Fighting Dirty
Page 49

Bray’s lips trembled, his eyes narrowed and he tried to do more walking.
“Never mind.” Before Bray could leave him, Armie thought to ask, “What about before him?”
“Before him there was another guy, and another before that. What of it?”
So his mother routinely brought in abusive asses? A deep breath didn’t help much. Mothers should protect their sons. The whole scenario felt far too familiar and personal. Hands on his hips, Armie asked, “Do you have anywhere to go?”
“Sure.”
Frustrated with that short answer, Armie asked, “Where?”
“It’s called none-of-your-business.”
The smart-ass reply so surprised him that Armie laughed. He didn’t mean to. Seriously, there was nothing funny about the situation. But he liked Bray, and he especially liked that the boy hadn’t lost his backbone. “You know what?”
Bray narrowed his eyes.
“You remind me of me—and just so we’re clear, that’s not a compliment.”
This time Bray’s mouth twitched before he firmed it again, quickly reclaiming his “fuck off” attitude.
Growing somber, Armie said softly, “You know I have to call the cops.”
“No,” Bray growled, “you don’t have to do anything.”
He wished it otherwise. In fact, Armie wished he could just put the kid in his truck and take him home with him. But Bray wasn’t a stray pet, and there were legalities involved, not to mention a whole lot of emotional baggage that Armie might not be equipped to deal with. The last thing he wanted was to screw this up and make things worse for Bray. “I’m afraid I do.”
They heard a sudden commotion behind them and turned together to see Russell proving himself to be ten times an idiot as he tried to tackle Denver. Surprised, Denver quickly adjusted and caught Russell in a sleeper hold. The woman wailed and screamed and slapped ineffectually at Denver’s bowling-ball biceps.
Again in unison, Armie and Bray sighed.
They eyed each other.
“Damn it.” Bray snatched up a rock and threw it hard, narrowly missing Armie’s truck, although he hadn’t been aiming at anything in particular. “I hate foster care.”
Armie’s heart wrenched. “You’ve had some bad ones?”
“No.” His nostrils flaring with the fast, uneven breaths, Bray swallowed convulsively. The way he put his shoulders back made him look far too stoic for a fifteen-year-old. “Foster care’s been fine.”
“Then—”
“I always end up back here.” Resigned, the kid looked toward his mother. “Just as well. She needs me.”
Armie watched him head toward the woman now frantically calling his name, alternately blaming and pleading for his help.
No way could Armie leave this alone. He wouldn’t make promises yet; first he had to figure out the system and see what options he had.
But Bray wasn’t alone, and he needed to know that.
* * *
THE TRAFFIC LIGHTS cooperated and Merissa made it there in eight minutes. As soon as she got close she spotted Harper and Vanity sitting on the trunk of the car, with Cherry and Yvette both still inside the vehicle. As the sunlight faded a streetlamp flickered on, adding ambience to their adventure.
Grinning, Merissa parked right behind them. Soon as she did, the other ladies emerged.
“You’re really going to do this?” she asked Cherry. In many ways, her best friend came off as the life of the party. But deep down Merissa knew she was really reserved about certain things.
“Denver tried to lecture me about sex,” Cherry told her, as if that explained her daring. “Do you believe that?”
Vanity said, “I believe it. Denver’s awesome, but he’s also domineering.”
Sighing, Cherry said, “He is,” as if that made him more perfect.
Merissa laughed, then asked Vanity, “Does Stack know you’re here?”
“Shoot, no.”
“He and Cannon would have come along for sure,” Yvette told them.
“Stack would gladly tour me through the place,” Vanity said with a grin. “But no way would he want me here without him.”
“So.” Harper lifted her brows. “We going to stand here talking tough, or are we going in?”
Fist in the air, Vanity said, “We go in.”
Everyone agreed, and then they all crowded together.
In a tight cluster they stepped through the door and into the well-lit video section of the shop. The cashier, a younger guy with a shaved and tattooed head, glanced up from a magazine, snickered, and then ignored them.
Moving like a gaggle of ducks, they looked around. “It’s regular movies,” Harper whispered.
Yvette pointed toward a lighted door on the far wall. “The good stuff is back there.”
“We’re pathetic,” Merissa said. Giving Vanity a nudge, she got them moving again. There were a few men in the place, and they tracked the women with interest.
“This is supercreepy.” Cherry gave a nervous giggle. “And I feel like an idiot.”
When they reached the door, Vanity used the hem of her shirt to protect her hand from the probable germs on the knob. After a beat of expectation, she swung open the door with great fanfare, and together they stepped into the dimly lit room.
Wide-eyed, Merissa looked around. Dildos and vibrators hung from the ceiling in many shapes and sizes and colors. She choked as she took in the elaborate variety.
Her cohorts were equally impressed.
Next Merissa scanned the shelves and saw some... Fake lady parts? She leaned in to look closer. Yup. Lady parts.
In boxes.
A giggle started up her throat.
Then she saw the movies—and Oh my God—the movie titles. They were so absurdly bad.
Maybe everything just added up. Maybe she was already strung too tight. For whatever reason she started making these awful, chortling, snorting noises, and even as everyone else turned to watch her warily, she couldn’t stop.
Very shortly the rest of the ladies joined her, and within a minute they were all roaring with hilarity.
* * *
COPS WERE JUST pulling up when Armie got a call. He glanced at the screen, saw it was Leese and answered with, “If it’s not important—”
“Rissy’s at the porn shop.”
Armie almost fell over. “Say what?”
In a rush, Leese said, “Not just her, but Vanity, Cherry, Yvette and Harper, too. Justice and I were driving by and saw them. I was going to beep and wave, but then I realized what they were doing.”
Stock-still, Armie asked, “What?”
“Going in.”
Couldn’t be true. Armie snorted.
“I know, right? But that’s what they did,” Leese insisted. “They marched in like they owned the place.”
“You’re positive it was them?”
“I’m not an idiot.” Impatience sounded in Leese’s tone. “Vanity led the way, Yvette and Rissy were in the middle and Harper sort of dragged Cherry along.”
“Un-fucking-believable.”
“I just thought you should know.”
Armie chewed his upper lip, but he couldn’t walk off on Bray. “I’m going to be held up for a bit—”