N9ne: The Tale of Kevin Clearwater (King, #9)(53)

I take the bottle from her and set it to the side. “No cages. I don’t know the long-term plan yet. I’m still trying to figure all this out.”

She picks the bottle right back up. “But you’re still looking for him, right? Because when you find him, I’ve got some things I need to get off my chest.”

“Yeah, I’m still looking.”

For the money, anyway.

“How, how are you looking?” she demands to know.

“I’ve been hacking into his work server. Bank records. Paper trails. Anything I can think of.” That part is true.

“Hacking? You good with computers or something? Because, and I’m only being honest here, I don’t really see you as the computer nerd type.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” I tell her.

“Ditto,” she says tipping the bottle to her mouth.

“I’m still trying to figure all this out, Lenny.”

“Is that why you left before? Because you are just trying to figure it all out?” Her eyes are glassy and rimmed in red.

“You can say that.” I push the hair from her eyes. She yanks away and I ball my fist before dropping it to my side.

“I just did say that,” she argues. Hiccup. “I just don’t like being left alls alone is all. At least, not without a goodbye. Jared lefted me. You lefted me.” Her unfocused eyes meet mine. “Bridge boy lefted me.”

My mouth goes dry. “Bridge boy?” I ask, making sure I heard her correctly.

Hiccup. “Yup, bridge boy lefted me.” She picks up the bottle once again and take a healthy swig. “Well, technically I left him. I slipped and went down, down, down. All my fault. Never even got his name. He probably thinks I’m dead. I should be dead. But nope.” She holds out her arms. “Surprise! Totally not a dead. Nope. Not dead at all. I crawled to the shore and barfed up half the bay and walked home barefoot. Watched them dragging the river from the other side, but they never found me.” She giggles then whispers, “Because I wasn’t in there.” She sighs. “Good times.” Her words are slurred, but it does nothing to dull their impact. “I thinks about hims every day. Bridge Boy. Where he is? What he’s doing? If he has a goldfish named Bam-Bam?” She giggle-snorts.

My heart lurches just as Lenny sways and starts to fall sideways off the counter. I catch both her and the vodka, setting them both upright. “I definitely don’t think he has a fish named Bam-Bam,” I say, lifting her into my arms. She’s so tiny and weighs practically nothing. I easily carry her to my bed and lay her down, covering her with the blanket.

Her eyes are closed, and I think she’s asleep, but after a few seconds she whispers. “Do you think bridge boy thinks of me?”

The second the question leaves her lips, she begins to lightly snore.

I tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Only every fucking day.”





Chapter Nineteen





LENNY





It’s been a few days since my drunken melt down and I’m still a bird in a cage, only my cage is a future meth lab that is Nine’s RV.

Nine and I have barely spoken. During the day he works in the office next to the field. I spend my time drinking while watching mindless TV or drinking while reading one of the books from the stack underneath the TV. Surprisingly, I found a collection of Edgar Allen Poe Poetry that I’ve read twice since I’ve been here, but hundreds of times before.

Some days, I switch it up and just drink.

At night I make a big show over sleeping on the couch by myself only to wake up in bed circled up next to Nine unsure of how exactly I got there. I’m alone. Well, I’m sort of alone. Either Pike or one of the Lawless MC brothers are standing guard outside the door at all times, taking turns bringing me food and thankfully, vodka.

I’ve just showered and wrapped myself in a towel. I’m searching my bag for a hair tie. I cheer when I find one at the bottom of my bag. The RV door opens and I jump up, wrapping the towel tighter around my naked body.

Pike’s head appears as he leans in through the open door. “Hey, pretty girl. Get ready. I’m going to take you to meet him in ten minutes.”

The door shuts before I can tell him that I don’t have any clothes to put on. I stomp my foot in frustration and spin around to face the kitchen.

I spot two pairs of stretchy athletic shorts and a couple of racer-back white tank tops that have somehow magically appeared on the counter while I was in the shower.

I get dressed quickly. The shorts are shorter than I like to wear, and if I bend over, I’m pretty sure my ass is going to hang out. The tank tops fits perfectly. Snug, but made of thick enough cotton that won’t tell the world that I’m not wearing a bra. It’s a nice change to put on real clothes instead of wearing only panties and one of Nine’s shirts.

Pike is waiting me for me outside in a black van.

I get in with Baby Vodka on my lap and fasten the seatbelt over the two of us. “So how about that job?” I ask Pike with a bright smile that says I know my question is ridiculous, but I’m going to ask it anyway.

He glances down at Baby Vodka and cocks his head, probably confused at to why I’m treating it like a small child. What he doesn’t know is that it’s all I have and I’m a grown woman and I’ll treat this bottle of vodka like a baby if I damn want to. Surprisingly, all he says is, “You do know that children shouldn’t ride on laps. Didn’t you learn anything from Britney?” He pulls out of the field.