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I’m sorry, then I won’t be able to come in tonight, or anymore.

I hate typing those words, because Clare created a job for me. She gave me work when I didn’t think I would be able to find anything. She’s been a good friend to me, at least when it comes to a job.

The three little dots appear almost instantly after I press Send. She’s got something to say, and she was without a doubt waiting to say it. I chew on the corner of my bottom lip, watching and waiting for whatever the fuck is going to come through the phone next.

The chair across from me squeaks. I look up at the man who begins to sink down in it. I don’t know who he is, my eyes searching this stranger’s eyes. I can’t help but wonder what he wants and who the fuck he is.

I open my mouth to ask just that, but then he begins to speak, and I snap my lips closed when he does.

“I’m Two-Pump, one of the brothers. I thought I would introduce myself,” he states.

I’m not really sure how to respond to that. I don’t know who the hell this man is, and all I can think about is Clare and the way she just blew me off. Plus, these names. I cannot take them seriously.

“Is that because you’re a two-pump chump?” I ask.

His eyes widen, then his lips twitch into a smirk. “You didn’t just say that,” he murmurs with a chuckle.

“I so totally did.” My own lip curves up as a smile appears on my face. I don’t know why he’s sitting here, but it takes my mind off Clare and the drama, so I’m glad for it.

Then he shifts in his seat. “We’re a family here, and I can tell you’re upset,” he murmurs.

I open my mouth, unsure of what to say and also wondering if he’d really give a shit about my problem with my friend. I don’t think he would. Family or not, I’m very much a stranger, and I can’t imagine any man would want to hear about girlie drama.

So, instead of spilling, I snap my lips shut and decide not to say a damn thing—until my phone buzzes with a new notification.

He doesn’t leave the table as I reach for my device. When I flick my gaze down, it unlocks, and I’m looking at Clare’s new text message. I can’t believe we’re doing this all over text to begin with. How incredibly stupid.

CLARE: Don’t say that. Don’t let him control you and isolate you. He’s a bad guy, Keely. We’re all just worried about you and especially Thea. I think you should go back to your parents, or you can stay with me for a while. We just want you safe.

I look around the bar. There are women coming from seemingly nowhere in scant clothing, and there are men moving around wearing the same black vest as Two-Pump and Brock. But I don’t feel unsafe.

“That look on your face—if I walked away from you and Hound found out, he’d be pissed at me. Tell me what that text was,” Two-Pump demands.

Instead of brushing it off and ignoring it completely, changing the subject, or just getting up and walking away, I meet his gaze. He’s not just asking because he’s obligated. He seems concerned—genuinely so.

Sucking in a deep breath, I hold it for a moment, then let it out slowly. I decide to just tell him. I don’t go into extreme detail about any dynamic. But I tell him the basics, because this guy, along with the others in this crew, minus Alex, don’t want down-to-the-nose-hair kind of details.

They want the CliffsNotes version, so that’s what I give him.

“So basically,” Two-Pump begins after I’ve spilled all my beans, “your friend is worried that Hound is a bad guy, that he’s controlling you, so she’s not going to help you keep your job unless you walk away from him.”

“Essentially.”

He hums, nodding a few times, then leans back in his chair, his focus on me and only me. There are people moving around the room. “Fuck ’em,” he states.

I laugh softly, not sure that’s the right take on the situation, but it works for me because I’m feeling the same way. Fuck ’em.

“I’m serious, babe,” he says. “I got a mom who's an addict, living on the streets and shit. I would give anything to have her here with me. You’re right here in front of them, and they’re taking that for granted, worried about you fitting into their box.”

His words are sweet. I open my mouth to tell him that, but then he continues. “This life sure as fuck isn’t for everyone, but what we lack in moral compass we make up for in loyalty.”

I can’t stop the laughter that bubbles up from my throat. Yes, I think he’s probably right on the money there as I think about the clubwhores and whatever else they get up to here, but there’s also something really beautiful about this place—Tits Out, booze, and the hint of weed I smell in the distance aside.

“Fuck ’em, then,” I say.

He grins. “Hell yeah.”

So I make that decision. Fuck ’em. I’m not going to respond to Clare right now. I’m not going to run off and beg them to help me. I’ve got an envelope full of cash that Brock left me. He’s getting his house ready for us, and he’ll be back here soon.