“Carissa isn’t the type of girl who would dig the way a biker would make his point by pissin’ around his patch,” Joker pointed out.

“That’s not what I mean,” High replied. “What I mean is, not a lotta women want a limp dick in their bed, no matter the way that limp dick comes, he’s rollin’ in it or whatever. You are not that man. She sees that, she’ll put up with him because her kid shares his blood, but that’s all he’ll be to her. You man up for her and her kid, you’ll be the rest.”

He hoped like fuck that High was right. About all of it.

His phone in his back pocket rang and when it did, High asked, “You good?”

There it was. That was it.

His brotherhood.

That was why he joined. That was what he wanted.

It was just that, until recently, he hadn’t availed himself of all they could give.

Another fuck-up that he wouldn’t perpetrate again.

“Good, High. Thanks, brother,” Joker murmured, pulling his phone out of his jeans.

“Right, then later,” High returned and took off.

Joker looked at his phone, took the call, and put it to his ear.

“Tack.”

“Yo, Joke. Lee called in. Got a lock on your Robinson.”

Joker moved to his dresser, where there was now a bowl with his change in it. Change that used to be scattered everywhere, even on the floor.

He grinned and replied, “What’d he give you?”

“Teacher, like you said he was before. A high school in Highlands Ranch. Tenured. Married. Pays his taxes. Five years into his current mortgage—”

Joker cut him off. “I dig that Nightingale was thorough, but I don’t need to know that kinda shit.”

“Clue me in. What do you need?” Tack asked.

“He got a family?”

“Married. Once and still. They been that way for eleven years,” Tack told him.

“No kids?”

“Lee didn’t mention kids.”

“I’ll call Lee.”

There was a pause before, “Got it.”

“And Tack?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, grabbing his wallet and shoving it in his back pocket, loading the chain onto his belt.

“Anything, Joke,” Tack muttered back and disconnected.

Joker picked up his keys, shrugged on his cut, and moved to the door, his attention back to his phone, his thumb moving to Nightingale’s contact.

He listened to the rings long enough he figured he’d get voicemail before Lee answered on, “Joke.”

“Lee. Callin’ for some follow up on Robinson,” Joker told him.

“What do you need?” Lee asked.

“He got kids?”

“Nope.”

Fuck.

“How thorough were you?” Joker pushed.

“How thorough are we usually?”

He had everything.

“I know he and his wife lost a baby eight years ago. Wanna know where that led.”

“They’re still married.”

“Need more, Lee,” Joker said quietly. Having walked through the building, he was pushing through the front door to the Compound.