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Dex squeezes my leg, recapturing my attention. “Then let me help you.”
“How?” I tilt my head, a light-hearted smile playing over my lips. “Are you going to offer me a job? After you freaked out and said I could never get on your stage and strip off my clothes?”
“I didn’t freak out.” He levels me with a simmering stare. “I fucked you senseless. Big difference.”
Heat slides over my skin. “Yes you did,” I whisper. How did I go from bawling my eyes out to wanting to jump him in less than an hour?
“Yes. On paper,” he continues, “I’ll get you and Libby covered under one of the club’s businesses.”
“Wait, what?”
His lips quirk into a crooked smile. “We’re a complicated little maze of business structures.”
“Like, to launder money?” I whisper.
He chuckles but shifts his gaze to the side. “Not exactly. To take care of our own. Everyone contributes to the club in some way, so everyone has a job on paper. Then we all look like nice little productive citizens for the government’s prying eyes.”
If I remember right, bikers use the word citizen in a slightly different way than the rest of society, but I get his meaning. “I don’t know if I want to be…beholden to owing your club favors.”
His mouth turns down. “Not like that,” he says, correctly interpreting what I mean about “favors.” “I’ll talk to Teller and get something set up for you two. In the meantime, you should still be covered by your job for a little while.”
I nod quickly. “She gave me a bunch of paperwork to fill out.”
“Good. See, everything’s going to be fine, Emily.”
Why are his words like hands lifting a weight off my shoulders? It can’t be that simple, can it? I can’t let my boyfriend solve my problems.
“Dex?”
He turns and grabs one of the donuts. “Here, put this in your mouth instead of whatever you’re about to say.” He touches the sweet, sugary, fluffy pastry to my lips.
My eyes widen in outrage. Is he trying to mollify my concerns with a donut? “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“I can guess.” He nudges the donut against my lips again and this time, I take a bite. “You don’t want to let me help you. You want to do it all on your own because that’s what’s comfortable and familiar.”
I chew on the donut and his words slowly. Dammit, why does he know me so well?
“Your first instinct—coming here to talk to me—was the right one. Just go with that. It’ll save time.” He finishes the rest of the donut in two big, sexy bites.
“Actually,” I swallow and take a sip of my coffee. “I called Serena first. She told me to come see you.”
“And here you are,” he says, as if the sequence of events doesn’t matter.
The truth is, I already wanted to come see him after what happened. Serena just gave me the extra nudge I needed.
The simple act of seeking solace from a boyfriend would’ve seemed so foreign to me before I met and fell in love with Dex. Now I don’t know what I’d do without him in my life.
I actually believe him when he says everything is going to be okay.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Dex
It killed me seeing Emily so crushed. I meant every word of what I said to her, though. Losing that job will be the best thing that’s happened to her. I’ll make damn sure she never has another doubt or regret about it.
First part of that plan is doing what I promised. I’ll wait until church is almost finished to bring it up, though.
Since not everyone came back from Deadbranch at the same time, we haven’t had a chance to discuss the funeral of fuckery as I’ve been referring to it in my head.
After we rehash the trip—from finding out about the memorial being canceled to Acorn challenging Priest—to catch Teller and Hustler—lucky bastards—up on all the fun they missed, Teller lets out a long, slow whistle.
“Just the fact that Priest didn’t shoot Acorn on the spot says he still has the temperament to be prez.” Teller shakes his head. “That must’ve been uncomfortable as fuck to sit through.”
“It was,” Grinder agrees.
I lift my chin at Rooster. “I swear Hopper put Acorn up to that stunt. Think he got tired of watching his son-in-law cheating on his daughter and decided Priest killing him would be cheaper than a divorce?”
Rooster snorts and then lets out a full-on belly laugh. “He’s not smart enough to come up with a plan that diabolical.” The smile slides off his face. “And I doubt he cares about Heather’s feelings all that much.”
“True on both accounts,” Jigsaw agrees.
“So, how’d things end?” Hustler asks.
“Uh, Acorn tucked his penis between his legs and ran the fuck out as soon as the vote was done,” Bricks says, wildly flailing his arms at his sides like a drunk jogger.
