King eyed the drink carefully and the war in his eyes became obvious. He wanted the drink badly, but he also didn’t want to disappoint Dallas, either. Finally he nudged the glass away and leaned back against Dallas, who wrapped his arms around King’s waist and rested his chin on his shoulder.
“Love you,” Dallas whispered.
“Love you, too.” King patted his arm before he finally returned his attention to me. “The favors can be anything?”
My chest warmed at the sight. “Yes, but I can only do them when I’m not on an assignment. My work still comes first.”
“You’re still gonna be an assassin?”
“Of course. That’s my job.” I leaned my elbow on the bar. “You’re a president of a motorcycle club, just like I’m an assassin. Same sort of thing, don’t you agree?”
“No,” he said bluntly, but then he gave me a half smile that wasn’t quite fit for a friend but meant he didn’t entirely hate me and want to kill me, either. “Fine. I’ll accept your parlay and I won’t put a bullet in your head.” He touched his gun and moved it farther in Dallas’s direction to prove a point. “But if you fuck us over at any time, I know Sloan Killough, and in turn, Ardan Murphy. We’ll find you wherever you go.”
I grinned. “Point taken. No hurting Luke or any of the Kings.”
“Good, we’re at an agreement, then.” King’s gaze slid back to the drink again, and I thought I’d do him a favor. I grabbed the glass and downed the liquid, wincing at the burn of the methanol that glided down my throat. “Scottish?”
King laughed. “Yeah, the best. Don’t tell those Irish bastards, though.”
“I think they’d be more pissed if you were drinking Russian vodka.” I slammed the glass back on the bar and made a face. The whiskey was expensive stuff, that much was obvious, and it tasted smooth. Wasn’t something I could do often because I could already feel myself tip slightly. It’d been far too long since I had any strong alcohol, and even longer since I drank something so quickly.
Luke came stalking out of the hallway, dropping the bucket on the floor so the water sloshed slightly over the top. He huffed and stormed toward me, his stench making me wrinkle my nose.
“You smell like shit. I mean, not literally.” I frowned at him. “Actually, it may be literal shit.”
King and Dallas laughed, and Luke quirked a smile at me. “Might be. Who the hell knows with these pricks. Hey, wanna make out?”
He leaned closer, and I shoved at his chest, careful not to push him too hard. While he’d mostly recovered from his own concussion, I didn’t want to hurt him. Grant had taken out his stitches a week ago and he was left with a scar. “Not until we get home and you shower.”
“Aw, is it my home, too? If it is, do I get to protest to city hall about that toll? That shit gets expensive after a while.” He growled in frustration, and I shrugged.
“You can pay a weekly fee instead of a toll every time you pass over the bridge. All we’d need to do is change your address.” I hadn’t realized what I’d said until King and Luke both smirked at me. Rolling my eyes, I explained, “He practically lives there anyway.”
It’d been over two weeks since I’d gotten out of hospital, and Luke had been at my house every night. We even carpooled into the city when he didn’t need to visit his club brothers because I didn’t have my car anymore. According to Dr. Moore I had a concussion, and that meant being careful the next few weeks. I’d made the decision to push my assignment back while I recovered, with the Society’s permission. In the end, if I was going to target someone and kill them, I needed a clear head, and the organization agreed. So, in that stretch I called in a vacation and went back to the salon, giving Jorge more time to learn about managing the place.
“Are you sure you want to be stuck with this guy?” King asked, jerking his thumb in Luke’s direction. “ ’Cause I got some other guys who’re single that’ll love a chance at your ass instead.”
“Hey, pres, that’s not cool. I kinda got a kid now.” Luke dumped himself on the stool behind me and leaned forward so he could see King over my shoulder.
“You let your kid near him?” King grumbled with a smile. “You’re one brave guy, Beaumont. I wouldn’t want this fool influencing my son.”
I chuckled and patted Luke’s thigh when he glared at him. “He’s not bad, and KC likes him now, so I don’t get a choice. You know what teenagers are like, and Luke’s practically a kid himself, so they get along perfectly.”
Luke threw his hands up in exasperation while the boys around us laughed, King included. King slapped me on the thigh. “I changed my mind. I like you. Welcome to the family.”
I grinned. “Happy to be here.”
“I might change my mind about you yet,” Luke grumbled behind me.
* * *
I stretchedand snuggled up into Luke’s side, kissing his naked pectoral muscle before tugging at the nub of his nipple with my teeth because it was hard to resist. He groaned his way awake, blinking blearily at me. Yawning, he stretched his arms up over his head, reaching for the wooden headboard and giving me the perfect view of his inked skin in the process. I ran my palm over his chest, fingers tracing the roses that weaved themselves over his flesh.
He gave me a lazy smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Hey, killer.”
I snorted. He’d been calling me that since the hospital, and as much as I thought I’d hate the nickname, I kind of liked it. He interchangeably called me killer and humbug, and it all felt very much like a real relationship. “Morning, baby.”
“Do you have to go today?” He kissed me, and my eyes slipped closed as I savored the way his mouth moved against mine—gentle and hungry all at the same time.
