Five Weeks (Seven Series #3)(63)

During my stay in the Weston pack household, Wheeler had been noticeably absent. I presumed he had issues with me staying there given I’d almost gotten them killed because of my crazy ex.
“So here’s the deal,” he began. “I owe you. Big. You made a call that saved my life, and you made a move that saved Jericho’s life. Regardless of the fact you were the one who got us in that mess, that’s where it stands. If you want money, I can arrange something.”
“I don’t want your money,” I said, pushing my plate. “It’s all gravy.”
He clipped a smile and sat back in his chair, studying me intently. “That all you have to say?”
“I’m back in Jericho’s life, so you’ll have to get used to seeing me around. But I’m sorry about how everything turned out. I didn’t know Hawk was that kind of man, and I should have. I still don’t understand how I could have trusted someone like him and not have seen his dark side. That’s what gives me waking nightmares. I should have seen the signs early on.”
“Sometimes people cover up what they don’t want others to see,” he said, staring at my wrist cuffs. “Secrets are truths that show what we’ve been through—what we’ve survived. I don’t hide who I am,” he said, raising up both fists and showing me his tattoos. “Maybe you shouldn’t either. I want everyone to know exactly who I am and where I’m coming from. But sometimes people bury that shit deep and put on a façade. Those around them can’t see the dark part of their soul they hide because it’s not something they wear on their skin. It’s a fracture that’s deep and invisible. Why don’t you show me what you’ve got.” He nodded at my arms.
I slowly pulled off one of the lacy coverings and turned my wrist over so he could see the marks on both sides.
“You should keep them off,” he suggested. “What do you think it says about you?”
“That I’m a victim, and I’m weak.”
Wheeler shook his head and gave me a crooked smile. “You’re serving these assholes whiskey and hot dogs. You know what that says to me? That you’re tough. It takes a strong woman to move on with her life after something like that—and to show it off proudly as if it doesn’t faze her? One badass bitch. You can’t sit around beating yourself up because you didn’t see it coming. Even if you’d known what he was capable of, what could you have done?”
“Called someone.”
“Who? Unless you can prove someone has committed a crime, your hands are tied. You know the Breed’s stance on slander. Without hard evidence, all you could have done was look away or walk away.”
“At least I would have had the choice,” I said glumly.
“People give signs when they want to be caught. Did he give any signs?”
I shook my head.
“Then he didn’t want to be caught. He was too far gone. They’re only careless in the beginning because they still have that thing called guilt riding on their shoulders. After a while, they lose their conscience and don’t make any more mistakes. They don’t want to be caught because they love committing the crime. It becomes less of a thrill and more of an addiction.”
“How do you know?”
He wiped his face slowly with his hand in a downward motion, speaking in a tired voice. “I’ve been around long enough. Look, that’s not what I came here to talk about. We’re not even until I pay back my dues. You hold a favor in your pocket with me. Whatever and whenever you want, just let me know.”#p#分页标题#e#
He rapped his knuckles on the table and took off.
I looked down at my wrists and peeled off the lacy coverings, leaving them on the table. Wheeler was right.
I strolled to the kitchen and the cook handed me an order. I proudly held that tray over my shoulder and walked to the table, giving the men my best dip as I set their glasses down.
“Here you are. Southwest burgers with extra jalapeños. Hope these are spicy enough for you. The chef uses fresh peppers—none of that canned stuff.”
I set the plate down in front of a burly man and caught his gaze. I swiveled around and set down the last plate, but the men weren’t eating. As I turned to walk off, one of them caught my hand and stuffed something into it.
It was a rolled-up fifty.
“There’s another fifty if you tell me who did that,” he said, leaning in tight and touching my wrist.
Ned was one of my regulars who had been shortchanging me. I smiled graciously. “He’s taken care of. My job is to make sure you’re taken care of, so when you need a refill on those drinks, just holler.”