Page 10

(Scout)

Sprawled in the sand, trying to glare down the moon, Scout fumed, hating that he was feeling anything right now when Teddy had warned him that Kong was a one-and-done kind of guy.

Scout usually was too, but after all the rumors he’d heard and listening to the giggling going on behind Kong’s back, the man had been nothing like anyone claimed.

He’d been gentle, for fuck’s sake; no one was ever gentle with him, especially once they found out he did adult videos.

They thought he was just another fuckboy, and that was fine, since most of the men who bothered with him were only after a quick fuck anyway.

But Kong had held him too. He had tucked him close and wrapped that warm, muscular body around him, brushed his hair back, and even kissed the top of his head before they’d fallen asleep. That meant something.

Didn’t it?

He was so stupid.

Of course it didn’t.

Teddy had told him what Kong was all about.

And hadn’t Scout seen for himself firsthand what happened when your biker daddy decided he didn’t want you anymore?

Mark had cut Teddy’s property-of patch off his jeans while he was wearing them, and he’d held the rest of Teddy’s clothes hostage until the property-of tag had been removed from everything he owned.

Never get the tattoo , Teddy had whimpered in Scout’s arms after Mark had blacked out the one on his ass.

Scout just hoped to get the man.

Kong has been playful, for fuck’s sake. Up there on the bar, they’d made a game out of body shots that went beyond just having the Kong’s tongue on him. He’d made Scout ache and need, his pleas for more ones he hadn’t needed to fake.

But today was another day, and the awkward twink doing the bad stripper routine looked to become the next notch on the big man’s belt, so it was time to cut his losses and get his shit back together, or he’d never get through tomorrow’s shoot.

His gut clenched for an entirely different reason now.

Sawyer wouldn’t know there had been no cameras recording what had taken place inside the grocery store.

He’d lie low and stay away from town for a while.

Scout would have to go to the video shoots on his own until he could get word to his brother about what he’d learned.

It wasn’t going to be easy, either. He was just glad he’d spotted his brother’s phone lying beside the ATM on his way to help the lady who’d been shot.

He’d been able to shove it in his jacket pocket after he’d stripped his t-shirt off, preventing the cops from finding it and digging into the real events that had taken place.

Scout couldn’t believe they’d bought his story about the tweakers turning on one another after an argument had broken out over what chips to grab. With a still trembling hand, Scout had pointed to the overturned rack, busted bags, and chips stomped to bits, and spun the tale of a lifetime.

A story that he knew would unravel the moment Ms. Esperanza woke up and told the cops what had really happened. Which meant Sawyer could never come back.

Shit.

Oh shit, shit, shit.

And Scout had to stay or break the contract. If that happened, they were back to square one, with the scrapyard and the house at risk.

Deep breath.

Don’t get spun out.

Only he did start getting spun out the moment he realized what else the truth would bring.

The cops would be looking for him to ask about that bullshit story he’d told.

They’d go to the address on his license, and his pops wouldn’t know what the fuck to tell them because he didn’t know where Scout was.

Okay, wait.

That was a good thing.

What his pops didn’t know, he couldn’t tell them. For all the cops knew, Scout was just passing through. That’s what he’d told them anyway.

The only thing they had that was legitimate was his phone number, and phones were easily replaced.

He’d grab a new one in the morning and send the texts he needed to send before destroying the one he had.

Smash, burn, and drown—that’s what Sawyer had told him to do if he was ever worried about a phone being compromised.

But what to do if they’d taken down his plate number and the description of his bike?

Walk.

Yeah, yeah, okay, Factory Row wasn’t that far away.

Two miles. He walked more than that when he was searching for parts in the scrapyard.

Walking to and from shoots wouldn’t be an issue; he could handle that easily enough as long as his scene partners weren’t too rough with him. Otherwise it was gonna suck.

Which was going to make the memory of his night with Kong hurt worse if he couldn’t find a way to forget about it and the man who’d taken up root in his brain like no other ever had.

Fuuuuuccccckkkkk!

Several gulls screamed back in response, their shadows flapping across the moon, so he flipped them off and went right back to sulking over the new twist unfurling in his head.

The one in which the cops pressed Axel for the truth, and he finally owned up to there being someone else in the gas station beside them and the woman who’d been hurt.

He just hoped she made it. He’d heard her begging Mrs. Martinez to let the school know she was going to the hospital so that someone would be there for her son.

Bleeding and scared, her son’s name and the things she wanted Scout to tell him were all she’d been concerned about.

And Scout had promised her that if she didn’t make it, he’d tell her son, so she had to make it, ‘cause he didn’t wanna have that kind of conversation with a kid.

Not when he already knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of one.

Maybe he needed to have a one-on-one conversation with Axel, just something nice and friendly, over a beer and some wings or something.

Scout would pay and explain, as best he could, why Sawyer had to leave without giving a statement and why Scout hadn’t said anything about him being there.

The guy looked like he’d get it, and if he didn’t, then Scout would just have to be damn certain he kept a low profile and under the cops’ radar so they couldn’t pick him up, because he wasn’t giving them shit.

He'd rather eat the obstruction charge.

Keep your mouth shut unless someone asks you a direct question.

Never volunteer information.

And never give the cops more information than it takes to stay off their radar.

Play polite and dumb.

Use yes, sir and no, sir.

It’s okay to look wide-eyed and scared. You always look wide-eyed and scared; use it to your advantage.

He’d bristled at that, wishing he was more badass, like his brother.

But Sawyer hadn’t been the kind of big brother who dragged him into danger and encouraged him to pull stupid stunts.

He’d been the kind to steal repair manuals so Scout could study them and play around with the surplus of mangled vehicles he’d loved tinkering with from the time he could hold a wrench.

Shop classes had been the only thing to keep Scout in school long enough to get his diploma, which his dad kept in a place of honor on a shelf on the living room wall.

Barbecue and beer had been their celebration dinner after Sawyer and their Pops had cheered and whistled as he’d walked across the stage.

They were the only people in the world who’d ever looked out for him, the only ones who’d had his back.

Now he had the opportunity to make something right for them.

He was more than halfway there.

Just six more shoots, five after tomorrow.

He could handle those alone, no problem.

He just had to keep his smartass mouth in check and not piss anyone off the way he’d done the first week.

He’d made that situation rougher on himself which made it impossible for Sawyer to miss the signs that someone had hurt him.

That’s when his brother had stepped up and started coming with him when he had to film.

If he’d kept his thoughts and feelings to himself in the first place, Sawyer would never have been in that gas station, and Scout wouldn’t be lying in cool sand turning his brains to scrambled eggs thinking so hard.

He just had to be smart about how he handled everything.

Even Sawyer had praised him when Scout had landed a place to stay and a job with the Jokers while forging a connection between the MC and the salvage yard.

Scout just wished the job they’d offered had been in the garage and not the clubhouse, where people treated him like a barely tolerated servant while alternately eyeing him with suspicion and like he was a slab of rare meat.

The second part he could handle, but he’d done nothing to earn the first; that was all due to his association with Teddy.

But Teddy had been the one to offer him an alternative to sleeping in the campground, where things could get rowdy, and twice Scout had been forced to move his tent to get away from violence and stupid people.

The cabin they shared was way more comfortable, even if his bed was just a spare mattress tossed on the floor until he decided whether to pick up a bed frame or not.

The only thing he did know was that heading down the road wasn’t an option.

Not even after the last movie had been shot.

The sales from the parts the MC needed, as well as the online salvage shop he and Sawyer had helped their old man set up, would more than keep them afloat once the second mortgage had been paid off.

After the fourteen videos he’d already shot, these last six would be nothing. Nothing at all.

As long as he kept his smart-ass mouth shut.

“So, this is where you got to.”

Startled by the unexpected voice, Scout scrambled to his feet, following the big shadow upward to see the moonlight slashed across Kong’s face.

“My shift was over, and Night didn’t need me in the kitchen once we’d gotten caught up,” Scout said. “Ms. Kat said I could go since most of the crowd headed for the dungeon.”