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“Tanner and Gabe take care of most of it. And what they don’t handle, Jase and Mason deal with. The rest of us are mostly figureheads.”
Laughing at that, Priest grabs something to drink and plops his weight down on the side of a desk packed with piles of paperwork that will never get sorted.
“Must be nice,” he grumbles. “Why are you here looking like someone shoved their boot so far up your ass you’re chewing on the leather?”
“Woman problems.”
The dickhead cackles.
“Man, I’ve already told you fuck ‘em all. But not in a figurative way. I mean that literally. Just keep jumping from one bed to the next, and they’ll never catch up to become a problem.”
As if it’s that easy.
Before I can respond, Shane comes storming back in, his mouth a tight line as his eyes cut my direction.
“Would you like to explain why your gas tank and exhaust pipe are all busted to hell? No wonder your bike is grinding. I’m surprised you’re able to ride it at all.”
Damn it. I knew he’d notice that.
“I’m not, which is why I brought it on the trailer. And it might have fallen over, which caused the damage.”
He cocks a brow. “Fallen?”
“Okay, I fucking kicked it,” I admit while rubbing at the back of my neck.
Priest laughs. “Did it insult you? Tell you your ass is too big? Or maybe it’s that fucking ego of yours that’s too heavy.”
“I was pissed off after arguing with Damon.”
“About Emily?” Shane asks, an edge to his voice that warns of how he feels about it.
I nod my head and clench my jaw.
“Man, no woman is worth fighting over. Especially between brothers. Just cut her loose.”
It would be a relief if I could listen to Priest’s unsolicited advice. Unfortunately, the situation is a hell of a lot more complicated than that.
Shane knows it, which is why he leans a shoulder against a wall and eyes me warily.
“Rather than worrying about her, I think you need to pay more attention to a bigger issue going on in the background.”
My eyes lock to his. “And that is?”
“Have you checked Damon’s phone lately?”
He says that like I’m supposed to babysit my brother. Then again, maybe I should. There’s only one person I would be concerned about trying to get in touch with him.
“How often has William been calling?”
“Every other day lately. Not that Damon is answering, but we both know the constant reminder can’t be good for him.”
No.
And it’s not good for me either.
But between us, William is far more likely to think he can get his foot back in the door through a breach in Damon’s defenses than he can mine.
“I’ll handle it.”
