Then he does something that completely distracts me.

He brushes his lips across my earlobe.

My eyes slightly widen, and my heart pounds in my chest, as I discreetly glance at him, seeing he has his gaze fixed on the bar. I then peer out of the corner of my eye at Hunter, to see if he saw what just happened. He’s staring at the bar, too.

“God, I forgot how sketchy this place can get,” he mumbles, drumming his fingers on top of the shifter. The glow of the neon lights in the grimy windows of the bar highlight the crease between his brow.

“It looks like this trashy bar my dad used to go to,” I note. “I remember my mom having to load me up in the car a lot so we could go pick him up when he got too wasted.”

“Stay in the car, okay, Raven,” my mom would say to me. “Your father doesn’t want you seeing him like this.”

I’d nod, and then I’d end up being left in the car for quite a while, sometimes hours. To this day, I have no clue why or what my mom was doing in there for so long. Perhaps drinking, too. Although, she never seemed wasted when she came out.

“Your dad was an alcoholic, then?” Hunter asks cautiously.

I shrug. “I don’t know. I never saw him like that, but I also wasn’t old enough to really understand what was going on.”

Freak.

Loser.

Murderer.

I can feel the wound on my side throbbing as I think about the past. About my parents and the blood that was on my hands that night.

Hunter bobs his head up and down as he studies me. “That sucks that you had to deal with that.”

“Yeah … But I can barely remember sometimes.” I grow quiet as I think about the random memories that have been coming to me lately, ones that may include the guys. I’m not even sure if they’re memories or if I’m just crazy.

The guys remain quiet for a moment as they glance around the parking lot, I assume looking for Benton’s truck.

Jax assesses the building with a frown on his face. “Should we go in, or do you just want to just text him?”

“Let me see where he’s at.” Hunter digs his phone out of his pocket then sends a text.

“There’s his truck.” Jax points at a red, lifted trunk that looks brand new and stands out big time in the parking lot filled with beat-up vehicles.

“He says to come in. He’s in the back.” Hunter wavers. “Which more than likely means he’s playing a game and is up.”

“He’s gambling?” I ask as Hunter stuffs his phone back into his pocket.

“Yeah, he does that sometimes.” Hunter blows out a weary sigh. “He’s actually gotten into a lot of trouble with it … We think that’s why he’s still working for Zay’s father. But that’s just speculation.”