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That was a good question, wasn't it?
"You piss me off every time we speak," I reminded him. "And I do the same to you."
"Only because you spit that 'little president' shit at me."
"You can't put this all on me. You can't stand me."
"You push my buttons. Doesn't mean I can't stand you."
"You once called me a bitch."
"Well, you were acting like one," he said, smiling at me.
"Yeah, I probably was," I agreed, letting out a little laugh.
"Never heard you laugh before."
"It's rare."
"It shouldn't be."
"Says the man who is best friends with all his club members," I shot back.
"Oh, come on, you have to have friends in your club."
"I have Grandpa," I admitted. "But I have to keep everyone at arm's length."
"That's kinda sad, babe."
"That's life, babe," I shot back. "How's your knee? Did I do any damage?"
"Hurts like a mother, but I'll survive."
"Why didn't you say anything?" I asked, shaking my head at him.
"Babe, in my experience, when a woman is that close, it doesn't matter if you have rebar stabbing you through the chest, you shut your mouth, and let her come before you deal with it."
"Smart man," I said, shooting him a smile. A real one. So big that my cheeks actually ached.
"So, what do we do now?" Fallon asked. "After we finish with the body, I mean."
"Good question. We tell our clubs we had to handle it quickly because we heard the cops." I said. "And Andres was just conveniently there."
"My club isn't going to like owing him."
"Yeah, well, tough shit. Sometimes presidents make decisions their men don't like or understand. It's part of the gig. It's better they see you making that stance now, so they respect it."
"And what about this threat?"
"We need to be on it more. We'd started to think it was an isolated incident when nothing else happened. But you being run off the road is suspicious enough. But a guy coming back with a bullet in his shoulder when I showed up? It's too much to be a coincidence."
"At least now we have a name," he said. "My club isn't going to want to work this case with yours. No offense, just how it is."
"Mine won't either."
"Hey, Danny?"
"Yeah?"
"How about you and I make a deal?"
"What kind of deal?"
"We share information. If we come across anything worth knowing. We're stronger if we are at least somewhat united against someone trying to take over the gun trade."
"That's true," I agreed. "But you want to do it behind the backs of our clubs?"
"For the time being. Until we know more. Then we can unite to take down whatever threat this is."
"Sounds like a plan," he agreed.
"We'll need to have a way to get in touch with each other," I said.
"I'm buying a house."
"You're... really? Why? You have the clubhouse."
"Want something of my own."
"Alright, well, we need to exchange numbers anyway," I said, finding my phone.
"What?" Fallon asked a moment later after rattling off his number.
"Nothing," I said, feeling the chuckle bubble up and burst out.
The sound made him reach out with his good hand, snatching my phone out of my hand, and looking down at the name I'd saved him under.
Gynecologist.
"Well, it's not incorrect. I've been all up in that pussy," he said, handing it back.
"Alright. I'm going to roll the body in," I said, tucking my phone away, then getting back to my feet. "Can you go find some brush and branches to put over it when I'm done filling it back in?"
"On it," Fallon agreed, getting to his feet slowly, letting out a couple curses of pain as he did so, but not letting it hold him back.
And, damn if it wasn't sexy when a man could get the job done even when he was in rough shape.
But I tried to keep my mind off of shit like that as I rolled the body in, then shoved the massive pile of dirt back over it.
"Alright," I declared what felt like a lifetime later. "That should do it. You ready to head back?" I asked, turning to look at him.
"Yeah," he said, falling into step with me.
Even when I tried to slow my pace for him, he was struggling to keep up.
"Shut up," I demanded when I wrapped an arm around his waist.
"I didn't say anything."
"But you were about to."
"Unlike some of us," he said, draping an arm across my shoulders, "I don't have too much pride to let someone help me," Fallon told me, leaning enough weight on me that I lowered down an inch as I kept us moving forward.
"Yeah yeah yeah, rub in your well-adjusted upbringing, you asshole," I grumbled, but my lips were curved up.
By the time we made it back into Navesink Bank, it was late into the night, but the Henchmen clubhouse was lit up and lined with bikes and cars.
