Obviously, there was some sort of super secret soon-to-be-bikers project that all the men were in on. Including West. Yet none would tell me about. And I'd used naked persuasion on West. The man was a rock. And then, well, he used my nakedness against me, obliterating mind and body for hours afterward, preventing any further interrogation techniques.
"Gus, just go home, okay?" Huck half demanded, half asked, voice rougher than usual, frustrated. He was someone who rarely got frustrated, especially toward me, so I knew this was something serious.
"Why don't you have West drive you home?" McCoy suggested.
"Why would West drive her home?" Huck asked, brows furrowing, but he was only half paying attention.
"I was planning on hanging out here," I objected. "It's been a while."
It had been a while because for the past two weeks, West had been spending a lot of time at my place. But never overnight. I always woke up alone. And every morning, I tried to convince myself that I was okay with that arrangement. Each time, I was less and less convinced.
See, I was starting to understand something.
That this thing with West and me, it had a lot less to do with sex than I was trying to convince myself.
Sure, the sex was good. Fantastic. Epic.
But each day, it seemed like we did more and more that had little to do with sex.
We watched movies. We cooked. We ordered takeout. We did my damn laundry together. I showed him some of the local attractions.
Clearly, when what you did with someone outside of bed outweighed what you did with them in, it was more than sex.
I won't lie. It was a new, interesting concept. I should have been freaked out, given my track record of non-commitment. But all I seemed to be able to muster was a sense of, well, calm.
Calm was not something I found myself attracted to. I filled my life with wild and crazy because I had been sure that was what I found joy in.
Maybe that was even true.
But it was a shallow, short-lived sort of enjoyment, one that constantly left me chasing the next fix.
This sort of joy, this easy, unhurried, comfortable sort of happiness? This seemed more lasting, like something that could hold me over for days or weeks if need be.
What else was to be concluded, then, but that what West and I had going was something big, something important? Even if it would turn out to be temporary.
But no.
I didn't want to think about that.
Because there was no denying the aching sensation in my stomach when I let my mind contemplate that possible future.
Huck looked at me, then the ceiling, picturing me up there. Then, seemingly liking that image, nodded. "Yeah, actually, staying here would be good. No hitting the clubs with your girls tonight. You can hang here with West and Teddy when he shows up."
"Sounds good. What time will you guys be back?" I asked, prying, because I knew that I could probably get more out of my brother than West at this point.
"When we're back," he told me, jaw tight. Tense. My brother and his crew had been jacking cars for years. They didn't get nervous about it. That said, there was no denying that was what they were.
McCoy and Remy left first, several hours before Huck and Che got into a black sedan that didn't belong to either of them, and pulled away.
"Don't give me that look, pretty girl, you know I can't tell you shit about this."
"Can you at least tell me if it's dangerous?" I asked, head ducking to the side.
To that, his lips pursed, trying to find a way to give me some truth without giving me too much information.
"I think, from this point forward, sweetheart, you can assume that anytime your brother and his crew are out on a job, that there is a level of danger. How high that level is will depend on how well things go for the next week or two."
I guess I had been too wrapped up in my own life to really give this biker club thing much thought before. Now that I was letting myself, though, I could feel a churning discomfort in my stomach.
Sure, Huck's job in the past wasn't exactly pushing files at some soul-sucking desk job, but I hadn't exactly considered it overly dangerous either.
Had there been a few near-misses in the past with people coming out early, nearly catching Huck and the guys? Sure. Was there the ever-present worry about the local law enforcement finding out that Huck did more than just own a junkyard and run a small repair shop? Yes.
But I never lay awake at night wondering if he was going to catch a bullet.
Now?
Now, that was a possibility.
Maybe even an eventuality.
"West?"
"Yeah?" he asked, turning to face me as we made our way upstairs.