The Boy I Grew Up With

“You okay?” Channing asked under his breath, leaning closer to me.

I nodded, but I wasn’t. Or I wasn’t sure.

In the early hours of the morning, when I’d normally be finishing closing Manny’s and going to bed, they were out crawling around in the hills. That shouldn’t have put a dagger of fear in my heart, but it did. I used to not want to know. Now I did, and I was even more terrified.

This life was going to get Channing killed. We weren’t sneaking up on friends or family. We were sneaking up on a motorcycle club—one that did illegal shit.

There’d be guns, drugs, whatever nightmare crap I could think up—it’d be there, and Channing was heading toward it. Not away.

He was insane. They were all insane. I was insane.

“Hey.” He touched my arm, scooting closer. We were lined up from shoulder to ankle, and he could’ve kissed me, but he only whispered, “You okay?”

“No,” I hissed back.

One of the guys started chuckling.

“What’s going on?”

I glared at him, or I tried. There wasn’t much distance between our faces, and as I was glaring, he started smirking. His lips were going to touch mine. He would distract me then, push out all the cold and rational fear in me—because it was rational. The fact that he wasn’t scared was irrational.

He was the insane one—and I was repeating myself. My fear had put me on a loop.

“Don’t you fucking touch me. This is messed up, Channing.”

One of the guys whispered from our left, “Channing’s in trouble tonight.”

Another said, “I’m thinking Channing’s going to get a spanking.”

A third laughed. “Are you kidding me? He’s going to eat that shit up. Spank away. You can spank me too, Heather.”

“Shut it!” Channing lifted up, glaring at both ends of the line.

I had recognized that last voice. “I’m going to make you eat shit, Congo. Just wait and see.”

Moose started laughing. “Congo, you dumbass. She burned down a barn-dance hall because she got pissed. What do you think she’s going to do to you?”

“Jax isn’t one I’d want to piss off.” That was Chad.

I liked Chad, even if he was a little more nuts than the rest. “Thank you, Chad.”

“Got you covered, Heather. And I was not one of the ones being disrespectful just now. Just making sure you know that.”

“Oh, I do.” I raised my voice, just a little. “I’m fully aware which assholes are going to get laxatives in their food when they come to Manny’s one day.”

One of the guys groaned. “I forgot Jax isn’t like other girls. She’s vengeful and she follows through.”

The second voice that had piped in earlier added, “We missed you, Jax. Why’ve you been away so long?”

It’d been high school since I’d tagged along with the crew. As the guys were talking, memories of old times came back to me—when this was just our group of friends doing stupid shit together, when it wasn’t an official crew activity, just a prank or a time we were getting back at Fallen Crest people, or following the Broudou brothers and hoping to make their lives hell.

I met Channing’s gaze, and it was as if he was there with me, remembering too, because his eyes softened. He reached over and brushed a strand of hair from my face.

His forehead rested against mine and he whispered, quietly for only me to hear, “It’s good to have you back.”

His lips touched mine, but only briefly, and he pressed a second kiss to my forehead.

I squeezed his hand before he rolled away.

It was good to be back. It was also terrifying, and I’m pretty sure I’d be jonesing for a cig every time I was with the crew, but it was good. It felt like a piece of me had fit back into place.

“Hey,” Moose spoke up. “They’re moving.”

I hadn’t even looked at what we were scoping out. It was a warehouse, similar to Channing’s, but with another building next to it. A trailer sat at one end, along with a small house. A metal fence ran around the entire place, and a light had turned on, illuminating the front yard area.

One of the large warehouse doors rolled up, and a train of motorcycles pulled out, with no headlights on.

They didn’t rev their engines—just a soft purr as they rolled out, one after another. The front man raised his arm, and the perimeter fence began rolling backward. They had it all set up on an electrical feed, and he started through. They went past us, probably twenty feet to the left.

I panicked for a second, wondering if they’d find our trucks, but then I remembered we’d pulled up to a tree line and left them within the woods. They were hidden.

After the last rider left, the fence closed, and the front yard light went off. At least one person was still in there.

Moose said over my head, “That was Richter.”

“I didn’t see Traverse, or Connelly,” Lincoln added.

Channing was still studying the compound, his jaw clenched. “I didn’t see any of the guys loyal to them.”

An unsettled air lingered over everyone. Channing had filled me in earlier so I knew that wasn’t a good sign. The guys who were supposed to help them weren’t anywhere.

Moose finally asked, “You think they’re dead?”

No one wanted to answer that question, but after a slight pause, Channing shook his head.

“I don’t know.” He pushed himself up. “But I’m going to make sure they’re not in there.”

The rest started to stand. He motioned for them to stop. “No. Stay. I’ll go in alone.”

I sat up. “Like hell you will.”

Lincoln stood too. “I’ll go with him.”

I knew Channing could fight. I’d never seen Lincoln in a fight.

He nodded to me. “I won’t let anything happen to him. Promise.”

Channing came over, bending so his forehead touched mine again. His hands found my face and he whispered, “I’ll be fine, but I have to look. I have to.”

This was what I hated about the crew life, but I nodded. He was going anyway. I’d rather him go with a clear head than one clouded, knowing I was upset.

As he started to pull away, I grabbed him and crushed my lips to his. “You fucking come back to me. You hear?”

“I hear.” He wore a proud grin, and he kissed me again, softer this time. “I promise.”

The two left, blending in with what shadows we could see as they approached the compound.

Chad moved over, taking the spot Channing left behind. Congo followed him.

“If anyone can handle themselves in there, it’s those two.” Chad tried to reassure me. “They’ll be fine.”

Moose growled, “And if not, there’ll be hell to pay.”

I grunted. From the both of us.

We quieted and waited until we saw them appear in front of the fence. One of them threw a stick at it. There was no spark. It wasn’t electrified. Both clambered up and over with an ease that surprised me. They darted across the yard, going to a side door, and were inside.

“Why didn’t they lock the doors?” Congo asked.

“Because their compound is in the middle of nowhere,” Moose answered. “Probably don’t think anyone would have the balls to go in.”

The next moments took years from me.

I didn’t know what Channing was doing. I didn’t know who else was in there. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">