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"It's not as strange a career shift as you'd think," I said, my hand moving up to start sifting through her hair. "I have had a gun in my hand since I was ten years old. Know how to avoid and deal with cops. Know about brotherhood and loyalty. This club is different, but the underlying principles and protocols are the same."
"Different how?"
"Got some morals. More like a family. It's nice here."
"There's a lot of kids here," she observed, likely having seen them around. Before. Before the partial lockdown. Before the kids became fair game to some vicious bitch of a skin trader.
"Got a lot of interesting women here," I said with a shrug, knowing no average chick had ever seemed to snag one of our guys. They each had something special, something that got hooks into the men, and pulled - whether wittingly or not - until the man finally got reeled in.
"I like Lenny," she agreed.
"Lenny is a fucking badass," I supplied. "Could probably whoop half our asses."
"That's a great image," she said, smiling. "I can totally see her doing that too."
"They all eventually get training. The girls club swoops in, drags them to various self-defense classes."
"I guess being in this lifestyle - even just being married into this lifestyle - means you want to know how to protect yourself. I always wanted to take karate as a kid."
"Yeah?" I asked, my hand moving to tuck her hair behind her head. "Why didn't you?"
"My father was a prick. Is. He's still alive. And he's still the prickiest prick around. Girls weren't allowed to do manly shit like break pieces of wood with their fist. Or, you know, have thoughts, opinions, and desires of their own."
"Well, you sure as shit showed him, didn't you?" I asked, liking that she pushed back against it, that she had a spirit that fought against that old school bullshit. "You could take classes now," I added. "Lo, Janie, and Cash, they own that gym in town. Have all kinds of classes. Edison and Cy even teach there sometimes too. That's how Edison met Lenny originally. Could be your very own badass."
"I'm already my very own badass," she corrected with a defiant lift to her chin.
"Fine. Then an ass-kicking badass."
"I like the sound of that. That place is always mobbed. You think they'll have room for me?"
"Talk to Lo."
Her brows knitted at that. "Why?"
"Just... trust me. Talk to Lo. Even if there isn't room, she'd make room."
"Is this a 'she'll let me in because I am fucking a Henchmen' thing, because I don't think I like that."
"It's a Lo thing. Hard to explain."
Actually, it was easy. She wanted to see me have my balls in some woman's grip. And she had it in her head that that woman was going to be Peyton.
At her raised brow, clearly not buying it, I added, "She likes helping women with no training. It's her thing, teaching chicks to kick ass. That's what she does. She'll make room for you."
"Okay," she said, nodding, her gaze falling for a second.
When it rose, the girl who'd been in my bed, on my chest, a bit open, a bit sweeter and less guarded, was gone.
I knew what was going to follow.
Me fucked good. Me no want to snuggle.
She was a woman who knew what she wanted - a good, solid dicking - and that was it.
Normally, that would have been the dream, right? No strings attached. No hurt feelings. No having to have that talk about how this is a casual thing.
That was what I wanted.
Always.
Why then was there a weird falling sensation in my gut as she planted her hands and pushed off me, jumping off the side of the bed and yanking down her skirt?
Fully dressed, panties aside. I had fucked her with her weird ass lady-butt shoes on still.
"This was fun," she declared, reaching up to make her hair look slightly less bed-sexy. "I gotta go."
"'Course you do," I said, rolling up to sit off the end of the bed, reaching for my jeans, pulling them on my legs.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Doesn't mean shit," I said, standing, jumping up my pants, fastening them, and reaching for a shirt.
"What is the pissy mood about then?" she asked, chin jerking up defiantly.
"Not in a pissy mood," I said, reaching for her chin. "Just an observation."
"What observation is that? We agreed to casual."
If you fall in love with me, I'm gone.
"I know that," I agreed, reaching up under her mesh shirt and yanking her hot pink bra band thing more into place.
"Then why are you being weird?"
"Why are you trying to analyze me?" I shot back, head dipping down. "If this is so casual, you shouldn't give a shit about my mood."
"I don't," she insisted, quickly. Too damn quickly.
"Then good. Let's walk you to your fuckin' hearse," I said, moving across the small space to open the door.
