Page 12 of Rogue's Path

“Same difference. Do you get all the girls with them?”

I could lie and tell him bikes don’t attract women. I probably should. The kid looks like the type to go out and try to ride one without any lessons. “Who you are is what attracts a woman.”

But an amazing bike helps.

The boy’s face falls. “I’m a drug dealer. They’ll never like me.”

What?

A second boy walks up. This one is lanky. He’s still trying to grow into his frame. I remember that stage of life none too fondly. “You aren’t a drug dealer, so stop saying that.”

It’s hard to think you’re a drug dealer without actually being one.

And now we’re drawing a crowd. Do kids follow you around like goslings here?

“And you don’t want to ride a motorcycle. They’re death machines.” The lanky boy glares at us, probably deciding that we’re trouble.

Which is fair enough. Though death machines sounds a tad dramatic. Can you die? Sure. But you can die sitting in your living room in a freak accident too. Inexperienced riders on machines they can’t handle or stupid riders are the causes of most motorcycle accidents.

“Wait, I remember you.” The lanky boy points at Havoc. “He’s the one that saved your brother Levi.”

The other boy jumps back. “I’m not selling drugs anymore. I promise. Don’t kill me.”

The difference a shower and clean clothes make on a teenage boy. I hardly recognized Jordan.

“You aren’t a drug dealer.” The lanky kid steps in front of him. “Maddox won’t let them hurt you.”

Brave and loyal. I like this kid. He came with Maddox when they picked up Levi and Jordan. Maddox wanted us nowhere near this kid. Why? What was his name again?

“Are they coming for Levi?” Jordan steps forward. “You can’t hurt my brother. He’s in rehab and working really hard at getting clean. Levi won’t sell drugs anymore. I won’t let you hurt him.”

“What’s wrong?” A little girl comes racing up.

“Walk away, Nayeli.” The lanky boy glares at her.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Everett. I can talk to whoever I want on Willow Street. If they were bad men, my dad or a security member would have gotten rid of them.”

Everett is the kid’s name. I need to find out more about him.

Nayeli turns her back on him with her hands on her waist and all the attitude. “Can I ride on your motorcycle? Do they make them in pink? Or in hot pink with sparkles? How fast do they go?”

Her mother must be a spitfire. Does her father have any hair left?

“Wow. Cool. You have a butterfly on your back. That is the coolest thing ever. Can I get one with pink sparkles? And a matching motorcycle when I grow up?”

Pink sparkles? Why am I afraid of the woman this little girl is going to grow up to be?

“They’re a motorcycle gang, not a princess tea party, Nayeli. That isn’t a butterfly on their back. It’s a symbol for the Butterfly Effect, which is a chaos theory. You don’t just cover things like that in pink sparkles.” Everett shakes his head at her.

The boy knows about the Butterfly Effect? Our rocker is a bit of a test for prospects. Which is probably another reason we keep getting doctors signing up. To know that at his young age…interesting.

“And what is wrong with a princess tea party? My dad used to come to mine all the time. Not that I’ve had a tea party in years.” Nayeli's nose wrinkles, and her chin quivers.

Havoc squats down, pulling off his sunglasses. “A tea party sounds like fun. And you’re right, a pink sparkly bike would look amazing.”

“You really think so?” A hint of a smile tilts up her lips.

Havoc is good with kids.