A muffled, “Hey” came through the door but was ignored. The man stared at me for a long moment. “I knew your mom. She used to babysit me.” Gingerly, he sat down on the bed next to me. “We haven’t met.” He held out his hand. “I’m the oldest, Clutch.”
Cautiously, I took his hand and we shook. “You were at the clubhouse when I….” I didn’t finish and he nodded.
“Yeah, I was. Hell of a revelation.”
“Which part?” I asked rhetorically, staring at my hands. “My existence or that I had the wrong dad?”
He huffed. “Wouldn’t have mattered. Cash or Johnny, they both would have reacted the same.”
I looked at him doubtfully.
“It’s true. My whole life I didn’t know who my dad was, my mom refused to tell me.” He nudged my shoulder. “Sound familiar?” I nodded grudgingly. “But,” he stressed. “If anyone had told me Johnny or Cash was my dad I would have been ecstatic. I idolized both of them.”
“Cash was your dad,” I pointed out, confused.
“Yeah, but I didn’t know that. I always felt out of place, like I didn’t quite belong.” He eyed me. “I don’t guess you’d understand what that felt like,” he questioned and I hunched my shoulders. “I grew up here and always felt like I was on the outside looking in. I can only imagine what it’s like for you.”
I shook my head. “It’s not that bad.”
“Gotta be a lot though. Coming here, finding out about Johnny, and your mom. Then the Chief –”
I interrupted, “Let’s not call him the Chief. He was Cal Harris. Noah is the Chief.”
“Agreed. Cal Harris was a bad guy who killed my dad and part of me has always known that, but I never blamed Noah,” Clutch responded.
“I don’t blame Noah. I blame Cal,” I retorted. “Cal just happens to be Noah’s uncle.”
“It’s not Noah’s fault,” Clutch replied carefully.
“I know that,” I burst out, turning to look at him. “I know it’s not Noah’s fault and it’s not his mom’s fault and it’s not my fault or Leroy’s or Johnny’s or yours. But it sucks and forgive me for not being able to deal with the fact that I just realized my mom was killed by the man she’d been running from for fifteen years!” I had to stop before I hyperventilated and Clutch patted my back gently. “I’m not mad. Just overwhelmed.”
“Why did you come here?”
“Because it was here or Leroy’s or Johnny’s and this seemed like the lesser evil,” I answered hollowly. I turned to look at him. “How do you feel about digging up dead bodies?”
“I’m shacked up with a doctor who has a judge for a mother and two brothers who are lawyers, so pretty good about it. Why do you ask?”
“Because I want to dig up Cal Harris and shoot him.” I sniffed, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. “I feel like I missed my opportunity.”
“I heard you did some damage though.”
“He killed my mom. Trust me, he didn’t suffer nearly enough.”
Clutch looked at the ceiling, nodding in agreement. “When you put it like that, I have to agree.” He pursed his lips. “I bet we could stuff him and use him for target practice.” Involuntarily, a laugh snorted out of me. He glanced down at me. “There’s someone in the living room who would like to talk to you.”
I rubbed my cheek, erasing the trace of tears, and finally nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
We left Colt’s room and walked down the narrow hall, Clutch’s shoulders barely fitting and completely blocking my view. When I could finally see around him, I came to an abrupt halt. “You’re not Noah.”
“No, I made him stay in the car,” Johnny drawled. “Didn’t want his own men to have to arrest him for drunk and disorderly.”
I crossed my arms. “You’re taking this better than I expected.” My foot scraped the carpet. “Better than I did,” I admitted.
“Hell, I’d dig his ass up and shoot him again,” Johnny started and Clutch groaned, catching his attention. “What?”
“You two are definitely father and daughter,” he answered, shaking his head as he left the room. “Freaking hold a grudge till the end of damn time,” I heard him mutter as he walked past me.
I looked at Johnny questioningly. “Eh, he’s still got his panties in a twist with me,” Johnny answered. “It’s not Noah’s fault.”
“I know that,” I replied testily and he arched an eyebrow. “I just needed a place to absorb everything,” I yelled, waving my arms. “Clearly, that is too much to ask.”
“Yeah,” Johnny agreed, rolling a toothpick around in his mouth restlessly. “I could use a cigarette.”
“Outside,” a young woman about my age ordered, walking in the room. “You are not smoking in my house.”
“Jailbait,” Johnny sighed. “You’ve met my daughter, Cadence.” He gestured to me and the woman, who I sincerely hoped wasn’t actually named Jailbait, turned to look at me.