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It’sonlywhenwereach the parking lot that I remember we don’t have a car. As I ponder if I should call for a cab, Alana pulls me to the side of the clubhouse where a blue vehicle is parked.
Instead of following us inside the car, Slasher and Munroe get on their bikes, patiently waiting for Alana to reverse out and onto the road before following us.
“Is this your car?” I ask my friend as she drives us to my house.
She shakes her head. “Not exactly. It’s all of ours. Mama made Rocco buy it for us a couple of years ago. She said we needed it to run errands and do the shopping.”
I don’t know why I never thought about the Cruz Cunts being off on their own, or them buying groceries for the entire club. Then again, there isn’t really a logical reason for me to know about those things. I’m quickly learning that the things I’ve seen at the club aren’t how things usually are.
“Why didn’t Rhiannon tell Gray it was Gunner that cut her?” I ask, needing to understand what the big secret is.
She looks at me out of the corner of her eyes. “Rhiannon told you that?”
I shake my head. “No. I walked in on them in Gunner’s room the other day, and—”
“What?” she shrieks. “What the fuck were you doing in his room?”
I roll my eyes as she basically mirrors Gray’s question. “I asked him for help with my… my…” I nervously wring my hands in my lap. “He’s always said I could ask him for help with anything, so I asked him to help with my revenge.”
Alana’s eyes widen comically. Without warning, she slams the brakes so hard I jolt forward in my seat.
“Stay away from him, Zoe. That man is…” Trailing off, she shakes her head. “Just please try to avoid him. He’s nothing but trouble.”
I cock my brow. “Why would you say that? He’s never been anything but helpful to me.”
Laughing scornfully, Alana pats my head like I’m a fucking kid. “Oh, you sweet innocent girl,” she coos ironically. “Just trust me on this one.”
Relenting, I nod, and I’m relieved when she drives the rest of the way to the bank without any unnecessary or dramatic braking.
Graham isn’t at the office as we get there, but it turns out I don’t need him. His assistant is aware of the arrangement, and it only takes minutes for her to approve the transfer. Afterward, I have to sign some papers that basically state I’ve asked for money, and acknowledge I’ve received it.
When I ask if there’s a way for me to get more than the monthly allowance, she tells me that she’s sure it can be arranged if I have a good reason. Since I’m pretty sure feeding a bunch of outlaws isn’t considered a good reason in her world, I just thank her and leave with Alana in tow.
“Where to now?” Slasher asks.
He’s leaning against the wall, a smoke hanging between his lips. Despite his roguish look, quite a few of the women walking between buildings are busy checking him out.
“If one more bitch looks at you like that,” Alana seethes, slowly dragging her index finger across her throat. “I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
Slasher chuckles. “Down, little Cunt. Down.”
For good measure, I scowl at him, though I stop as soon as I notice Alana is beaming.
Munroe is nowhere to be seen, which I guess means he’s actually doing what he’s supposed to and staying out of sight.
“We need to get to the bank,” I say, answering Slasher’s question from when we came back out. “I need to withdraw the money for Rocco.”
“And we need to do some shopping,” Alana squeals. “We’ll be the Oprah of food. You get a full stomach, and you get a full stomach.”
I giggle as she points into the air, pretending she’s pointing at different people.
“You Cunts don’t need anything,” Slasher grumbles, envy leaking into his tone. “It’s not like you’ve gone hungry.”
Alana merely shrugs. “Maybe not. But no one asked us to help out, so why should we?”
Slasher curses under his breath, but otherwise doesn’t comment further which is probably wise. Alana is right, if Rocco had asked them for help, I know they would have bought food for the Kings. But the Cunts decided that if the big, bad Prez didn’t speak up, they wouldn’t offer.
“How about another BBQ?” Slasher suggests.
