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“She and Shelby went upstairs for a minute,” Hope explains before I even ask.
“I’m gonna run down to the dining room and grab some coffee.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder.
“I’ll let her know.”
I push through people to get to the hallway. Even the dining room is crowded. Steer’s sitting on top of the bar with a bottle of Jack Daniels.
“They done?” he asks me.
“No idea.” I pour a cup of coffee from the full, fresh pot at the end of the bar. The girl fixing drinks back there can barely see over the bar. “Swan, right? Is there any cream?”
“Sure thing. Hang on a second.” She glides over to a small refrigerator and returns with a carton.
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
“Hey, Grinder.” Lilly settles her hand on my shoulder. “How’s it going?”
“Not bad.” Jesus, she’s a stunning woman. No wonder Z’s so hooked on her.
“Are you and Serena sticking around?” she asks.
Guess word travels fast. “Planning to for a little bit.”
“Good.”
Steer slowly turns and stares at us.
“The fuck you lookin’ at, son?” I ask.
“Me? Nothin’.”
Lilly’s gaze darts between us. “Trinity and I are baking.” She gestures toward the kitchen behind us. “Let Serena know she’s welcome to join us if she wants…”
Is it that obvious how serious I already am about Serena? Or is Lilly this nice to everyone? “Thank you, darlin’, I will.”
Armed with my coffee, I turn to leave.
“Hey, Grinder, right?” a pint-sized brunette asks.
“Yeah?” I answer warily.
“Shari.” She holds out her hand and flashes a dazzling smile.
Ignoring the hand, I nod at her. “Good to know.”
Steer walks up and slings his arm over my shoulder. “Shari’s a doll, aren’t ya, hon?”
She bats her big eyes at him. “I do my best.”
I shrug Steer off. “Great, I’ll leave you two to it. I got someone waitin’ for me.”
Steer follows me out of the dining room.
“Grinder, did Lilly say you’re here with Serena? Did I hear that right?”
I stop dead. “The fuck you know about her?”
“Uh, I know you don’t need to saddle yourself with a whore who’s been with a bunch of brothers downstate and probably half the ones upstate.”
The coffee falls from my hand, splashing my boots and jeans. The mug shatters at my feet.
Cobra-fast, I wrap my hand around his neck and slam him against the wall. “Say that again, motherfucker.”
I don’t give a fuck if it’s the whiskey talking. No one talks trash about Serena.
He’s a big guy, but old or not, I’m no slouch. He wears the SAA patch now. But I had one stitched onto my cut by the time this fool had discovered hand lotion and his dad’s Playboy magazines.
His eyes go saucer-wide. “What?”
“About my girl.”
If it’s even possible, his eyes expand to dinner plate-size. “Serena? Your girl?” He chokes out each word. “You’re serious?”
I snap him closer and then slam him into the wall again. He grunts and struggles to get free. “The fuck you know about her?”
“Easy, brother,” Murphy says in a low voice behind me. “What’s going on?”
“Grinder,” Z says a tad louder from my other side. “What’s wrong, bro?”
I don’t take my eyes off Steer or loosen my grip. “Our boy here needs to watch his fucking mouth.”
Steer holds his hands up. “Sorry, brother,” he sputters. “I didn’t mean…” His gaze shoots to Murphy and Z. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Grayson?” Serena calls out.
Ah, fuck, if her sweet voice doesn’t settle the beast inside of me right the fuck down.
I release Steer. He doubles over and wheezes in a few breaths before holding out his hand. “Sorry, brother. No disrespect.”
No disrespect my ass.
Protocol, brotherhood—everything says I should shake his hand and let it go. That a woman shouldn’t come before brotherhood.
I can’t do it, though.
“Give us a second, hon,” Z calls down the hallway to Serena.
Right like that, my blood pressure hits the red zone again. I spin around and jab my finger in Z’s chest. “Watch who you’re calling hon, brother.”
“Grinder,” Z says, using the patient, president voice he’s adopted. Before, it made me proud. Now I just want to punch him. “What’s gotten into you?” He stares at where I’m still poking him in the chest and raises an eyebrow.
“Nothing.” I shoot a glare Steer’s way, but he’s already pushing his way back into the dining room. “He started talking shit about my girl.”
“Serena?” Z asks.
“Yeah.”
Z closes his eyes briefly. “Good. All right.”
Not what I expected from him.
“You made it clear she’s with you?” Murphy asks.
I flex my hand. “I think I made my point.”
“I meant with her.”
Guess Murphy’s looking for an ass-kicking too. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Murphy holds up his hands.
All those questions I should’ve asked sooner fire off in my head. “How do you know her?”
Z side-eyes Murphy like he wants to staple his mouth shut. “Serena used to hang around Downstate,” he explains carefully, seeming to measure each word.
