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If I was a betting girl, I’d bet my life there was something gentle shimmering just beneath the tough exterior of tattoos and hard muscle.
And I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t drawn to it.
I knew I was getting slightly carried away by letting my private life blend with my work life.
It was dangerous.
People would get hurt if we had to skip town.
But the risk was worth it just to see Noah this happy.
BULL
The morning of Maverick’s bachelor party, I was surprised to see Ronnie waiting in the clubhouse bar for me. “Listen, can you do me a favor? Can you drop in to see Sybil? She’s checked into the hospital, but needs something dropped off to her.”
“Is she okay? Which hospital is she in?”
“Greenwood Psychiatric.”
I looked at my sister, surprised. “Sybil finally lose her marbles?”
Ronnie shook her head, her mass of dark curls falling around her face and tumbling down her back.
“Are you kidding? While we’re all losing our minds, she’ll still be as sharp as a tack. No, she had hip surgery, and when she couldn’t get a private suite at the other two hospitals, she somehow managed to talk Greenwood into giving her one. Probably the best place for the crazy old coot.”
My sister and her mother-in-law had always butted heads. Theirs was a love-hate relationship. But I had a feeling that if it came down to it, both would give their life for the other. Thirty years of trying to outdo each other had created a weird, but volatile, bond between them.
“Sure, what do you need me to drop off?”
Ronnie handed me a joint. “This.”
“And Caleb couldn’t do it?”
“He’s the one who gave it to me. You know he’s busy with the crop harvest.”
“And you don’t want to go because…”
“Because she asked for my little brother to drop it off,” she said with a wink, walking away.
Great. I had been summoned by the mighty Sybil Calley.
“You happen to get two of these?” I asked, holding up the joint. “Because I think I’m going to need one afterward.”
My sister smiled wickedly. “What? You afraid of a little old lady?”
“Just this one.” I raised an eyebrow at her. “Just as anyone in their right mind should be.”
Greenwood Psychiatric Hospital had once been known in town as an asylum. But now it was an exclusive medical facility renowned for its drug and alcohol rehabilitation programs, as well as its treatment and care for dementia patients.
Sybil was in an exclusive wing where rich celebrities often came to dry out.
Propped up in bed, the original Kings of Mayhem first lady was just as glamorous as always. Bright red hair brushed and set perfectly. Red lipstick. Painted eyes. A glittering caftan of turquoise blue. A vision of color among too many pillows, reading a copy of the Kama Sutra.
Of course.
When she heard me, she looked up from the book and her face lit up.
“Well, to what do I owe this pleasure?” She gasped, as if she hadn’t orchestrated the whole thing.
She put down her book and held out her arms. As she wriggled her fingers, rings of gold and precious gems glimmered in the artificial light.
I leaned down to give her a hug, and was immediately engulfed in her signature perfume. Chanel No.5. She made sure we all knew the name of it. Every single one of the Kings of Mayhem. Because the way she saw it, if everyone knew what she liked, then they’d buy it for her on her birthday, or Christmas, and she’d never have to fork out for a bottle ever again.
Sybil was cunning.
Mischievous.
And as sharp as the pointy end of a fucking knife.
She took one look at me and started in straight away. “Well, don’t you look happy. Got anything to do with a pretty young thing working at the clubhouse?”
I gave her a wry look. “Boy, the MC grapevine must be working overtime.”
She looked proud. “I have my spies.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
She patted the side of her bed. “It’s time you and I had a talk.”
“I can’t stay long. Just bringing you this.” I held up the joint and Sybil’s eyes lit up.
“Well, don’t just be standing there, son, light her up.”
I lit the joint with the Zippo I kept in my cut. When I handed it to her, Sybil took a big toke, then lay back, satisfied. “Sweet mother of God, that is good.”
I wondered how long it would be before the staff caught a whiff of the sweet scent of weed.
Not that Sybil would care.
She was the original rule breaker.
The wild rebel who walked to the beat of her own drum.
Only now, she could bat her fake eyelashes and blame it on her age.
Sybil rarely saw problems, only opportunities.
“So, tell me about the new girl. She must be special if she’s got you looking as goofy-eyed as a teenage boy on his first date,” she said, taking another toke on the sweet-smelling joint.
