Page 58 of Riding Dirty

I’m not playing.

I’m the vice president of the fucking Iron Flame, and Elodie is my woman. Once I claim her publicly at the clubhouse, all bets are off, and Velvet had better back the fuck off. I’ve already warned her. There won’t be a next time.

Taking my phone out of my pocket, I call Loot. I need to shift gears and get a fucking move on getting Elodie and Alex a place.

He answers on the second ring. “Wrath,” he says. “What can I do ya for?”

Loot is the treasurer of our club. He’s also got a whole bunch of rental places out in Henderson. If anyone knows anything about properties, it’s going to be him.

I should have done what he did years ago—invested my club money in something other than tricking out my bike and letting the rest sit in a bank that pays me about three cents a month. I really screwed the pooch on that shit.

“Need something,” I begin. “A townhouse, a house, something with two bedrooms and two bathrooms. Not too expensive but clean, newer, and in a good area.”

There is silence on the other end, and I think that maybe he’s hung up the phone, but then he finally speaks. “There a reason you need a place in town?”

I should tell him to fuck all the way off because it’s not his goddamn business, but I decide not to be a smart-ass, especially since I’m asking him for help. Plus, it’s not really a secret, and soon enough, Elodie is going to be completely immersed in our club as my old lady, so why not tell him now?

I tell him the truth. Because honestly, what does it fucking matter? I don’t give a fuck if the world knows Elodie is my woman. She’s fucking beautiful, and I’m proud to have her by my side and especially in my bed.

“My woman and her cousin need a place to live. I don’t like where they’re at now.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, then he clears his throat before he continues. I expect some questions about the fact that I’m claiming Elodie as my woman, but he doesn’t say a word about it, at least not yet. He’s got other questions.

“Buy or rent?”

That’s the question, isn’t it? Buy or rent. If I buy it, then I’m stuck with it if something happens between us. If I rent it, that’s less liability, but I’ll also be paying rent on something I could be paying a mortgage on. Considering I have absolutely no fucking assets, it would probably be good to have something to call my own.

“Buy,” I state.

It’s a split decision, but I think it’s the right one to make. I’m almost fifty years old, and I should probably own something in this life aside from my bike and a truck. I know it’s more of a gamble, but at the same time, I’m cool with it.

If shit doesn’t work out, I can sell the house. But I think it’s going to work just fine. I’ve never had the inclination to settle down in my life until I met this woman. It was instant, and I knew that she was the one I wanted. She’s my woman, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.

“Let me do a little looking around, and then I’ll text you.”

“Thanks, brother,” I murmur.

He snorts before he speaks. “I didn’t think you would fall, brother.”

“Like a fucking pine in a goddamn windstorm. Down I fucking went.”

He ends the call, which is good, because I’ve got some other shit to handle and need to stop thinking about how much I fucking want Elodie. It’s time for the job. The big fucking job that’s going to pay out. Big time. So big that I’ll be able to buy whatever the fuck house for sale Loot brings me… in cash.

I’m sitting in my office, looking out at the empty room. Two chairs, a sofa, and all the makings of what an office should be. But there’s something missing. Just when I start to wonder what could be changed in the space, though I have not the first fucking clue what that could be, the door opens.

It’s Two-Pump. He smiles as his eyes find mine. “We ready to do this shit?”

“Blast and Hippie ready?” I ask.

He hums. “They’re dressed and ready to go.” Standing from the desk, I clear my throat as I walk around it. Following behind Two-Pump, I make my way into the bar, where I see Blast and Hippie. They’re dressed, alright. In fucking penguin suits, bow ties and all. It’s comical as fuck. I turn to Two-Pump to ask him where his tuxedo is, but he answers me before I can even ask.

“I didn’t pass the background check,” he grunts.

That shit cracks me up. I can’t hold back the belly laugh that rumbles out of my chest and up my throat. Two-Pump flips me off before he turns to Blast. “You can get me in?” he asks, ignoring my laughter and flipping me the bird.

“I can get you in,” Blast confirms with a nod. Then he shifts his attention over to me. “And we’re good to go?” he asks.

There’s not much for me to do at this point. The plan is in place. They’re going to ensure that there is a grease fire that gets into the event center’s ventilation system. I’ve already talked to the client, and he’s disabled all the cameras inside the building, so there will be no evidence of how the shit started, though it’s not an uncommon event.