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“Glad things are going well,” Grinder says. “But I’d be remiss if I didn’t warn you.”
Here we go again.“Warn me about what, old man?”
“Keep calling me old, you little shithead. You’re gonna be my age one day. Ain’t gonna be so funny, then.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing. “You’llstillbe older.”
He pokes me in the chest. Older or not, Grinder’s got some weight behind the gesture.
More people pour into the dining room but Grinder ignores the increase in noise.
I glance down at his finger and raise an eyebrow. “I have too much respect for you to kick your ass, Grinder. But don’t push your luck.”
He grunts and drops his hand. “I know you’d never intentionally hurt her but if you break Emily’s heart, I’m gonna break something of yours.” He slides his gaze over me as if he’s picking out which body part he’ll snap in half.
“Overstep much?” I cross my arms over my chest.
“That girl’s had it rough. And she’s been a good friend to Serena. So yeah, I’ve got strong feelings on this subject.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Father Time.” I tap my finger against my chin in a slow, dickish way. “But haven’t you been busting my nuts for months about the need for me torust or ride? You encouraged me to spend time with Emily and now you’rethreateningme when I’m taking your advice?” I’m more annoyed than angry. Maybe a little amused by the seriousness of his lecture. “You going senile already?”
He ignores the dig and holds up his hands in an unconvincing show of surrender. “I said what needed to be said. Just because she doesn’t have any family besides her sixteen-year-old sister doesn’t mean no one’s looking out for her. That’s all.”
“I’m aware.” I hold my hands up to my eyes like a pair of binoculars. “I’mthe one you asked to stake out her house when we were worried Grillo might harass her, or did you forget that?”
“I didn’t forget shit.” He glances at the coffee cup in his hand, sets it on the counter, then claps my shoulder. “You’re right. I’m sorry. That was harsh. I worry about Emily. She and her sister are all by themselves. I feel guilty I moved Serena so far away from them.”
I stand there and blink. Pre-prison Grinder apologized to no one for anything. And I’m shocked he’s even acquainted with guilt let alone able to identify the emotion out loud.
“Whoa.” Rav sneaks up behind Grinder and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “You threatening a brother? Over a civilian woman? What’s this club coming to?”
“Mind your business,” Grinder growls, shaking off Rav’s arm.
Rav’s like a perv with a porno when he butts into a conversation. He scratches his head and a devious smile flashes over his face. “Emily’s that banging redhead, right? She’s who you two are beefing over?”
“There’s no beef, jackass,” Grinder says.
“Didn’t she wear a dress that went down to her ankles to Teller’s wedding?” He cringes. “Girl that uptight needs a good yank on her ponytail.” Rav grabs a fistful of air and jerks his fist to demonstrate.
Blind fury shoots through my veins, propelling my hand into Rav’s chest, slamming him into the wall next to the bar. “Watch your mouth when you talk about her.”
“Christ, Ravage, you got a damn death wish?” Grinder asks.
Rav giggles like an idiot hopped up on helium. “You don’t understand, G.” Rav slaps my arm. “Our boy Dex is a monk.” He bites his lip and flicks his gaze toward the ceiling. “Or maybe a groundhog. Pokes his head out once a year to get his dick wet then goes back in his cave.”
Grinder all but snarls at him. “The grown-ups are trying to have a conversation here. Fuck off.”
I release Rav. Getting pissed will just encourage him to be a bigger asshole.
“Just tell me it’s a fling,” Rav pleads with me. He throws a scowl at Grinder, then one at Wrath, who has his back to us while he pours his own cup of coffee. “I can’t handle another brother handing his balls over to a female.”
“Stop obsessing about everyone else’s balls, Rav,” Wrath warns without glancing our way. “I’d light my nuts on fire before I ever let you suck on them.”
Grinder chokes. “That’s an image I didn’t need in my head.”
“Same, brother,” I mutter.
“I’m not…” Rav sputters, “I don’t… That’s not…”
