“Why was she in here?” Joey said, crossing her arms under her breasts.
“To cause trouble. Crazy bitch was pissed I put her in her place earlier when she was talking shit,” he said. His head began to pound. He moaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shit, regretting that whiskey now.”
“I was gone like two hours. How did you manage to get this way?” she asked.
“Determination,” he said. He groaned as he stood up.
She huffed. “Just get into the bed okay?”
“Wait—what?” He shook his head and swayed on his feet.
“Lay down before you fall. ’Cause I can’t lift your heavy ass,” Joey said, ignoring them.
“I’m confused. You aren’t pissed?” He squinted against the light.
“I don’t know what I am. I came here because I didn’t like the way we left things. But it’ll hold.”
He shuffled to the bed and sank down. “Where are you going?”
“Home, you know the place I pay rent to stay at?”
Her short, clipped articulation made him groan.
She knelt on the bed and removed his boots, tossing them off the bed and something inside him shifted. They could function this way. He didn’t have to bend over completely and she could have some of the stability most women wanted. They could hold steady here.
Chapter Three
Joey sat on the edge of the bed long after Moose passed out. She knew the kind of life he lived and vaguely understood the commonplace violence and shady ethics. However, seeing him manhandle Red, no matter how much she deserved it, gave her pause. Would he turn on me?
She’d gotten what she wanted, only to question if it was truly the right thing for her. Had her mother been like Red, spreading her legs for the brothers, hoping to snag them? Nausea turned her stomach. He called her a sweetheart, labeled her his steady girl. It’d keep the vultures away and give her some standing with the casual flings. Is it enough?
The bed shifted, and Moose mumbled while reaching out to wrap his arms around her waist. He cuddled up to her back and she relaxed. She couldn’t walk away now and forever wonder what could’ve been.
“Mmm, Jo-Jo,” he said, smacking his lips.
The sleep-rusty sound melted her insides and reaffirmed her decision. She twisted around and ran her hand through his brownish-red strands, studying his face. In sleep, he lost some of his hardness. Don’t fall for this man, Josephine. What Jul and Shooter found is a once-in-a-lifetime deal. The walls began to close in, and she eased herself out of his grasp. Secret-keeping time needed to end. She stood on her feet and walked out of the room, grabbing her purse off the counter.
I should’ve punched that bitch in the mouth. The sight of the rumpled redhead, sprawled over Moose in nothing but her panties and bra had her thinking murder. If he hadn’t been so swift, he would’ve been breaking up a cat fight.
Joey slung her purse over her shoulder and nodded at the members as she stepped outside. In the car, she headed to the one person she knew wouldn’t judge her. Parked in front of the two-story blue house she’d grown up in, she reminisced.
It had never bothered her having a single mom. Ellen Brooks provided her with everything she needed. It had always been the just the two of them, and over time, she’d gotten over the pang in her chest when she saw friends with their fathers. Her mother worked damn hard for every penny, loved hard and instilled that same independence and work ethic in her. If Joey hadn’t found a box of old pictures when she turned twelve, she would never have known about her mother’s checkered past.
Ready to hear the pearls of wisdom, she opened the door and climbed out of the silver sedan. Mom didn’t sugarcoat and right now, she needed someone who could be frank. She opted to ring the doorbell instead of using a key. Her mother was single, not dead. The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass them both to death by walking in on something she’d rather not see.
A few minutes later, the porch light came on and the door opened to reveal her mother, clad in a black robe and a black-silk wrap around her head. “Josephine, what’s wrong?” Her mother’s large brown eyes were filled with concern, and her thin eyebrows were drawn to a point as she pulled her inside and locked the door.
“I just really need to talk, Mom. There are some things going on that have me feeling lost.”
Those full red lips so much like her own curved down. “This sounds like man trouble,” her mother observed.
“That’s exactly what it is,” Joey said. She laughed shaking her head. There was something to be said about a mother’s intuition.
Her mother smiled. “Come on in. I’ll put on a pot of coffee. You have the look of a woman already in deep waters,” her mother said. She wrapped an arm around Joey’s shoulders and guided her to the kitchen.
“He didn’t tell you what you wanted to hear?” Her mother asked a few minutes later, as she moved around the small kitchen.
“No—well, yes, but now that I’ve heard it—I’m conflicted,” Joey said. A deep frown replaced her usual smile as she ran over the events in her head.