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“That’s all right, sweetheart. I wasn’t up for a lot of socializing.”
“Can’t blame ya.” She flashes a warm, serene smile and gestures toward the hallway I just came from. “Rooster’s real keen to see ya. I reckon they’re down in the war room?” She raises an eyebrow and turns toward the other girls.
“Or in the garage,” Trinity says.
“Actually, I wanted to find Z first.”
Lilly stands and threads her arm through mine. “I think he’s in the office. I’ll walk down with you.”
Chance skips around us the whole way, and I can’t help smiling at his antics. The gesture feels foreign on my face.
“He must keep you on your toes,” I say to Lilly.
“Oh, you have no idea.” She laughs and reaches out to knock on one of the doors in the living room.
It opens and Murphy’s ginger beard comes into view. He grins, wide and easy. “Morning. How’d you sleep?”
“Good.”
“Hey.” Z pushes Murphy aside and squeezes my shoulder.
“I’ll leave you guys to it.” Lilly pats my arm and takes Chance’s hand.
“Hang on, siren.” Z steps past me to talk to Lilly and his son.
Murphy shakes his head. “What’s up?” He opens the door wider and motions for me to come in.
Z returns to us. “We’ll be having breakfast after church,” he says to me.
Last night had more to do with welcoming me home than anything else. Not sure the club will want me to sit down with them for anything too official yet, but I nod anyway.
“I need to talk to you,” I say to Z.
“Heidi still down in the dining room?” Murphy asks.
“She was a minute ago.”
“Cool.” He slaps my back. “I’ll see you in a few, Grinder.”
“Didn’t mean to kick him out,” I say to Z after the door closes.
“Don’t sweat it. I do it all the time.” He plops down at the desk Murphy had been leaning against. “This is my old desk.” He grins the same devilish smile that used to get him attention from all the ladies back in the day. “What’s on your mind?”
“You still able to find addresses and track people down?”
He turns toward a slim black machine on the desktop. “Hell yeah. Who you need to find?”
“Rosie.”
The cheerful expression slides off his face.
“I don’t want to hear it, Angus.”
He holds his hands in the air. “I didn’t say anything, brother.”
“I need to see her…to talk to her.”
“Is that why you scared all the eager bunnies away last night?” His tone’s almost accusatory, and I don’t care for it one fucking bit.
“Fuck off,” I growl.
“Grinder—”
“Can you get me her address or not?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get you the address. Just tell me why you want to see her?”
Ah, I get it. He’s worried. “I ain’t gonna hurt Rosie,” I assure him.
“She did ya pretty fuckin’ dirty. Talking you into that plea deal, then never coming to visit.”
“Thanks for the recap.” Fucking hell. Is all my business common knowledge? “It’s not your concern,” I snap.
“What’s going on?” The door swings open, almost bumping me, and I jump out of the way.
“Easy.” Rock holds his hand up. “Sorry, Grinder.” His gaze swings from Z to me and back. “What’s going on?” he asks again.
“I asked him to get Rosie’s address, and the fucker’s throwing me attitude.” I shoot a glare at Z who’s busy fiddling with the laptop now. I’m probably gettin’ more pissed off than I should, but I can’t help it. Rosie’s off-limits to everyone. Even my brothers. “Don’t give a fuck what patch you’re wearing now, Prez. Stay outta my personal business.”
“All right. Simmer down.” Rock uses one of those whoa hand gestures like you might try to calm a wild stallion with, and it’s having the opposite effect on me. “Z will get you the address.”
“Here.” Z bumps my hand. “This should be it.”
I glance down and take the piece of folded-over paper he’s offering me.
“Thank you.” I snatch it away from him. I should apologize. By all rights, Z should kick my ass for showing him so much disrespect.
“You want one of us to go with you?” Rock offers.
“No.” Even though it hurts like hell to say the words out loud, I explain, “I need to talk to my wife.”
Both of them drop their gazes to the floor.
I get it.
Rosie divorced me years ago.
Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna try.
“We good now?” Rock asks after several uncomfortable seconds tick by.
“Yeah, Prez. I’m good.” That came out more sarcastically than I meant it to, but I don’t follow up with anything else.
“Good. Let’s all sit down at the table.” He gestures toward the war room.
I lumber past him. “Gee, Prez, how often you call everyone for church around here?”
“As often as I feel like it.” His tone has a bit of bite this time. A warning to watch myself. He’s gotta make it clear he won’t tolerate disrespect from anyone. Not even me.
