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“Got the keys.” Easton comes up behind us with a BMW key ring.
“Can I drive?” Rose asks.
Easton cocks an eyebrow and bursts out a laugh. “Absolutely not.”
“What? Why!”
Easton turns his head to Jackson, effectively ignoring Rose. “You guys all right? I’ll go pull the rental up to the front.”
“Hey, fucking asshole.” Rose hits him in the arm. He whips his gaze towards her and flares his nostrils. He grabs her by the back of her neck and pulls her forward, leaving her a breath away from his lips.
“Watch yourself.” The tension skyrockets around them, and curious eyes start dancing our way.
“Watch yourself.” Rose mimics. She’s a ballsy ass bitch when she goes head to head with Easton. I think they like it. Their sick, twisted game they play with each other. I think he likes someone who will go up against him, and I think she likes a guy who will put her in her place. She’s too headstrong and needs someone to balance her.
I think they need one another to balance each other out.
Easton smirks his razor-sharp smirk as he kisses her. “You’re paying for that one later, you ass.” He reaches down, pinching her ass and making her let out a yelp.
“Okay, time to go I’ve got a meeting with Aziel in an hour.” He lifts up the rest of the bags on the ground and we make our way out to the exit.
15
Jackson
“Shit’s dope.” I watchthe ocean pass by on the way to The Seven’s clubhouse. We left the girls at a nice hotel right along the coast. Cara’s color came back by the time we reached the hotel, but she still said she wasn’t feeling the best. We really had to make it in time to meet Aziel. As much as I didn’t want to leave Cara, the number one task on this trip is to get this deal done with The Seven, and we can’t disappoint. Rich will definitely have our heads if we fuck this up.
I can tell we are at the right place when we pull up to a massive gate made of twelve-foot steel walls. When we get to the entrance, some dude in a biker vest sitting at his post stands up with his gun in hand, walking up and tapping it on our window.
Easton rolls down his window and sticks his hand out. “Easton Malone.”
The guys eyes widen as he sticks his hand in Easton’s. “Charlie. Give me a sec, I’ll let you in.”
Easton rolls his window back up and looks at me. “Fuckin’ prospect.” He chuckles, and I watch the kid rush to unlock the gates. The steel walls make a buzzing noise as they start to slide open.
We glide forward into the clubhouse and I watch as men in cuts walk about, some near their bikes, others smoking near picnic tables, while some grope half naked women—hookers?—in ways that you can only do in California.
“Welcome to The Seven, brother.” Easton murmurs.
I reach into my pocket to pull out my pack of Marlboro’s. Rarely one to smoke, but I think being around this pack of greasy bikers calls for the perfect time. Lighting up, I pass the pack to Easton, who grabs one himself.
“My thoughts exactly.” He mumbles.
We roll to a stop, and in front of us the door swings open and out comes Aziel. Strapped in his cut and blue jeans, he looks like he’s ready to get shit going.
“How was your trip?” Aziel asks as we step out of the car, giving each of us a handshake.
“Too fucking long.” Easton says.
“Always is. Didn’t feel like driving?”
“Jackson’s girl is pregnant.”
Aziel turns to me and grimaces. “I remember from The Pit. How you doin’, man? Shit was rough that night. Didn’t see you again after you left. What ever happened?”
I shake my head, working my throat as I try to work out the words. Casual conversation doesn’t do me well. I have a hard time with the ridiculous, unnecessary conversation that regular people have.
“Good. Shit worked out.” Not really, but it is what it is.
