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“Alright, get her pie then, or…or ice cream.”
“I don’t think it’s about the food choice.”
The girl madly nods this time. Right. So it’s more like she doesn’t want to go anywhere with a big, scary, stinky ogre because he can’t be trusted since he—oh, right—freaking kidnapped her and tied her up.
“Where am I going to find pie or ice cream at this hour?” Lennox asks indignantly.
With scenes like this playing out every other year or so, it’s not really a wonder that we’re all single.
Granny turns and gives Lennox a look so fierce that it could strip old wallpaper off walls. Have you ever tried to get wallpapers off? Let me assure you that it’s not a fun task. There was this time when Granny enlisted all our help to redo a house we were going to be using for our operations for a few months in Chicago. She just couldn’t deal with the bright pink paper that had little white flowers. I thought it was cheery, but she, however, thought it was an abomination. So we stripped. We applied the blue jelly goo, and we stripped and stripped. That sounds wrong, and I bet you’re picturing five grown men covered in blue goo taking off their clothes, but I was talking about the walls, people. The walls. And the wallpaper. The goo somehow loosened up whatever sealant adhered the asshole papers to the walls, and eventually, they came off in big sheets, for the most part. I’m not even going to go into detail about the tiny little bits we were forced to pick off after because they didn’t all come off cleanly. I still have wallpaper nightmares about that, thank you very much.
“I don’t care. You untie her, you feed her whatever she wants to eat, and you take her back. If I don’t get a text from her in an hour with a smile on her face, safe at home in her own living room…well, you don’t know what I’m going to do or what wretched task I’ll think up for you to complete as punishment, but it will happen!”
“What about them?” Lennox points at the twins, who give Granny looks of angelic innocence from where they’ve scuttled off to the side to try and hide amongst the framing of the unfinished walls. They look ridiculous in the shadows with their hands jammed into their pockets like they haven’t done a dang thing wrong.
“Never mind them,” Granny snaps. “I said you. So. Get. To. It.”
“But what are you going to be doing?”
Granny sighs. “Lennox, my boy, I love you. Never doubt that. I would fight to the death for you, but sometimes, you do try an old woman’s patience. I’m taking this one,” and here she points at me, “to the club.”
“What club?”
Oh shit, she means the club.
Granny sighs so long and dramatically that she’s like the north wind filling up the sails of every vessel that ever sailed and ever will sail. Yes, the sigh is that gusty. “The club, Len. The club.”
“I think they’ve already done the last call,” Atlas points out helpfully.
“She’s talking about the bike club, hot shit,” Orion corrects with a roll of his eyes.
“Oh! That club.” Lennox scratches his head. “You could have just said so. It’s the middle of the night. Some of us aren’t so sharp without a good night’s rest.”
“The middle of the night is generally our day.” Granny sighs. “Can you please just see to it that this poor girl gets home alright? I want photos, Lennox. Photos. Oh, and pick me up a cherry pie while you’re at it. I have a hankering for it.”
I don’t want to question Granny and look like a total himbo in front of my brothers, but I have no idea why we’re going to the biker club. I don’t imagine that Granny is going to tear out her Glocks as she kicks the thick steel door in, ducking and rolling and going all action movie Granny who’s going to blow this bitch up on the place, but what do I know. When it comes to Granny…
Anything is beyond possible.
CHAPTER 10
Ayana
Tonight, or maybe it’s actually this morning, has certainly been a real live shit show. It’s the kind of thing that gets made into a movie or a book, and people line up on the opening night or pre-order it because they can’t wait to eat their popcorn to the drama and be thankful that what they’re seeing is someone else’s life, and they don’t have to live it.
Well, shit.
I’m the one living it.
Since I currently wasn’t sure how exactly I was going to get through the whole telling my dad thing, I called Cass, and she promised she’d come over. When she didn’t show up when she said she would, I started having a bit of a meltdown. Since my churning thoughts had nowhere to go but out, I decided I had to go to the club. I knew my dad would be awake and waiting anxiously for me. He wouldn’t force me to come to him, and he wouldn’t come to me. He wanted to let my anger simmer—anger at him having me freaking followed, anger at him having Bunny Man break into someone’s house, and anger at knowing the brothers took a vote. Because he’s my dad, he would, of course, have realized that my temporary anger over those things would be eclipsed by my relief at being saved from a real jerk, and then I’d have to deal with all the feelings of betrayal, hurt, and humiliation that came with that. In short, Dad was just giving me my space for a few hours. He undoubtedly had brothers circling the block to ensure my safety.
