I narrow my eyes at the man, and he clears his throat and shifts slightly in his seat, but I can still see the smile he tries to hide. Honestly, it’s not like I can blame him. Ezra has that effect on those around her. She shows interest and it’s not fabricated; it’s genuine. And it’s endearing as fuck.
“Gotta say,” Playboy’s attention focuses on Ezra, his voice dropping as he pouts, “I was expecting a history pun on today’s shirt and am deeply disappointed.”
He’s not alone. When she pulled on her plain T-shirt this morning, I wasn’t happy about it.
Ezra lifts one shoulder, her voice as casual as the movement, “The bag I keep in my car is packed with simple things, nondescript.” There’s something there, something more. When no one says anything, she lets out a sigh. “While I realize he’s,” she pauses and makes a face like she’s mulling over her word choice, “an ass, my dad made sure of a few things. I can shoot a gun. I can defend myself, at least to a certain extent. I can make a run for it and slip through the cracks if I need to. History puns make people remember.” She plucks at her shirt, “Plain and neutral do not.”
Every man in my office is staring at her and blinking. I’m not sure what I’m feeling. It moves through me. Relief. Annoyance. Something like fear. And a respect so profound it punches me in the gut.
I lean down and kiss her lips softly, needing the connection, the recognition. The last thing I care about is who is witnessing it. The contact is brief, but profound. She looks up at me with a soft smile on her face and understanding in her blue eyes before I look toward Snake.
“You got filled in on everything?” I ask one of my best friends, the brother who has been by my side long before we wore the patch, my VP.
“I’m up to date,” he tells me with a look. I’m sure he wishes I was the one to fill him in.
Normally, I would have been. But he was busy with Graycie which is why I didn’t include him at the fair and then I was busy afterward. If it’s a choice between talking to Snake or spending time with Ezra, the choice is pretty clear.
I’ll choose Ezra every time.
Snake must be able to read what’s on my mind because his forehead smooths out and understanding fills his gaze. With a nod of acknowledgement, he looks toward our brothers since they’re the ones with an update.
“We didn’t find the carnie,” Sidewinder informs me. “There’s someone watching the fairgrounds where the RVs are parked. We’ll switch out the person keeping a look out. But that area should be emptying over the next few days since the fair is done.”
It’s not what I want to hear. From the look on Sidewinder’s face, it’s not the update he wants to give either.
“Bobby wasn’t around either,” Playboy says, his voice tight. “No sign of him in town.” When I arch an eyebrow at him, hesmirks and adds, “Of course, someone is watching his place, and we’ll keep an eye on things for when he pops up again.”
Ezra’s shoulders fall and I’m not sure if it’s because she was hoping for more or because she’s relieved that she doesn’t have to face the other side of what is happening right now. I don’t believe she’s a stupid woman and she has to understand that we’ll deal with who we have to deal with and use whatever means necessary.
It’ll be violent and bloody. And absolutely outside the confines of the law.
“Maybe I just watch too much TV or something, but I was kinda expecting more oomph and a little more action with this little morning check-in,” Ezra pouts.
I can’t help but bark out a laugh along with my brothers. Well, except for Sidewinder who smirks.
When I look down at the woman in my lap, she’s looking at me with a smile on her face, but there’s fear banked in her eyes. I hate it. My hand glides down her spine, hoping to comfort her.
“People are creatures of habit,” I tell her, “but they will also wait until they’re safe.”
“Or they think they are,” Sidewinder’s words hold a darkness that has me looking closely at my brother.
He doesn’t look at me.
Whiskey clears his throat and looks up from his computer before nodding toward the screen mounted on the wall. It’s come in handy for meetings just like this one. He arches an eyebrow when he looks at Ezra, amusement in his voice, “I don’t know if it’ll be TV worthy, but I might be able to add a little more oomph to the meeting.”
“Oohh,” she breathes out and claps, “goody. Whatcha got?”
Playboy fucking cackles. In my office. Cackles.
“I gotta say, Ezra, I don’t remember you being this funny back in the day,” he tells her once he’s calmed himself down.
My gorgeous little teacher rolls her eyes before casting a withering look at my brother. Her voice is hard, but there’s a tease in her tone, “Well, I don’t really remember us running in the same circles, Jettson.”
He holds up his hands, laughter in his words and not a hint of offence, “Fair enough.”
She nods and then focuses on Whiskey who puts some bank records on the screen. “Even though Bobby hasn’t been flashing it around town, he’s been making substantially more money in the last year than he ever has in his life.”
I look at the records on the screen, and my eyebrows rise as I see multiple transfers. Thousands of dollars. Consistent.
