Page 72 of Praying for Thunder

Trying to agree, I nodded, lifting the bottle of water I’d never drunk. “Yeah.” I went to take a sip.

“Remove the cap, dummy.”

Yeah, my night was from Hell, but I still possessed the strength to smile at Roamer. I was embarrassed because I wasn’t giving him an example of being as intelligent as I was, yet suspected I was finding a friend.

I asked, “Do you have a Rya?”

“Kid, I’m still not sure what a ‘Rya’ is.”

So, I told him.

After explaining her magic, her ‘light’, and how pretty she was, and how she made my heart thump as if she were a true living angel, not only was Roamer stupefied, but another voice said, “I’ll take you to see her.”

Over my shoulder, I saw a guy with dark red hair staring at me. Appearing to be in his late teens, he lay on his side, propped up on his elbow like Dio often would.

Dio…

I brushed him from my mind. He didn’t exist. “You will?”

His bushy eyebrows bunched together as he swallowed. “Yeah. I don’t even know who you are, but this girl sounds like no one I’ve ever met.”

I swore, “She is. I mean, out of all the girls I’ve known, except for A—”

When I didn’t say more, the guy motioned. “Who?”

“My Ani.”

He asked, “Your mom?”

Roamer almost screeched, “You have one?”

“No. She died when I was born. Ani was my aunt.”

It seemed the elder men in this MC weren’t exactly forthcoming with all their past offenses.

Roamer drifted into thought. “I don’t have a mom either.”

My head tilted. “What about Piercer’s wife?”

Half his mouth lifted and curled in disgust. “The woman who was to raise me? We didn’t get along so well.” He gestured to the room. “It was here or a foster home.”

I gasped, hating that he would be sold.

“It seems we have something in common, newbie,” the redhead sadly admitted. “I’m Chubs.” He chuckled when I examined his thinner body. “Nah, kid. I’m young and, nine out of ten, sportin’ wood.”

“Oh.” I again nodded as if having a clue as to what that meant. “I get ‘cha.”

Both boys laughed.

⚡⚡⚡

As a whiff of sausage and pancakes made its way under the bedroom door, I stood there, my mouth watering. I hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours. The chips had been annihilated while I slept.

Chubs came out of the bathroom, putting on a fresh shirt. “You want some clothes, kid?”

I examined his size. Then mine.

He laughed. “Point made. I’m sure Prez will get you straightened out.” Slipping into his Prospect cut, he asked, “Ready to eat?”