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Rael pulled me into his side and ruffled my hair. “There. Not so hard, right?” There was an edge to his voice, though, like he knew how much that just cost me to say those words and mean them.
Grim leaned back, and I could almost visibly see the weight that lifted off his shoulders. “This is for the best. You’ll see. One day you’ll thank me.”
I highly doubted it.
“Find Toad. There’re a few things to do to prepare for tonight. I don’t want to look up and see that you’ve disappeared. Show me you can keep your word, prospect.”
Fuck. There was no way I would be able to see Stefanie tonight. He would know if I left the compound, and I’d end up on the street.
“Understood. I’ll be there.”
“Good.”
Rael tossed an encouraging smile in my direction as I left the office and trudged down the hall, passing the kitchen on my way to find Toad.
“Hey, prospect.”
Glancing up, I saw one of the club girls alone in the kitchen. A new girl that Snooki recommended. Grim let her stay for a bit to see if she was a good fit for the Crossroads and the biker lifestyle.
“Hi, Skyla.”
“Hungry? I just baked off some chocolate chip cookies.”
“Uh, no. Thanks, though.”
I was about to keep walking when she darted around the corner of the counter and walked up to me, placing her hand on my chest.
“You seem a bit down. Anything I can do to help?”
“You do know I’m not a member yet, right? Not gonna gain you any points to sleep with me.” And I wasn’t interested.
“So? Maybe I just want to put a smile on your face.”
Jesus. Where did they find this girl? Were they all that eager for biker dick? Humored but also a bit flustered, I slid away from Skyla and headed down the hall.
“See ya around,” I called out, happy that she didn’t run after me and I could escape.
Toad was in the stock room, sorting through supplies as I entered, muttering under his breath.
“What’s got you so twisted?” I asked, laughing at his scowl.
“Grim asked me to find a special bottle of bourbon for tonight, and it’s like a needle in a fuckin’ haystack. There are so many bottles of booze here that it will take hours.”
Biting my lip to keep from laughing, I managed to sober enough to ask the necessary info needed to help locate the bourbon. “Which brand does he want?”
“He said something about Michter’s and being aged 25 years.”
My eyes widened. “That’s like $5000 a bottle.”
“No shit? How do you know that?”
“Because I saw Rael drinking from one once with Papa. They got into an argument about the price and looked it up.”
“Then why the fuck would he put it in the stock room?”
“He probably didn’t,” I deadpanned.
Toad turned a light shade of red. “I swear to fuck he likes to mess with me.” The words were almost garbled with his deep, scratchy timbre.
