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Then the door at the end of the long hallway opened, and Cooper and Caleb came out of the bedroom they’d been sequestered in, calling Tulsa to report on their real estate adventure.
In the course of sitting here listening to the bikers chitchat about their day, she’d learned that Pop and Reed had offered to pull HRC into the Brazen Bulls’ world and make that the business the club worked.
They’d made that offer without telling Lyra.
She was only 25% owner. Reed had 25%, too, and Pop had 50%. So technically, she supposed, if Pop and Reed were in agreement, her feelings were irrelevant. However, never before since she’d been part of the company had she been aced out of a decision. It stung. Finding out about it sitting in this gross living room, with neither her father nor her brother looking guilty, or evenbothered,that she’d found out the way she had, that drew blood.
She was calling a family meeting at her earliest chance, because fuck that shit. It didn’t matter that the Bulls had passed on the offer. Pop and Reed had offered to let an outlaw MC launder their outlaw earnings through the family businesswithout even mentioning it to her first.
“What’s the word?” Gargoyle asked as Cooper and Caleb reached the living room.
“We’re a go,” Cooper said as he bent down to pull a couple of cans of Bud Light from the cooler beside the sofa and handed one to Caleb. A cooler in the living room, because the refrigerator in the kitchen was too far, apparently. “Got some details to talk about.”
He shot a look at Lyra as he dropped into a comfortable slouch at the end of the sofa.
“Lyra, you need to go somewhere else for a while,” Pop said.
When Zach heard, he shifted under her, and she felt the change in his hold. He was ready to put her on her feet.
Was this what an MC life meant for her? To be ignored and dismissed?
Before anyone could say anything more, she jumped up, getting clear of Zach’s hands, spun on her heel, and strode out of the room.
If she’d been slightly less pissed, maybe she would have taken a beat to consider the direction of her striding and headed for the front door. Unfortunately, she did not. She spun and headed in that direction—which aimed her straight at the kitchen.
There was no way she was going to change course, so she kept going, through the little dining room and its cheap dinette set and into the kitchen—which was at least as gross as the living room. More empty bottles strewn across the counters. More dirty dishes—coffee cups, utensils, glasses, a few plates. A half-empty carton of milk, just sitting beside the sink. Wads of used paper towels, stacks of used paper plates, more pizza boxes.
Seriously. How did any human beings manage to be this gross in a single day?
Well, it was their problem. She wasn’t their maid, and she was not going to clean up after them.
She absolutely was not.
No way. No. Uh-uh.
Except here was the problem: she was angry, which made her restless, and there was nowhere for her to go now except back into the room she’d been kicked out of. The mess was making her more agitated, and what was she going to do? Just stand here and stew? She didn’t even have her phone; she’d left her bag on the floor beside Zach’s chair.
Well, fuck.
She knew there were cleaning supplies, because she’d been the one to do the grocery shopping when Pop had rented this furnished place for the Bulls. So, muttering filth the whole time, Lyra went to the pantry, pulled out the unopened box of trash bags, and started dumping biker trash where it belonged.
When that was finished—three bags of trash in just the kitchen!—she went to the sink, took the dish soap out from the cupboard beneath it, and began to fill the sink with hot, soapy water. No dishwasher here, sadly. Not that those assholes would have used one.
Ooh, she wasfurious. Hurt and angry and ... the whole thing was a lot. How did Zach fit into all this? He was a Bull, after all. Cut from the same mold.
Okay—no. Hold up. She knew Zach. Not only had they spent the past several weeks getting to really know each other, digging deep into important topics like their families, their hopes and dreams, values, politics, everything, but he had been nothing but attentive and respectful of her, both at a distance and right up close. Plus, he’d said outright, multiple times, that he didn’t expect her to clean up after him or cook for him.
In fact, they’d met when he helped her cook for them all.
It wasn’t fair to blame him for her anger and hurt now. Its proper target was her father. And her brother.
Realizing that calmed her down a bit.
If she were completely honest, getting some control over this mess was calming her down, too. She focused on the dishes and set whatever was going on in the living room aside. Pop and Reed were going to hear everything she had to say, but that was for later, when they were home.
“Hey. You okay?” Zach slipped his hands over her hips and leaned down so his softly voiced question was right at her ear.
Lyra hadn’t heard him come into the kitchen, and she jumped a little.
