Wild Wind: A Chaos Novella (Chaos #6.6)(8)

Then again, Jag was the kind of guy who made a lot of men tense.

And A was the kind of woman who undoubtedly made a lot of men relax.

She looked like a seriously toned-down Harley Quinn, but still with that grown-up schoolgirl vibe that was cool as hell and hot AF.

“We have this covered, it’s all good. Unless…should we ask them to call the cops, J?” A asked, and he knew with how she did it, she had no intention of phoning the police.

The kid didn’t read that.

“No!” Mal shouted, stepping away from Jagger, shaking his head. “No cops.”

A leveled her eyes on him. “Mal, this isn’t candy. This isn’t stickers. This isn’t a Lionel Richie koozie.”

A Lionel Richie what?

“This is serious,” A continued, “and I think maybe the cops should be involved.” She looked to Jag. “So maybe leave it in the backpack. The cops can search it when they get here.”

“Arch, come on,” Mal said, his voice now whiney. “Take it back, I don’t care. Whatever. I just nabbed it ’cause I was pissed you kicked me out of group.”

Arch?

Was her name Arch?

Or was that a nickname?

No one was named Arch.

It had to be a nickname.

“So you took it,” A noted.

The kid bit his lower lip.

Yup, not that Jagger doubted it, but that controller was in the kid’s pack.

“We’ve got an issue here, Mal,” A said to the kid, her voice softer. She turned her attention to the movers and called, “We’re good. We’ll work it out. Sorry to disturb.”

“Right, you need any help, we’re right here,” one of the guys said.

Yeah, they’d lost sight of him and Mal and they were all about “Arch.”

Jag looked heavenward.

The movers shifted away as A said to Mal, “You know I’m gonna have to tell your mom about this. And gotta remind you, we made a deal. I didn’t tell her about the other stuff you stole, you didn’t pull any more hijinks. And here we are, more hijinks. You reneged. I’m on the phone the minute I get back to the store.”

His mom?

Okay, was she a teacher or counselor or something?

And if she was, what was the store?

“No!” the kid cried again. “No, Arch. All right. I stole it. Okay? All right? I admit it. Take it back. No beefs. Just don’t talk to Mom.”

“I can’t have you coming into the store and stitching me up, Mal,” she said to the kid. “I’ve got things to do that don’t include chasing you through Denver.”

Mal turned his head away.

“What’s the deal?” she asked him.

Mal kept his head turned away.

“What’s the deal, Mal?” she asked again. “We never had any problems before. Why are you suddenly being a pill?”

Mal said nothing and kept his gaze averted.

“She asked you a question, bro,” Jag prompted.

Mal turned his head at that, tipped it back, and glared at Jag. “Who are you?”

“Who he is isn’t relevant,” A stated.

Well, fuck me very much.

Jag scowled at A.

“He thinks he’s relevant,” Mal muttered.

“He’s not relevant to you,” A amended. “Or this situation. Now, what’s the deal, Mal?” she kept at him.

“You’re right. Mom doesn’t know I’m kicked out of group. I didn’t tell her,” Mal spat out like the words didn’t taste good.

A leaned back and crossed her arms on her chest.

“Right,” she said slowly. “So what have you been doing after school?”

“None of your business,” Mal replied.

“It’s my business, you want another shot at group,” she said.

Mal’s gaze darted to her hopefully.

He wanted another shot at group.

“Seriously?” he asked.

Jag also looked to her, and when Mal was finished, he repeated, “Seriously?”

“Stay out of this, J,” she muttered.

“If the kid’s stealing from you, babe, just sayin’,” Jag returned.

Her head ticked and she focused on him. “Babe?”

“Babe,” he confirmed.

That was when A looked heavenward.

“Are you guys, like, together?” Mal asked, his gaze darting between them.

“Mind your business about J, Mal, and answer my question,” A demanded.

But Mal was still busy looking between “Arch” and Jag.

“It’s weird, he’s biker, you’re punk, but I see it,” he decided. Then he said to Jag, “I’d call her ‘babe’ too, because she’s totally a babe.”

“Mal!” A snapped.

“Nothin’,” he whispered, and Jag wasn’t a huge fan of his sudden change in tone or the look on the kid’s face. “Nothin’. Just messin’ around, keepin’ to myself. Hangin’ at the laundromat sometimes. But the Harris brothers—”

And Jag did not like the way “Arch” responded to the words “the Harris brothers.”

He shifted in a way he was closer to her and the kid.