“Oh yes, you’re still seeing the good deputy,” he said, his voice a low growl. “You sleep with him yet?”
“I’m not, actually. Seeing him. I broke up with him yesterday.”
That caught him off guard, and he pulled back, studying my face.
“No shit?”
“No shit,” I said firmly, taking advantage of his surprise to slip under his arm and flee across the kitchen. “I’ve got a roast in the oven. When the timer goes off, you can take it out and throw in the rolls for fifteen minutes. There’s a salad waiting for you in the fridge and I’ll invoice you for the groceries. Good-bye.”
“You really think I’ll let you drop a bomb like that and just walk out of here?”
I shrugged. It’d been worth a shot. “I have work to do, Reese. I broke up with Nate because it wasn’t right between us. That doesn’t mean it’s right with you—if anything, it just means I need to be on my own for a while. Jessica hasn’t even been gone a week. That’s a lot of change and I don’t feel like talking about it with you or anyone else.”
“This isn’t over.”
I laughed.
“It never started,” I told him bluntly. “I’m not like you. I can’t just have casual sex.”
Sure you can, the slutty side of my brain whispered. Just try it!
Miss Miata hasn’t even left the house yet, I reminded my brain firmly. Don’t be such a slut!
“How do you know you can’t have casual sex?” he asked. “It’s fun. When’s the last time you tried it?”
I glared at him.
“Seriously, when was it?”
“None of your business,” I snapped.
“Well, if you change your mind, you know where I am,” he told me. Sharon came back inside and smiled at me, wrapping her arm around Hayes’s waist. She whispered something in his ear, then gave him a lingering kiss before looking at me.
“Nice to meet you,” she told me with a genuine smile. “Maybe I’ll see you out at the clubhouse sometime?”
I shrugged, because saying I’d rather eat broken glass didn’t feel quite appropriate. How was she so friendly under the circumstances? It seemed wrong.
Stop being so judgmental … Reese’s words echoed in my head.
“Okay, I’m out of here,” she said. “Oh, and Pic? I think there’s something wrong with the toilet, just a heads up. That roast smells fantastic, London. I’m watching my carbs, so good thing those rolls aren’t baking yet!”
With that she gave me a perky finger wave and left, humming brightly.
Of course she was watching her carbs. Girls like her always were.
“That was just weird,” I muttered.
“That was someone who’s comfortable in her sexuality and not worried about overthinking things. You should try it. It’s more fun than pouting. Less work, too.”
“I really have to go now.”
“I’ll see you on Thursday,” he said. “Let me know what time to expect you and I’ll try to have clothes on … Unless you change your mind?”
I didn’t bother responding as I marched out of the kitchen, and his laugh followed me through the door.
Someday I’d be the one making him uncomfortable, I decided. I wasn’t sure when or how, but I looked forward to it. Seemed only fair, all things considered.
CHAPTER SEVEN
My phone buzzed as I dumped out the bucket of gray mop water. It was nine the next morning, and my crew had one more hour to finish cleaning the strip club. Hayes had kept his promise, and according to Gage—the big Reaper who managed the place—we would be getting the contract long term if he liked what he saw.
I was there to make damned sure he liked what he saw.
That meant scrubbing every inch of the place. Not that we’d have to go that far every time we came, but I wanted to start things off right. I pulled out the phone, startled to see it was Jess. Wow … Getting up her up before noon practically took an act of God.
JESSICA: Hey Loni. How are you
ME: Fine. Working, tho. Whats up?
JESSICA: Do you have time for a phone call? I want to talk to. Things arent so good here
I frowned, my throat tightening.
ME: Just a sec
Setting down the bucket, I walked out of the janitorial closet and across the empty club floor. In the distance I heard the whine of the vacuum as my crew worked their way through the VIP rooms in the back. Gage sat at one of the tables, looking up as I passed with a question on his face.
“Just a quick phone call,” I told him, pushing out the front door and into the parking lot.
The phone rang three times before Jessica picked up.
“Loni?”
“Hey, baby, what’s wrong? Do you need to see the doctor? You left without your insurance card, but I can send all the information right now if you need it.”
“No, it’s nothing like that,” she said quickly, and I felt myself unclench a little. “I had a little fever last night, but I think it’s just the flu. I’ve been coughing.”
“Be careful,” I warned her, as if she needed the reminder. She knew darned well—damned well—not to play around with infection. The last time she’d wound up in the ICU for three days on an antibiotic drip, with a surgical follow-up just for fun.
“I am,” she replied hesitantly.
“What is it?” I asked, careful to keep my voice neutral. “You can tell me.”
“I think you might’ve been right about Mom,” she said quietly. “Last night they had a big party. A lot of guys came over and they weren’t very nice.”
“Not nice in what way?”
“Two of them cornered me in the guest house,” she whispered. “I’m not exactly a virgin, but this was different, Loni. I’ve never had anyone treat me like that. They didn’t do too much, but only because I ran off and locked myself in a closet. It was horrible.”
She fell silent. I wanted to demand more information but sensed she was about three seconds away from falling apart completely.
At least she’d called me.
“Do you want to come home?” I asked, forcing my voice to stay calm and steady. “I know we’ve had our differences, but you’ll be safe here. Maybe we can figure out a way for you to live on your own, where you can be independent and safe at the same time.”
She gave a snuffling sob, and I realized she was crying.
“I’m so sorry, Loni,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to believe you. I was really stupid.”
“Let’s not worry about that right now. I can fly down there this afternoon, pick you up, and bring you home.”
“You don’t need to do that,” she said. “But if you buy me a ticket home, I’ll find a way to pay you back. I can get a cab to the airport, I still have a little cash. But not until tomorrow. Mom said she wanted me to go out with her today, shopping or something. She’s going on a trip, I guess. I’d rather leave when she’s not around. I don’t think I can handle a big fight with her—she’s not going to like it. She’s been acting really strange.”
I desperately wanted to leap into full rescue mode but forced myself to back off. Just calling me for help was huge—Jessica didn’t need any more pressure. God, I hated this. All of it.
“Okay. I’ll get you a flight home tomorrow, first thing?”
“Maybe around noon?” she asked quietly. “That would be better. She’ll be gone by then. There are all these guys around here … Some of them have guns, Loni. I think her boyfriend might be a drug dealer or something. He’s really rich, but I can’t figure out how he earns his money.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“Entirely possible,” I said. “She’s never had the best taste in men. Don’t go asking questions, all right? You don’t want to do anything to catch attention from people like that.”
“Are you mad at me?”
How to answer a question like that?
“I’m more worried about you,” I said finally. “I want you to be safe and happy. You didn’t pick the best way to accomplish that, but I’m incredibly thankful you’re all right. Let’s leave it at that, okay?”
“I love you, Loni.”
“I love you, too, baby. Take care today and text me every couple of hours, got it? Just stay in touch and let me know you’re all right. And keep an eye on the fever, too. If anything feels off, call nine one one and get an ambulance. Don’t worry about the bills or anything. Just take care of yourself.”
“All right,” she whispered. I ended the call and rubbed the back of my neck.
“Fucking great,” I muttered, resisting the urge to throw my phone across the parking lot. I wanted to hit something, or punch a car. Instead I leaned back against the wall, banging my head on it a couple of times, just enough to center myself.
“You doin’ okay?” Gage asked, stepping out the door. His pose was casual, but his eyes were sharp. I shrugged.
“Just the usual,” I said. “Family drama, that kind of thing. Don’t worry—it has nothing to do with the business and won’t impact our ability to perform.”
He nodded slowly, then held the door open for me. I smiled at him and walked through, ready to go inspect the back rooms. I might not be able to control anything else in my life, but I could control cleaning this strip club.
Too bad I’d already cleaned my oven.
Maybe Reese’s oven needed a good scrub? I could go out there later and check … Might as well text him and see if a schedule change would work, because I’d be out at the airport tomorrow afternoon anyway. If he wanted me to come out a second time this week, he’d just have to be flexible.
Family first—even a big, dumbass biker like Reese Hayes would understand that, right?
REESE
“Your girl did good today.”
Gage’s words echoed in my head as I drove home. I wasn’t quite sure if London qualified as my girl or not, but I wanted her—and not for a quick fuck. She’d been pretty damned upset yesterday and I couldn’t blame her.
I’d rubbed Sharon in her face like an asshole.
But the thought of London and Evans rolling around naked together had lodged in my head like a virus. I’d wanted to break shit every time I pictured it, and I couldn’t stop picturing it … A little petty revenge had seemed fair at the time, given I’m a fuckwit. Then she announced she’d broken up with him. Blew me away, because apparently London wasn’t the kind of woman to play men off each other. I’d sort of forgotten what that felt like. Now I respected her even more and felt like a tool in comparison. Screwing Sharon had been juvenile and stupid.
London was turning me into a dumbass kid again, and not in a good way. At least it seemed to go both ways—she wasn’t winning any maturity awards for that toilet prank … Laughed my ass off when I finally figured it out, though. Heather used to pull shit like that, too.
I needed to call London. Or maybe I should just show up at her place, because she probably wouldn’t take a call from me. This sucked. All of it. I liked one-night stands—clean and simple, not some high school bullshit where we danced around each other instead of getting down to business. Couldn’t help but wonder what other complications there might be, either. Would she even be able to handle me in bed—the real me? I wasn’t used to holding back, and if women couldn’t take it, I cut ’em loose.
Fuck it.
If I got my hands on London, I’d be damned if I’d let her go just because things got intense.
I turned around the final bend and spotted the cleaning service van in the driveway. What the fuck? I had a brief, intense fantasy that she’d decided she couldn’t go one more day without my cock deep inside, and that I’d find her naked and waiting in the bedroom.
Yeah, right.
More likely she was in there injecting my toothpaste with strychnine. I parked my Harley next to her vehicle, studying it. She only had the one rig, and driving it had to suck. Like piloting a particularly shitty barge. I wondered if she’d ever been on a bike before, whether she’d like it. There was something about her—the restraint, the sense of duty that never seemed to fail … She didn’t take much time for herself, and I’d be willing to bet she didn’t get to let go often enough.
Get her on the back of my bike, bet she’d cream her panties.
Well, that or run screaming. Either could be worked … Yeah, I definitely needed to take her for a ride, and now was the time. I’d just gotten it up and running again that morning after way too long stuck in the shop. Huge relief, because when I couldn’t ride, I couldn’t breathe. Winters seemed to last forever some years, and by spring we were all a little crazy.
Nothing quite like that first ride of the year.
I pulled out my phone—sure enough, she’d called. Fucking great, must’ve missed it during church. These days all we talked about ’round the table was the cartel, which had been moving in on our territory for close to a year now. They’d hit several of our clubhouses and killed the president of the Devil’s Jacks six months back. For a while we skated the edge of a full-on shooting war, but things had quieted down recently, at least on the surface.
I knew the Jacks had been down south taking out select targets.
The Reapers had been doing their part, too, because nobody fucked with us and got away with it. All the houses had full security systems now, and we’d been rolling up select probationary members from the support clubs.