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“And look who decided to join us,” Diesel said, craftily changing the subject as his sights narrowed on Becca. “Come here, darlin’.”
Becca looked to AJ for guidance, paling, but AJ nodded her forward, a warning in her eyes meant for my father.
Becca came into the living room, swallowing as she took my father’s outstretched hand, and he turned it, lifting it to his lips. “Bygones?” he asked her, holding her gaze with his trademark stare. The one that could hold you captive for hours if he wanted it to.
She choked on her reply, clearing her throat before she echoed his sentiment. “Bygones,” she agreed.
Diesel grinned. “Good.” He tugged her hand, spinning her away toward the couch. “Have a seat, love. The King who was sitting there seems to have grown bored of my story, but I think you’ll like it just as much.”
AJ stood on her tiptoes, peering around into the kitchen, where a group of Saints chatted, beers in hand, weapons at the ready. No one would be getting drunk tonight, but the potential threat wouldn’t stop them from enjoying themselves. It was the one time a year Dies would have a drink with them, continuing the tradition his wife started of inviting the whole gang over for a birthday potluck each year.
“Is that Drake?”
“Yeah.”
“I wanted to talk to him.”
He looked like he was going out the back. “He’s probably gone for a piss. Wait till he gets back.”
She snuck a look at me, reading my suggestion for what it really was. A plea for her not to go off alone with him.
He was a handsome guy. I hated to fucking admit it, but it was true. And Rook was right. AJ did seem… interested.
I didn’t know whether I wanted to slit his throat or roast him over a fire. I might wind up having to do both. It didn’t matter if she’d already told me she intended to ask him about her father’s death. That conversation could easily go sideways.
Ava Jade chuckled to herself, walking to the couch. She jerked her head at the King next to Becca. “Move,” she said, and he ambled to his feet, giving up his seat for her.
She made no secret of being uncomfortable with the fact that Dies and Maverick seemed content to believe she’d just scared that creepy fucker, Aries, off. I mean, okay, she was scary, but only if you’ve done something to piss her off.
Or, maybe she was scary all the time. Judging by the way the other Kings looked at her, I was starting to think we’d just become immune to her.
She set the box down on her lap just as Diesel was about to start into the story anew.
“What’s that?” he asked instead, taking a drag of his cigar.
AJ clenched her teeth. “I wasn’t told about the no gifts rule.”
“No shit?”
“Nope,” AJ confirmed, her lips popping on the ‘p.’
Diesel glared down at the box like it personally offended him, but Rook jabbed him with an elbow, and he cleared his throat. “Well let’s open it then, shall we?”
AJ set it on the small ottoman in front of her and kicked it closer to him, nearly making the box topple to the carpet. Her forefinger spun the dented silver ring on her thumb, the one Rook gave her. It’d become something of a nervous habit over the past few weeks. Not for the first time, I told myself I’d get her one, too.
Something with a stone the color of her eyes. That actually fit her.
She should have one from each of us.
Diesel bent to ditch his cigar in an ashtray on the coffee table he’d pushed against the entertainment unit and lifted the box. He was still a bit unsteady on his leg, but was doing a good job of concealing it.
It pained me to know that he would likely use a cane in private for the rest of his life. It was a hard lesson learned for everyone, but sometimes lessons needed to leave scars to remind us not to repeat old mistakes.
Diesel pulled out a switchblade and carved through the tape on top of the box before re-pocketing it. He pulled out the item inside, letting the cardboard fall to the floor at his feet.
The conversation around us died the instant he held the leather jacket up to the light, his expression hardening.
Fuck.
