Worth It (Forbidden Men, #6)(14)

Remembering him, I nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“This is my friend, Ten. But don’t mind him; his bark is bigger than his bite.”

“Hey, f*ck you, man.”

As Ten scowled at him, grumbling more complaints under his breath, Pick kept his intent gaze on me, until his inspection turned into a slight frown. “Last I heard, you were still in prison.”

“What!” Ten exploded. “Some ex-con was driving Blondie’s car?”

“Shut it.” Without glancing at the hothead, Pick punched him in the shoulder and continued to watch me, waiting for my answer.

I shifted, uncomfortable, wondering if he thought I’d escaped or something. “I just got out on parole.” Lifting my hand in the direction of what had once been my home, I said, “The house...the place where I grew up... It’s gone. There’s a gas station there now.”

Pick nodded. “Yeah. They put that up about five years ago.”

Five years ago? I stared at him, dumbfounded. “What...well, what happened to the house?”

I had no idea why I asked that; what I really wanted to know was what had happened to my family. Why had they left? Where had they gone?

Bainbridge was behind this, I just knew it. After he’d taken care of me, he’d gone after my family next. Shit. I should’ve known.

“Man...” Pick shook his head slowly. Regret filled his eyes. “Did no one tell you?”

The way he watched me, sympathetic and worried, made my skin itch. It had always prickled the same way in prison right before someone jumped me. Heeding the warning, I tightened my muscles, bracing for impact. “Tell me what?”

“The, uh...the house burned. There was a house fire. It burned all the way to the ground.”

I stared at him so hard he winced and glanced away. That wasn’t all, I realized. There was more.

“And my family?” I said slowly. My chest heaved, telling me my breathing had picked up.

Another grimace clouded Pick’s face. I took a step back, not ready to hear this. But then he met my gaze and solemnly said, “I’m sorry.”

I clutched my stomach and doubled.

“Oh, shit,” Ten breathed. His sympathetic curse after being a total douche to me only made my urge to puke increase.

I concentrated on breathing through my mouth as the nausea mounted. “All of them?” I choked out. My entire f*cking family? Gone?

“Most of them,” Pick said, his voice low. “Your mom. Your sister. Your niece.”

I sobbed out a miniature moan and immediately jammed my fist against my teeth to muffle anything else that might try to escape.

But Pick kept going. “And one of your brothers. I’m sorry, I don’t remember which one.”

I nodded as if it was okay, but it wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. My stomach certainly wasn’t okay. I dashed to the backside of Zoey’s car, braced my hand against the trunk and leaned over to vomit, but nothing came up except the taste of acid, which sucked more than if I could actually puke because it didn’t settle my nausea any.

Behind me, Ten said, “Holy f*ck, no one bothered to tell him half his f*cking family died in a house fire? Man, that’s harsh.”

Ignoring him, I stooped there another minute until I felt safe enough to stand. But as soon as I straightened, the queasiness returned.

I watched Pick from unfocused eyes. “What about the rest of them?” I asked, my gravelly voice even rougher than usual. “Do you know where they are?”

He opened his mouth, shut it, and then winced before shaking his head.

He knew; he just didn’t want to tell me.

“What?” I demanded.

“Your dad,” he started slowly. “Got drunk out by the train yard a few years later. He was hit and...died. Then one of your brothers—again, I’m not sure which one—overdosed on drugs.”

I sniffed up air hard through my nostrils and nodded. “And the other two?” I asked, not looking at him. “The rest of my brothers?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. They went into foster care for a while and then went their own way. I have no idea where they are now.”

Blowing out a long breath, I bowed my head and reassured myself that I most likely still had two brothers out there somewhere.

“How long have you been out?” Pick asked quietly.

I swallowed. “About an hour.”

“Shit.” He sighed. “And you obviously have no place to go since you went home, only to find it...not there. Did you have anywhere else in mind to stay?”

I glanced around the parking lot as if seeking a shelter, but all I saw was a sea of cars. So I shook my head. “No.”

“That’s what I thought. Look, Ten and I were going to go inside and wait for some word about Zoey and the baby, but I can take you somewhere to crash for a few days until you get on your feet.”

I blinked at him, not sure why he was so willing to help me. I couldn’t offer him anything in return. I had nothing. And no one gave shit away for free.

Pick Ryan had always been a good guy in school. But if there was one thing I knew for certain, it was that everything had changed in the last six years.

It wasn’t as if I had any other options, though. And a place to crash would be nice.

Maybe I could play along until I learned the catch.