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"Yeah, 'cause I need to get a word in."
"I don't give a fuck if you need to deliver a speech to the human race about fucking aliens invading, you don't tell me to shut up. Ever."
"Aliens, huh? You're one of those tin-hatters?"
"Don't look at me like that. The Pentagon pretty much just said they're real and they've been here, so I'm not the crazy one in this instance."
"Okay, we're going to circle back to that in just a minute," I said, barely able to hold in a laugh. "But right now, I need you to let me talk, okay?"
"So long as you understand that if you tell me to shut up again, I'm going to cut your tongue out."
"My mom would hand you the scissors. My aunts would hold me down for you," I added, watching as she struggled to hold back a smile.
"Okay. Fine. Talk," she said, folding her arms over her chest, so used to guarding herself that it was knee-jerk.
"If you'd have stayed in there instead of trying to destroy the garage, you would have heard them say they trusted my judgment, and that they would accept you."
"Bullshit."
"It's not bullshit."
"If it looks like bullshit and sounds like bullshit, then it probably is bullshit," she said.
"Christ," I sighed, reaching up to rub my temples. "If you don't believe me, come back in, and let them tell you themselves."
"I can't go back in there," she said, shaking her head.
"Come on, don't be so chickenshit," I said, goading her on purpose, knowing it was the easiest way to get what I needed out of her.
"Did you just call me chickenshit?" she asked, voice deceptively calm.
"I did. Because that's what you're being." When all she did was glare at me with small eyes, I made a low clucking noises under my breath. "Where are you going?" I asked as she charged past me. "I thought you said you weren't going back in there," I added, following her into the clubhouse.
"I have to go back in here if I'm going to find a knife to cut your tongue out with," she said.
"I didn't say to shut up," I reminded her as she moved behind the bar.
"Yeah, well, it looks like there is going to be a long list of things you're not allowed to say to me under the threat of cutting out your tongue. Or, you know, you can try not to be such a dick."
"Yeah," I agreed, smiling. "But what are the chances of that?"
That did it.
That broke through that hard shell, making her let out a choked laugh, and shoot me a big smile.
"Yeah, I guess that's a pipe dream, huh?"
"Yeah," I agreed. "Kind of like hoping you would stop overreacting to shit."
"I think it was a perfectly appropriate amount of reaction, given the circumstances."
"What circumstances were those?" Cary asked, moving up to the bar.
"He called me chickenshit," she said, raising a brow at the prospect. "And then made clucking noises at me."
"And his balls are still attached?" Dezi asked, moving forward too, shaking his head in sympathy.
"Don't give her ideas," I said under my breath. "She's homicidal enough," I added.
"So, Danny, I'm—" Dezi started.
"Dezi," Danny supplied. "And Cary," she said, giving him a small smile. "Prospects. Actually, I think I know everyone here except, ah, those three," she said, pointing to Slash, Crow, and Sway.
"Kind of prospects too," I supplied. We were leaning toward the new chapter, but since it wasn't a done deal yet, it didn't seem worth it to mention.
"What did the boss man tell you about me?" Dezi asked, impatiently tapping his fingertips on the bar top.
"He didn't say much. But, judging by your reputation, you're probably a pain in his ass."
"She's not wrong about that," Brooks said, coming up. "Brooks," he introduced himself, extending his hand.
"Danny," she said, giving him a small smile as she took his hand.
The next couple hours were much the same with various members of the club walking up to say hello. She shared slightly heated conversations with a few of them, but nothing too bad, nothing worse than Hope or one of the other girls would say to any of us.
It wasn't until we were back in the SUV after the bank, on the way to the store with Cary and Seth that we got to have any sort of private conversation.
"What?" she asked, sensing something.
"Nothing. I was just thinking about Brooks," I said, shrugging.
"What about him?"
"He's a stickler for rules," I said, shaking my head. "He doesn't like when anyone gets away with anything. It's why Dezi rubs him the wrong way. Which is why it feels weird that he walked right up to introduce himself."
"That's not weird," Cary said from the front seat. "That's a sign of respect," he added. "The way he sees it, you're the boss. And if Danny is your woman, he has to accept her. That's how the rules go in a club. And if I'm not completely mistaken, you're eyeing him for a position, so he wants to make sure he stays on your good side."
