Thane puffed a cloud of smoke. “You know you’re always welcome. This is your home as much as mine—hell, maybe more. Take Reaper’s old suite across from Hatchet’s room. Don’t want you sharing a bathroom with these goons.”
Merci let out a shaky breath of relief. “Thank you,” she said, some of the tension releasing from her shoulders. She flashed me a tight smile. “I need a drink. Want one?”
I nodded. “Jack and Coke.”
Merci spun on her heel, flipping back her long, dark hair as she headed to the obsidian bar.
Thane raised his brows in question.
I tilted my head up and stared at the flat-black industrial ductwork crisscrossing overhead before letting out a long exhale. “She caught her fiancé screwing another woman. I just helped her move out.”
Muscles stilled under Thane’s cut, and his expression turned lethal. Each Maverick carried a sense of protectiveness for the daughters of the club, especially Merci. “Good thing Merrick’s out of town. We’d have a body to deal with.”
“I offered.”
Thane snorted. “Sure you did, boy. Bet you had some pretty fucking creative ways to make him hurt, too.”
I chuckled. “She’s pretty creative herself. Destroyed the house before she left. Trashed the kitchen, flooded the floors, stuffed vents with anchovies. A chaotic masterpiece.”
Thane’s eyes narrowed. He pulled the cigar away from his lips and pointed at my chest. “You’d best remember who she is. I see that look in your eyes. I know crazy turns you on, but she’s off-limits. You know our code.”
I barked out a laugh. “She’s Merrick’s baby sister. I’d never go there. He’d cut my dick off.”
Thane stalked away, giving me another warning glare as Merci approached with our drinks.
She sipped her cocktail. Her nails tapped the glass in rhythm with some silent battle in her mind.
I grinned. “How’d you get Leah to make you a piña colada? She fucking hates making froufrou drinks.”
“Played the breakup card,” Merci said with a shrug. “But she said I have to switch to tequila next because she doesn’t want to wash the blender.”
“Sounds about right.”
Leah, Jack’s old lady who managed the bar most nights, preferred to sling straight liquor rather than mixed cocktails.
“Darts?” I asked, gesturing to the group of boards that hung in one corner.
“You’re on.”
The eclectic fixtures hanging from the ceiling cast warm light across her face as she bit her lower lip to focus her aim. Her phone rang, interrupting her focus. She scowled as she peered at the caller ID and silenced the phone before slipping it back into her pocket. She threw the dart, missing the bull’s eye by three inches. Another ring interrupted her next throw, and the dart speared into the wall with a thunk, nowhere near the board.
“Luca?” I asked.
Merci’s jaw locked, and her warm, brown eyes hardened. “Fuck him.”
I brushed a hand across her shoulders. “My offer still stands. You say the word, and I’ll destroy him. Fuck him up in ways he can’t even imagine.”
“Who are we fucking up today?” Fuse asked, approaching with a scotch in hand.
“Merci’s fiancé,” I explained as I tossed a dart, hitting the red center with ease.
“Ex-fiancé,” she clarified tightly.
Fuse’s expression darkened.
I looked at Merci, then back to Fuse as I flexed my jaw. “Right. She caught him doing the horizontal tango with someone else.”
Fuse clinked his glass against the remnants of her frozen drink. “Some light torture would brighten my day. Let’s do it.”
