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“Think they’ll kick him out?”
“Probably,” Z says. “Not really cut out to be a brother if he can’t follow basic instructions.”
“So glad I could serve as his litmus test,” I grumble.
Rock shakes hands with the other biker and strides away at a slow, unconcerned pace. For a few seconds, I continue watching the Vice President for any signs that this isn’t over before turning my attention to Rock.
The tightness around his mouth tells me his easy manner as he walks through the crowd is for show. He stops in front of me and lifts his chin at Wrath. The heavy arm on my shoulders is replaced by Rock’s. He pulls me closer, dropping a possessive kiss on my lips, almost knocking me off my feet. I curl my fingers into the leather on his shoulders to maintain my balance.
Breaking our kiss, but keeping a firm hold on me, he pulls back. Deep gray eyes search my face. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He’s silent. As if he’s waiting for me to elaborate. Instead, I take his hand, wincing at the blood on his knuckles. “Let’s get ice on this.”
“We cool, Prez?” Z asks, nodding at the last place the VP had been standing.
“Yeah. Talked for a minute about how hard it is to find good recruits. Small club. Don’t think he wants any trouble.”
“Let’s go grab a drink,” Wrath says, steering us toward the closest bar.
I’m still too unsettled for alcohol, so I ask Rock to order cranberry juice and seven-up for me instead before heading into the bathroom.
As I’m washing up, I stare at my face in the mirror. Despite the sunscreen I slathered on this morning, my nose is slightly pink and freckles I haven’t seen since high school dot my nose and chest. I pull a brush out and quickly run it through my wild and windblown hair. This humidity has made it double in volume.
The door swings open and a short woman with spiky black hair joins me. Almost as if she was looking for me.
She’s wearing a brand new Harley Davidson tank top. Crisp, clean jeans, and scuff-free boots. No jewelry, but a tan line around her ring finger. Almost like she woke up and decided to dress up as “biker chick” today.
“Hey, you’re a Lost Kings old lady right? I hear your gang’s the one to talk to for the good shit.”
“I’m not in a gang. I’m here with my husband’s motorcycle club,” I answer without looking away from the mirror, where I’m busy swiping gloss over my lips.
“Club. Right. Got you.” She gives me this weird, exaggerated wink. “I hear your club has the hookup. Looking for some pot and,” she lowers her voice. “A little meth.”
“Huh?” Granted, I haven’t been privy to many, okay any, drug deals in my life, but I sort of doubt it’s customary to walk up to a stranger and ask for drugs in such a cavalier manner. “I’m sorry. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh. Right. Okay. So your old man doesn’t like you to talk about it.” She puts her fingers to her lips. “Just tell me which one’s holding and I’ll talk to him.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a rolled up wad of twenties. “I have the cash.”
My heart beats faster, but outside I remain calm and impassive. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about.” I reach for the door. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Is it the big dude? He seems like the smart choice to be carrying for you.”
I almost snort and say something snotty like, “Yeah, march on over to Wrath and say that to his face and see what happens to you.” But I calmly push past her and grab the door handle instead. “You were given bad information.”
Relief washes over me as I step into the hallway. Z’s waiting for me and pushes off the wall. “Everything all right? I saw that chick go in there—”
I grab his arm and pull him aside. “Something’s not right about her. She kept asking if she could buy drugs from one of us.”
“What the fuck?”
“Right? It was so damn weird.”
He glares at the closed bathroom door as if he’s considering storming inside to shake some information out of the pesky girl.
While I’m relieved to see Z, I really need Rock. I scan the bar area my gaze finally landing on him.
Rage replaces my worry.
A whole load of rage I’m about to unleash on the woman with her hand on Rock’s arm.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“What an afternoon.” Z stretches, showing off, and takes a good look around the bar.
“Why don’t you just stick a sign on your forehead that says ‘I need to get laid?’ It’d be more subtle.”
He laughs and slaps my arm. “I’m going to do a lap around the bar.”
“Wear a condom,” Wrath yells as Z walks away.
Z not-so-discreetly flips his middle finger in our direction.
Wrath gives the bar a more critical look. “I might call some of the guys and have them meet us here,” he says watching a group of loud-mouthed men in the back corner. Their colors aren’t visible, but there’s a good chance they’re bikers.
“If Z can manage not to hit on someone’s ol’ lady, no one should bother us.”
“Doesn’t mean shit and you know it.”
“Fuck this. I’m ready to go home.”
“Best thing you’ve said all week, Prez.”
“What happened to us?”
“Uh.” He glances around. “We’ve been here. Done this. And it’s fucking old.”
“We’re fucking old.”
“Speak for yourself.” He levels a sterner look at me. “I ain’t in the mood to carry you through some midlife crisis, Rock. So, go fuck your girl or do whatever you gotta do to reclaim your youth. But knock this shit off.”
My mouth twists into a grin and I slap his chest. “That’s what I keep you around for.”
He shoves me toward the bar. “Buy me a drink.” He wags his phone in my face. “I’m gonna make a few calls.”
I step up to the bar and order our drinks, keeping my eyes on the back hallway for Hope.
“Hey there, Prez,” a high, sickly-sweet voice greets. I don’t recognize the voice or care for the familiar way she addresses me so I answer without even looking.
“Keep moving.”
“Aw, come on. This is supposed to be party week.”
Ignoring her, I tap my fingers against the bar. The movement must draw attention to my wedding ring.
“Wifey didn’t choose to join you? That means it’s time to party, right?”
Christ, what is it with this chick? I turn to glare at her and find five-feet-nothing of blonde hair, and big tits dressed in black leather grinning up at me.
“Not. Interested.”
Persistent, she pouts and touches my arm and I shake her off. This time she’s more blunt with her come on. “I can give a blow job that will blow your mind. Best you’ve—”
“It’s a shame a girl your age has already suffered such terrible hearing loss.” Hope interrupts. Even dripping with irritation and sarcasm, her warm, silky voice wraps around me and chases away my foul mood. She rests her hand on my shoulder and presses the weight of her body into my side. I slide my arm around her waist.
“Huh?” the girl says, eyeing Hope up and down.
“My man politely told you to get lost.” Hope leans forward with her face inches from the shocked bunny. “Now, I’m telling you. Not so politely.”
The girl blinks up at Hope.
“There are plenty of bikers here.” Hope gestures to the area around us and then wraps her hand around arm. “This one belongs to me. Got it?”
“Uh…”
“Nod so I know you understand.” Hope remains calm and focused. My stealthy lioness protecting what’s hers.
The girl bobs her head. “Sorry,” she mumbles before slinking away.
“Friend of yours?” Hope asks with an arched brow.
Christ. How had this never occurred to me? She’s probably wondering if we’ll run into some random ex-hookup of mine while we’re
here. “She was probably in grade school last time I was here,” I growl.
She squeezes my arm. “I was teasing.”
I slide my hand down, grabbing her ass until she squeals and slaps her palm against my chest. I yank her closer and nuzzle against her neck. “Love when you’re all feisty and territorial.”
