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Max snorted out his beer as Rafe laughed. Choirboy wasn’t wrong though. “Max is just using his words like a big boy.”
In typical Max fashion, he replied with an obscene gesture instead of words, which made Rafe and the others laugh again.
He appreciated that Slash and Choirboy had come over to Sam’s because they’d needed them, without asking what was going on. That was what the club was all about. They had his back, just as they’d all had Clutch and Romeo’s backs when Tessa had gotten kidnapped. It made him think more about what he’d told Simone. She’d asked why he was in the club, and why he always wore his colors and his answer had been completely honest. He’d meant what he told her, but he hoped it hadn’t scared her off.
He stood at the bar, with Max, Slash, and Choirboy flanking him. He knew they were just staying there to be with him. Beer tasted better at the clubhouse. Slash slapped him on the back. “I see that look, dude. She must be a good one—sure has good instincts, anyway, swapping glasses with the asshat. So what are you sweating?”
“That I might have scared her off.”
“We might have,” said Max.
“Both of you?” asked Choirboy.
Max arched a brow. “You got a problem with that?”
Obviously, Choirboy knew it would be hypocritical if he did. He just shook his head as Slash asked, “Why do you think she’ll run? Just because in a time of trouble you call in your big, ugly friends with prison records? Just because you hang out with lowlifes you think she might have second thoughts about getting to know you guys better?”
Rafe grinned as Max snorted. “More or less.”
“Hell, all that is just superficial stuff, right?”
“That’s what we tell ourselves. We know that if we are pure of heart our rap sheet won’t matter.” Rafe frowned.
“But of course…” Slash trailed off.
“It usually does.”
Slash nodded. “‘Course, that don’t apply with someone like Tessa or Vanessa, who know the score. But it seems this girl has a head on her shoulders too. Don’t think she’s gonna be too confused by the bullshit.” Slash sipped his beer. “Tell you what, you two bring her to the clubhouse and let her meet the women, get the real dope on the riffraff they hang with, and maybe she’ll think you guys aren’t so bad.”
“And how do we convince a girl like that to go with us to a biker bar?”
Max grunted. “Can’t.”
Choirboy nudged him with an elbow. “Seeing as you are a shitty liar—about the worst I’ve ever met—I’d humbly suggest you tell her exactly what we said here… You say you’re pretty sure that knowing the kind of friends you two have might make her think you’re not fit company and that you’d like her to meet some women who have gotten past that bad-ass… facade.”
Slash laughed. “Choirboy has his moments, dude.” He raised his bottle. “Drink up, Choirboy, and we can get sleeping beauty home.”
“And then home to our own sleeping beauty.”
Slash laughed. “She’s probably waiting up for us to make sure we aren’t doing anything too stupid.”
Moments later, Rafe and Max watched Slash grab up Brad’s license and car keys as Choirboy tossed the inert man over his shoulder and went out the door. As Max put his bottle down, Sam put a fresh one in front of him.
“Brad decided to buy one last round before he left for home.”
“Damn neighborly of him.”
Max took the beer Sam offered. “I’ve never liked the prick more.”
“The man’s a bastard, but he buys a lot of booze here.” Sam sounded regretful but pragmatic.
Rafe didn’t like the sound of that. He’d harbored a hope that after he’d tried drugging one of his waitresses, Sam would ban him from the bar. But in the world according to Sam’s creed, to be welcome, a person needed to be little more than a paying customer. That meant Brad would be around, and he’d have to keep his eyes open.
Chapter 3
Gemma’s screamsreached Simone even deep in sleep. She got up quickly. Her head was too cluttered with fragments of dreams for her to think clearly, but she didn’t need to think. She just needed to go to Gemma.
Her sister was sixteen and prone to terrible nightmares. Now she was in bed asleep, and her face was distorted with some imagined fear. “I’m here, Gemma,” she said softly as she sat on her bed and stroked her sister’s delicate face.
