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I lift my head to
find Trunk leaning against the doorpost, a grin on his face.
Aside from a quick phone call to the club and a text to Ahiga, letting them know not to expect us back last night, we never came up for air.
Middle-aged my wrinkled ass. Other than a few catnaps here and there to allow for recovery, and some more talking, we kept each other busy all night.
“Whatever,” I grumble, more show than anything else. Not about to turn into a chick and ‘share,’ I quickly change topics. “Have you checked up on Yuma?”
Last I heard Trunk was putting him on a plane to Denver, where he managed to finagle Yuma a spot in an inpatient addiction treatment center right outside the city.
“He got there without incident. They’re assessing him over the next few days, and depending on what they learn, he could be there from one to three months.”
“Fuck. How are Nosh and Momma with it?”
Trunk rubs a hand over his bald head as he cracks a grin. “Good. Momma was almost her former self when she told her boy it was about fucking time.”
That’s good to hear. I missed her. The old Momma would’ve kicked my ass home the first time I decided to sleep at the club, instead of in my bed with my wife. Not that she’ll need to anymore: I’ve learned my lesson. My eyes drift out the window, thinking of all the ways Luna reminded me what I’d be missing out on last night.
I tried to convince her to spend another night in Cortez, but she reminded me we had responsibilities and a son to get back to. I dropped her off at the La Plata County FBI office in time for her briefing this morning, but not without laying a hot, wet one on her in the parking lot.
I grin at the memory.
Ahiga is surprised to see me in the line of cars waiting outside the school.
Did you fix it? Is the first thing he asks when he climbs into the passenger seat.
“Yes, I did.” I enunciate clearly, so the app on his phone translates accurately into text, and I can use my hands to drive.
“She home?” Self-conscious, Ahiga rarely uses his voice except on occasion at home with us.
“At work. She’ll be home for dinner.”
There’s a long pause and I glance over to find him looking at me expectantly.
“And so will I.”
“Good,” he says in his monotone voice, but a grin splits his face as he turns gaze out the window.
Luna
“Good to see you bright-eyed for the first time in a while.”
Damian is grinning ear to ear, standing by the window when I walk into the office.
“Shut it,” I mumble, willing the blush I feel on my cheeks to subside. It’s clear we had an audience when Ouray pressed me up against the SUV and kissed me stupid. “What did I miss?” I quickly divert his attention.
“Mrs. McNamee asked for a lawyer and is more stoic than fucking Buddha,” he fills me in. “But the mister is scrambling to save his hide, throwing his wife under the bus in the process.”
“Poor kids,” I observe.
“They’re with his family. Hope the grandparents have more backbone than their father. He quickly caved when we suggested he’s facing an added charge of attempted murder for the attack on you. He swears he knew nothing about that. I’m inclined to believe him, since I get the impression his wife is the sharp one, despite his impressive resumé.”
“And the SUV? Any word on that?”
“Abandoned at the small airstrip, just south of Cortez, last night. There’s a record of a private plane leaving the airport a few hours before. Jasper is digging into the shell company listed as the owner, but I have a feeling whoever was driving the SUV has long skipped the country.”
“Shit.”
