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“It’s a bad habit.”
“Tryin’ to help you out here.”
“Help me or you?”
Trip’s mouth got tight. “Both. You wanna hear it? Or you want me to cut this shit short and find someone else who don’t backtalk?”
She stared at the club’s president sitting at the end of the table. In the chair of power.
He could’ve told her to fuck off when she was in danger from Billy Warren, he didn’t. He allowed her to come out to the farm and stay in Deacon’s apartment until that asshole was gone. He permitted her to stay even after that and become part of the club when she had no blood ties to any of the members and couldn’t become an official member herself. He also helped convince Dutch to give her a damn job because she was bored as hell waiting for that abusive asshole to be caught.
Trip had done a lot for her. So had the rest of the club. More importantly, her sister was deeply in love with the Viking of a man who sat across the table from her. That alone was priceless to her.
Her older sister finally found someone who not only truly loved her back, but would be dedicated, loyal and protective. Traits Reese had hoped for with her first husband, but never got. Instead, she was hurt and ended up building an even higher barrier around herself. An almost impenetrable wall Deacon struggled to scale. But he was smart about it and didn’t push her. He let her begin to deconstruct her wall on her own to the point where he could finally manage to climb over it and into Reese’s heart.
Reese had finally found her happy. Their relationship might not be conventional, but it was real. Because of that, Reilly loved Deacon for everything he did for and gave to Reese. Also, for his endless patience when dealing with her very stubborn older sister.
The club was her and Reese’s family now. They didn’t have to be. They could have shut Reilly out and told her to take her problems with the abusive asshole elsewhere.
They didn’t.
Once again, her eyes began to sting with tears.
What the hell was wrong with her? First, Rev’s declaration of love almost made her cry, now this. And she still didn’t even know what “this” was yet.
She sniffled and nodded.
“You ain’t cryin’ are you?” Deacon asked, his eyes wide and his words a bit panicked.
“I’m not crying!” she exclaimed. “I never cry!”
“All women cry,” Trip muttered under his breath.
“No, we don’t,” she insisted, rubbing the sting away.
“You and your sister are tough as fuckin’ nails,” Deacon said more softly. “I get it. You had to be to survive your childhood. You also had to be to survive that motherfuckin’ asshole Warren. Ain’t a thing if you gotta cry.”
“Can we just get on with this opportunity?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.
“‘Kay,” Trip started. “Here it is… When we got that trailer for Cage, Dutch spent a fuckload of scratch to temporarily rent it. That got me thinkin’ a similar business would be a good investment for the club. As treasurer, Deacon’s been doin’ the footwork to see what scratch we’d need to invest to get one started. We got the room out here on the farm to set one up and I wanna start doin’ that. It’s a huge investment, but it’s got a lotta potential for profit, ‘specially when the insurance companies are footin’ the bill durin’ natural disasters, house fires, or whatever reason someone would need emergency housin’ for.”
“Like surprise babies,” Deacon chimed in.
“Yeah,” Trip agreed. “Like someone stickin’ their dick where they shouldn’t and then wonderin’ why a surprise that cries pops out months later.”
Reilly planted a hand on her belly in panic for a second, then remembered they’d taken precautions. Not only with condoms but she was also on birth control. Unless Rev’s sperm were mini-Transformers or her eggs were like the Kool-Aid man crashing through a brick wall, neither were getting through those secure roadblocks.
Deacon’s eyes narrowed. “Why’d you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Slam your hand on your gut like that,” he answered with a curious tilt of his mohawk-braided head.
“I’m hungry and my stomach’s growling,” she lied and slid her hand down to her lap where they could no longer see it.
“Can we get back to business here?” Trip asked sharply. “She ain’t the only one starvin’.”
“Carry on,” Reilly told him.
“Okay, thanks for your permission.” Trip sighed. “Any-fuckin-way, want you to manage it.”
What? Did she hear that correctly? “Manage what?”
“The fuckin’ emergency housin’ business and the crew who are gonna help you,” he just about shouted like she was hard of hearing.
Holy shit! “Who will be the crew?”
“Castle and Bones for now. They’re gonna get their commercial driver’s licenses and then I’m gonna get them some trainin’ on how to haul and set up the trailers. You’re gonna need that trainin’, too, so you know what the fuck’s goin’ on and you can ride their asses if they fuck up.”
