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“Nope.” He snuggled in when I rested back.
This was the most I’d seen him settled without twitching. I didn’t know if it was that the movie and our conversation that was entertaining enough for him to sit still or if it was because he got to stick close to me.
Either way, I liked it. But I also enjoyed his bounce-off-the-walls energy.
After curling my arm around him, I answered the call to my closest friend, who was also the vice president to the club. “Spade.” The noise in the background told me he was either at one of our bars or the compound.
He said something, but I wasn’t listening. Instead, my attention latched onto Riker’s smooth legs that were thrown over one of mine.
A deep craving to have them wrapped around my waist while he rode me grew.
This connection was a goddamn rush.
I didn’t know if I would’ve ever noticed another guy, but it wasn’t something I needed to think about. The man I now had in my life was all that mattered.
“You listenin’ to me?” Spade asked.
“No,” I told him, tracing a hand up and down Riker’s thigh and underwear-covered ass.
Spade chuckled. “You could’a just told me you were busy with a woman.”
Riker stilled and a growl started to form from him.
Shit.
“No woman,” I told Spade. “What do you want?”
“I said I finally got through to Pauly about our missin’ order from Harley’s yesterday. Pauly’s sayin’ the bill hasn’t been paid.”
What the fuck?
Pauly was our booze supplier. He gave it to us at a discounted price because we helped him out with some hooch for his family. So why hadn’t the invoice been paid when I knew we weren’t hard-up and could pay the damn bill?
“I’m presumin’ you checked in with our money man?” I asked.
Writer was our treasurer; he took care of the money in the club. I’d known him since I prospected in. He’d already been a brother and appointed that position. He never steered us wrong before.
Spade sighed. “You might want to come into the compound for this.”
Fuck.
“You can’t deal with it?”
“Brother, I had Monkey look into a couple of things. Some of it’s dodgy.”
Riker shifted off me as I sat forward. “What the fuck you mean?”
“Better I show you.”
Sighing, I scrubbed a hand over my face. I did not need this.
“Fuckin’ hell, Spade. Fine. I’ll be there in ten.”
“Catch’a.”
Grunting, I hung up and scrubbed a hand over my face. Why the hell would Writer do this shit in the first place, but more so why now?
Looking left, I said, “Have to head to the club, Riker.”
