Clear (Storm's Soldiers MC Book 3) by Paige Notaro Page B

concrete walls and the tray lights swinging overhead. “It’s just not the sort of place I’d want to hang out.”
    “I told you we could meet up for dinner.” He chewed on his lips. “Don’t have anything to do until then?”
    “I finished my paper.”
    “Right, cause that’s what I was talking about.”
    I clenched the bench, stiff as a makeshift seat-back. I knew what he meant. Heck, even thinking about the paper reminded me of Vaughn and his not-tiny input. We hadn’t talked in a couple days. I didn’t think it was so serious, but the time dragged on and I couldn’t be 100% sure anymore.
    It didn’t mean I was ready to call him. He’d screamed out a slur then got angry and stormed out. Why did I have to apologize for that?
    “What happened?” Darryl asked. “Thought he was so solid the nazi symbols on him didn’t even matter?”
    “Well, turns out they did. It’s deeper than just ink on skin.”
    Darryl snorted and watched his students batter each other a bit. “Most of these kids already got tats. You think they do it for fun?”
    I gazed at the scrolls of ink racing down his arm: thorns and latin and sigils. I remembered the days he would come home with a new one. The ink would still be shiny and fresh, and his skin would be a purple badge around each mark.
    “I know he chose to bear all that,” I said. “I just figured it was cause of his family. Or his club family. I didn’t think it was him.”
    “What does family do other than rub off on each other?” He nudged my chin with a gloved hand.
    I shot my brother a look. “You didn’t rub off on me.”
    “Oh, no? Who taught you how to ride a motorbike?”
    “Pfft, there’s nothing to that but throwing one leg over either side.” My mind flashed an image of Vaughn and I shrank away in a bloom of embarrassment and heat.
    “Alright, alright.” Darryl shouted at a pair of boys, then offered instructions at another before turning back to me. “Where do you think you got that sharp tongue from?”
    “From you? I don’t go screaming at people.”
    “No, but I do. You learned to cut me down with your words when I got in my moods.”
    I rolled my eyes, but it was true. Darryl would come home seeing red some days, and I would sit there, slicing up the other dude in the ring - or sometimes Darryl - until he calmed down.
    “But that’s not the same. I complemented your personality. Vaughn was just parroting stuff his brother would say. Saying the exact same stuff.”
    “Yeah well, family can be like that too. They can push or pull. It’s like magnets facing the same way or opposite, but never nothing.”
    I dangled my legs like a little girl. I’d known what Vaughn was, or at least I’d told myself I knew. Maybe I didn’t quite get how deep he’d been with his club. But damn, did that excuse him? I wasn’t being a child here.
    Darryl’s hand landed on my shoulder. “You gonna me tell me what went down?”
    I glanced at him a couple times, before deciding what the hell. If it made him think Vaughn was even more trash, then at least I’d be in the right.
    I launched into the story, not leaving out a single detail of the night. Darryl’s face crunched to a scowl halfway through and stayed there.
    “Rico hit you?” he asked after a bit of silence.
    Oh crap. My mind wasn’t working straight. “Uh, yeah. Just the once. That’s why I left.”
    “Why didn’t you…What did…” He sighed like a hurricane and shook his head. “God, that fucking prick.”
    “Darryl, he’s gone. It’s ok. I’m ok.”
    He was still glowering as he met my eyes, but I rubbed his back till he unclenched.
    “So he went for you and Vaughn got him off, then told him off. Is that right?”
    “Yeah.”
    “He said ‘spic.’”
    I looked around embarrassed. “Jeez, some of these kids are part latin right?”
    “They’ve heard worse. Besides they can tell if it’s aimed at anyone.”
    None of the kids were paying us much attention. “I