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Him doing that drew Ozzy’s eyes to his newly tattooed ring finger. Both he and Stella had each other’s names tattooed onto their fingers instead of getting wedding bands.
It should’ve been a great weekend of celebrating but for Ozzy that whole weekend sucked ass.
Cage’s sharp “So?” pulled Ozzy out of that miserable memory.
Trip lifted his head. “She movin’ back to town or somethin’?”
Ozzy shook his. “Livin’ in Boston right now and only came back for a high school reunion.”
Judge’s eyes narrowed. “For Manning Grove High?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s her name?”
“Shaylyn Diggs. Guessin’ her last name was originally Graham like her pop’s, though.” He should’ve fucking asked. He also should’ve asked what her mother’s name was.
“Shaylyn Graham,” Judge repeated and stroked his long, bushy beard again. He did that whenever his American Bulldog wasn’t within reach for him to rub her ears. Ozzy assumed he’d left the dog home with his daughter Daisy and house mouse, Saylor, since Jury was a great watchdog. “How old is she?”
“Thirty-eight.” Ozzy realized she was around the same age as Judge. “You go to school with her?”
“You didn’t graduate from Manning Grove,” Deacon reminded his cousin. “You were already livin’ with us when you and Jem graduated.”
“Yeah, but how about before that? Elementary school? Junior high?” Trip asked the sergeant at arms. “And, Deke, you guys lived close enough to the Grove that you might’ve run into her. At parties, maybe?”
Ozzy didn’t want to share with them what Shay told him about not having any friends or attending parties. Even though he didn’t think she was lying, he had a hard time believing she was some sort of outcast.
It took Judge a few seconds of considering Trip’s question before answering, “Ain’t ringin’ any bells.”
“Does she ring your bells, Oz?” Deke asked with a grin as he did a jack-off motion with his fist above his lap.
The same motion Ozzy was doing last night to visions of Shay in his head. Smiling, laughing… Bending over the pool table, shoving her ass into his dick… So, yeah, she rang all kinds of fucking bells for him. Another reason he had a hard time believing she’d been some kind of geeky girl.
But again, he didn’t even try to understand females.
Trip sighed. “I can ask Stella, too. ‘Specially if her pop hung out at Crazy Pete’s. Maybe he was some sort of regular and Stel remembers him.”
“Already asked her.”
The prez’s brows dropped low. “When?”
“On the run today. She don’t remember that name at all.”
“She know why you asked?”
Ozzy shook his head. “No. Leavin’ that to you if anythin’ comes of this.”
Trip nodded. “Well, we know Pete ain’t Shay’s father, so it won’t affect her either way.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t makin’ that call after the surprise that Lizzy sprang on us.”
“Speakin’ of Lizzy…” Deacon started.
Ozzy shot a glare in his direction. The club’s treasurer raised his palms up in surrender and laughed.
“We done here, brother?” Cage asked. “Wanna spend a lazy afternoon with my girls. In the air-conditionin’ on the couch with a cold beer in my hand.”
“No, not yet,” Trip said, surprising Ozzy. “Somehow we need to figure out if she’s the blood of an Original. Would also like to meet her.”
“Think I got a way to bring her out here to meet you and for you to meet her. Maybe even a way for her to stick around for a few days.”
“Yeah?” Trip asked.
Ozzy gave him a single nod and dug into the inside pocket of his cut, pulling out Shay’s business card. He tossed it onto the table. It landed dead center on the carved skull.
If that wasn’t a fucking sign, Ozzy didn’t know what was.
Before he could grab it and pass it down to Trip, Trip himself surged from his chair and snagged it, beating Judge to it.
The prez read her card and frowned. “What’s this?” He raised his dark eyes to Ozzy. “What’s this got to do with anythin’?”
“She makes websites.”
“Good for her,” Trip said, throwing it back on the table.
“She wanted me to give that to the owner of the motel.”
“She don’t know the club owns the motel?”
“We didn’t get into that,” Ozzy answered Judge. “Said she’d like to talk to the owner, too. Do a little sales pitch is my guess.”
“Tryin’ to drum up some business,” Deacon murmured.
“Good opp to meet her then,” Trip finally said, “in case she’s got that Fury blood runnin’ through her.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to get a website up for the motel,” Deacon murmured, snatching up the discarded business card and glancing at it.
“That’s what she said. Said she had a hard time findin’ the motel info online. Also a good reason for her to stick around and not leave tomorrow mornin’ like she had planned. Between all the businesses, we could keep her in town and busy ’til we dig deeper on who her pop is. Or was.”
