“Are you sure she’s a beagle?” Dev asked, doubt coloring his tone.
“Yeah.” This time her tone rang more in line with the I’m-smarter-than-you-in-every-way voice she’d perfected.
She wasn’t wrong.
“Huh.” He gave in without an argument. “Did I tell you that I need you to deal with the Realtor in Sunnyvale for me?”
“Yes,” Millie answered. “So I’m a babysitter, ink parlor receptionist with no parlor to reception, and now I’m your personal assistant. Do you want to explain to me why all these people live inside your building, and I didn’t know?”
“No, I don’t.” Obviously not. “If I wanted to talk about it, I would’ve. And what the fuck ever. You knew Cash lived across the hall from me. Think I could’ve bagged a guy like that if I didn’t have access to him all the time to wear him down?”
“No, I don’t think you could’ve. He’s one fine man,” Millie said admiringly.
Dev’s grin was instant.
Like normal when he thought about Cash, his chin hit his chest and his head tilted down, not wanting anyone to see him content or smiling. The club members were all so shook about his old man. They didn’t need to see him all doe eyed as he asked Millie, “Is Cash in the apartment with you now?”
“Mmm hmm, sure is.” The sounds of appreciating that perfect hard body came through in every syllable uttered.
“He’s pretty fuckin’ hot, isn’t he?” Dev murmured, sticking his finger in his other ear to better hear as a pickup truck drove past. Where he stood in the parking lot had vehicles moving back and forth around him to come or go, or whatever they were doing.
“Does he know how obscene those workout clothes are?” Millie asked.
“These apartments are small and I’m right here,” Cash said loudly in the background. “I can hear every word you say and many of what Dev says. My clothes are appropriate athletic attire.”
“Mmm hmm,” Millie muttered again, causing Dev to chuckle.
“I gotta go, Mil.” Dev rolled his shoulders then his neck, trying to pull forward his inner badass outlaw biker. “If we get an offer for anything over six hundred and fifty thousand on Sunnyvale, take it. And we want a quick close. They can take possession as soon as the Realtor can make it happen.”
“Gotcha. And I caught Mae trying to peel open the gift wrap on Cash’s Christmas presents. I put them up high on the shelf in the laundry room. She’s something else,” Millie said. “You got your work cut out for you with that one.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” he said, loving his daughter’s can-do spirit. He lifted his head as he walked toward the building again. He didn’t even notice the car trying to drive past him until he heard the sudden squeaky slam of the brakes. Which still wasn’t enough to keep from nudging Dev with the grill.
“Goddamn watch the fuck out,” Dev yelled, his fist coming down hard on the hood. “Did you even see me here?”
He was completely in the wrong, but the fire that lit his soul every time he had to come back into the club’s world kept him from giving a single goddamn inch.
“I gotta go. Fuckin’ prospects can’t fuckin’ drive worth a fuck,” he yelled at the driver through the windshield.
The forceful mash his fingertip gave to the screen should’ve broken his finger or the phone, maybe both. There better be some decent progress inside the clubhouse. His surprise inspection was on its way. The first of the motorcycle clubs were due to arrive this evening. The whole fucking city was freaked the fuck out per Officer Grisby, one of his law enforcement informants.
He fumed and threw out the bird to the driver, ready to take on the cage, a fight to the death.
The fucking government was exactly what he’d been taught they were. They deserved all the chaos he and his outlaw brothers were about to receive.
Two hours later
His hair was pissing him the fuck off.
The first free minute he got he was shaving this bitch off.
Hair was fucking stupid.
Dev used more force than necessary to shove the longer on top pieces out of his eyes before shrugging off his cut, laying it on the back of a barstool. He’d spent the morning packing up his old man’s nineteen eighties porn collection, along with other gross shit.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, already tired of the day. He figured he’d logged enough time at the clubhouse that maybe those on the other end of his surveillance team might not notice when he left. Just in case the always-on-it Joe or the tracking Trace clued in before he made it off grid, he made a show of telling Con-man his fake plans for the afternoon.
“I’m gonna go help paint,” Dev said loudly, carefully removing the clasp to his necklace. With care and no sudden movements, he placed the necklace on the bar top at an angle that might appear as if he was sitting there. “Don’t fuck with my shit,” he added, placing his phone by the necklace, the screen side facing down.
