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Cole watched as his wife rose from her dressing table and walked over to him. Her hands reached for his belt and unbuckled it. Then she sank to her knees, opening his jeans. His hand slid into her silky hair, fisting and tugging gently, until she looked up at him. “Don’t.”
Her hands stilled.
He reached down and pulled her to her feet. “Don’t you get down on your knees for this, for her.”
“Cole-”
“I mean it, Angel. You do not use that shit as curr
ency.”
“I’m not. I-”
“Aren’t you? You want me to help her. I’ll do what I can, but it’ll be my decision. I told her I’d meet with her tomorrow. I’ll see what she has to say. But, I’m telling you straight up, Angel, that shit does not touch you and the kids. Whatever mess she’s in, she is not gonna lead it straight to our doorstep.”
“All right, Cole.”
He reached up and cupped her cheek. “I know you got a soft spot for this. It isn’t lost on me that you got shared history. What happened to her and what happened to you, but baby, you gotta trust me on this.”
“All right, honey.”
“I love you. You know that, don’t you?”
She nodded. “I love you, too.”
“I’ll do what I can, baby.”
“I know you will.”
He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.
She whispered into his chest, “Now, can I finished what I started, honey?”
His chest shook with the rumble of his laughter.
CHAPTER TWO
Cole, Crash, and Red Dog rolled up to Marty’s bar for the meet with Shannon. They parked their bikes in the lot to the side of the building. Marty’s was a storefront neighborhood joint. Its plate-glass window and entrance faced the street. Resting their bikes on their kickstands, they dismounted.
Crash pushed his shades up on his head and glanced around the parking lot and street. “Don’t see a Mercedes.”
“Nope, and that’s a good thing. She better not fucking drive that car here. I’m hoping she’s smarter than that.”
Crash snorted. “Right.”
They walked in and glanced around, letting their eyes adjust to the dim light. Marty was behind the bar that ran along the right wall, wrapping in a curve at the front. A line of booths ran along the left wall. A pool table was in the very back.
“Cole. Crash. Dog. How’re you boys doing?” Marty asked, wiping down the bar.
“Good, Marty. And you?” Cole asked.
“Can’t complain.” He tossed three coasters on the bar top in front of them. “So, what can I get you?”
“Bourbon,” Cole replied.
“Same,” Crash added, leaning his forearms on the bar.
“Yeah,” Dog agreed.
