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Instead of saying this, since I’m sure he knows what happened, I bring up his phone. “What’s wrong with your phone?” He hadn’t said anything about it.
Sighing, Grimm shakes his head. “Had Pirate look at it. Says I need a new one.”
“Well, that depends. How old is your phone and what is it doing?” I might not know a lot about electronics, but I know something thanks to a friend from college. She was taking computer science and engineering. Swear Diya could fix anything if you give it to her. It’s a shame she moved back to Indiana, but that’s where she’s from.
“Had the same phone for five years,” he says, closing the distance between us. “Lately it seems to have a mind of its own.”
“That’s a long time. You’re lucky it lasted so long. Nowadays, phones barely seem to want to last two years without needing to be replaced. Something always goes wrong. The battery, something internal . . .”
I stop rambling as Grimm gets in my space, his hands on my waist. I notice his assessing eyes take on a life of their own and I lose all thought of anything else.
“You good?” he asks.
I nod and suck in a breath. There’s no way I could answer him right now.
“Baby, you gotta use words. A nod doesn’t answer shit.” He grins, giving my waist a squeeze.
“Yes.” I barely get the word out before Grimm’s mouth is on mine.
Everything seems to go by in a blur of motion. I love his hands on me, his mouth moving over my body. And the way he slides inside me. It’s perfection the way we fit together. Even better, when the intensity of it all heightens to the point of no return, I let it take over, washing through every cell within me.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
GRIMM
My phone rings, waking me from a dead sleep. I jerk upright and reach for the damn thing at the same time I look to my side to see a naked Apricot sleeping soundly. I swear the woman could sleep through sirens going off without waking her.
I glance at the screen, not recognizing the number. I answer and lift to my ear, throwing the covers off me. “Yeah.”
“Grimm?” The unknown caller’s voice sounds familiar, but I can’t put my finger on who it is.
“Yeah,” I mutter, reaching down to grab a pair of sweats I’d left there. "Who’s this?" I demand, keeping my voice down.
“It’s Tripp. We need to talk.”
Fucking hell, I should have known.
“What do we gotta talk about?” I grind out, tightening my grip on my phone. This fucker calls me in the middle of the night saying we need to talk, fuck that.
“Meet me at the old factory by the cemetery.” Tripp disconnects before I have a chance to tell him to fuck off.
“Shit,” I breathe, my eyes going to Apricot. I want nothing more than to rejoin her in bed, but I need to handle this. The last thing I need is for Tripp to show up here. My woman will question it and then start asking about my past. Thankfully she’s dropped the subject, and since that one time she called me Blaine, she hasn’t used that name again.
Quickly changing from the sweatpants to a pair of jeans, I throw a tee on and grab my cut. I shove my feet into my boots, and without making much noise, I leave the room. Taking the stairs two at a time, I stride toward the door, opening and closing it, making sure it’s locked, securing Apricot safely in the house. As much as I like it here, I’m thinking it’s time to take her to my place, but we’ll see. Maybe this weekend.
I stalk toward my bike and straddle her, pulling her upright and kicking the stand-up. I start my bike and take a moment to text Viking and Ice, letting them know I’m heading to meet Tripp.
The last thing I need is for this bullshit to be a setup and for my brothers not to be to have my back.
* * *
Upon pulling up next to the old factory, I note Tripp right off leaning against a burgundy Mustang. I stop right next to him and shut my bike off. I don’t bother climbing off the back. I don’t intend to be here longer than I have to.
“What the fuck was so important you had to meet me in the middle of the night at some old factory?” I demand.
“Two of us, we got a lot in common with our past,” he starts, but I interrupt him.
“Cut the bullshit and just tell me.”
