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Time would tell, and to be honest, Mav would let some of it slide as long as Scott didn’t seem to be in a downward spiral that threatened himself or the club. The man was allowed time to process whatever shit he’d seen during his years in the military.
Fifteen minutes later, they were cruising toward Curly’s home in Lithia, Florida. Steph sat in the front seat of Scott’s shitty old Jeep while Mav sat behind her with Scott at the wheel. Even at midnight in December, the air was balmy enough they cracked the windows partly open. A cool breeze filled the vehicle. Man, he’d give anything to be on the back of his bike instead of stuck in the back of a car. Thankfully, Curly had one he and Steph would be borrowing. Nothing sucked more than riding in a cage on such a pleasant night.
“Copper didn’t give me too many details about what you guys were looking for security-wise. You having trouble with anyone in particular?” he asked a few minutes into the drive.
“Nah,” Scott said, shaking his head. He glanced in the rear-view mirror before focusing on the road again. “Not really. There’s been some chatter about guys who used to ride with Curly being pissed he’s back. Most scattered more than a decade ago, but apparently, a few returned to the area within the last few years and started up a loose MC. Word is they’re pissed he’s started a new club in the area and doubly pissed he didn’t seek them out to join.”
Huh, those were just the kind of situations that could end with serious rivalries and club wars. “Have you run into them?”
“I haven’t. Don’t think Curly has either. His cousin Tyler saw a couple of ’em at a bar a few weeks ago. They said a bunch of stupid shit but didn’t try anything. Think Curly just wants to get ahead of it should anything come of it. Fuck if I know.” He shrugged, then switched lanes. “I say let ’em come. Been too long since I had the opportunity to bust up some motherfuckers.” He winked at Steph, who gave him a tight smile.
“I mean, these pricks abandoned Curly,” he continued. “Let their president get arrested and go to jail for a crime he didn’t commit. For that alone, they deserve to die, and I’m more than happy to help them meet their maker. Know what I mean?” The longer he spoke, the louder he got, and the harder his foot mashed down on the gas pedal.
Mav tolerated it until he saw Steph’s knuckles whiten against the center console and her back stiffen. The speedometer soared past ninety-five.
He cleared his throat as he gave his wife’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You good, there, brother?”
Scott jolted as though he’d been in a trance.
Way to pay attention to the road.
Scott’s foot finally let off the gas, and the car slowed to the seventy-mile an hour speed limit.
Beneath his palm, Steph relaxed.
Shit, maybe they did have reason to worry about Scott. Mav rubbed the back of his neck. Just what the brand-new club needed—an enforcer with an itchy trigger finger and anger issues.
Fuck.
They chatted back and forth for the next half hour, but it wasn’t comfortable anymore. Tension filled the car, but they all seemed content to ignore it for the time being.
At the sign for Lithia, Scott took the exit. “Gonna stop for gas if you guys don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” Steph answered.
Scott pulled into the first gas station they came across and hopped out of the car. After sticking the pump in the Jeep, he popped his head through the window. “Gonna grab some beer inside. Want anything?”
“Nah,” Mav said. “I’m good.”
Steph nodded. “Same.”
The second Scott disappeared from earshot, she whirled around. “Okay, what the hell was that? Who zones out while driving and nearly hits a hundred miles per hour?”
Mav kept his gaze on Scott’s back as his club brother entered the quick mart. “He’s definitely going through some shit.”
Steph sighed. “Chloe’s gonna be devastated.”
“Hey.” He caught Steph’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You are not to worry ’bout this shit, you hear me? Yes, I’ve got a few days of work with the club, but you are on vacation, baby. All you’re allowed is fun and fucking, you hear?”
She smirked. “Can I eat? And do I get to fuck whoever I want?”
He kissed her hard. “Smartass.”
Giggling, Steph shrugged. “What, those are legit quest—”
The sound of shattering glass had both of them whipping around and gaping at the building.
“What the hell was that?” Steph asked.
Mav’s heart raced as all his senses went on red alert. “Fuck,” he spat out, reaching for the door handle.
“Oh shit,” Steph whispered.
Through the windows of the gas station’s market, Scott stood waving the jagged edge of a broken bottle at two men in generic biker cuts.
