Page 39 of Ruthless

Riding behind Jett,with the darker thoughts worming their way through her, she felt numbness creep over her… no, not a numbness exactly. She simply began a retreat into herself. Within the cocoon of Jett’s protection, she pulled back from thinking or feeling. By the time he stopped the bike she had withdrawn so much that she had no idea where they were, as if she’d missed half the ride. Unhappily, that retreat hadn’t helped, and she found her concerns had patiently followed her.

She got off the motorcycle in a daze, pulling off her helmet and looking around at totally unfamiliar surroundings. She might as well have fallen out of the sky and landed here—she had no reference points. She looked at Ronan curiously as he dismounted his bike to come stand beside her when she stepped back to let Jett get off his bike.

“Our place,” Ronan said quietly. She nodded, unable to make that mean anything.

His house was small, tidy, and furnished with a few pieces of cheap furniture—couch, coffee table, an ancient-looking television set, and a recliner chair. It barely looked lived in, except for pictures of people on motorcycles hanging on the wall. Either Jett or Ronan, or both, were in almost every picture. A small bookshelf held an assortment of shop manuals, novels, and other books.

“We aren’t here a lot,” he said. “We don’t use it for much more than a place to shower and sleep.”

Jett’s words made her look toward the bedroom. Through the open door she saw a neatly made bed and a dresser against the far wall with a mirror on top that reflected her image. She saw herself staring into the room. “Yours?”

Ronan nodded.

“Mine’s across the hall,” said Jett.

She looked in the direction he pointed, but his door was closed, revealing not even a hint of his sleeping area or personality.

Ronan had her sit on the couch with Jett as he went into the small kitchen and returned with a bottle of wine and three glasses. “We didn’t think you wanted to be alone.”

“Alone.” She mumbled it, and that made her think of Jimmy and his unstable father. She fought back tears. Why wasn’t there anything she could do to make sure he was safe? “I should call CPS,” she said.

Ronan sat beside her and slowly poured glasses of the red wine. “For Jimmy or you?”

“Me? His father is crazy.”

“Yes, I suppose he is rather out there. At least he has some unnerving ideas and concerns.” Jett took a glass Ronan had extended.

“Jimmy is alone with him.”

“Does his father hurt him?” asked Ronan.

“Not that I can tell.”

“I know you know this, but I’ll say it anyway. It’s possible for a person to be crazy without being in the least dangerous. It’s even possible for a person filled with hate to love their child,” said Jett.

She imagined he knew what he was talking about, but to do nothing still went against her instincts. “But he gets irrational, and he intends to send a message.”

“Sending a message could mean anything. And we all get irrational. The people at child protective services are about as irrational as anyone,” said Jett.

“What do you mean?”

“Their ideas of protection can be traumatizing. The knee-jerk reaction of pulling the child out of his home, thinking they’re making things better, is crazy. Sometimes, for a kid, losing their parents is just the last straw as far as the child is concerned. Not that they’re not smart or caring people, but rules tend to be generalized solutions, and laws don’t take into account the uniqueness of every situation. Not only would I worry about him if they took him from his father, but it sounds like the real concern isn’t that he’ll do something to Jimmy but that he’ll do it for him. Take Jimmy away, and he might do something really nuts.”

She frowned. “Jimmy thinks his father is about to do something that will get him noticed.”

Jett shrugged. “Do you know that, and is it necessarily a bad thing? It depends on what kind of notice he wants. Maybe it will help him if he gets noticed. He might be trying to get some attention. Besides, what can you do? There are limits to how much you can interfere with another person. It’s hard enough to help the kids—you can’t help all the parents too. You need to let go of the things you can’t control.”

She sipped the wine. “Saying it that way, making it a casual suggestion, makes it sound easy. It isn’t.”

Ronan put a hand on hers. “No, it isn’t. You care a lot, and that means you’ll suffer for it. I’m not saying you shouldn’t care; just making the point that every year you’ll have children who aren’t living as good a life as you think they deserve, and to be honest, if you can’t deal with that it will drive you crazy.”

“You have to let go of the things you can’t change,” said Jett softly, with a trace of regret.

She knew they were right. “I can’t stop caring.”

“No, and you shouldn’t. Caring about people, especially kids, shows you’re human. I care about Jimmy too, if only because Kayla tells me he’s a good kid who isn’t having a fun time right now. I can’t save the world, but what I can do is say I’m ready to help out if there is something you or I can and should do.”

Jett nodded. “We’re there if you need us.”

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