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“What changes?” Dahlia asked and watched as he drew in a breath. Trey unhooked his arm and tapped her on the ass.
“Need you down at bar one.”
Trey stood, taking her with him, and held her hips as she steadied herself. He dropped his hand to her back and ushered her toward the door. It was a clear tactic to get out of explaining what Sloane meant. She stopped at the door and turned, looking up at him.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Trey leaned in, brushing his lips against hers before straightening. “We’ll talk about it later. For now, I need you down at the bar helping Misti and Killian.”
Dahlia squinted, scanning his face. Trey had the most unbelievable poker face. She couldn’t get a read on him.
“And these changes?”
The corner of his mouth curled. “Good changes.”
Dahlia sighed.
Good for who?
****
Trey surveyed the floor from the balcony’s edge. As always, Friday night at the Bowery was packed. They’d started turning people away a few hours ago, and there was still a line wrapped halfway around the building. He scanned the bars, leaving the main one for last. Dahlia shifted around, playing the perfect barback for Misti and Killian.
“When are you telling her?”
Trey sighed, glancing over at Rogue, who’d sidled up beside him. This conversation had happened several times in the last few weeks. To say Trey had become overprotective of Dahlia since the incident would be an understatement. But it was expected. Trey’s woman had been attacked and threatened, and he’d acted on pure animal instinct. His reactions were completely warranted in the aftermath. Rogue’s, on the other hand, seemed completely out of character for most people. Not only had he become protective, he’d been extremely vocal about Dahlia no longer working at the club. It wasn’t without reason. Dahlia was vulnerable to outside attacks, which was proven a few weeks ago.
“Two fucking weeks you’ve been allowing her to work. It’s bullshit. And Oz fucking backs me on this shit.” Rogue arched his brow. “That motherfucker doesn’t agree with me on anything, but this?” Rogue swung out his arm and pointed down at the bar where Dahlia was working. “He fucking does, Trey.”
Trey had been hearing it from both Rogue and Oz since she’d started back at the Bowery. Trey had her scheduled in the balcony for most of her shifts where he could keep her close, but every once in a while, she’d pick up a shift or two, bringing her back to the floor at bar one with Killian and Misti. Trey was in a hard position knowing Rogue and Oz, and he wanted to keep her safe, but also knowing what Dahlia needed, being happy around her people. It was a compromise, but he was feeling the heat.
“She has her security keeping her safe.”
“Oh yeah,” Rogue scoffed. “Look at fucking Lewis. He looks like he’s ready to slit his own fucking throat.”
Trey steeled his features, watching Lewis stand close to the edge of the bar, observing the surroundings but keeping his attention on Dahlia. While the other two members of Dahlia’s personal security, Noelle and Darren, seemed happy in their position, Lewis did not. Trey couldn’t fault him. He’d been with Oz for years. It was a different element and not one most would enjoy, considering their backgrounds.
Always a fair boss, Trey had pulled Lewis aside, offering to send him back to Oz’s crew. There wouldn’t be any repercussions or fallout. Not everyone in the Underground was cut out to be her security. Surprisingly, Lewis declined his offer.
No, sir. I’m fine where I’m at. I would like to continue protecting Dahlia.
Lewis may have put on a stern front, but Trey knew better. He was one hundred percent dedicated to keeping Trey’s woman safe.
“If you knock her up, this won’t be a fucking problem,” Rogue said.
Trey closed his eyes, shaking his head. The man next to him was probably closer to Trey than anyone else. They’d been through everything and stayed solid in their loyalty and trust. Trey would always have Rogue’s back and vice versa. There was never a doubt. However…Rogue’s views differed immensely from Trey’s.
“You do realize that pregnant women are fully capable of working?”
“Gotta fucking put your foot down.”
Trey let out a hiss. “I find it amusing how you think I can control her every move. Have you met Dahlia?”
Rogue snorted, taking a drag from his cigarette. “If she was mine, her ass would be at fucking home. Safe and guarded.”
Trey’s lips twitched. “Is that right?”
“Yeah, it fucking is. You gotta control your woman.”
