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Amara opened it for him before handing it back.
“It’s getting worse?” Amara asked against her better judgment, already knowing that he would never tell her if something was wrong with his health. The proud man was an institution—the living and breathing history of the Iron Vikings. She prayed he would stay with them for a long, long time.
“Nah. I just partied too hard last night. Nothing wrong with old Turtle, sweetheart.”
Bondi and Amara shared a glance. By the look on Bondi’s face, Amara knew that he wasn’t rest assured either.
“Don’t give me that shit. Every single fucker at this compound would sign up for spending their mornings like this in their seventies. If you’ve seen the things I’ve seen, and done the things I’ve done, you’d know that you’re mighty blessed if you get to sit on a ratchet old couch, talking to a pretty girl and a dude with a funny accent.”
Bondi chuckled before he exclaimed, “Oi!”
Turtle grinned and bumped Amara’s shoulder. “See what I mean?‘Oi!’Who fuckin’ talks like that?”
“I should take you to Straya, Turtle. You’d love it there.”
“Nah. If I ain’t ridin’, I’m not goin’. Y’all not sendin’ Turtle up in no fuckin’ airplane.”
Amara smiled at Turtle getting back to his old self again.
“I’ll go have a look in the kitchen, see what I can make for breakfast.”
Amara stood from the couch but held still when Turtle grabbed her hand. “We’ll finish our talk later, okay? I still need to get somethin’ off my chest about a certain… eh, you know who.”
She appreciated Turtle not mentioning Wolf in front of Bondi. The last thing she needed was the good-humored Australian knowing her business. For some reason, she’d never considered this seven-foot, heavily tattooed, friendly giant like a brother or an uncle like she did with the rest of this loud and raunchy crew.
Perhaps she’d always been a bit curious about him since Bondi had joined IVMC just three years ago, and she therefor hadn’t seen him grow up into this big bad biker like she did with most of the others.
The assistant manager of IVMC’s strip club, the Pink Flower, caught her eyeing his heart shaped tattoo on his hand. It stood in an overall stark contrast to the rest of the tribal-looking tattoos.
Bondi swept his index finger over the tattoo. “I reckon you like that one?”
“Yes. It stands out between the rest.”
He held her eyes and said, “Just like you.”
“It’s too damn early for this shit, Bondi. Stop messin’ around,” Turtle grumbled.
“It’s okay, Turtle,” she said while finding Bondi’s dark brown eyes trained on her.
Bondi scratched his scruffy beard. “You don’t mind me cracking onto you?”
“What does that even mean?”
She jumped on the spot when Wolf’s voice boomed over her head, “It means that he’s goin’ to step outside with me for a bit.”
Bondi instantly stood from the couch. “No worries.”
Turtle also stood, holding up both hands. “Stop this shit. Both of you. I ain’t even had a beer yet!”
The two club brothers ignored Turtle and Amara didn’t know what to do. Wolf couldn’t be serious about fighting Bondi over a little flirting?
“Wolf, can you help me out in the kitchen?” she asked.
“I’ll be just a minute,” he said, his chest puffed out and his eyes fixed on Bondi.
She grabbed his hand and pulled him away. She knew she could only do so because he’d let her.
“Why are you arguing with Bondi?” she said upon entering the empty kitchen. She thanked the stars that they were alone. Talk about awkward if one of her brothers caught her talking about her innocent flirt with Bondi.
