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"Hey, love," came the deep, gravel-sound of Edison's growl, making Wasp's head jerk in his direction.
"Oh, damn, look at this one," she said, giving him a saucy grin as he just stood there and let himself get inspected.
It didn't escape me, either, that Edison had called her 'love.' It wouldn't seem like a big deal for any of the other guys who used endearments more than names with women - which might have had something to do with forgetting the women they brought around's names. But Edison wasn't one of those guys. He got laid here and there, but it was selective. You had to be pretty fucking special for him to spend his time with you. And he never called women pet names unless he had deep respect for them. As such, he really only called the girls club members those kinds of names.
And Wasp, well, she wasn't in.
Interesting.
"Wasp, huh?" Reign asked, giving her a 'care to explain' look.
"We'll call it my road name," she offered.
"Road name?" Roderick shot back. "Are you..."
"Oh, please," she snorted, running a hand through her hair. "Like any of you sexist MCs would let a chick in. What? Afraid of our bras hanging in the bathroom or something?"
Wasp would have made a better 'brother' than Reeve and I combined, and the three of us knew that. She was always the fiery one, the one breaking rules, the one giving a middle-finger to society as a whole. She was our old man's pride and joy. He loved us too, of course, but Wasp was where he found his peace in life. The big, hardened, violent biker and his little blonde girl. When he was killed, Wasp spiraled for years without him, fucking around, getting into more serious kinds of trouble, railing at the world that took her father away from her.
You'd think she would hold resentment toward The Henchmen MC, the reason he was in a box, leaving a hole in her chest. And, especially bitter toward Reign, whose father and his bad policies led to the war that took him down.
But there was none of that in her.
In fact, when another war broke out, taking out almost all of The Henchmen numbers, Wasp had been the one kicking us in our asses to join, to continue our father's legacy.
We might never have joined without her subtle encouragement.
"What do you do then, mami?" Roderick asked, giving her a smile that worked on just about any red-blooded woman.
"I make men fall in love with me," she supplied sweetly.
"I don't fuckin' doubt that." That was from Virgin, who, up until this point, had been stony silent.
Wasp's smile went devilish. "And then I cut their legs out from under them." She paused, letting that idea take root, letting them all infer what they might from such a comment. "You know, only because they deserve it," she added, and that was true.
Wasp might have been a conwoman who liked to fuck some men's lives up, but she did it for good reasons.
"Well, if they deserve it then," Edison agreed casually, dropping down on the arm of her chair like they were old friends.
Interesting.
Very.
Especially because, Edison was Edison. He was a brother. He would never fuck with his loyalty. So he and Wasp were never going to happen.
"So, what's her name?" Wasp asked suddenly, making me jerk out of my own thoughts.
"Whose name?"
"Oh, fuck off, Cy," she said, shooting me a rare, unguarded smile. "You're moody. I've known you my whole twenty-six years. I have never seen you moody before. So, what's her name?"
"You mean coffeeshop girl?" Sugar offered, making me shoot him a glare that said he'd pay for it later.
"Who the fuck is coffeeshop girl?" Reign butted in, making me close my eyes, and take a deep breath.
"Oh, boy. I did a thing," she said, not sounding sorry about it at all.
"You always do a thing," I agreed, jumping out of my chair, and heading toward the back door, feeling like the air inside was too oppressive to tolerate.
"Alright," I heard behind me a couple minutes later. "All teasing aside, who is she? What happened? Why do you look like someone kicked your puppy into the path of an oncoming semi?"
"Christ, Wasp," I half-snorted, half-laughed. "That was graphic."
I walked back toward the picnic table, jumping up on top, staring off at the fence, and the town beyond it.
And as fucking pathetic as it sounded, I wondered what she was doing.
Christ.
"Name."
"Reese," I offered, knowing there was no use fighting it. No one could out-stubborn Wasp when she wanted to be difficult. Which she almost always wanted to be.
"Cool name. What does she do?"
"She's a librarian."
"No flipping way!" she nearly shrieked, shoving me hard in the shoulder. "You? And a shy bookworm? Is she a stripper in her free time? Exotic car model? Video hoe?" she went on until I felt a bit of the weight on my chest ease up. "Come on, dish. I haven't seen you in months. I need my Cy fix. Even if it makes me question your sanity."
