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Strafe looks up, flipping me off as I grin at him.
“At least I have value to the club when I’m not off banging heads together.”
“Fuck off, cunt. I have value.”
“Yeah. We ever need to hustle people at a pool table, you, Killer, and Palmer will come in handy.”
“I’ll tell Killer you said that.”
“Fine by me. He’s scared of my wife.”
Strafe always seemed kind of an unflappable bastard. But when it came out he was living with the Prez’s daughter – unsanctioned – we all saw Strafe for what he really was. A guy with balls of steel. To be fucking around with the Prez’s daughter when he was just a prospect? Stones the size of Everest. For sure.
“Want to pick up a wrench and help out?”
Strafe jerks his head at an open toolbox. Wrinkling my nose, I grin and flip him off.
“Enjoy. I’m off inside for a drink.”
He smirks after me as I jog across the compound, up the stairs, and into the cool clubhouse, searching for a glass of whiskey. Surely Palmer will blow his load soon, and we can continue on our rounds.
We have to keep a closer eye on the South Side. The cops have pretty much abdicated law and order there to us. Which would be fine, but we need at least two more enforcers to really keep a handle on things. Bruiser has brought the topic up with Aric on more than one occasion. Hopefully, they make a decision soon.
Bullseye and Justice are inside the clubhouse, shooting pool and eyeing off the bar. Specifically, they are watching Viper, who is sitting at the bar, draped over some woman. Typical. Striding over to get a drink, she turns her head, and my eyes narrow.
Viper is draped over justanywoman. He’s all over Shelley. Altering my course, I stalk over to them, hooking my fingers under Viper’s and flipping his hand off her shoulders.
They both look up at me in surprise as I glare at them. Shelley immediately smiles while Viper frowns at me.
“Can we help you, Merch?”
A growl rumbles out of me. He might be an officer now, but he’s a new one and needs to watch his goddamn step.
“You can keep your hands off my woman,” I snap, closing my hand around Shelley’s upper arm and jerking her closer to my chest.
A smirk tugging at his lips, Viper’s eyes dart between Shelley and me. He raises his hands in a surrender gesture, leaning away from her.
“Sorry, Merch. I didn’t realize she was taken.” His eyes find Shelley again, lazily drifting over her. “Suddenly, you not fucking groupies makes a fuck ton more sense.”
Shelley glances at Viper in confusion, sliding off the stool and into my arms when I tug her again.
“Tell Palmer something came up,” I grunt, sliding my hand down and grasping Shelley’s, tangling our fingers together. Viper’s eyes drop, lingering on our hands as his smirk widens into a cocky grin. Bullseye and Justice are looking over with interest now, but I ignore the three pricks, drawing Shelley out of the clubhouse.
She doesn’t say anything when we get to my rig in the parking lot and climbs on behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist.
I take her to the diner near Palmer’s place. It’s the nicest place I feel comfortable without cleaning up. I ignore the perky waitress, leading Shelley to the booth she and Lisa were sitting in the first time they caught up.
She slides in, glancing at the seat across the table. I don’t bother sitting there, sliding in beside her and crowding her space instead, dropping my arm around her shoulders.
“What did the blond guy mean? About the groupies?”
Shelley is looking up at me in interest, but I shrug. Viper was running his mouth, stupid fucker. Shelley shouldn’t need to concern herself with groupies. She doesn’t need to know anything about them. They have nothing to do with her or me.
Shelley drops the topic when I don’t speak, smiling at the waitress who appears with menus. While we wait for our burgers, I toy with the strands of her hair. It’s so long and thick that it sits almost like a cloud around her tiny head.
The perky waitress brings out burgers with a smile, disappearing again. One of Shelley’s little hands darts out, snagging a fry and bringing it to her lips. She nibbles on it, looking out the window beside us at the road outside. Every so often, her eyes dart over to me before drifting away. I bit back a smirk, eating my fries and keeping my arm around her shoulder.
She smiles at her plate, and my eyebrows shoot up. What’s that about?
