Page 35 of Iron Hearts

“Coyote. Do you know if the cats are inside?”

I shook my head. “No, I haven’t seen Sir Didymus or Jareth in a minute,” I said.

Didymus was our fat orange cat and a coward. Jareth was a tuxedo who was long and lanky and not just in body. His legs were almost too long, and his ears too. He was one of the weirdest-looking cats that you’d ever lay eyes on, but I hadn’t seen either all day. Didn’t mean anything, though. They roved in and out at their leisure and sometimes would abscond for a day or two at a time.

I think Didymus had one or two other part-time families he hung out with in the neighborhood. He certainly was round enough to be eating in more than one place.

“Well, may the odds be in their favor if they aren’t in the house,” my mom said with a gusty sigh. “Nothing we can really do about it.”

Yeah, it sounded callous, but it wasn’t. It was just the reality of things. Knowing Mom, she would be awake worrying all night.

We went inside and found Didymus on the couch. He sauntered into the kitchen, waddling into Mom’s room to go to bed. She let out a relieved sigh and let me know Jareth was in her room before she closed the door.

I put our glasses in the sink and went to bed, closing my bedroom door behind me.

I found the ruin of Striker’s shirt in the corner on the floor. I picked it up and thought it was a shame. It was a goodBlack Rebels Motorcycle Clubtee. It was a band, and I liked them enough that I had a few of their songs on my playlist. The shirt was in a size large. So, my size but only because of my chest. If my boobs had been just a little less, a medium would have suited me just fine for the rest of me, but my bazongas were just like my mother’s and wouldnotbe contained.

I swallowed and self-indulgently brought the tee shirt to my nose, closing my eyes and breathing it in.

It smelled like booze, sure, but underneath, it smelled like him. Like whatever cologne or aftershave or whatever he used, but even below that, it smelled likehim.I found the scent…nice.Comforting in a strange way.

I looked at the shirt in my hands, at the blood stain across the front where it’d been slashed, and thought about it.

I bet I could save it.

I mean, not for him – but I bet I could make it work for me. A few clever cuts, a knot or two, and it’d fit right in at the Iron Horse.

If nothing else, I had it to remember him by, even if I never saw him again.

I took a shower and went to bed, only to be startled awake at some ungodly hour by one of my little brothers hiccup sobbing by my bed.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” I asked, sitting up, unsure which one of the triplets it was.

“Rarity,” he said. “I frew up.”

Ohhhh nooo… I should have known.

“Okay, bud, let’s get you cleaned up.”

I put my feet down and made a face. He’d failed to mention he’d thrown up in his room, and up the hallway, and through the kitchen, and inmyroom. I guess I was closer than Mom.

Fuck a duck.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

Striker…

It was pretty much business as usual as soon as we got back to St. Augustine. We all went home, showered, slept, and met up the next morning at the club to a catered brunch. Renegade’s way of showing us all appreciation for showing up and showing the Scorpionsoutof North Florida.

We ate around the table in the chapel, talking shit and cuttin’ up, and it was a good time.

My thoughts were never far from Rarity, though. I’d woken up with one hell of a boner and missing the feel of her in my arms. She was a sweet thing, and I had one hell of a sweet tooth where she was concerned.

I was contemplating my next visit to the Iron Horse when Renegade caught my sightless staring while I was lost in thought.

“You ain’t planning on going back down that way anytime soon, are you?” he asked, leaning back in his seat.

“I’d be lying if I said I ain’t thought about it,” I said, relaxing back into mine with a careless grin. “Think it’s a bad idea?”

---