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Sig’s eyes narrowed on his neck. “She fightin’ you off or was she just that into it?”
Dodge fought the instinct to cover his neck with his hand. “Ain’t into forcin’ women, Sig. Would think by now you know me better than that.”
“Don’t know what the fuck you’re into,” Sig grumbled.
“He don’t need to force anyone, brother,” Trip assured him. “Watched him many a night at Pete’s workin’ it and I can tell you he don’t gotta work that hard.”
Dodge wanted to get this shit over with and wasn’t sure why Sig was hesitating and drawing this out. He pulled his cell out of his back pocket, hit the power button and pulled up his most recent pictures. Three were of Syn on stage. “This her?”
If Syn would’ve caught him taking those photos, he would’ve just told her he took them of all the bands that played at Pete’s for promotional purposes. The only issue was, all three photos were only of her. None of her bandmates made it into the frame.
On purpose.
Sig came over and snagged the phone from Dodge’s fingers. He squinted at each photo, swiping back and forth between the three.
“Don’t swipe too far,” Dodge warned him.
Sig’s head lifted and he glared at Dodge. “You better not got naked photos of my sister on here.”
“Ain’t no naked pics of Syn.” Thank fuck there weren’t.
“So, I’m guessin’ that’s her?” Trip asked, confiscating the phone from Sig and glancing through the photos.
“Ain’t seen her since she was little, so can’t be sure.”
“Christ, brother, shouldn’t be difficult to figure out. She told me she had a brother named Sig. What are the odds that there are another set of siblin’s out there with the same damn names?” Dodge asked, beginning to get annoyed. “You got a sister named Syn?”
“Yeah.”
Well, fuck.
“Fuck,” Sig echoed Dodge’s thoughts, drawing his fingers down his beard. That was when Dodge noticed how tight the man’s jaw was. “Wasn’t that band broke as fuck?”
“Yeah,” Dodge answered. “They don’t got shit. They didn’t even have fuckin’ heat ’til I helped them out.” Maybe pointing that out would help soften the blow of him fucking Sig’s sister. Who also happened to be twelve years younger than him.
Though, that shouldn’t matter since Sig out of everyone was into women on the younger side. Like young. If he had the fucking nerve to point out how much younger Syn was compared to Dodge, then he’d have to remind the VP that his own ol’ lady was seven years younger than him.
Sig narrowed his eyes on him. “Ain’t she livin’ on that bus with a bunch of guys?”
“Three.”
Sig snagged Dodge’s cell phone back from his brother, looked at the pictures once more and then handed it back to Dodge. “Why you got pics of her?”
Dodge’s eyes sliced to Trip and back. The prez was smart enough to sort truth from lies, but he was going to have to risk it in this situation. He was not telling Sig that he had quickly become obsessed with his baby sister.
He might be a dumbass but he was smart enough to know better than to confess that.
“To…” Nope, try again. “For this. To see if you recognized her. She didn’t have a clue what your last name was, which was fuckin’ strange for siblin’s. She definitely didn’t know you were a part of the Fury or here in Manning Grove. And anyway, that fuckin’ bus was parked a few hundred yards from your apartment, Sig.”
“Lost track of her,” he growled. “And you shoulda told me before that fuckin’ bus drove away yesterday.”
“Don’t fuckin’ blame me for losin’ track of your own sister. Or not payin’ attention to the huge fuckin’ name painted on the side of a damn bus like a fuckin’ billboard.”
“We lost track of each other,” the man snarled, practically baring his teeth.
Dodge lifted his palms. “Look, no point in fightin’ about it. You’re right, shoulda texted you and asked.” But at the time he had a naked Syn in his bed.
“Agreed,” Trip said. “Can’t turn back time, so we gotta figure out where to go from here. And how to contact her. You wanna reconnect with her, right?”
Instead of answering Trip’s question, Sig asked, “You got her number?”
Shit. Dodge braced. “No.”
“What the fuck?” Sig exploded.
For fuck’s sake, this was going exactly how he expected. “I asked and she wouldn’t give it to me.”
“Why? She gave you those fuckin’ scratches but wouldn’t give you her number? Must be a reason for that.”
He ignored the scratches question because he was not confirming that shit. Not now with how Sig’s temper was simmering. Maybe not ever. What he and Syn had done in his bed—and on the pool table—was not the man’s fucking business. Just like the shit Sig had done with women before he found Red was really none of his.
