Page 66 of Trip

I’d have to think on that later.

Right now, a Betty was in distress, and I had to help.

Thank goodness I was still small ’cause when the douche told C.C. to get in Trip’s car and drive, I moved fast and sneaked into the trunk. Good thing for me that Trip installed a latch that opened into the trunk of his supped-up car. I found out about that the other day when I snuck out of the clubhouse.

What? Everyone was watching a stupid movie. I was bored.

Anyway, the second the car stopped, and I heard them leave the vehicle, I wiggled out of the trunk, looked around, and groaned, “Aw, man.” Shaking my head, I made my way to thedriver’s side, before sliding into the seat. “Well, ain’t this a pickle.”

Good thing for me was, I knew exactly where we were.

Bad news was, it was gonna be a while before my boys showed up, which meant it was up to me to protect C.C. Seeing the keys in the ignition, I grabbed them and shook my head. “Bonehead move. Now how ya gonna get away, douchecanoe?” Climbing out of the car, I took a good look around and huffed. “A brother’s work is never done.”

Tugging my coat around me, I headed into the woods to look for Clive before he returned home and found someone squatting in his home.

You see, Clive wasn’t amiable to visitors. He hated them. Hell, he barely tolerated me and he’d known me since the day I was born, but that still didn’t make Clive friendly. He was mean as a snake when the mood suited him and given the time of day, my guess he was down by the stream.

The stream was tucked deep in the woods, winding its way through dense foliage like a secret ribbon of silver. I knew Clive would be there, crouched like some feral beast, his rifle slung across his back. The man never left home without it. Hell, no one did in these parts.

I used to think that Clive slept with his rifle. I tried to find out once, only to have him chase me all over the mountain.

Boy howdy, was he mad for weeks!

Seeing Clive up ahead, I purposefully crunched of leaves beneath my sneakers, letting him know I was here. You see, you didn’t sneak up on anyone in the Appalachian Mountains without wanting your butt kicked. Clive didn’t lift his head at first, but I knew he could feel my presence, as he coiled tight, waiting for me to make a mistake.

“You run away again, kid?” His voice cut through the still air like the snap of a twig, rough-edged and low like a warning.

I didn’t flinch. “Maybe I just missed your company, Clive.” My sarcasm rolled off my tongue before I could stop it, earning me a sharp glare from his pale blue eyes. He wasn’t amused, but I’d grown used to his lack of humor—it was practically his default setting.

“Company?” He spit the word like it burned. “You better have a damn good reason for being here, or I swear—”

“Relax,” I interrupted, holding up a hand. “Ain’t my fault this time. Well, not technically, but I need your help. Someone’s in trouble.”

Clive stood slowly, his movements deliberate, his gaze narrowing. “Trouble, huh? Looks like trouble follows ya around like a stray dog,” he muttered, but there was a flicker of interest in his expression.

He was hooked, even if he’d never admit it.

I told him everything—the car, the keys, the douchecanoe, who thought he could get away with snatching a Betty from under my watch. By the time I was done, Clive looked half-convinced, though his scowl told me he was already regretting whatever decision he was about to make.

“Fine,” he grunted. “But this better not take too long. I got some traps that I need to check before sundown. But first, I gotta call King.”

“We ain’t got time to run to town, Clive. Douchecanoe has a gun!”

“Mine’s bigger.” The redneck grinned, showing me his five teeth. Reaching into his front pocket, he pulled out a satellite phone. I’d seen the brothers occasionally use them when shit hit the fan.

“Where in the hell did ya get that?”

“King,” Clive replied, turning on the phone. “He gave it to me. Told me to call if I ever needed help.”

“Do you even know how to use it?”

“Yep, Billy showed me. Been talkin’ to this real purty lady across the way.”

“How do you know she’s pretty?”

“She said she was.” Clive smiled again, placing the phone to his ear. “Yo, King, I’ve got the brat. Says he and someone called Betty are in a jam. Yep. Lookin’ at the brat right now. Yeah, sure, no problem. See ya when ya get here.” Disconnecting the call, Clive stuffed his fancy phone back into his shirt and said, “Alright, kid. Let’s go.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

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