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As each of my brothers gives me shit about Letty, I motion with my hands for them to give me more because I’d rather take shit about her than about getting the shit kicked out of me. I smile and take it all in stride.
“Is that all you fuckers got?”
Coop’s smile disappears, and he turns to Ace.
“We’re gonna have to give Shades Sundays off so he can escort his new girlfriend to church.”
He looks to me, lips twitching with the effort of keeping a straight face. “Will you be expected to attend Sunday dinner with the family too?”
They all erupt in laughter, and I roll my eyes. “All right, that’s enough. We need to talk about what the fuck we’re going to do about Hector and his crew.”
Ace nods. “I’m not thrilled about those fuckers hanging around the church. Were you followed?”
“Nope. Took the long way just to be sure, and I was outside half the time talking with Braden. Didn’t see or hear them pull up at all, but them showing up can’t be a coincidence.”
“Agreed,” Ace says. “If they didn’t follow you there, they must be up to something. Now they know we’re connected to the church, it’ll be a target.”
“Which means our money will be a target,” Coop says angrily. “We need a security detail at the church.”
“Not yet,” Ace says and looks around the room at each of us. “We can’t talk about this shit here with customers coming in and out.”
“Back to church,” I growl and shake my head.
“A little church is good for the soul,” Preacher says with a smile and puts a supportive hand on my shoulder. “Come on, at least you don’t have to worry about this church cleansing away your sins.”
“Sins? I’m a perfect fucking angel,” I shoot back as we all spill out of the rear exit of Ace Motors. The sun is gone completely, all streaks of gold and red have disappeared from the sky, and the air is considerably cooler.
“I’m right behind you,” I tell Ace. “I walked over from the clubhouse.”
Ace nods, starts his bike, and the rest of the guys follow him.
Almost.
I turn to find Nova staring at me, studying me carefully, and I don’t like it.
“What the fuck?”
“You’re holding yourself weird, and your gait is off. What else hurts?”
I roll my eyes because goddamn, with all the worry and caretaking today. “I’m fine, Doc.”
“Are you?”
I stare at him for a long minute before I give him a short, hard nod.
“I’ll race you over. Loser buys a steak dinner with as much whiskey as we can drink.” Nova crouches down in starting position. “Ready?”
I let out a frustrated sigh. “I took a few kicks to the ribs.”
Without asking permission, he lifts my shirt and frowns. “That’s more than a few kicks. Trouble breathing?”
“Nope, just a fuck ton of pain. Nothing some whiskey won’t cure.”
He smiles. “Whiskey isn’t a cure for broken ribs,” he tells me while his hands examine each rib carefully.
“Nothing feels broken, but you’ll hurt like hell for a few days. Want something more than over-the-counter painkillers?”
“Nope. I’m good.”
