All Dogs Bite (Club Chrome 2)

“Good idea.” Delainey took a seat and poured two glasses of wine. Everything was perfect. Perfectly fake, a voice whispered.

What are you doing playing house? This was a dangerous game. You’re going to get hurt. Well, not tonight, she countered to the nasty little voice of reason that was wholly unwelcome in her head right now. Bronx returned and took a seat, eyeing the wine with something of a raised eyebrow and she realized he probably wasn’t much of a wine drinker. “I can get you a beer,” she offered.

“Would you mind? Wine just ain’t my thing,” he said by way of apology and she rushed to remove his glass and replace it with a beer. He smiled and took a long drink. “Yeah, that’s much better.”

Delainey dished up Bronx and smiled when his gaze warmed. “That’s sweet,” he told her when he accepted his plate. “So your mom used to do that for her old man?”

“Yeah, she also always gave him the best piece of chicken. I used to think that’s what love meant,” she said with a blush.

He glanced down at his plate then asked, “Did you give me the best piece of chicken?”

“I did.”

Bronx laughed, “All right, then,” and tucked into his food. “Damn, babe, you’re gonna make me fat. This is some good shit.”

“Thanks,” she beamed under his praise, loving that he appreciated her effort. “I like to cook.”

“Well, I like to eat.”

Delainey refrained from quipping, match made in heaven, and simply enjoyed her dinner with Bronx. “Oh, so I did something today that I hope you don’t mind,” she started, catching Bronx’s attention. “It really bothered me about your story from your past, that there was the possibility that those terrible people were still in foster care so I had a friend look into it.”

Bronx stilled. “What do you mean?”

“Well, my friend has some connections and she might be able to see if those awful people are still in charge of children. If so, you should tell someone in authority that they shouldn’t be allowed to care for dogs much less children. It might save a life, you know?”

“I’m not telling anyone else what happened in that house. It was more than twenty years ago and best left in the past. Chances are those people aren’t in foster care anymore anyway.”

“It’s true that the odds of them still caring for kids in the system are slim but why even take that chance? If you’re right, they killed a child and who knows what kind of psychological damage they’ve done to countless kids. You owe it to yourself and the other foster kids out there to at least give it a shot.”

“Let’s get this straight right now — I don’t owe no one shit. No one saved me, I saved myself. It’s survival of the fittest out there and if they didn’t make it out…that’s their problem. I’m sure as hell not going to put my name to no report that no one’s going to read anyway. Waste of my fucking time for what? No gain. What do I get out of it aside from the humiliation of reliving the worst time of my life? Fuck that.”

Surprised and stung by his reaction she didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t expected him to bite her head off like that just for doing something she thought was right. “I’m sorry, I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah, well, no one asked you to butt in. Just keep to your own shit and we’ll be fine.” He dropped his fork with a clatter, staring hard at her. “You know, that’s part of your problem — you think you can fix everything but you can’t. Somethings — some people — aren’t meant to be fixed. Maybe they like their brokenness. Did you ever think of that? If I wasn’t hard right here,” he pounded his chest “I’d never have made it through life and that’s just the way that it is. Stop trying to fix everything, Dee. Damn it! There goes fucking dinner.”

His tone not only hurt her feelings but pissed her off. The nerve! What a jerk. She rose stiffly from the table. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. I’m sorry for caring so much.” She grabbed her wine glass and said before stomping off to the bedroom, “I made dinner, you get to clean up. Enjoy the rest of your dinner — alone.” She stopped short of her door to spat, “And feel free to sleep on the couch!”

***

Bronx didn’t flinch outwardly when the door slammed but inside he jumped like a guilty kid. Why’d he jump her shit like that? She was just trying to do something nice for him. It was his fault for sharing that part of his history when he should’ve just kept his mouth shut. He hadn’t meant to share that humiliating experience with her but it’d flowed from his mouth as if he were confessing his sins to a preacher or something. Somehow he’d known his secrets were safe with her. He picked at his food, irritated at himself for ruining a great dinner, and because it wasn’t possible for him to waste good food, shoveled the rest down his throat but he’d ceased tasting how delicious it was because without Delainey, it was just fuel.

He cleaned up and sighed as he took the couch but after a good fifteen minutes of tossing and turning, he jumped from the couch and walked into the bedroom. He found Delainey curled up in bed, her back to him, making little sniffling sounds. Ahhh shit. She was crying. Feeling like the world’s biggest toad, he nearly did an about face and scuttled from the room with his head held down in shame but he couldn’t leave her like that.

“Dee?” He came into the room and closed the door. “Can we talk a minute?”

“No,” came her water reply. “Get out.”

He ignored that and came to sit on the edge beside her. “I’m sorry for being a jerk,” he said. “I guess you touched a nerve.”

She turned slowly and even though her face was red and puffy from crying, she still looked so beautiful to him. “I just wanted to help,” Delainey said, wiping her nose and gazing at him reproachfully. “And you ruined my beautiful dinner.”

“I know. I’m an asshole,” he admitted, though he’d been trying to warn her of this fact since the day they’d met. “I’ve never told anyone about that time in my life. No one would’ve believed me then and I don’t have the proof I would need now so digging up all that fucked up shit from the past wouldn’t do me or anyone else any good.”

“I understand. But what if, by some horrid chance, they’re still out there…hurting kids? Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Of course it bothers me,” he said gruffly, actually feeling a little sick to his stomach at the idea. “But I can’t save the world. I can barely save myself at this point, you know?”

Delainey sat up and wiped her eyes. “But that’s just the thing, you don’t have to save the world but imagine if you save just one kid from suffering like Gage? Wouldn’t that be worth it?”

Unbidden, Gage’s tear-stained face and the horror of what was being done to his little body, sprang to Bronx’s mind and he nearly gagged on the revulsion. Fuck. He hated those memories. Hated how helpless they always made him feel. It was as if he were eleven again and totally at the mercy of those around him. “So what can your friend do?” he asked, curious but reluctant to open that can of worms. “I mean, did you find out any information?”

“Not yet. She said she’d get back to me. Do you mind if I pursue this on your behalf?” she asked.

He took a long minute to answer. What was she asking? Was he suddenly turning into some kind of child activist? That wasn’t his style. But he didn’t like the idea of kids getting hurt when he could possibly do something about it. “Yeah, I guess,” he said. “But…hell, I don’t know what you expect as an outcome. This might turn out to be a whole lot of wasted effort.”

“I know. But I have to try,” Delainey said, wiping the remaining tears away. “Just think how your life might’ve been different if someone had done something for you. Or for Gage. You might not be able to change the world but you can change one person’s life”

She was right. A sigh rattled out of him as he admitted, “Look, there was a time when I turned eighteen that I thought of making a complaint but by that time I was on every cop’s short list and there was no way they were going to listen to me. Hell, they might’ve even arrested me for making a false report. What you have to understand is…those people, they played a good game. They were pillars of the community, if you kn

ow what I mean, taking in the rejects of society.”

“You weren’t a reject,” she retorted hotly on his behalf. “You were just a kid and no kid deserves to be treated like a plaything. Ever.”

He couldn’t argue that. She was right. “But the reality is that kids are playthings to some people. It’s been happening for ages and it will continue to happen as long as there’s evil in the world, you know?”

“Yes, I know that,” she admitted with a sigh, then she shocked him by leaning forward and brushing a kiss across his lips. “But if you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem, right?”

He stared at Delainey, her simple words of wisdom hitting him square in the chest. How could he say anything to that when deep in his heart he knew he was part of the problem out there in the world? His rap sheet wasn’t clean. Hell, he was brokering an arms deal with a member of the Mexican cartel as we speak so what kind of man did that make him? The world wasn’t painted in black and white. He didn’t have many options. He didn’t have a shiny degree from a nice college to help him find a good job. He had the streets and that’s what he knew. So that’s how he turned a dollar. And that’s something Delainey would never understand. He wouldn’t burden her with the knowledge either. Not yet anyway. For her, he smiled. “You’re right, babe. Can’t argue with that,” he said and her expression of relief scraped across his raw nerves because he was deceiving her. If she knew who he truly was, she’d run screaming. He was bad. The worst. And he was ten times the devil for not walking away.

“Come to bed,” she murmured, throwing back the covers to reveal she wasn’t wearing any panties beneath her night shirt. He grinned and stripped, only too happy to forget that he wasn’t the least bit suited for a girl like her, more than willing to lose himself in that sweet flesh.

-11-

“Thanks for meeting me,” Zoe said as Delainey took a seat opposite her at the cafe. “I have some information you might want to know.”