry, baby,” I whispered, holding tight to his hand.

“Good that happened. Amy needed to lay it out,” Rush did not whisper back.

“You didn’t have to witness it.”

He stopped me at the passenger door to his truck and looked down at me. “Would you still be in there, playing referee to those two, if I was out in my truck?”

I slid my eyes away.

“Right,” he muttered, yanking open my door. “So it’s good I went in. Now we can go home, fuck, I can crash, we can find out where the fuck your brother and his man are, get them home to you, and I can go back out and shake down more people who have no idea where Chew is. Another perfect day.”

Oh man.

He was tired, done with this mess, probably hungry, had to deal with that ugly with Paul and Amy, and, well . . . tired.

I did not delay climbing into the truck.

Rush closed me in, rounded the hood, then angled in the other side.

After he started it up and pulled out into the road, I asked, “Do you want my cheesy biscuit breakfast sandwiches?”

“It’ll take too long. We’ll grab something from a drive thru, eat it on the way home, I’ll finish breakfast eating you out, then I’m gonna sleep.”

“That’s a plan,” I said, though I hated fast food (all but Arby’s, their beef and cheddars and curly fries were crack). The rest of it, I was totally down with, and one part of it, I was seriously down with. I dug my phone out of my pocket and told him, “I’ll call D.”

“Good idea,” he muttered.

Diesel didn’t answer so I left a message.

Rush was taking our order from a drive thru window at Taco Bell when my phone binged with a text.

Doing some shit with Sixx. It’s gonna take a while. Covered?

“D says he’s doing something with Sixx and it’s gonna take a while,” I told Rush as he handed me the bag.

“They’re not back when I wake up, I’ll drop you at Essence’s,” Rush replied, pulling out of the fast food lane.

And there it was again.

Plans change, Rush just found a new flow.

Covered, I texted D. Then followed up with, I might be at Essence’s if you’re gone long. I’ll text.

Right, sis. Later.

I dug in the bag to get out Rush’s breakfast burrito.

“Thanks for taking me,” I said.

“Not a problem,” he replied.

“Thanks for being awesome.”

His lips quirked, he glanced at me, took his burrito and looked back at the road.

“Not a problem.”

I pulled out my own burrito, set the hash browns and cinnamon balls where Rush could get at them, then crunched up the bag and threw it to the floor.

I unwrapped enough to take a bite, chewed, swallowed and announced, “You’re right.”

Rush did not swallow his bite but asked with a full mouth, “About what?”

“Diane gave me one last thing after she died.”

He knew where I was leading and that was why I got a gentle, “Babe.”

“I wouldn’t want it to happen this way. But it did. So that’s what I’ve got. And I’m good to take it.”

He switched burrito hands to reach out and give my thigh a squeeze.

He nabbed a hash brown on the way back to the steering wheel.

“I’m glad Amy did that. I’m not so worried anymore,” I shared.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“They’re really not that awful,” I told him.

“Amy’s not,” he replied firmly.

Hmm . . .

It would seem Rush wasn’t as easygoing with men who treated the women in their life like dirt, even with extenuating circumstances.

I understood Paul’s extenuating circumstances (to a point).

I still liked that.

We ate.

We made it back to his house.

We fucked.

And Rush passed out.

But I lay naked in his arms, watching Rush sleeping, marveling that he still looked badass doing it, thinking about our morning and about what D and Mad were doing with Sixx and about going to Phoenix.

I’d had his dad’s pancakes (and they were amazing).

Rush really needed to try my cheesy biscuit breakfast sandwiches.

And he might not know it because he’d never had it, but he really needed someone around to look after him.

I wanted to be that someone.

Bad.

The question was, was it more important I look after him by going to Phoenix?

After his losing it when his mom was such a bitch, and that day, him dragging me around, putting a good face on it even though he was dragging, I was uncertain.

What I knew was, we could talk about it more, he’d be open to my thoughts and concerns, and we’d come to a decision.

Together.

And knowing that would be how it went down was awesome.

Valenzuela

One twenty-eight, Sunday afternoon . . .

His head snapped back, he heard a low but sharp cry of pain as his teeth dragged flesh, and he found it an odd but alluring sensation that he was not able to move his hips when he spent himself magnificently into the condom.