“Stop agreeing with me.”
“No.”
She goes in smiling. I stand on her porch a minute, adjusting my jeans, breathing like I hauled an engine block up a hill. I'm so fucked. Been fucked since the first time I saw her, with that red lipstick and those dark curls, and her special way of moving like she was dancing.
I get home late, once Hawk comes to take over outside her house. My kitchen smells of burnt cheese, and Savage is on my couch with a sandwich in one hand, watching my TV, wearing my favorite hoodie.
“Hey, brother. So the shop tomorrow, I was thinking…”
I take him by the ankle and haul.
He hits the floor with a crash, sandwich airborne, and before he's got his bearings I've got a knee on his chest and a forearm across his collarbones. Waffles lifts his head off the armchair, assesses the situation, and lays it back down. Not his department.
“The fuck, Wrench…” The flash of anger in his pale blue eyes tells me I have about ten seconds before this becomes a fight to the death.
“Shawn was at her school today.” I growl at him. “Ablockfrom those kids. Rolled right past her at the fence. Scared her silly. And I found out from an app on my phone, Savage. Not from you.”
He stops reaching for the knife in his boot. Savage only has two modes, joker or killer, but he knows when he’s fucked up.
“He used the mattress delivery to slip out of the motel. Must have figured out he was being tailed.” he says. “I was having my hair cut and I told you–”
“You told me after I got there. Your one job was trailing the man, and you screwed it up.” I lean on the forearm, just enough. “I've been covering your dumb ass since we prospected. Pulled you out of the river that time, lied to Prez about the goat, rebuilt your bike for free, let you room with me. So hear me once. Her and that little girl are my family now. You protect them like you’d protect me. Are we clear?”
Savage looks up at me, his muscles coiling like a cobra about to strike, jaw tight, the beast in him deciding. He's never once backed down from anything on principle.
Then he goes flat and pats my forearm twice, gentle as a kitten.
“Are we hugging?” he says. “This feels like hugging. Brother, I'm flattered, but I'm not ready for this kind of commitment…”
I let him up before he can feel me laugh.
He sits against the couch, rubbing his collarbone, and the grin fades out of him. “I screwed it,” he says, plainly. “It won’t happen twice.”
“I know.”
“So,” Savage says, retrieving his sandwich off the floor and taking a bite, like the feral raccoon he is. “When do we start on him?”
“Tomorrow.”
Chapter Seven
LILA
“No, Lila. Absolutely not,” Taryn says, arms crossed in the doorway to my bedroom. “You are not wearing your work flats to the Saloon.”
Rosie left an hour ago for her first-ever sleepover, two doors down at Maria's house, escorted by Waffles and carrying a backpack she re-packed four times. Maria’s mom’s husband Shadow is in the Outlaws MC and Striker is positioned outside the house. Waffles insists on staying. He's on Maria's porch right now, and Maria's mom has already texted me a photo of both girls reading to him.
Which is how Taryn caught me at a loose end, and why I'm now in my sexiest red dress. It’s the one with the sweetheart neckline I made the winter I decided I was done dressing to disappear. Red lipstick to match. Heels I haven't worn for at least a year.
“There she is,” Taryn says softly, over my shoulder in the mirror.
The Outlaw Saloon glows at the edge of town, all string lights and rows of motorcycles parked outside. Inside it's louder than the diner has ever been in its whole existence. Taryn tows me through it by the hand, and as Hawk's girl, she basically ownsthe floor. Bethany finds us at the bar, blonde-haired and quick-eyed, Striker's ring catching the light.
“Hey Lila.” She hands me something with bubbles in it. “Welcome to paradise.”
“Thank you.”
“I hear you’re the one who turned Wrench into a talker. I’ll believe that when I see it.”
