Claimed Darker by Em Brown
Chapter 37
DARREN
Past
Iheld off my mom as long as I could. She wanted to fly to California earlier, but I didn’t want to deal with her while I was rehabilitating from my injuries and tracking down the perpetrator at the same time. But eventually my mom needed to see for herself that I was doing okay.
“So she’s moved in with you?” my mom asks as she notes Bridget’s laptop and textbook on my dining table.
“Temporarily,” I reply as I make her some tea.
“Where is she now?”
“In class. Which hotel are you staying at?”
“The Montclair. Are you letting her stay or kicking her out when you’ve recovered more?”
“She’ll probably kick herself out.”
My mom looks out the window overlooking the street where the shooting occurred.
“And how is she taking everything?” my mom asks.
“She was nervous and had trouble sleeping at first,” I answer.
The BDSM distracts her a lot, I silently add. Because she expressed unease that the shooter might never get apprehended by the police, I had Sergeant Trawley come by the club with the “news” that the shooter had been found dead, shot by a rival gang member.
Bridget being Bridget, she had to ask Trawley a lot of questions.
“You’re sure he was the shooter?” was her first question.
“He had the gun that was used in our shooting. Ballistics were a perfect match,” Trawley had replied.
“But what was his motivation for shooting at us?” she’d pressed.
“That I can’t say for sure, but from what we learned, he was a cokehead. Might have been high at the time he decided to try out his new semi-auto.”
Bridget had asked more questions, prompting Trawley at one point to say that she watched too many crime shows on television.
“Bridget’s doing surprisingly well now,” I say to my mom. “No major PTSD. At least not so far. She’s strong. Like you.”
My mother snorts. “You don’t know half the times I worried about your father.”
I knew how devastated she was when my father ended up in prison and then when he died. She didn’t know that I heard her crying herself to sleep. But she always put on a stoic front with me.
“And I have to keep worrying with you,” she states.
I hand her the tea. “I’m fine.”
She raises a skeptical brow.
I sit down on the sofa and place my good arm on the back of it. “Doctor says I’m mending fast, and the shooter’s been taken care of.”
“The police caught the shooter? Who was it?”
“Local street gang called the Park Street Boyz.”
She knits her manicured brows. “Really? Why would they come after you?”
“They were after JD. I was collateral damage.”
She sits down next to me. “Why did they want to kill JD?”
I shrug. “Maybe it has something to do with the new stuff JD’s working on. I don’t ask about it.”
My mother seems a little more relaxed that it wasn’t me they were after, but she’s not completely worry-free, as evidenced by her next question. “What if they try it again?”
“JD took care of the guys behind the attempt. He sent a clear message that you don’t mess with the Jing San.”
She takes a sip of her tea. “It may be bigger than this local street gang.”
“What’s bigger?”
“Geraldine—you know, Mrs. Wu—thinks her son is missing. When she called him several days ago, he never called back. She went to his apartment yesterday several times and left notes, but he seems to be gone.”
Marshall had gone through Manny’s apartment the night Manny was iced to make sure nothing got left behind that might get traced back to us.
“Maybe he decided to find sunnier weather in Mexico,” I say as nonchalantly as I can.
“He can still call her from Mexico.”
I shrug.
“Manny goes to your club a lot, doesn’t he? When was the last time he was there?”
“I don’t really remember.” I pause. “Did Mrs. Wu say anything else about Manny?”
“Like what?”
“Like maybe that he was busy. He said he had some hot new project he was working on.”
“I don’t think so.”
Internally, I sigh with relief.
“She might stop by to talk to you.”
I frown. That is not something I’m going to look forward to. Facing Mrs. Wu and pretending I don’t know that her son is dead. I consider how nice a shot of bourbon would taste right now, but Bridget made a stipulation of her own: no BDSM unless I can go three days without a drink. I don’t like it when subs try to top from the bottom, but since I felt a little guilty that she caught me with my hand down Kimberly’s dress, I agreed to it.
“She’s just very worried,” my mom adds. “Like me.”
“You’re worried about Manny, too?”
My mom heaves an exasperated sigh. “I’m worried about you.”
“That’s what you get for marrying a member of the triad and having kids. You and Mrs. Wu knew what you were getting into.”
I realize it’s a harsh thing to say, but I’m a little exasperated myself. And it’s the truth.
My mom sighs again. “So what are you going to do about Bridget and Hao Young’s offer? You can’t have both.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t be stupid. At least I knew your father was part of the Jing San before I married him. You’re not being fair to Bridget if you hide the truth from her.”
I know my mom’s right, but I’m not ready to rule anything out just yet. If my mom can survive being married to a triad member, I’m sure Bridget can.
I survived a shooting and the execution of a childhood friend. On the one hand, I feel like shit. On the other, I feel emboldened. What happened has shown me I have what it takes to step into my father’s shoes, something I wasn’t a hundred percent sure of before. And while I was sitting on the pavement with bullets in me, not sure exactly where they had struck or whether any vital damage had been done, seeing that Bridget was okay, I wasn’t even afraid of death.
Sure, accepting the opportunity to follow in my father’s footsteps will increase the danger, but it’s actually exciting. Much more exciting than running a nightclub. And I’ve shown I can protect Bridget.
I make a mental note to check in with Hao Young tomorrow.
