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Yeah, shit was coming together. “Only the beginnin’, baby.”
“It’s a good, solid start.” She pulled away to face him. He pushed away from the post and once again smiled as she slipped her arms under his cut and around his waist. She planted her chin on his chest. “Putting Dodge in charge of the bar was a good move.”
His brows raised as he tipped his beer to his lips once more. “So, you’re finally admittin’ it?”
“He’s doing well.”
“The bar’s doin’ better because of both of you,” he corrected her.
“Like you, he had some good ideas.”
“You had ‘em, too.”
“But I didn’t have the money to implement them.”
He simply answered, “Now you do,” because this shit had been talked to death and while they weren’t buried in cash, they weren’t hurting, either. The more the businesses grew, the more the club grew, the bigger the bank accounts would grow.
If he had his way, not one of them would be hurting for money. Not just him and Stella. But all of them.
“Because of you.”
“’Cause of us,” he corrected her. “Partners, remember?”
He frowned because her eyes were no longer on him, but instead focused elsewhere. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as she went stiff in his arms. Was she winding up for a fight?
“Partners in life, Stel,” he repeated more firmly, expecting a response.
“Trip,” she said under her breath, still staring past him.
His heart skipped a beat when he heard a deep, “Heard it once somewhere... If you build it, they will come,” from over his shoulder.
Trip spun toward the voice, shoving Stella behind him, his hand automatically finding the butt of his gun at the small of his back. Before he had a chance to free it from his cut, the man standing before him in the shadows raised both palms up in surrender.
“Jesus. Didn’t mean to fuckin’ startle you.”
He tucked the gun back in place. “Didn’t,” Trip lied. “Just can’t be too careful.”
“Imagine so,” the man murmured, eyeing up Stella as she moved to Trip’s side.
She fisted the back of his cut and tilted her head, giving the new arrival the same amount of eyeball he was giving her. “Sig,” slipped past her lips.
It took Sig a few moments and Trip let him work it out on his own. “Goddamn,” Sig murmured. “All grown up, Stella.”
“So are you,” she answered, but Trip could hear it in her voice: the question asking if the man actually acted as mature as he looked.
His mile-long rap sheet said otherwise.
But unless he was on the run and looking for a place to lie low, Trip had hope his half-brother was keeping his shit clean.
And by him showing up at the farm, Trip hoped Sig planned to keep his ass out of cuffs and off the pigs’ radar.
“Just ridin’ through?” Trip asked, dropping an arm around Stella’s shoulders, making it clear to Sig that it was time for him to shift his eyes elsewhere.
Sig took in the arm that staked Trip’s claim and finally turned his attention back to him. “Thinkin’ I’d settle for a while.”
A while. “Not lookin’ for drifters. This ain’t a motel,” Trip said. “Lookin’ for men wantin’ to put down some roots.”
Sig studied him for a long moment, his mouth tight, then he nodded. “I hear ya. Only time I’ve stuck in one place was when I was forced to.” His whole adult life, Sig had spent more time in jail than out of it.
“Kept an apartment open for you, even though I ate a lotta shit about doin’ so.”
“From who?”
“Anyone who knows you or knows of you, Sig.”
Sig cocked an eyebrow. “You figured I’d show.”
No, brother, but I hoped you would. “Eventually. Long as your ass didn’t land back behind bars,” Trip said honestly. “Ain’t gonna be easy, brother. This ain’t some place you eat grub all day, eat pussy all night, and not pull your fuckin’ weight. Ain’t a resort.”
Sig’s chest rose and fell as his gaze slid from Trip to circle the courtyard. His eyes caught on something in the distance and stuck there while he asked, “Still need a fuckin’ VP?”
He did, especially since Dutch bitched about being temporary VP at every meeting. Hell, every time he talked to the old man. But Trip now had second thoughts about handing over that spot to Sig. It was a powerful position to hand over to a possible loose cannon.
But he also wanted to mend fences with the man, rebuild what they used to have. And to do that, he’d need to trust Sig.
To a point, anyway. At least until Trip had more confidence that Sig wasn’t going to self-combust, end up on some kind of crazy spree and drag the rest of them into it, destroying what Trip had been busting his ass so hard to build.
