Page 87 of Restless
Sighing, he faced her again and lifted a brow.
“Thank you,” she said, blushing. She looked so sad. “Truly. You’re an amazing big brother and I’m so lucky to have you. I-I love you.”
“I love you too, Rebel,” he said sincerely. He grinned. “You’re a fucking pain in the ass, but I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
Her smile was small. “She’s coming back to us, isn’t she? Dad’s coming back to us?”
He nodded. “Yeah, sweetheart.”
“I-I want to get these matching pajamas I saw for Momma, me and Jo. They’re pink and frilly. Momma likes pink. Do you…do you think that’ll be okay?”
Sometimes, he forgot Rebel wouldn’t turn fifteen for a few more months. They’d grown up in unusual circumstances, with childhoods where they witnessed and heard a lot of adult activity. Sex, drugs, alcohol, profanity, and death. Yet, somehow they’d still been buffeted. Until these past weeks.
Just when he felt as if the last of their innocence was irrevocably destroyed, his little sister stood in front of him with tears in her eyes, ringing her hands, and shifting from foot to foot. She looked like a sweet, frightened child, and all CJ wanted to do was protect her.
“Mom will absolutely love those pajamas, Reb,” he said truthfully.
“I’m going to be the best big sister in the world to Jo,” she swore fiercely. “I’m going to teach her how to fight and curse and—”
CJ’s laughter interrupted her, and she giggled, her expression easing.
“Can I keep your card all night? I have a recipe for spiked milk that I want to make. If I do it right, Rule won’t know. If I only have an hour to shop, I can’t try my recipe.”
If it kept her from falling into a deep depression, she could keep his card the entire weekend. “Fine, Rebel. I expect to have money left.”
She blinked. “Won’t it trigger a deposit from Momma’s account when the balance drops to a certain amount?”
CJ folded his arms.
“Fine!”
“By the way, fix your spiked milk, but give Rule a fucking choice. He doesn’t drink. We don’t need him blowing chunks.”
“Good idea.”
“I’ll be back with a load,” he said, starting off again.
“Get the ladder first, dummy,” she called.
“It takes a fucking dummy to know one,” he retorted.
She cackled. “Ha!”
Grinning, CJ continued down the hallway, relieved to hear his sister’s brashness return.
Chapter Sixteen
“Booyah!” Digger laid his four of a kind hand on the table, eliciting groans from Mortician, Boy, Mouse, Derby, and Dez.
After hours of playing amid very unfaithful luck, Digger won the all-in round, amounting to thousands of dollars that included not only the eight buy-in fees but the money they’d bet.
“One more round,” Digger said, standing and making a production of sliding his stacks of chips in front of him.
“Fuck off, fool,” Mortician grumbled, scowling at his empty glass. “You’ve taken enough of my fucking money.”
He picked up his glass and tipped his head as far back as possible, hoping for a last drop of vodka.
“I’m out, too,” Boy said, lifting his hand to summon one of the naked girls milling about. He was the long-time president of the Night Flyers, one of the biggest Black MCs in the area and an ally of the Death Dwellers.
