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Shell’s eyes rolled back so far they nearly revolved in her head. “You’re seriously demented,” she said, but her giggle gave away the fact the insult held no weight.
“Hey,” he said, grabbing her wrist as she began to turn away. “Mak working today?”
He’d been hoping to be seated in her section but didn’t want to show his cards by requesting it. Still, Shell’s eyes narrowed with a knowing gleam. “She’s not. I swear that girl would never take a day off if Toni didn’t force her to. She’s worked here the last seven days straight, including Sunday morning after working at the clubhouse all night Saturday. Toni flat out refused to let her in the door today.”
Huh. Thunder frowned. Was she hurting that badly for money? The thought of her working herself to exhaustion had him unable to react with his usual playful banter.
Shell cleared her throat, drawing him from his thoughts.
“What? Huh?”
She glanced at where he still held onto her and chuckled. “You gonna give me my hand back? I need that one to carry your food.”
“Oh, shit, sorry.” He released her at once, and she walked away with a chuckle as she shook her head and sent her blond curls bouncing.
Before he had the chance to dive back into obsessing, Screw slid into the booth opposite him. Gumby followed a second later.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t two-thirds of the happy throuple,” Thunder said as he leaned back in the booth and folded his arms across his chest. “You here to ogle the pretty member of your relationship?” he asked with a smirk. Jazmine, the brave woman who lived with these two men, worked as the diner's general manager.
Screw flipped him off, while the more subtle Gumby snorted.
“Can’t argue with you calling our Jazzy pretty, but you’re still an asshole. And while seeing our girl is always a plus, she’s actually not the reason I’m here,” Screw said as he flipped his coffee mug over on its clean white saucer.
“She’s why I’m here,” Gumby announced. “And pretty doesn’t even come close to describing how gorgeous that woman is.” As he spoke, his gaze scanned the diner, no doubt searching for the woman in question.
Screw frowned at his lover, which made Thunder bit his lip to keep from laughing.
“I thought you were here because you wanted to have breakfast with me,” Screw said, with the most pitiful pout Thunder had ever seen.
“Of course, I am, baby.” Gumby stroked a hand over Screw’s shoulder-length hair in an exaggerated and slightly patronizing caress. He winked at Thunder, then rolled his eyes.
“I don’t even give a shit that you’re making fun of me right now. I’ll take your hands on me, and your time any way I can get them.”
Gumby’s eyes softened, and he grabbed the front of Screw’s cut, yanking the man in for a less-than-chaste kiss.
Thunder didn’t bother to look away. Instead, he studied the two lovers and tried to process the strange twisting in his gut.
What the hell did it mean? It was happening with more frequency lately when he witnessed his new brothers with their woman. An uncomfortable coil looped low in his stomach. One that had him both wanting to stare and turn away at the same time.
Thunder had had his fair share of threesomes in the past. Two girls, two guys, hell, he didn’t care. He’d even been sucked off by a guy a time or two, and while it felt good—hell, it was a mouth on his dick—the fact it was attached to a dude didn’t do much for him. His cock got hard for tits and pussy, and that was just the way nature had crafted him.
So, it wasn’t the combination of Gumby and Screw getting to him, it was something else. And damned if he knew what the fuck that was.
“Need a favor,” Screw said, when they finally broke apart and after Shell had poured coffee for Gumby and refilled Thunder’s. Screw waved her away when she tried to fill his mug.
“Anything,” Thunder responded. It wasn’t an empty promise, either. He’d do any damn thing his new brothers asked of him.
“You know the CDMC has been quiet lately. They took a huge financial hit after…” Screw lowered his voice. “After one of their shipments didn’t make it to its destination. And ever since Jeremy tossed a grenade through the window of this place, the cops have been lodged so far up the CDMC’s ass, they’ve been shitting gold shields.”
His heart rate kicked up as did his guilt any time someone mentioned the day Viper died. He’d wanted to think of something other than Makenna, but this only brought on more discomfort and remorse.
Six weeks or so ago, the Handlers had gotten some sweet intel regarding where, when, and how the CDMC shipped weapons up and down the east coast. Screw had organized a swift and effective operation to fuck with the shipping company they used for transport. The effort was wildly successful, making the CDMC miss critical deliveries and lose tens, maybe even hundreds of thousands of dollars revenue. Only a few days later, Jeremy, a CDMC prospect who happened to live next door to Jazz and had mad hatred for the Handlers, tossed a grenade through the window of Toni’s Diner.
