And as he remembered it, unlike her friends, back in high school she wasn’t rolling in it, but her family was comfortable. She’d had nice clothes. She drove a used but decent car to school. She didn’t seem to want for anything.

Now, it was not close to the same.

Last, her ex came from a family who was rolling in it, and still looked like he was far from hurting. But Carissa lived in a jacked apartment with generic shit in the fridge and stuff all around that reminded her of her failed marriage and all she lost and she didn’t seem to give a shit.

What mattered to her was her son. He didn’t eat generic. He didn’t wear cheap clothes.

And that was all she needed.

So maybe, if she could roll so easily with all that had happened to her, if Joker explained, she’d get it and he wouldn’t lose her.

He just had no fucking clue how to tell her.

“Joke?”

He looked toward the door and then went to it to see High standing just inside his room.

“Yo.”

High jerked up his chin and asked, “Heidi touch base with you?”

Joker shook his head. “Nope.”

“Fuck,” High muttered.

Heidi’s departure meant the Club was uneasy. The woman didn’t give them much, but at least they had a clue where Valenzuela’s attention was leaning. Now they didn’t have that.

“Hop’s lookin’ into turnin’ one,” Joker shared.

“Yeah. He spoke to one, she refused,” High briefed him. “He’s gotta be careful. The more he approaches, the more it opens it up to one of them givin’ that to Valenzuela.”

Joker had no reply because what High said was true.

“Pisses me off we hand cash to these bitches, they give us a shade above dick and the cloud remains,” High muttered. “We need to get proactive with this shit.”

High had not been totally on board with Tack’s change in direction with the Club. But then they’d all learned the hard way with the extreme shit that went down with Cherry years ago that they needed to focus on taking each other’s backs, not fighting within the ranks.

That didn’t mean High was the kind of man who preferred sitting around with his thumb up his ass.

“It’ll eventually play out one way or another, brother,” Joker told him.

“Yeah, and it’d be good that happens now rather than when I’m in the position of havin’ to stick a Valenzuela soldier with my knife, doin’ it from my wheelchair in a nursing home.”

Joker grinned at him.

High’s head jerked as he caught it.

Then he crossed his arms on his chest and asked, “Things good with your Butterfly?”

Joker leaned against the jamb and held his gaze. “Mostly.”

“Not lettin’ you in her pants?” High asked.

Joker nearly laughed.