Ride Steady(54)

Apartment 323.

Carissa’s place.

He felt his mouth get tight as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

His thumb moved over the display and he put it to his ear.

“Brother,” Tack answered.

“Where are you?”

“It’s Sunday. Where would I be?”

At home, with his woman and boys.

“Need a word,” Joker told him.

“How quiet does this word have to be?” Tack asked.

“I could come to you. You share what I have to say with Cherry, your call. But outside that, quiet.”

“Where are you?”

“Nowhere good.”

“Don’t wanna make you haul your ass up here, don’t wanna haul my ass to the city. So, help me out, Joke. Where’s halfway?”

“Morrison Inn,” Joker told him.

“Thirty,” Tack replied and disconnected.

Joker shoved his phone in his pocket, glanced at Carissa’s apartment, knowing she was there because her car was and figuring she was up there alone, killing time until her boy was back.

He wasn’t about to take the steps he knew she had to take, lugging up her kid, lugging groceries, to knock on her door to make her less alone.

He just had to settle in the knowledge that sometime tomorrow she’d have her boy back.

So she’d be okay.

Or as okay as she could be.

He rounded the lot and drove out of Denver and into the foothills to hit Morrison Inn.

He had a beer in front of him on the bar when Tack walked in.

He waited until Tack had his own beer before he started.

“Heard word the renters at Tyra’s old pad gave notice.”

Tack had the beer to his lips, his eyes to the bar, when he replied, “Heard true.”

“Want you to offer it to Carissa.”

Tack’s eyes came to him.

“Give her some bullshit about how Tyra bought it years ago, mortgage low or paid off or whatever. I don’t give a f*ck,” Joker told him. “I’ll find out what she’s payin’ now. You throw a couple hundred on that so she can’t read the bullshit. Whatever’s the difference, I’ll pay the rest.”

Tack took a pull and put the beer down but Joker wasn’t finished.

“Also need a lock on some info.”

“That would be?”

“A man named Robinson. Wanna know where he is. Wanna know how he is.”

“Wanna tell me who he is?” Tack asked.

“Knew him once. Good man. Last I knew, he’d taken a hit. Lost a baby. Wanna make sure life for him has turned around.”

Tack studied him a beat, he did this with some intensity, Joker withstood it, then Tack said, “Need more than Robinson.”

“I’ll get you what you need.”

Tack nodded, looked away, nabbed his beer and took another sip.

He kept his gaze to the back of the bar when he said, “Not my usual thing, tellin’ a man where to put his dick, but word is, I’m not the only brother who’s payin’ attention and there’s a sweet piece available. A piece only open to you and you’re not taking.”

Fuck, not this.

“I’m not havin’ this conversation again.”

Tack looked to him. “You can break the cycle.”

Joker felt his brows snap together. “Say again?”

“Seen you fight. Worked out next to you. You don’t smoke. Never asked. Now I’m askin’. How’d you get those cigarette burns on the insides of your arms?”

Joker leaned away.

Tack put his forearms to the bar but did it sliding them an inch toward Joker, his eyes never leaving his brother’s. “Joke, your story to tell when you wanna tell it. Your story to keep if you don’t ever wanna tell. Thought you had secrets. Way you’re holdin’ back with this girl, think I’m wrong. You don’t have secrets. You got demons.”

“I had a shit dad,” Joker bit out, surprised it came out, but not uneasy about it.

With what he’d done that day, the time had come.

Something lethal slid through Tack’s features. “He burn you?”

“And other shit, yeah.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tack hissed, looking back to his beer.

“Long time ago,” Joker told him.

“Boy at the fence.”

“Hunh?”