Page 52 of Twisted Fate

“Lukas is supposed to be stopping in,” I said lightly as I threw a punch at the boxing bag, pretending it was his stupid head.

“Can’t you just tell him you’re going out?”

“With you? Sure, that will go smoothly,” I snorted, giving up on my work-out and leaning against the wall, earning a chuckle from him.

“Ty will end up at the shed anyway, so it’s fine. Skeet knows the guys are all peachy with you now, so he knows you’re safe.”

“You think that’s the problem? Slash, you know he’s worried about the trouble you’ll get me in,” I scowled, a dark grin taking over his face.

“Trouble? What trouble?”

“Dead body kind of trouble,” I muttered as I grabbed my sweat towel and wiped it over my damp face.

He laughed lightly, moving towards me.

“Babe, it isn’t even like that. I just want to have a quiet beer at the shed with you because you’re my friend.”

“Yeah, the friend who wants to be part of the dead body thing,” I mumbled under my breath, making him raise an eyebrow at me.

“That’s what’s wrong? You’re itching to do some damage to someone? I can sneak you into the cage for a round, if you want?”

I kicked the bag hard with frustration, my voice flat.

“I’ll kill them, and you know it. I want to fucking kill them. I…”

“Hey, I’ll sort something out, alright? I know your guys won’t approve, but I don’t mind you tagging along on jobs with me,” he smiled, friendliness in his tone as if he’d offered to let me tag along for a trip to the fucking mall.

It was nice to have someone not worry so much over me.

I sighed, knowing it couldn’t happen though.

“I can’t have one foot in the door and one out. I’m not part of the crew, so…”

“Times are changing, babe. You’re in the door more than you realize.”

That caught my attention and I turned, almost running into him.

How the fuck had he gotten that close?

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, the guys are impressed with you. Some of them are still a little old school, but most of them want you in. All the way in,” he shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“And Skeet?”

He smirked almost evilly, crossing his tattooed arms so that his muscles bulged and his shirt pulled tight across his chest.

“Skeet’s pissed off. Why do you think he wants you away from the shed completely? You know how he feels about you being involved in our shit, so actually becoming part of it? Yeah, he isn’t happy.”

“But it’s my fucking choice!” I shouted, waving my hands around like a crazy person and earning a look of amusement from him.

“I know, and that’s why I’m talking to you about it instead of arguing with him. Get dressed and come for a beer. The guys miss your sassy ass strutting around and threatening them,” he winked and shooed me up the stairs, waiting for me while I had a quick shower, before we wandered out to his car.

The red and black 1973 Ford Mustang Mach 1 was in mint condition, and it was Slash’s pride and joy.

I was honestly surprised we were even allowed to wear fucking shoes in it.

I sent Lukas a quick message to say I’d gone out, then I glanced over at Slash as he drove.