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I can’t tell if the last part was meant as a joke or not.
My eyes cut to Jason. “I’ll stay over occasionally, but I’m not moving in. No way.” I don’t mean to sound rude, but I prefer my home comforts.
An unladylike cackle shatters the silence upstairs. “She’s got the right idea. This place is a dump,” one of the women says.
When I eventually look up, I see three women all grinning down at us. Tex comes downstairs wearing his boxer shorts. He pulls a brunette onto his lap as he sits on the couch. I think she’s wearing one of his massive T-shirts as a nightdress and presumably nothing else because she’s paranoid about flashing me her ass. Rooster leans against the pool table in nothing but a pair of light gray sweatpants and socks. He’s cuddling a petite redhead who’s wearing a hot rock-burned bedsheet like a toga. Hustle and a pretty blonde are the only ones respectfully dressed. His woman has almost as many tattoos as Jason does. Dude bounds over to where Tex is sitting and plonks his ass down by his bare feet, Dude’s head nudging Tex’s leg as a hint for Tex to pet him.
Tex pets the dog, then his eyes cut to me. “Don’t be such a stubborn little bitch. It won’t be safe for you to live at your folks’ place alone. Especially now.” He rolls his eyes sarcastically. “You’re safer here with us.”
I look at Jason. “What does he mean,safer?”
“Thank you, Tex,” Jason drawls in a warning tone, then looks at me, and I notice the flinch in his eyes. “We haven’t exactly ironed out all the details as such. I’ll get to that in a minute.”
Well, that sounds ominous. Why would I be in danger? I haven’t done anything wrong. Surely, I would be in deeper shit if I stayed here with the culprits of last night’s bar fight. I need to get back to work. I don’t want these guys bringing trouble to my doorstep. If that’s the case, I’ll run Dad’s garage single-handed.
“Keira.” Jason turns to me, snaking his arm around my waist. “There’s nothing for you to be worried about. We’re all family here. You already know Tex.” The hulking mountain of muscle grunts obnoxiously. He’s the only member of the Hawks to keep his actual name.
Jason continues with the introduction, “The sour-faced bitch on his lap is Carly, also known as Claws. Don’t piss her off or she’ll scratch your eyes out. And then there’s Hustle.” I know his real name is Huey, but he absolutely fucking hates it. The silver-tongued heartthrob has the gift of the gab and could charm the panties off a man-hating battle-ax, he’s so good-looking. “And his woman, Tess, who we call Tequila because she can drink like a fish and still swim in a straight line,” Jason introduces the pretty inked blonde who returns a friendly smile. “Last but not least, Rooster’s old lady, Stevie, who we all know earned the name Soapbox because of her righteous preaching.” Jason gestures to Ryan’s woman. The guys have always called Ryan by his last name, Rooster.
Stevie raises her eyebrows at Jason. “Excuse me, but I can’t help it if I’m always right.”
Jason exhales nasally. “Since you’re so fond of preaching, you can tell Kiera the rules.”
Stevie doesn’t hesitate to take center stage, sitting up straight with an air of superiority. “The rules around here are simple. Don’t take what doesn’t belong to you. Partners included. Ask first. Don’t be a dick. Respect one another, and they’ll respect you. We’re a family. We watch each other’s backs. If we have a problem, we take it to Havoc. We don’t discuss club business outside of the clubhouse. If we fuck up, we get punished. End of story.” She shrugs.
“You forgot one. Ask no questions and they’ll tell you no lies?” a woman speaks from the balcony in a cynical tone.
I glance up and see Ivy leaning on the railings. Who knows how long she’s been standing there listening, the stains of grief visible for all to see in her sunken eyes. She glares at Jason as if she was talking about him. But Jason doesn’t rise to it. If anything, he dismisses it completely.
“Stiletto, Bodie’s old lady,” Jason introduces the dark-haired, sad-eyed beauty. It feels awkward to be meeting her for the first time under these circumstances. She didn’t show at Bodie’s funeral, so I assumed they weren’t as serious as Bodie made out. She’s carrying around so much anger, and I can’t say I blame her. When was he planning to spring this on us? After she gave birth? Our parents are going to freak out when I tell them. They would want to be here to support her through it all. I certainly will, whether she wants me to or not. I’ll win the aunt of the year award; I’ll love that kid so hard.
“Hi, you must be Ivy. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” I blurt out, trying to alleviate the tension.
“Yeah, nice,” Ivy huffs, her tone bitter and hostile. “We should raise a toast to celebrate.” She rolls her eyes, then goes back to her room and slams the door hard enough to make me flinch.
“Oh my god, I didn’t mean to upset her,” I utter, turning to Jason. “Maybe I should go after her and apologize?”
Jason shakes his head, his eyes creasing at the corners. “Nah, leave her be. It isn’t you she’s mad at. It’s me.”
Hm. I wonder why?
Tex snorts. “We’re all cut up about Bodie. But if Stiletto is gonna be pissed at anyone, it should be Mayor Booker and that fuckwit, Marcus Jackal.”
“Mayor Booker?” I blurt out, noticing Jason bristling beside me.
Is Tex insinuating it was the mayor who gave Marcus an alibi because they’re in cahoots?
“The mayor can’t see straight without his glasses,” Jason cuts in dismissively. “All that matters is that Marcus gets what’s coming to him.” He dips his gaze at me. “Do you wanna go somewhere for breakfast?”
I look down at yesterday’s clothes and grimace. “Nah, just take me home, thanks.”
Jason nods.
“Do you want some coffee first?” Stevie asks.
“Sure,” I reply, following her to the kitchenette.
Something tells me Stevie likes to gossip, and that’s fine by me. She can run her mouth all she likes. To hell with the club code. It sounds like they fray the edges of the truth, only sharing information on a need-to-know basis. Jason can’t be around me all the time. He isn’t my personal bodyguard.
